Chapter 9- Discontinuation
With each mile that ticked off, Helen's mind began to clear. An hour and twenty minutes into the drive, her bladder reminded her of the second cup of delicious coffee she’d had, and a rest stop in Eau Claire became a priority.
She nearly felt like a new person upon leaving the facilities and heading to her car.
While she was disengaging the car alarm, the ringing of a phone drew her attention.
Helen checked her crossbody bag where the Technician and personal phones resided; neither were ringing.
She opened the back door of the vehicle to find the sound, and it came from her office satchel.
In the bag was the burner phone. Helen picked it up, swiping her finger across the screen to take the call.
“Go,” she said into the line.
“Hi, it's Donovan,” the male voice said.
“I'm aware; how can I help you?”
“You left without saying goodbye,” he said, sounding very sincere.
“I made you a decent breakfast with hand kneaded biscuits, coffee you can't even get in this country, and the pot of veggie soup you requested,” Helen said. “Was there more you required?”
He chuckled a bit into the line. “Fair enough. I mean, I thought you wanted me to show you how I tracked the money online. Are you coming back?”
“I am not,” she said.
“Did I do or say something to offend you or make you uncomfortable which made you feel the need to leave?”
“What, like this conversation?” Helen chided. “Nice of you to elevate yourself to such a level of importance in my thought process. Take care of yourself, Mr. Turnbull. Cranberry out.”
She ended the call and tossed the phone in the nearest trash receptacle.
The feeling of icky sat with her for the next three hours, and the collywobbles would not leave her.
Helen pulled into Bad Apple's place, praying he would be home and that the boys were in school.
He came out the door to greet her, his face laced with concern.
He asked, “Training over so soon?”
“The weird feeling in my gut won't leave me,” Helen said. “I need you to scan my vehicle for trackers. As a matter of fact, my luggage, my computer, and anything else. Please?”
“Cranberry? Should we place a call to the Boss?”
“No, just my gut saying to check,” she said. “I didn't check my Subaru before, but that tracker was in my favor. This one may not be, if there is one.”
“Say less,” he said, darting into the house and returning a few minutes later.
In his hand, he held a device that looked like a scanner to find treasures on the beach in the sand.
Helen popped the hood of the vehicle, opened all the doors plus the hatchback, and placed her luggage outside of the SUV.
Methodically, Apple went over the car. Under the rear bumper, he found the tracker.
He raised his foot to stomp it out, but she stopped him.
“I have a better idea,” she said, smiling.
Apple asked, watching the twinkling in her eyes, “Oh God, am I going to be scared for you?”
“No, just going to take a small detour to Chicago and drop this through the door of Kurtzwilde’s nightclub,” she said.
“Cranberry? No!” he said, laughing. “He's not one to mess with, so don't get started in a game with him.”
“He's not that tough,” she said. “Besides, Passion Fruit being nice to him softened the old bear.”
Apple frowned at her, “You say that like you know it from experience.”
“Had coffee with him a few weeks ago. Funny thing was, the man was looking for me, had coffee with me, and still didn't know it was me,” she said.
“I’m not even sure what to do with that information,” he said, looking at the SUV, “and the tracker on your vehicle, how did that get there?”
“A little viper trying to play coy,” she said.
He scratched at his temple, looking at the unassuming looking woman, who by all accounts looked as if she were on her way to the market for a bunch of apples to make a pie for supper. “It befuddles me that you knew something was wrong, but how Cranberry?”
“I have a lifetime of distrust of men. Met one, didn't trust him, and he gave me the ickywillies. I learned years ago to listen to my instincts,” she said softly. “I need to roll so I can be home by dinner.”
Apple stood there. He looked at her as if he had something on his mind. She told him to spit it out.
He shrugged, “Yet you trust me?”
“You give off big brother vibes and treat me like your little sister. The protector in you is strong. I feel it. I welcome it, and as you see, when I am scared, you are closest. I came to you,” Helen said, offering him a smile. “Talk soon, Big Brother, and thanks.”
“Cranberry? Anything you want to add on Sour Grapes? Your assessment of her?”
“Nothing to add you probably don't already know,” she said. “Later.”
He helped her load her luggage, and she changed course for Chicago.
It didn't take her long to discover the monstrosity of a nightclub owned by Kurtzwilde once she reached the city limits following the navigation dictated in the vehicle.
Even in the middle of the day, cars were loaded in the parking lot.
She pulled into a space and grinned like a maniac when she saw a Range Rover pull in and the man himself step out of the vehicle.
“God loves me,” Helen said, as the driver parked and both men went inside.
