02_Coyote in Provence Read online

  “Yes, but the older I get, the harder it is. I love seeing my parents and traveling, but there is a price to be paid.”

  “Pierre, I have a private matter I want to discuss with you. It involves something that’s completely outside the scope of your job duties as my personal chef, but it’s something that’s terribly important to me.” She told him about her aunt and the little girls in the orphanage her aunt had founded on the outskirts of Kabul.

  “Here are some photos I took. Pierre, it’s a tragic situation and I know these little girls simply represent the tip of the iceberg. I can’t stand by and do nothing, plus I’ve made what is probably as close to a deathbed promise as one gets, to try and get them to the United States and placed in loving homes. I know it won’t be easy, in fact, it’s very dangerous. Considering the threats…”

  What? You never told me you were being threatened. What are you talking about? Are these recent threats?”

  “Recent enough that Slade is upping the security on my home and everywhere else by adding another guard. This one will be in charge of the external things like the outside of this building, my home, and the hangar where I keep the plane. A number of these threats have been delivered by mail and phone threats have been made as well.”

  “Well, I’ve told you before and I still feel this way, Slade Kelly is the best in the business and so are his people. You will be fine. He turns down about 99% of the people who apply to work for him. Character checks, background checks, demonstrations of their martial arts skills, and firearm tests are just part of what he demands. His people are fiercely loyal to him. No, you’re in the best hands you could be in.”

  “Well, that makes me feel better, but that’s not why I wanted this meeting.”

  He looked at the photos once again and then raised his head and spoke quietly. “I’ve never seen anything this horrific outside of some movie, but this is real, isn’t it?”

  She paused and took a drink of water, red fingernails highlighted by the clear glass. “Yes. It’s very real. Pierre, I remember seeing a barn on your parents’ property and I even asked them if they had horses. They said it was vacant. I have a proposition for you concerning the use of the barn. What do you think your parents would say if you asked them if we could use the barn to temporarily house the little girls while we treat their wounds and feed them some proper food?”

  She sat back in the large black leather chair, hands steepled in front of her face and looked directly into Pierre’s eyes.

  “Miss R, I don’t know what they would say. They watch TV, in fact, it’s one of the few things they still can do, and even though the images are blurred for Maman, she can hear the voices, so they both know about the tragic situation in Afghanistan. In fact, the grandson of one of their friends was with the French Army in Afghanistan. He was killed by a roadside bomb. They don’t believe France should have any military involvement in Afghanistan and were glad when most of the French troops were pulled out.”

  “I would pay them rent for their barn. Of course I would also pay to have the barn renovated for the girls. They’ll need to have people who can stay with them while they are there. Perhaps your parents know people in the area who would like to earn some extra money by caring for the girls.”

  “A good friend of mine is a doctor,” Pierre said. “I could call him and see if he would treat the girls for a minimal amount. I can’t walk away from these pictures and do nothing. Let me call my parents and talk to them.” He looked at his watch as he stood up. “It’s about 7:30 p.m. there now, so it’s a good time for me to call. I’ll step outside.”

  While he was gone, Darya once again looked at the photos of the young girls. She knew that each of them had probably been subjected to female mutilation and there was nothing she could do about it now.

  No, what’s been done has been done, but I can do everything in my power to see that these girls are given a chance for a better life. The American dream is certainly better for them than the Afghan nightmare that’s a certainty.

  A few minutes later Pierre walked back into her office, a big smile on his face.

  “I’m taking it that your parents agreed, am I right?”

  “Yes. They agreed so quickly, it surprised me. I think they’ve been a little bored and are tired of dealing with their infirmities. This gives them a purpose. They said to tell you thank you and that they would make some inquiries about renovating the barn and getting some help. I’ll call my doctor friend later and see if he would be willing to help us too. I told my parents that the little girls would not be in France legally, so they should be careful who they talk to.”

