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 THE TAKE DOWN
BROTHERHOOD PROTECTORS WORLD

BOSWELL GROUP
BOOK TEN
DEANNA L ROWLEY
 CONTENTS

The Take Down

Brotherhood Protectors

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32

The End
Also by Deanna L. Rowley
About Deanna L. Rowley
Brotherhood Protectors
About Elle James
T H E TA K E D OW N
BROTHERHOOD PROTECTORS WORLD

BOSWELL GROUP
BOOK 10

DEANNA L. ROWLEY
Copyright © 2023, Deanna L. Rowley

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are
products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

I’d like to thank my editor, Ann Attwood, for the beautiful job she does on my
books.

© 2023 Twisted Page Press, LLC ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this book may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without

written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review
purposes as permitted by law.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-
sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with
another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re
reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use
only, please purchase your own copy.
BROTHERHOOD PROTECTORS
ORIGINAL SERIES BY ELLE JAMES

Brotherhood Protectors Series

Montana SEAL (#1)
Bride Protector SEAL (#2)
Montana D-Force (#3)
Cowboy D-Force (#4)
Montana Ranger (#5)
Montana Dog Soldier (#6)
Montana SEAL Daddy (#7)
Montana Ranger’s Wedding Vow (#8)
Montana SEAL Undercover Daddy (#9)
Cape Cod SEAL Rescue (#10)
Montana SEAL Friendly Fire (#11)
Montana SEAL’s Mail-Order Bride (#12)
SEAL Justice (#13)
Ranger Creed (#14)
Delta Force Rescue (#15)
Dog Days of Christmas (#16)
Montana Rescue (#17)
Montana Ranger Returns (#18)
 CHAPTER 1