She walked past the vehicle, bending quickly and placing the tracker on the underside of the SUV. Happily, she returned to her own vehicle and headed home. A call was required. Helen placed the earpiece in her ear and pressed one on her Technician phone.
“State your need,” the voice said.
“My gut was right. Pulled into Bad Apple's for a sweep of my vehicle and found a tracker on it,” Helen said. “I know my man didn't put it there, and this was only my third time driving the Cranberry mobile.”
“Where is the tracker now?”
Helen giggled. The voice on the line sighed. “Well, I am returning home and decided to swing through Chicago. I went by the Velvet Room and guess who I saw getting out his vehicle?”
The voice expressed surprised in her speech, “Cranberry, you didn't?”
“Sure the fuck did,” she said laughing. “So, if Mr. Blonde Man was tracking me for that man, he's going to track himself right to Kurtzwilde’s driver's house or to the man's personal home.”
Azrael did what she hadn't done in years. She found herself laughing. “You are absolutely insane, Cranberry.”
“Perhaps, but I have an idea,” she said. “If Mr. Turnbull said he found Sour Grapes by tracking her money, then I should be able to find the Chrysalis by tracking theirs.”
Cranberry had the attention of the Boss, who asked, “How so?”
“Simple, I start with the properties. Kurtzwilde owns the Velvet Room, and I can match any shell or parent companies to the warehouses I shut down that he co-owns. Then look for partners, patterns, and other facilities,” she said proudly.
“I connect with my Seraphim, see what they are watching in my backyard, and we follow the money.”
“Okay. How do you want to handle Turnbull?” the voice asked.
“He's doing a job he was paid to do,” Helen said. “He's also lonely and potentially a well-educated, neatly groomed, Pinochle playing upper middle-class sleazebag, but whoever the woman is that was making his life miserable, I think he deserved it.”
“Is he a danger to Sour Grapes or the person in her home?”
“Isn't she licensed to kill?”
“She is,” the voice said.
“Then perhaps he should have truly learned who he was screwing with before he decided to wrap himself in those vines,” Helen said, laughing. “He's not going to get off as Scott free as he thinks. She's going to exact a toll on him that he's not prepared to deal with.”
The voice was interested in the odd woman’s train of thought. “Clarify, please.”
“These Technicians, honestly, aren't quite right in the head, which is what makes them good at what they do,” Helen said.
“She's been in a bad place in her head for many years. He waltzes in playing hero, and she may decide...dunno. Seriously Boss, watching them together was like seeing the birth of two super villains.”
“In your assessment of the situation, do you think it is going to be bad?”
“I tell you what. I shall text you the license plate of the truck he said belonged to his dad. Put a BOLO on it to see when he leaves her place and where he goes next,” Helen said.
“He said he came out of Amarillo. If I knew how, I would check with Ariel on what Storm covers that part of Texas since I'm sure it takes more than one for that state. Hell, it takes 24 hours of driving to get from Shelbyville to El Paso across I-20, so I know they have more than one Technician. Perhaps we can find out if that Turnbull guy is on any of their radars?”
“And if he is?”
“Boss, let's be logical with this,” Helen said. “If he can track a Technician, he could have stopped the cyber woman from messing with his life. Just as he tracked Sour Grapes money, he could have tracked hers, messed with the accounts. A discontinuation of the harassment could have ended with two clicks and stealing her money. She would have backed off and shut the hell up. I don’t know of any dick that good to make a bitch set 6 million bots to work on one man...then again.”
“You are scary,” Azrael said and burst into laughter. “I'm sorry. I just have this image of that dude turning up at Kurtzwilde's house and both men feeling so stupid thinking they are tracking you only to have you turn the tables on them. Stop making me like you, Cranberry.”
“Sorry, force of habit. Cranberry out,” she said, settling into the driver's seat and heading for home.
Three hours later, she arrived home. She pulled in by the back door to unload her gear under the awning, then parked the SUV in the garage. Helen felt as if the weights of the world were off her shoulder. Inside the home, after she disengaged the alarm, she stretched.
In the fridge was a pack of chops Mustang had taken out for dinner.
She quickly washed, prepped, and placed them in the oven along with two nice sized sweet potatoes.
She rolled her luggage down the hall to the laundry room.
Her plan was to wash everything in the case to remove the smell of Sour Grape's house from her clothing.
“Just weird,” she said, entering the living room to see her man coming through the back door.
“Baby, you’re home. Is everything okay?”
“It is now,” she said, reaching for him and wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning into his strength. She was home permanently.