  “Oh, Pierre, this is absolutely wonderful. I’m so glad. That’s one huge problem out of the way. Let me jot down some notes on what needs to be done to the barn. Actually, it’s pretty minimal. I think we’ll need three rooms. Probably a big room with a kitchen in it. I don’t think most of them know any English and I’d like them to learn a smattering of it before they come here.”

  “That’s a good idea, Miss R, but how do you plan to do that?”

  “Well, if we can get some chairs and make the room into a kind of classroom, they could actually do a little school work and learn some English. Even if it’s only a little bit, it will help them. We’ll need a bathroom with one or two toilets and sinks and a room where we can install bunk beds for them to use as a dormitory. Do you know if there’s a water hook-up in the barn? It sure would be nice if we didn’t have to pay for that.”

  “I don’t know what condition it’s in, but yes, I remember a water spigot near the barn door. When I was a kid I had to fill big tins with water for the horses. Of course that was a long time ago. But Dad hunted until the last couple of years and he had two horses he used. The water must have been working then. I’ll ask.”

  “Pierre, I’m going to want you to oversee this. I’m too high profile and questions would be raised if I talk to the contractors or the women we need to hire. However, it would make perfect sense for the Younts’ son to take care of the barn renovations and other things that will need to be done. “

  “Miss R. I’m happy to do it. This makes me feel good.”

  Darya continued, “I can dovetail a business trip to Marseille so we can oversee this project. I need to get started on this project like yesterday. I don’t think my aunt has more than a couple of weeks to live, so we’re really under the gun. If I have to sweeten the pot to get the work done faster, then so be it. Just get it done.”

  Her intercom rang. “Yes? Show him in.” She put down the phone. “Slade’s here.”

  “Hey Doll, how’s it goin’? So what’s so ‘portant that I had to get out of bed at this ungodly hour? Had a late, late night,” he said with a smirk on his face. “Coulda used a few more Z’s.”

  “Sorry, Slade. Let’s move over to the conference table. Sit down. I want to show you some photographs.” She passed the pictures across her desk to Slade. He spent a few minutes looking at each one and then raised his eyes to her.

  “What the hell is this all about?” he said in a low gravelly voice with no trace of his usual massacre of the English language.

  She explained the situation to him and how Pierre’s parents were going to house the girls while they were in France. “Here’s where I’m at, Slade, and Pierre, this will be news to you as well.”

  Darya took a cluster of red grapes from the fruit bowl on the long conference table and slowly began eating them. “I’ve already taken care of a few things. When the girls leave Kabul, they will have no ID papers, passports or anything to verify their identity. The Kabul and Marseille Immigration Officers are willing to look the other way when I take the little girls out of Afghanistan and bring them into France and take them out. Naturally, I’ll be paying them well to look the other way.

  “Slade, Pierre just arranged to have his parents temporarily house the little girls in a barn behind their home in a remote village in Provence. We’re working on having it renovated, finding clothing,
hiring a couple of local women to care for them, and making sure we can get some medical attention for the girls.”

  “Wow, Doll. Ya been busy!”

  “My aunt is dying of cancer and time is running out for her. I’ll be going back to Kabul at the end of next week to see her, probably for the last time. I want to be able to tell her that her legacy will continue. The only person who knows about what she is doing is her driver. I’m not quite sure how we’re going to handle that. I’ll work that out when I get there. Any questions so far?”

  “No, looks like you’re doin’ fine. Whadda ya need me for?”

  “I can’t figure out how to get them into the United States. My plane doesn’t have a fuel range that would allow it to fly non-stop from Marseille. When I travel to or from Europe I usually refuel at Bangor, Maine. I know they’ll have to go through some type of immigration here in the United States.

  “Even if I could fly non-stop, I took one look at the immigration officials at the airport I usually use here in California and knew there was no chance of anyone allowing something illegal to be overlooked, no matter how much I paid. Plus, I know Miami won’t work. There was a huge scandal at the Miami airport last year and they’re being extra careful. I need some ideas on how I can get these girls into the United States, and then, don’t forget, once they’re here, I’ve got to find somewhere for them to go and hopefully, have loving families care for them.”