C arl exited his truck before the garage at the Boswell compound
and stretched. He probably could have pulled inside, but he wanted
to wait until the others in the house were up and around. He looked
at his watch as the two vehicles that came with him pulled in. He
quickly pointed where they should park, and after he grabbed his
bag from the back of his truck, he stood there and watched as
Francesca and Gloria looked around when they disembarked from
their own trucks.
“What is this place?” Gloria asked in awe after she stretched and
grabbed her own bag.
Carl waited for Francesca to join them, with his arm around her
shoulders, he grinned at the two women. “This is what we all refer
to as the Boswell Compound. Or compound for short. We parked in
front of the garage. We can come back out later and park inside of
it. I’ll wait to talk to Joyce to see where she wants us to park.”
“Why?” Francesca looked up at him with a frown.
“She’s in charge of the garage, Astrid is in charge of the
communications. Morgan and Bernadette, or Bernie, are in charge of
everything.”
“What about the other ladies?” Gloria asked as they started
toward the gigantic house. She paused and frowned at him. “I
thought you mentioned more ladies than what you just did.”
“I did, and I don’t like to stereotype, but Ava, Janice, and Alice
are basically what you would call a grunt when you were on your
teams. Ava was a sniper, Janice was the medic, and Alice was the
scout.”
“What about June?” Francesca asked as she watched Carl pull a
set of keys from his pocket. He paused before he inserted it into the
lock.
“June is what she called herself as the analyst.”
“Ah,” both women said, and nodded in understanding.
“Okay, it’s only five thirty, and we made good time. I have a key,
as well as the code to the alarm. Please, as soon as we enter, stand
still until I disarm it.” They nodded and watched as he opened the
door, they all stepped in, stopped in their tracks to stare at the sheer
size of the home, and waited for Carl to turn off the alarm.
“All set,” he said, and reset the alarm. He smiled as he had to
nudge them to get them moving as he led them through the house
without turning on some lights, and to a door that led to the
basement. He flipped on a light and the women saw a stairway light
up.
“What’s down there?” Gloria asked in confusion.
“This is where I sleep, there are plenty of beds for you two.” He
led the way and smiled as the women followed him. As soon as he
entered the room that held the beds, he turned on the overhead
light and made his way to a bed in the corner. After placing his bag
on it, he turned and moved his arm to indicate the room. “This is my
bed, or it was before I left to go to Idaho. Feel free to pick one of
these out, they’re all empty. Don’t worry, the sheets are clean.” He
grinned at their looks, then pointed to a door on the other side of
the room.
“Through that door is the bathroom. It has three shower stalls,
three toilets, with doors, and sorry, but it has three urinals also.” He
shrugged and looked at them sheepishly. “What can I say, eight men
lived down here at one time.”
“Where are they now?”
“They hooked up with the ladies and are upstairs in the rooms
with them.” When neither of them said a word, he nodded. “I’m
going to go back upstairs and start the coffee. It’s a weekday, so
everyone gets up around six. We have the same rule here as I
started over in Idaho. You cook, you don’t clean up.”
“I’ll be right there,” Francesca grinned. She tossed her bag on the
bed next to Carl’s before turning back to him. “Let me hit the head,
and I’ll join you.”
“Deal,” Carl said as he quickly left them, and the two women
turned to look at each other in shock.
“Holy shit, this place is huge,” Gloria said as they went into the
bathroom to use the facilities. As they washed their hands, they
looked at each other in the mirror and grinned. “I can’t wait to see
the house with the lights on.”
“Or the office,” Francesca said. “If I know Astrid, she’s got her
own little corner of it with her computers. I can’t wait to see what
she has going on.” They found the stairs and made their way up,
and saw that Carl was filling a very large pot with water. They both
sighed in relief when they saw a smaller coffee pot beginning to
perk.
“How many cups does that thing hold?” Francesca asked from
the counter, and smirked when Carl jerked and spilt some of the
water. He quickly finished what he was doing, and grabbed another
pot the same size.
“Forty, for both of them. Just a heads up, Joyce streamlines
coffee, I swear she has an IV in her arm sometimes. Ava does the
same with cola.”
“Anything else we should know?”
“June is vegan, she doesn’t eat any meat, and nothing white.”
“What’s that mean?” Francesca scowled at him.
“No white rice, white bread, or white potatoes,” came a voice
from behind them. They all turned to see seven women standing
there, and they all had a gun pointed to the ground.
“I reset the alarm, ladies, no need for the show of force.” Carl
grinned when he pointed to their hands that held the guns.
“We’ll be right back,” they said as one, and returned to the stairs.
Francesca watched them, and sure enough they were back in less
than five minutes, but when they returned, there was a man with
each of them.
 Francesca and Gloria stood back as the others greeted Carl. The
women with hugs, and the men with handshakes and slaps on the
back. As they stood around, Carl looked at them with a grin.
“Guys, I’d like to introduce you to Gloria Alcott and Francesca
Mancusco.” He held out his hand to indicate the two women
standing off to the side, and watched as the others welcomed them.
Not with hugs, but with handshakes and hellos.
“What were you cooking for breakfast?” One of the dark-haired
women asked Carl with a grin, and it was Francesca who answered.
“I don’t know about Carl, but I was going to start cooking a
farmer’s breakfast.”
“Which is?” The women frowned at her.
“Bacon, sausage, home fries, eggs, and pancakes.”
“I’ll help,” she said as she went to the refrigerator and started
pulling out items. She looked back at Francesca with a grin. “Sorry,
I’m Joyce Rizzo, and he is Alex Stuart.” She pointed to the man who
was getting pans out of cupboards and putting them on the stove.
“Luckily, Alex had the forethought to boil up some potatoes last
night because he wanted home fries for breakfast."
Francesca laughed, and as she began mixing up the pancake
