19.1 Thistledown

She arrived late in the night and took a forty-five minutes ride to Cameron Park. The taxi dropped her bags in front of the B&B and left. Natalia hurled them up to the door and knocked. She could not find a bell. It was dark. The landlady appeared from behind the house and at this hour, she wanted to show her a tiny lock box at the back of the house and its combination to collect the key in case she had to come late.

She was ushered to the Lavender Suite, quite an expensive booking, in this posh 1912 home with quaint rooms, as exquisite as 69 Church Street, with a touch of modern comforts and very clean. She was too tired even to go out for dinner and the door was locked outside. She fell asleep on the comfortable Victorian bed.

Next morning, she got dressed in a Carolina blue dress with short sleeves and stand collar, hair done in a low twist bun, white tennis shoes and black sunglasses. She sat down in the lounge and reached for a periodical to browse while waiting for the gourmet breakfast. There was nobody in the hall.

Abruptly, a child dropped on her lap to scare her out of wits. Another two kids rushed in followed by their parents and a grandfather holding a walking stick. This little kid didn’t leave Natalia and she was very disturbed.

They were called for breakfast together to sit by a table seated for six.

This family got introduced. They were short of one chair. Natalia cleared her throat, “Good Morning! I am Natalia from California.” This little kid climbed on her lap making comfortable by the table.

Breakfast was delicious, farm-to-table, pumpkin and ginger French toast with the sausage of your choice, plus crêpes with strawberry cream cheese filling.

Natalia scurried out with a fully stuffed leather briefcase, a natural tan leather tote bag on her shoulder, Nikon camera and in a smoky grey cropped blazer. She climbed the cab and told the driver to go to Trailwood

First it was Jacob Lawrence PLLC that gave a call to Teep Lab and Diego Cavanes negotiated with them. FBI had gone into H&Q to question Jadon Quinn.

Paul Clancy began to talk of a different account of events. He claimed that Linda Linz killed Savon Martin. Linda, on the other hand, suspected Paul Clancy behind the death of Sidney Martin. She said he hired an assassin; a Colombian named Curtis, who she alleged for drowning Sidney Martin in Wolf Lake.

A court warrant was not issued to arrest Linda Linz because there was no proof of her involvement in the abduction. Paul Clancy was arrested and granted bail for twenty-five thousand US dollars because there was no proof of his intent to kill anyone.

Travis Spano and Ricardo Ramos were serving sentences because their action qualified kidnapping. Joe Garrison managed to walk out with a short sentence and a fine.

Then came a call from Thomas Avon Cyril who wanted to understand everything that happened during the past six years and he would pay for information.

With an initial deposit from Cyril Corporation in New York, Diego advised Natalia to go and meet Thomas Cyril on the given date at his Tanager villa in Raleigh.

Spring in North Carolina – the world explodes in a vivid purple. A burst of purple on the redbud branches before the leaves showed. Did she miss it? It was totally a different world. Magnolias, showy wisterias, daffodils, dogwood and cherries in blossom – a welcoming sight.

When they arrived at Tanager, the gatekeeper in black overalls with a hunting rifle approached. Natalia passed her card and he said, “Miss Phol. Mr Thomas Cyril has gone back to New York.”

“No,” disagreed Natalia, “I have an invitation to meet him here today.”

“Miss Phol! We have our orders nobody sees him today. We are told Mr Cyril has gone to New York. If you’ll kindly make a call and get a permission from this booth, perhaps, I can let you in.”

There were dogs running across the green grass covered of white petals under the trees. Branches of the White Oaks in spontaneous waves showing green leaves. Red patches and yellow patches of low flowering shrubs scattered in the lawn.

Once again, she was denied. The lady at the end of the line said Mr Cyril had gone to New York.

“No luck!” asked the gatekeeper.

“No,” she shook her head and walked back to the cab. She didn’t have Mr Cyril’s cellular number. She could still call Diego Cavanes and get his direct connection. She had other thoughts, “Drive me to Thistledown and turn into the forest.”

The cab driver pulled deep in the woods. Natalia climbed down and removed her bags, “Tom! Will you give me a hand!” They tramped towards the tall green fence.

“Boost me on the fence and toss the bags!”

“Yes ma’am. Do you want me to stay?”

Natalia thought, “Stay here for thirty minutes. If I don’t come, that means I’m stuck in there. You leave.”

Natalia put her hands on his shoulders and said, “Don’t look!”

“Oh! Okay!” returned Tom, the cab driver.

Natalia leaped over his shoulder to grab the top. She threw a leg to wrap her heel around the tongue of the fence. At that posture she was totally exposed though for a brief moment. The cab driver looked because she said not to look.

“A featheredge! I can’t sit still! Give me the bags! Big one!” She threw it down to the other side of the fence and reached for the tote bag that she hung on a shoulder, turned to face around, “Thanks, Tom! Don’t wait for me!” She jumped down.

Natalia scuffled through the pines and oaks, ash trees and beech trees, carrying that load. Tanager birds chirruped in the branches. She reached the clearing and there stood two modern farmhouses with green metallic roofs, small sheds in the ground. She noticed a climbing ladder leaned on the roof of the house nearest. Bushes planted in the brown soil by the wall, some in blossom. Few small trees and some clipped. This turf looked like a miniature golf course.

She paused behind the verdure wondering which house he would be. Abruptly, somebody swung the door and scurried out with a knife and a piece of rope. Another man followed with a yarn in his hand. He wore a fedora hat, pink sandwich striped shirt and white trousers. Grey beard and reddish cheeks; Thomas Avon Cyril.

The first guy climbed the roof. An antenna cable hang below the fascia and of course a nuisance to the eye. It could have come lose in the wind. This chap grabbed it and tied it down to the roof. Then he called, “Throw me another rope!”

Thomas Cyril cried, “What do you mean, another rope! I gave you a yard and you fastened just one slot. Do you know how much it costs? Half dollar a metre! This is nylon, a synthetic fibre. I bought a hundred metre roll for fifty dollars. Use that knife and your brain!”

And the guy up on the roof didn’t say anything. In a moment, he threw down a piece of nylon; six inches – the balance back to Thomas Cyril.

Thomas Cyril leaned to pick it and turned to find a thin little figure of a lady in a light blue dress standing there wearing black sunglasses and bags on her. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Natalia,” she answered, “I’m afraid, I was unable to pass through the gate. I climbed over the fence.”

He sighed, “Lawrence. I’m sorry. My people don’t want me to talk to you. I’m Thomas.” He offered his hand. The worker climbed down and took the ladder with him. “I’m fixing a cable up there…by the way, you’re lucky not to get bitten by the dogs. They’re trained guard dogs.”

“No sir,” she said, “They’ll stay clear of me.” She waved a pendant on a chain.

“What is that?” he asked.

“A dog repeller,” she described, “it emits a high frequency sound that’s ultrasonic, out of human hearing range.”

“Clever girl!” he remarked.

“I brought here what has been documented with us and with compliments from Sheriff Mayron.”

“Thank you, Miss Natalia. I have to say, this case you are after is more monstrous than OJ Simpson’s, you know. A ‘Jury Revolt’ and now all are wearing black…this way, please!” ushered Thomas Cyril, “I am watching the trial on television. God, I love this show!”