  All three of them were quiet as different ideas passed through their minds and just as quickly were rejected. “Doll, I got an idea. Gonna need your plane. Pierre, can you cook a bunch of stuff this afternoon for Miss R to eat during the next couple of days?”

  “Sure, what do you have in mind?”

  “I need you to come with me to the Cayman Islands. We’ll have the plane take us, spend a day or two, pendin’ on what happens and then come back.” He turned to face Darya, “Call your pilot and tell him I want to leave tomorrow. Just be Pierre and me and the pilot.”

  “I got rid of Mike’s co-pilot when you told me I was to be his co-pilot. You said the fewer people who knew where I was, the better. Mike will need a co-pilot for the flights. I don’t want problems with the FAA. Just a moment.”

  She called Mahsa. “Call Mike and tell him I want to talk to him. I’m not sure where he is. I told him to take some time off, but I need him. You have his cell phone number. Thanks.”

  “Assuming you can solve that problem, Slade, I’ve got one final problem I need help with. What am I going to do with these little girls when they get here? I can’t keep them at my condo.”

  “Doll, think I can cover that problem for you too. Had some dealings with a Reverend a few years ago. He had a big church in the valley. He’s gone now, compliments of yours truly, but I ‘member they did something with ‘doptions. Let me check and get back to you. Reverend kinda hated me, but since he’s gone now maybe I can talk them folks at the church into helpin’ out. On second thought, don’t think I better get ‘rectly involved in this. Pierre, why don’t you do this cuz no one knows you. I’ll get the information to you. At some point you’re gonna need some type of ID for these kids. I can get passports for them.”

  The intercom buzzed on her desk. “Yes, Mahsa, I’ll take it.” She picked up the phone on the conference table. “Good morning Mike, I’m sorry to bother you but something has come up and I need you to fly to the Cayman Islands for a day or two. Pierre and a man by the name of Slade Kelly will be flying with you. It will be just the three of you, plus you’ll need to hire a co-pilot.

  “I’ll have Mahsa make reservations at a hotel for you and arrange for a limo service to shuttle you from the airport to the hotel. Let her know what time you’ll be landing. Why don’t you take off around nine in the morning? That’ll get you in just before dark. Thanks and again, I’m sorry for the short notice. By the way, I’m going to want to go back to Kabul the latter part of next week.”

  She buzzed Mahsa again and told her about the trip to the Cayman Islands. “Work out the times with Mike and then arrange for four rooms at a nice beach hotel. Let Slade and Pierre know the details.”

  Darya looked at her watch and saw that it was 11:30. “I’m going to have to wind this up. I have a lunch conference here in my office. Pierre, why don’t you bring the food up around 12:30? I’ll talk to both of you later. And I know I don’t need to tell you that this conversation was private and what has been said is to stay in this room.”

  “Not a problem, Doll,” Slade said getting up from his chair. “The Cayman Islands. Woohoo! Can’t wait to see them hotties on Seven Mile Beach. Ain’t been there in a while. Talk at you later.”

  What a character, but what would I do without him. Is there anything he can’t do?

  CAYMAN ISLANDS APRIL, 2007

  CHAPTER 28

  Mike landed the big Gulfsream G550 with ease at the Owen Roberts airport on Grand Cayman Island. He taxied to the International Terminal as Slade and Pierre retrieved their carry-on luggage and prepared to go through immigration.

  “Nice job, Cap’n Mike. See ya at the hotel. I’ll call you and tell you when I wanna leave. Have some fun while you’re here, but just watch out for them little umbrella drinks. They can be a bitch the next mornin’.”

  Thirty minutes later Pierre and Slade walked to the waiting limousine. The airport was only four miles from the hotel, just enough time for them to feel the island’s warmth and see the sparkling Caribbean Sea. They checked in and got their room keys.

  “Need to make a coupla calls. Meetcha in the main bar in ‘bout half an hour,” Slade said.