batter, Gloria started scrambling eggs, Alex and Carl fried up the
meat, while Joyce chopped vegetables. “We’ll whip up a veggie
omelet for June.”
Francesca just nodded as she began making pancakes, and
realized with all the people there, she would have to mix up more
batter. As the first ones began to cook, she did that, and watched as
others grabbed dishes from the cupboards and started setting the
table. It was a blond-haired man who came into the kitchen and
began taking cups from the cupboards and filling them with the
coffee as the first large pot had just finished brewing.
“I’m Chuck, by the way,” he said as he put a cup next to
Francesca, then had to go back to get one to set beside Gloria. “Do
you take anything in your coffee?”
“No, black is fine,” Francesca said as she picked it up and savored
the smell, then took a tentative sip of the hot brew. “This is good,”
she said, and looked at him with a frown. “How’s the hand?” She
used the spatula to point to the cast on his left hand.
“Good, I went to the doctor last week and she said I was healing
nicely. Should be only a few more weeks before this comes off.”
“Are you one of the infamous J’s or A’s?” she asked as she flipped
the pancakes.
The man named Chuck laughed. “No, but you might as well
consider me one.” At her confused look he grinned. “I met the J’s
the first day of kindergarten and we’ve been best friends ever since.”
“Oh.” Francesca didn’t know what else to say, so she remained
quiet as she worked on the pancakes, and the others continued
either cooking or setting the table. She looked up when someone
began to talk.
“I’m the oldest Stuart sibling,” the man said, and Francesca
looked at him as she waited for the pancakes to cook. “My name is
Justin and I’m dating Ava. I am a construction engineer.” He looked
at the woman beside him and she could see the love he had for her.
As she looked at them all, they were all hooked up, and all in love.
She sighed, wishing she had something like that with Carl. When she
glanced over her shoulder at him, she saw him looking at her, and
her insides melted. Yeah, she had with him what these other couples
had. On a happy note, she turned back to Justin, but took the
pancakes off, and started a second batch.
“John is next and he’s with Astrid. John and Josh, the next in
line, own their own construction company. We built this house, the
garage, as well as the outside office. Chuck here is their foreman.”
“In case you didn’t realize,” a man said with a grin. “I’m Josh,
and I’m dating Alice.”
“Okay, so that’s why you’re called the J’s? Because your first
names start with that letter?"
"Yes," Justin laughed. "Next in line, we have Morgan. We were
five when she was born. Then when she was five when the A’s were
born.”
“I’m Alfie, short for Alfred, but I prefer Alfie, I’m dating June, and
I am a leather maker. I am also the oldest of the A’s.” At her frown
he grinned. “I make hand tooled leather belts, purses…” He paused
when the ladies at the table looked at him in shock.
“You make purses?” June demanded. “Since when?”
“Last week, I have a couple of protypes that I was going to bring
home this week to get your opinions on them.”
“Oh, you’re forgiven then,” June laughed as she reached over
and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you.” Alfie laughed as he leaned back in his chair and put
his arm on the back of June’s chair.
“I’m next in line,” a man spoke, and Francesca saw he reached
over and took a woman’s hand in his. “My name is Alan, and I’m
dating Janice. I’m a cabinet maker.”
Francesca nodded as she took the pancakes off and started yet
another batch. She also noted that Carl had gotten out another
griddle and was making them also, so instead of her six at a time,
together, they could make a dozen pancakes at once. She figured
there were seventeen of them, it would take a lot to fill up the crew.
“Did you make these cabinets?” Francesca pointed around the
kitchen.
“I did, I also made the ones out in the garage, as well as the
ones in the office.”
“I’m next,” Alex said from behind her as he started removing the
bacon from the pan. As you know, I’m dating Joyce.”
When he remained silent, it was Gloria who asked, “What do you
do for a living?”
“I’m a rancher. I guess I never grew out of the stage of wanting
to be a cowboy when I was a little boy.” He shrugged, and looked
adorable with the pink tinge on his cheeks.
“Are you able to keep an eye on Wyatt while at work?”
Alex looked up with a grin, and then over at his brothers who
started laughing, as well as the women. It was so bad that most of
them were doubled over with their arms around their stomach,
trying to catch their breath.
Carl walked up beside Francesca with two platters of pancakes,
and he started toward the table. The people who cooked were done
then, and they took their platters over also.
 “What’s so funny?” Carl scowled at them as he pulled a chair out
for first Francesca, then Gloria. He ended up sitting between the two
of them. It was Bernadette who answered.
“Keeping an eye on Wyatt isn’t a problem,” she giggled and
waved her hand in front of her face. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own
eyes, I never would have believed it.”
“What?” the three newcomers to the family asked as one.
“Morgan not only threatens him, but has trained Sexy to, and I
quote, ‘keep an eye’ on Wyatt.”
Carl threw his head back and laughed just like the others were
doing. It took several minutes before they were all under control. He
looked at the two women, then at Francesca with a grin. “Sexy is a
rooster that Morgan trained when she was here a few years ago
without her memory. That chicken is in love with her, and seems to
listen, and he hates Wyatt.”
Francesca took the phone someone handed her and watched as
Wyatt and a chicken were having a staring contest, then all of a
sudden, the chicken flew into the air, and as Wyatt stared backing
up, the chicken landed on its feet and ran between Wyatt’s legs,
tripping him. He fell back and made a splash in the mud that had
been behind him. When Wyatt tried to get out, the chicken went
after his head, causing Wyatt to drop down into the thick mud again.
“That’s not mud,” Carl said as he started putting food on his
plate.
“What is it?” Gloria asked.
“Shit,” came a voice from behind, and as one, the entire table of
people turned to see a man and woman standing there. The man
wore a scowl that could easily cut any man down, while the woman
wore a gigantic grin.
 CHAPTER 2

