Fatal Harvest (20 page)

“L
ook older,” Matt whispered. “Try to look like we’re in college.

Seated beside him on a chrome-and-vinyl chair, Billy bit into a bagel. “It says right in our passports that we’re sixteen, dude. There’s no way we’re going to fool anybody.”

“I’m not talking about the airline people. The other passengers. They could be
them.
”

“I hate these things,” Billy said, eyeing his snack. “They don’t have any flavor. Why do people eat them?”

“They’re low fat or something.” Matt pressed his hand over the USB key in his front jeans pocket.

Things weren’t looking too good. Early that morning, he and Billy had driven away from Great-Aunt Thelma’s house, leaving Granny Strong there. They had told her they were headed to the doughnut store. They had omitted the fact that they were also going to the airport.

Matt felt lousy about that. He wished he could get his hands on a Bible to see if anyone ever lied in the name of doing God’s work. He knew lying was forbidden in the Ten Commandments. Most of the time when people in the Bible lied, things went from bad to worse. Like a roll call, the characters Matt had studied in Sunday school stood to attention in his mind. First, there was Samson. After he lied to Delilah,
his enemies cut his eyes out and made him a slave. Then, there were Ananias and Sapphira. They lied about selling their property, and they both dropped dead. And what about the apostle Peter? At Pilate’s house, Peter lied three times about knowing Jesus, and look how that turned out. Jesus knew exactly what Peter had done.

On the other hand, Rahab the prostitute had lied to save two spies, and she wasn’t punished at all. In fact, Matt recalled that Rahab wound up being one of Jesus’s ancestors. David and Jonathan had cooked up a lie to save David’s life. They told Saul that David had gone to Bethlehem when he was really hiding out in a field. And David became king of Israel after that. If the end result was for God’s glory, did it make lying okay?

Matt stared at the tile on the terminal floor. Either way, what choice had he and Billy had but to lie to Granny Strong? She never would have let them go to France.

After leaving Great-Aunt Thelma’s house, they had driven to the Oklahoma City airport and found an ATM. The credit card Matt’s father had given him when he got his driver’s license came with the strict instructions that it be used only in an emergency. Well, Matt rationalized, if this wasn’t an emergency, what was? Still, he felt guilty as he gathered up the bills from the machine.

Lying. Stealing. What was next?

He’d almost forgotten he was skipping school, too. Here it was Monday evening, and he was on his way to Europe. Who knew when he’d get back home?

Using the credit card, Matt purchased two round-trip tickets to Paris. The airport there was called Charles de Gaulle, a name that didn’t ring any bells with either boy, and that was all they knew about where they were headed. They didn’t have a hotel reservation or French money. They didn’t even know where the food conference was taking place. All this was causing Matt some anxiety, and he couldn’t figure out how to calm down.

Their first flight took them to Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. Wandering around inside a terminal, they bought bagels, sodas and Cubs ball caps. Then they loitered for a couple of hours in the international waiting area, Billy snacking and Matt getting more and more nervous. Now they were ready to board the jet that would take them across the Atlantic.

What if Agrimax people were on the flight? Matt found something else to fret about. What if they decided to destroy the USB key in some desperate act like blowing up the plane?

Was he becoming irrational? Was he losing his mind? Maybe he was slowly turning into some kind of schizophrenic—

“Low fat, ha,” Billy muttered, regarding his bagel with disdain. “Low taste is more like it. These things need a big spoonful of peanut butter or a slab of ham or something. You eat them plain like this, it’s a mouthful of foam rubber.”

At last the announcement of their flight number echoed across the terminal. The other passengers perked up, grabbing purses, magazines and carry-on bags. Matt realized belatedly that he and Billy should have purchased some luggage, even though they didn’t have anything to put in a suitcase. Two kids standing around with nothing but a pair of tickets could attract unwanted attention.

“So when are you going to tell me what they’re after, Mattman?” Billy punctuated the question by slam-dunking the rest of his bagel into a trash can. “Have you got a CD or something?”