  Pierre swiped his card key in the lock and the green light blinked. He opened the door and stood there for a moment, drinking in the view. The Caribbean was calm and the sun was close to sinking over the horizon, with blue, mauve and orange colors blending into one another. The sky and the horizon were a bright crimson red with their colors changing every moment as the sun sank over the horizon. It was magnificent.

  Wow. What a sight. I wish I could paint this, but I don’t think there’s an artist alive or dead who could do justice to this scene.

  He walked into the room, set his suitcase down and decided to take a quick shower. Ten minutes later, refreshed, he left his room, glancing out the window at the ocean’s horizon, which had changed into the robin’s egg blue color of early evening.

  The bar was doing a very good business. Vacationers, businessmen, and a couple of women who looked like high priced hookers crowded the room. He ordered a vodka tonic, taking to heart Slade’s words about umbrella drinks. He’d had a few mornings like Slade had described and he wanted to be careful about his drinking as he wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, or even the rest of tonight. He figured he’d find out when Slade arrived.

  He didn’t have long to wait. Just as the bartender brought him his drink, Slade walked in. He sat down at a table and gestured for Pierre to join him. He got off the barstool and joined Slade. “Well, any luck with your phone calls?”

  “Yeah, let me get a drink. I could use a couple, but we gotta take it easy, might have a long night ahead of us.” He gestured to the waitress and ordered a beer. “Here’s the deal. We got a meetin’ at 8:00 tonight in a seedy little beach bar down the road. Woulda gone to Kaibo Beach, but it’s too far to walk and I don’t want anyone payin’ attention to what we’re doin’. Limousine don’t xactly say ‘not doing nothin’,’ particularly at some sleazy bar. Think they know ‘xactly what we’re doin’.”

  “And so just exactly what are we going to be doing?”

  “Hirin’ drug runners.”

  “What?” Pierre said, as he choked on his drink. “I’m not getting involved in drug running. Why in the hell would we do that?”

  “Don’t get your shorts in an uproar. Ain’t runnin’ drugs. Just hirin’ drug runners. Big difference. See, here’s the thing. Few years ago one of my clients had some things he needed to get out of the Caymans and get into the U.S. We knew there was gonna be problems,
so I found some drug runners who took him into a lil’ airport in North Carolina. These guys fly low, under the radar. Paid ‘em a lot of money and knew they’d ‘member me. And they did.”

  “I still don’t see what drug runners and planes have to do with us.”

  “Those little girls gotta get to the U.S. Miami’s out. Can’t bribe nobody there. People at this little shithole North Carolina airport are on the take, big time. We’ll fly the girls from Marseille to here in the Caymans, then you and one of my men will fly with the girls in two planes to the North Carolina airport where Mike and the Gulfstream will be waitin’. Once they go thru U.S. Immigration there, they’re home free. Can fly into any airport ‘round LA and just sashay off the plane. No sweat.”

  “Okay, I have a question. If this airport is so small, why does it have a U.S. Immigration office?”

  “Tobacco, my friend, tobacco. Need bodies to work the fields and when it’s time to harvest, that damn airport is up to its eyeballs in banana and coconut island people. Gotta have someone makin’ sure they can get in the U.S .- legally,” he said winking.

  “But where’s the drug connection? I hear you talking about tobacco, but what about the drugs? And these planes? Who owns them?”

  “Ya don’t wanna know. Runners fly in there with drugs that are offloaded to waitin’ cars. Plane lands and people are paid off. Immigration and customs are both on the take. I mean, what the hell? Who’s gonna know in that small airport? Been doing’ it a long time.”

  “And no one’s ever been caught?”

  “Nope. Just kind of sumpin’ everyone knows ‘bout, but the pays right, and even the dear City Fathers are gettin’ their share. Them elections are the most highly contested elections in the U.S. Some yahoo had them ‘dopt term limits, so every eight years it’s a feedin’ frenzy in town. Anyway, we’re meeting Arsene later. Let’s get somethin’ to eat.”

  “Wait a minute. What if we’re followed? And who does Arsene work for?”