F rancesca looked at the couple that had just entered, and watched
as the woman only pointed to the table, and she went to the
kitchen, took down two cups, filled them from the pot, and before
she brought them over, she started another pot. When she joined
them, she sat back and held up her hand.
“We already ate, and the morning chores are done. We only
stopped over here so I could introduce Wyatt to Francesca and Glo.”
Francesca looked at her best friend with a shocked expression,
but saw a radiant smile come across her face. She jumped to her
feet, went over and hugged the other women. Once she settled back
down, she shook her head in wonder. “When I read the file, I never
put two and two together. Damn, Commander, you’ve gotten
yourself into some deep shit here.”
“Yeah, would you believe me if I told you this all started out
when a friend of my uncle’s contacted him with a rumor?”
“No way! All this shit we’ve read and what you’ve been doing is
based on a rumor?”
“Yes, have you met Uncle Chip yet?”
“We have, and he set us up in a house similar to this, but not on
such a grand scale.”
“That’s him, using the government money to help pay for
everything.” She shook her head and looked at Francesca. “Hi, I’m
Morgan Stuart.”
 “Erwin,” the man beside her said. “Remember, we’re married
now.”
“Sorry, I keep forgetting that I changed my last name. I’m
Morgan Erwin, this is my husband Wyatt, and you are?”
“Francesca Mancuso, I was the comms director on my team.”
“Cool, do you know the others here?”
“A little, but mostly from reading the files Carl brought over. I
remember talking to Astrid a few times while I was on my own
team.”
“Wait,” Wyatt said as he set his coffee cup down. “You guys, or
rather, you ladies don’t know each other? Even though you were all
EWMs.” He ignored his wife as she scowled at him in what could only
be considered confusion.
“No,” all the women said, and it was Bernie that went on to
explain, “I was the commander of all the women. All twenty-five of
them. As you know, there were five teams of five, I’ll refer to them
as teams from now on. A team consisted of one commander, while
she was in, Morgan held that position. Next, we have a medic, which
would be Janice, a mechanic, Joyce. A comms director, here would
be Astrid and Francesca, though they were on different teams. The
last position would have been the scout. With these women, that
would have been Alice’s job. She’d go in and scout out the area to
see if there was someplace the team could set up shop if they were
staying more than twenty-four hours.”
“What about June?” Alfie asked as he pushed his empty plate
forward, and leaned his forearms on the table.
“June’s position was special,” Bernadette grinned at June, who
snorted a laugh. “I can’t get into great detail, but I can probably
nutshell it for you. When I got the request for a team to go on a
mission, I gave all the information to someone of June’s caliber.”
“My mind,” June said as she tapped the side of her head at her
temple. “She basically wanted me to pick apart the information to
look for any loopholes, or anything that would trip the team up.”
“You were on a team, correct?”
“Yes, I did double duty as the analyst, before the mission. While
on the mission, I was the scout.”
 “Ah, I understand now,” Alfie said as he sipped his coffee, then
got up and went over to fill the carafe to bring back to the table for
the others to use if they wanted more.
“What did you do on the teams?” Alex asked the two women.
“I was the comms director,” Francesca said. “I don’t know what
Gloria did, though we’ve been best friends since before kindergarten,
we never talked about our time in the service.” She shrugged. “It
was just something we didn’t do.” Then everyone turned to look at
Gloria.
“I started out as a scout, but quickly made my way through the
ranks. When I retired, I was a commander like Morgan, but not as
big as Bernie.”
Everyone was silent as they took in the information, and Morgan
nodded after she refilled both her and Wyatt’s coffee cups. Wyatt
still wore a neck brace, and would have to for the next twelve
weeks, but she only threw him a look when he scowled at her.
“Anyway, let me introduce you to everyone here.”
“Justin introduced himself and his brothers and told us who they
were dating.”
“Wasn’t that sweet of him,” Morgan threw her older brother a
raspberry, and Francesca saw it was done with love. “Okay, then.
Ava Hanson was my first recruit to arrive. Yes, she’s hooked up with
Justin, and she was her team’s sniper. Joyce Rizzo was her team’s
mechanic, and she runs the garage here at Boswell Compound. Get
with her if you need any vehicle. If you’re here and happen go to on
a mission, she will tell you which vehicle to use. We prefer not to use
our personal ones, in case something happens.”
“Is that because the other vehicles are registered to the local
police department?” Gloria asked as she finished her own breakfast.
“Yes, depending on how long you’re staying, you’ll meet Tom
later. Anyway, next we have Astrid Montoya, our resident computer
expert. After her came Janice Bartlett, she was her team’s medic.
Alice Fischer, team scout, then finally June Vanderbilt, team analyst
slash scout.”
“Wait,” Wyatt tried to shake his head, but the collar prevented
him from doing so. “Why don’t you guys know each other if you
were all EWMs?”
“You already asked that question,” Morgan said as she looked at
him with a frown.
“I know, don’t worry, I still have my memory from the accident, I
didn’t lose it. I was wondering if there were only twenty-five of you,
how come you didn’t know each other?”
“Anonymity,” Bernie said. “For safety’s sake, I kept them
stationed at different bases around the country. We needed to keep
their identities from our enemies. Could you imagine what would
have happened if the people they took out found out who they were