“Shh!” Matt elbowed him in the stomach. “They’ll hear you, dude. You don’t know who’s on this flight with us. It might be them.”

“Well, it’s not Mr. Keeling and Ted, that’s for sure. I’d recognize them in a second.”

“It could be anybody! And you’re just blabbing about whatever you feel like.”

“Are you going to be this grouchy the whole way to Paris?”

“I’m not grouchy. I’m just nervous, okay? My dad’s going to go ballistic when he finds out I’ve been running up his credit card. You’re only going to get in trouble for skipping school, but I’ve done all kinds of wrong things.”

“Yeah. A murder rap is nothing to joke about.”

“Billy, good grief! Why don’t you just tell the whole world who we are, huh?”

“Sorry, dude! Don’t get so bent out of shape.”

Matt stared down at his ticket. He hadn’t intended to be irritable with his best friend. How many times had he wished for Billy’s companionship in the past few days?

“You’re right,” Billy admitted in a low voice. “Sheriff Holtmeyer probably told the authorities to look for you in airports. I’m kind of amazed we got through check-in.”

“Me, too.”

“Agrimax might have found out where we’re going, too.”

“How could they? Did you tell anybody?”

“I didn’t find out about France until this morning, remember?” He shook his head. “It is kind of freaky how they know everything we’re doing, though. Do you think Josefina would have told anyone about the passports?”

“No way. She promised.”

“What about your dad? She might have told him.”

“He’s looking for me down in Mexico.” Matt pushed his fingers through his hair. He needed a shower. “Billy, I feel so bad about all this. He’s gonna kill me…if Agrimax doesn’t do the job first.”

“Don’t worry, Mattman. If somebody wants to hurt you, he’s gotta go through me.”

Matt nodded, relieved. Billy had always been his protector—all the way up from grade school, when other kids were teasing him or trying to push him around.

“So what are we supposed to be doing?” Matt asked. “Are we supposed to go through the gate now, or what?”

“They’re calling us onto the plane in groups.” Billy pointed to a spot on Matt’s ticket. “You and I are in group five. Look, why don’t you just give me that? You’re going to bend it, and then it won’t go through the machine. You need to relax, buddy.”

“I wish I could.”

“This is an adventure, okay? It’ll be fun.”

“It hasn’t been so far.”

Matt pictured little Luz down in Juarez. No doubt she was out of money by now—probably forced back into prostitution to feed the other kids. And buy their glue.

He thought of Mr. Banyon, too. His life on earth was over, and his ranch would be sold.

Matt’s pickup was in a police lot somewhere in El Paso. Hernando’s truck was abandoned in Oklahoma City. Granny’s best friend had broken her hip. Nope, this had not been fun at all.

“Here’s the deal,” Billy said, giving Matt a gentle push to indicate that their group finally had been called to board the plane. “Some heavy stuff has happened to you, but you’re going to be okay. You’re doing the right thing, aren’t you?”

“Well…”

Billy halted and took his friend’s elbow. “Look, Matt…I don’t want to doubt you, but the stuff we’re doing is pretty extreme. This whole food thing isn’t one of your obsessions, is it…like tectonic plates or Latin? This is God’s will. Right?”

Matt edged forward, his Nike runners moving in little baby steps toward the ramp. The woman in front of him wore bright red high heels with long pointy toes. Weird. He wondered if she was French.

“Mattman?” Billy asked. “We
are
going to Paris because you believe God is leading us, aren’t we? You told me you knew this was something you had to do.”

“I thought that, but…”

“But what?”

Arriving at the front of the line, Matt showed his ticket and passport one more time. The agent ushered him onto the covered ramp that led down to the plane. Billy came up beside him and grabbed his jacket.