and came after them? If they were in one location, they would have
bombed the entire base. Then we would have had World War III on
our hands. I kept the teams apart as much as possible.”
“I understand now. It really does make sense.” He barely moved
his head as he nodded.
Everyone was quiet for some time before Francesca asked
quietly, “How are you doing?”
“Good, it’s slow going at times, but I’m okay.”
“How much longer do you have to wear the brace?”
“Doctor says twelve weeks,” he started to say something else,
but looked at Morgan and sighed heavily. “Twelve weeks.”
Francesca smirked behind her napkin and nodded. “Good
answer.”
“I don’t want to have to deal with fucking Sexy,” Wyatt murmured
into his coffee cup, and the others around the table began to snicker
or laugh. As they did so, the ones that hadn’t cooked stood and
started taking away the dirty dishes. No one really said anything
until after the work was done, and with fresh cups of coffee they all
sat back down.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” Morgan looked around as she
asked. She looked over at Carl and scowled. “Did you drive straight
through?”
“We did, our trucks are out at the garage, I was going to get
with Joyce to see where she wanted us to park them.”
“In your usual spot,” Joyce said.
 “We brought our motorcycles,” Francesca said, and quickly
slapped a hand over her mouth when a gigantic yawn came out of
nowhere. The others grinned at her.
“Don’t shoot me, Carl, but which one of these lovely ladies are
you shacked up with?” Morgan asked in her usual blunt way.
“Francesca,” he grinned.
“Good to know. Now, I don’t have any say in the matter, because
I don’t live here, but there should be an empty bedroom upstairs if
the two of you would like to take that over.” She held up her hand
when they tried to protest. “You won’t be staying long? Correct?”
“Well,” Francesca said, and looked at Gloria, then at Carl who
nodded and took over the conversation.
“We’d like to discuss what we’ve been up to with you ladies, but I
would like to wait for Owen. He left California yesterday morning,
and I don’t know how long it will take him to get here. I figured he’d
be here sometime later today, or tomorrow morning.”
“I can work with that. Glo, do you have a problem with Carl and
Francesca taking the upstairs bedroom?”
“Actually, I’d prefer it.” She looked at the couple with a grin. “I
know when we go to bed one of you will end up in the other’s bed.
If I was in the same situation, that’s what I would do. This way,
you’ll have privacy if you want to have sex, and won’t have to hold
back because I’m sleeping in one of the other beds. Besides…” She
grinned at them. “Look at all the shower room I have to myself.”
The others laughed, and nodded. However, Carl looked around
the table, and asked, “Do any of you guys have a problem with us
taking the last bedroom upstairs?” When they didn’t object, he
looked over at Morgan. “Thank you, we’ll take it.”
“Good, then why don’t you get situated, and though we’re not in
the military any longer, I’m ordering you to bed. All three of you look
like you’re about to keel over in exhaustion. If you don’t want to talk
to us about your findings until Owen arrives, that’s fine by me. We
have plenty of information to still go through over at the office.” She
looked around and nodded before she stood.
“I’d like to ask something,” Chuck said as he held up his good
hand and looked around the table. Then he looked at Bernie and
smirked. “Sorry, but you’re not included in this.” He turned to the
others with a grin. “I need to go get groceries, and I need help.”
“Like last time?” Morgan asked in shock. “Wait, can you go over
and get Dolly’s list? She mentioned yesterday that she needed a ride
to the store. With most of the hands being arrested when Wyatt and
I were hurt, we don’t have anyone to spare.”
“Why don’t I see if she wants to go with me and I can teach her
my evil ways?” Chuck laughed as the others groaned, and he rose to
his feet to go to the kitchen. Francesca saw him pull down several
sheets of paper from the front of the refrigerator and came back to
the table.
“I need everyone to look at these, then go check your bathrooms
to see if you need to add anything to the list.”
Carl leaned back and waved the two women in closer. “Chuck is
an extreme couponer. The first time he did this, we all laughed at
him, but he came back with almost five thousand dollars’ worth of
supplies.”
“Holy shit, it cost him that much? Even with the coupons?” Gloria
asked in shock.
“No,” Chuck laughed. “In the end, the store paid me eight
dollars. You haven’t seen the upstairs yet, but each bedroom had a
bathroom. Not to be gross, or too personal, but before I started
shopping, we’d buy a couple of packages of the large count toilet
paper, but were forever sharing, and always running out. We were
also stopping almost every night to pick up something that we ran
out of. The way I shop now, we have plenty to spare.”
“Damn, I’d love to see how you do it. Can I come with you?”
“You’re not too tired?”
“No,” she looked at Carl and Francesca, then said on a laugh. “I
wasn’t up all night the night before we left having sex. I got a good
night’s sleep.” The others didn’t bother covering their mouths as they
burst out laughing at the embarrassed couple.
“It’s a deal.” Chuck nodded and then looked around the table.
“Who’s going to be doing the running?"
"I can," Justin said. "I don’t have anything on my calendar at
work for today. I was planning on seeing if the ladies needed any
help with anything.”
“You can come over and then leave when Chuck calls,” Bernie
said.
“Why aren’t you going with him?” Francesca asked the other
woman. “If you’re dating, don’t you want to help him out?”
Bernadette sighed as she stood, and that was when Francesca
saw the brace on her leg. “What the hell?”
“When did you get out?” Bernie asked Francesca.
“Five years ago.”
“Then you didn’t hear that on my last mission I took a bullet.
After several surgeries, it ended my career. Doctor said this is the
best I’ll ever be, only at eighty percent.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. Please, tell me you got the other guy?”
“All fifteen of them. It was an ambush. Unfortunately, we lost one
of our own. May he rest in peace.” The other ladies said the same,
then Bernie smiled at Francesca. “I don’t want to slow Chuck down
in the store, and with Alcott going with him, then I won’t have to
worry about his hand.” She turned to look onto Gloria. “You’ll keep
an eye out for him?”
“I will,” Gloria said. “What do we do first?”
“Follow me,” Chuck grinned as he stood, walked up to Bernie,
gathered her in his arms, and kissed her. When they broke apart, he
nodded, then turned on his heel and walked over to the door that
Francesca knew led to the basement. He paused and looked back at
the group. “Morg, can you call Dolly and see if she wants to go with
us? I have coupons to spare, and if she can get away, we could use
her help pushing the carts.”
“I’ll call and ask, how long?”
“Thirty minutes.” Chuck went down and Carl told Francesca to
follow. Once downstairs, Carl led her over to the other side of the
room, away from the beds. Francesca stood there in shock as she
looked at several tables with coupons laid out all over them. She
watched as Chuck explained how he did things to Gloria, and
Francesca could only shake her head at how organized it all seemed.
She looked up when someone came in and frowned.
 “Josh,” he said with a grin, and held his hand out to Chuck.
“Here’s the card.” Chuck took the black credit card and stuffed it in
his wallet, then he went over and showed both Gloria and Francesca
the area that they stored the extra food, paper goods, and laundry
soap in. After he and Gloria left, Carl and Josh started taking things
from the storage area.
“What are you doing?”
“Rotating stock,” Josh said. “We’ll take this stuff upstairs, what
fits, that is, then when the new stuff comes in, we’ll bring it down
here. What’s here will go up and be used first.”
“Oh,” she shook her head and started helping. Once it was done,
Carl took her outside and showed her the old office that had been
converted into another storage area. After studying the contents of
the room, Francesca turned to Carl, to ask, “Can I make a
suggestion?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“If we did something like this back in Idaho, you know, for
Boswell Three, at this time of year, I wouldn’t keep the laundry
detergent out here.”
“Why not?”
“It might freeze, then you’d have a mess on your hands. I’m sure
the canned goods are okay, but I wouldn’t keep any liquid out here,
and especially not the soda.”
“Damn, I never thought of that. Are you tired yet?”
“I’m getting there, but I can help get this out of here. Is there
enough room in the house?”
“Yes,” Justin said from the doorway. “You’re right, the liquids
shouldn’t be here. They’ll be okay in the garage if we need the
space.”
“What difference would that make?”
“The garage is insulated and heated, this building is not.”
“Ah,” Francesca nodded and began taking the bottles of liquid
laundry soap into the house and found there was plenty of room for
it all. She couldn’t wait to see what happened when all the new stuff
arrived. As they worked, Justin and Carl explained how the running
of the compound worked, and once they were done, Francesca
looked at Carl with a grin. “We have got to do this back home at our
place.” She turned on her heel and headed down to get her back.
“You’re living together?” Justin asked in shock.
“Not yet, she’s talking about the compound Chip has set up in
Idaho. It’s not as grand as this one, and I don’t know if the others
know this yet, but Chip mentioned something about having a
Boswell Three over there.”
“Don’t you live here?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking of transferring, however, if Boswell Three is
going to be something that will come to fruition, then I’m seriously
thinking of either transferring to Idaho, or retiring from BCI and
joining Boswell Three.”
“You’d move there?”
“Yeah,” Carl said as he looked at Justin with a grin. “I feel the
same way about Francesca as you do with Ava.”
“Congratulations, I’m happy for you.” Justin slapped him on the
back. “I’m going over to the office until I get the call. Why don’t you
go get some shut eye. I know you’ve never been upstairs, but
there’s an alarm clock next to the bed.”
“Thanks, I should only need a couple of hours, then I’ll be fine.”
They parted ways and while Francesca was coming up the stairs
with both the bags, he took them and led her up the stairs to the
second floor. They were met by Joyce who asked for the keys to
their vehicles, stating she would put them away.
“I’ll put the keys where they belong.” She reassured them, then
left.
“I’ll give you the entire tour of the house later, but I’m about
ready to fall over,” Carl said as he led them up the stairs, and took
the first door on the right. “I don’t know who is where, this is only
the second time I’ve been up here. The first was when I started
living here and was given the tour. I do know that the J’s are on that
side, and the A’s on this one.”
“Okay.” Francesca covered a yawn and nodded that she was
ready. “All I want right now is a hot shower, and a soft bed. Sorry,
but we’ll have to wait for the sex. I don’t want to fall asleep during
the middle of it.”
 “Understood,” he said as he opened the door, and quickly closed
it behind them. Once inside he realized that it was quiet, and he
couldn’t hear what was going on in the other parts of the house. He
could live with that.
 CHAPTER 3