“Matt Strong,” he said, “this better not be some wild-goose chase, because if it is—”

“No, no. But it’s just that sometimes—” pausing, he looked into his friend’s eyes “—sometimes it feels a lot more rational not to listen. Not to pay attention to God. Like it’s smarter to be safe.”

“Smarter, yeah, I buy that. But remember what our youth pastor always says—God doesn’t ask us to be smart. He just wants us to obey. And that’s what you’re doing.”

Matt felt relief pour through him. “‘I was hungry, and you fed me.’”

“Yep, that’s it.” Billy slapped him on the back. “Get on in there, and let’s find our seats. I wonder how soon they serve up supper.”

“We’ve pinned the boy,” Mack Harwood said.

Vince gripped the phone in his hand. “You caught him? You have the CDs?”

“He’s on his way to Paris.”

“Paris? Are you kidding me?”

“We have this under control, sir. My men in France are already on it.”

Rubbing his forehead, Vince glanced across the restaurant at the table he had just left. His two counterparts—the CEOs of Progrow and Megafarm—were engaged in an animated discussion. The three men planned to meet for most of the next day to finalize plans for the merger. The others looked tense, Vince noted, and he wondered if he appeared equally anxious. The biggest deal in the history of global commerce was just eight days away, and he must not let on that anything was amiss.

“Harwood,” he said, flipping open his electronic planner, “I have to finish this dinner. Listen to me. I’m giving you twenty-four hours. If your men don’t have those CDs by this time tomorrow, I’m going after them myself.”

“That won’t be necessary, sir.”

“Get the boy, Harwood.”

He pressed the phone’s off button and took his handkerchief from his pocket. Stepping behind a marble pillar, he blotted his forehead and neck. He felt out of control. Panic gripped his chest. He made himself breathe deeply.

This would end up just fine, he told himself. He was not the CEO of Agrimax for nothing. He had power, could pull strings, could make it work. He trusted in himself—always had.

Lifting his chin and adjusting his collar, he left the security of the pillar and crossed the carpet toward his guests. With a smile and a wave of dismissal, he let them know everything was great.

Cole sat on his couch and surveyed the ring of solemn faces surrounding him. Pedro, his crop foreman, stared with baleful brown eyes. Josefina, a plate of biscochitos on her lap, dabbed at her cheek with a pink tissue. Her husband, Hernando, kept glancing out the window, clearly wishing he weren’t there.

And Jill. Perched across from Cole, her eyes tired and her golden halo frazzled, she gazed at him.

Finally, Josefina spoke. “I think you should go to bed, Mr. Strong. You look really bad…like sick, you know? Matthew is gone. You’re not gonna see him again till he comes home.”

Cole couldn’t deny the truth in her statement. Now that the morphine had worn off, he was in pain, and he knew his chances of finding Matt were slim. “I ought to fire your sorry hide, Hernando,” he said.

“I know.” The ranch foreman shook his head. “I hope you
don’t, though, because you would have done the same thing if you was me. You would have gotten those passports, and you would have given them to the boy.”

“How can you say that? How can you even think I would let my son go flying off—”

“Because he was talking about God. He was telling Josefina and me that he had to do it for God, you know? He convinced us.”

“It’s true.” Josefina blotted another tear. “No sooner had Matthew driven away in Hernando’s pickup than we thought we probably made a big mistake. But at the time…”

“It’s done now,” Jill spoke up. “Looking back is useless.”

Cole realized she was right. The moment they had arrived at the ranch, Josefina met them with the news that Geneva Strong had phoned. The day before, she and the boys had made a hair-raising escape from Keeling and his cohort in Amarillo. Then they had driven to Oklahoma City, where she intended to keep them hidden at her Aunt Thelma’s house until she located Cole. But early this morning, Matt and Billy had driven off to buy doughnuts and had never returned. She had no idea where they were.

“So you think they really went?” he asked, glancing at Jill.

“Yes, but don’t say where.” She held up a hand of warning. “It’s bad enough that you and I know. It makes us targets. Don’t tell the others.”