F rancesca rolled over , stretched, and smiled when she didn’t feel
anyone next to her. She looked at the clock on the side of the bed,
and realized it was only noon. At least she hoped it was noon and
not midnight. The sunlight showing around the curtains made her
sigh in relief. She tossed the covers back, rose, and went to the
bathroom. Once back in the room, she quickly dressed, and made
her way down the stairs.
The first person she saw was Carl, and he had his head buried in
the refrigerator. As he backed out, he looked up and grinned. “Hey,
how did you sleep?”
“Good, you?”
“Good. I didn’t want to disturb you, I’ve only been up for about
thirty minutes, but it was enough sleep to hold me over.”
“Yeah, me too. What are you doing?”
“I was going to make up some sandwiches, then call the ladies
over.”
“Need help?”
“Sure,” Carl nodded, and pointed things out, then brought more
items out of the refrigerator. By the time they were done, the door
opened, and the women entered.
“Great,” Joyce grinned. “I didn’t want to cook.” They all laughed
and took plates of food to the table. Carl went into the pantry and
brought out several bags of chips to go along with them. As they
ate, they made small talk, and once they finished, they sat back with
a satisfied smile. They looked up when the front door opened and in
walked John, carrying one end of a large cooler, with Josh at the
other end. Behind them were Alfie and Alan.
“What in the world?” June asked.
“Sorry, babe,” Alfie said with a grin. He set down his cooler and
looked at the others. “A few weeks ago, we all pooled our personal
money and gave it to Wyatt for a cow to be butchered.”
“Ah, so it’s ready and this is the result.”
“Yes, but remember, we got two cows, and two pigs. They called
Dolly while she was at the store with Chuck. He called us. We went
to pick it up. We’ve already taken what Wyatt ordered over to the
Flying E, and this is ours.”
“Two cows and two pigs are in those two coolers?” Francesca
asked in shock.
“No,” Alphie laughed. “There are six more coolers, and at least
ten boxes out in the truck.”
“Need help?” Carl asked, and quickly jumped to his feet to help.
Francesca did the same, but she held open the door to the
basement. As the men carried the meat downstairs, the women
went down and started taking care of it. June stayed upstairs to
make sandwiches for the men. An hour later they were sitting at the
table taking a break as the men ate, and there was the sound of a
horn outside.
“What’s that?” Francesca asked.
“Justin with the first load,” Carl grinned at her as he jumped to
his feet and rushed to the door. He slipped his feet into his shoes,
and hurried out. With all of them, it only took another hour to
dispense with the items to their proper locations. That went on for
the rest of the afternoon, and when Chuck and Gloria finally
returned, Gloria wore a gigantic smile.
“We have got to do this when Boswell Three is up and running.”
“What did you say?” Morgan asked from her position by the
refrigerator. “What’s Boswell Three?”
“Oh, shit,” Gloria, Francesca, and Carl exchanged glances. It was
Francesca that turned to the other woman to explain.
 “Chip Boswell wants to start a Boswell Three over in Idaho, with
Gloria and I being in charge.”
“Is it something you would want to do?”
“I don’t know, honestly. I’d have to see how this one runs first.
It’s still up in the air. At this point, Chip hasn’t told us whether there
is a case for us to investigate or not. Until then, it’s on the back
burner. Besides, if you’ll have us, then we’ll be staying until the first
of the year.”
“Not me,” Gloria said as she held up her hands. “Not that I don’t
want to know what’s going on, but I need to go back and forth.
Raymond says you can stay here and see how Two operates, then
come home when you’re done. I need to get back in case something
crops up there.” She looked directly at Morgan as she explained
further. “I need to interview potential agents.”
“Will this Boswell Three be sanctioned as government, like BCI
is?”
“No, according to Chip, he wants us to quit BCI and come work
for him.”
“Will you?”
“Depends on the health care,” Francesca said. “I’m about eighty
percent leaning toward going private, but I need to see a paycheck,
or numbers in writing. Plus, I need health care. Something that can
at least match what I’m getting at BCI.”
Morgan nodded, then smiled. “Sorry, I wasn’t mad about you
starting up Boswell Three. I knew Uncle Chip had it in the works, I
just didn’t know how far he had gone with it, or if he’d said anything
to anyone else.”
“Yeah, he told us two.” Gloria nodded. The looked at the others.
“I’m going to talk with Chuck before I have to go back to Idaho. Do
you believe how much all this cost?”
“Probably the same as last time,” Morgan laughed. “What, five
grand?”
“No, seven, and he was paid back twenty-three dollars.”
“Holy shit,” everyone said and asked to see the receipts. They all
marveled at the good job Chuck had done, but when they went to
congratulate him, they had to wait until he stopped kissing Bernie.
With a grin on their faces, they turned to look at the others.
“One question,” Francesca asked, when everyone turned to look
at her, she spread her arms to show the items still on the table and
counters that needed to go either up or down the stairs. “How long
does all this last? I mean you don’t shop like this every week, do
you?”
“No, the bulk of everything is roughly every six weeks. We do
stop weekly for the eggs, milk, butter, bread, stuff like that.”
“Can’t you check out the local dairy for the butter and milk?
Maybe even the cottage cheese?”
“What do you mean by that?” Chuck asked with a frown, but he
had interest in his expression.
“When I was at one of my foster families, we lived next to a
farmer. He told them how he could order butter and even cottage
cheese in five- or ten-pound tubs through the people who picked up
his milk. I’m not saying we need that much.” She stopped when
everyone said they would. Chuck turned to Morgan.
“Can you talk to Dolly about it later tonight? Maybe if she knows
of anything, get us some names and numbers.”
“I can. Now that I think about it, our butter is always in these
weird tubs. You know, like Cool Whip containers and such.” They
stood around talking, and it wasn’t long before they began thinking
about what to cook for supper.
“How about one of those fresh steaks done out on the grill?” Alex
asked.
“Chuck, did you get any of those mushrooms I asked for?” June
asked with a hopeful look.
“I did.”
“Then I say yes, as long as you grill one of those mushrooms for
me. How about some grilled asparagus to go along with it.”
“And baked potatoes,” Alex grinned. They all rubbed their
stomachs and realized it was going on five o’clock, so they quickly
put away the rest of the supplies, Morgan left to go home, saying
she’d return by seven the next morning, and the others either set
the table, or helped Alex and June cook.
 “Hey,” Carl called out as he looked up from his phone after it had
buzzed. “Can you throw another steak and potato on? Owen said
he’s about thirty minutes out and is starving. He wanted to know
what we had planned for supper, or he was going to stop and buy
pizza.”
“On it,” Alex said, and quickly grabbed another steak and
doctored it with seasonings. As they waited for the meat to cook,
Carl looked over at the two ladies, and said, “I wonder if he found
out anything.”
"Me too, I can’t wait to see what we found,” Francesca said of
the envelope she’d been handed a few days ago from Manny. She
was itching to see if she had any results from the scan she’d run on
her facial recognition program. She had promised Carl she wouldn’t
look at the computer, nor the envelope until Owen could join them.
On a sigh, she watched as everyone worked like a well-oiled
machine as they put the meal together. She hoped if there was a
need, and she did start working for Boswell Three, then the people
who came to work with her were as good at getting along as this
group did. She didn’t know if it helped that the men were siblings, or
not.
Ten minutes before they sat down to eat, there was a knock at
the door, and Carl went to answer it, but had his hand on the gun at
the small of his back. He looked through the peep hole, then threw
open the door with a huge grin on his face.
“Owen, you made it.”
“I did,” the newcomer said tiredly, then drew in a deep breath as
he shook Carl’s hand. “Whatever you’re cooking, it smells delicious.”
“Steak, baked potatoes, asparagus, and I don’t know what else.”
“I don’t care,” he said as he entered, and kicked off his shoes. As
he joined the others, he was given a beer, and the men all shook
hands while the women gave him a hug. When the greetings were
done, he turned to Francesca, Carl, and Gloria. “You tell them
anything yet?”
“No, we were waiting for you. I’m sure you can take a bed
downstairs and crash here for the night.” Carl looked at the others
with a raised brow. He received several nods, and turned back to
Owen. “Then it’s settled, you’ll stay here, and we can introduce this
new information in the morning over at the office.”
Owen agreed, then looked at the group. “Men, you might want to
join us. Can someone call Morgan and have her bring Wyatt and
Dillon with her tomorrow?”
“On it,” Ava said as she pulled her phone and walked away. No
one said a word, because they knew they wouldn’t get any answers
until the time was right.
 CHAPTER 4

A t eight o ’ clock the next morning, everyone was settled in at the

conference table, while the women of Boswell sat at their desks on
the outside of the room. Francesca, Carl, Gloria, and Owen stood at
the back of the room, and as everyone turned to look, Owen
stepped forward.
“Thank you all for coming,” Owen began, and when several
women cleared their throats and looked at him with raised brows, he
chuckled. As he looked at them sheepishly, he smirked. “Thank you
for having me?”
“That’s better,” Morgan said, and Bernie seconded the
agreement.
“Okay, then. Thank you for having me.” He looked around the
entire room, and caught a nod from everyone there, even his own
people. After drawing in a deep breath, he let it out slowly. “As you
know, Carl and I went to Idaho to try to get information from some
of the locations from Stella’s GPS.” He frowned, then looked around
the room again. “Sorry, that’s not quite right. That was the main
reason why Carl went, I went for an additional reason. After talking
it over with Raymond Masters, who is the director of the Idaho BCI
office, we hired Hank Patterson and his Brotherhood Protection
Agency to run surveillance on Agent Caryn Moore out of Helena,
Montana.”
“Why?” Wyatt asked. No one said a word that he already knew
this. Morgan was making both mental and physical notes to talk to
the doctor when they went back for a check-up. It seemed like he
was forever asking questions to clarify things he already knew. She
shook her head at Owen’s scowl, and he continued.
“We want to know if she’s gone rogue, or if she’s working her
own angle of being undercover.”
“Isn’t she a BCI agent?” Wyatt asked, and Morgan breathed
easier that he remembered. He must have suspected something,
because he looked over at Morgan. “I didn’t forget, it’s just that her
name hasn’t come up in some time, and I wanted clarification that
she was still a player, or potentially a player, or if she was for or
against us.”
“Oh.” Morgan left if at that and laid her hand over his to give it a
gentle squeeze. “Please continue.” She looked at Owen with a nod.
“As I was saying, we don’t know if Agent Moore is rogue, or
what. We, my boss here in North Dakota, as well as Raymond
Masters, believe it will be better for everyone if we have someone
like Patterson and his agency to keep an eye on her. We also agreed
it wouldn’t look good that agents from different states were tailing
her.” He paused and looked around the table to see everyone nod in
agreement at him.
“Who will get the reports from Patterson?” Bernie asked.
“Director Raymond Masters with the Idaho office of BCI. He will
then forward them here. At this time, Moore is someone that the BCI
is keeping on the back burner. We don’t know whether she’s a part
of this case, or if it’s something totally different.” As the others
agreed, he drew in a deep breath and pulled several files from his
briefcase. He began passing them out to the women of Boswell.
“This past weekend, I went to Los Angeles, California to talk with
the man who called me about Gus Carter’s death. The good thing
about it was that he is my younger brother. Please, don’t open these
folders yet, but after several people made several phone calls, when
Arnie and I arrived at his office, there was a warrant sitting in his
inbox that allowed me to gather the information I went after.”
“What exactly does Arnie do for a living?” Morgan said as she
wrote down his name, and looked at Owen with raised brows.
 “Arnie is the Director of Corrections for Los Angeles County. He
has access to every prisoner’s record that had ever been in the
system.” When several people whistled, he grinned. “Yeah, it came
in handy. As long as I had that warrant, I was golden. I’m going to
nutshell it for you before I move on. I not only asked for Gus
Carter’s prison records, but I also asked for the records from a man
named Gary Samson.”
“Why?” several people asked as one. Owen noted that Joyce
didn’t say a word and he looked at her. She nodded and stood.
“You guys all know my story, right? About how when I was ten
some punk butt kid tried to rape me? He had me pinned down, tried
to tear my clothes off, and hit me several times before three men
found us and saved me?” When they said they did, she continued,
“Gary Samson was that punk butt kid. A few weeks after the attack,
and over the course of several days, I had to give my statement to
the cops, the social worker, and the judge. Luckily, the man who
saved me, Marcus Stinger, had taken pictures of what I looked like
after the attack. The ripped clothes, the bloody nose, the bruises on
my face, neck, and arms. With my statement and those pictures,
and Marcus’s statement, they sent Gary away to Juvie. Once I knew
he wouldn’t be walking the streets, I never thought of him again.”
She sat back down, and everyone nodded at her.
“Does he have something to do with this case?”
“Not directly,” Owen answered honestly. “I mean that by not him,
personally, but two of his family members are possibly involved.” He
scrubbed the back of his neck and looked around the room. When
Joyce jumped to her feet to go to the coffee pot, he nodded when
she brought it over and refilled his cup. He took a sip, and waited for
Joyce to sit back down.
“I’m not making excuses, but Gary Samson didn’t have a nice
home life growing up. When the men that broke up the fight
between him and Joyce took him home, they called the cops.”
“Why?” several people asked as one, Joyce included.
“I don’t know what your friends told you, Joyce, but they called
the cops because his mother was a prostitute and she turned tricks
out of their home. When the john she was with came out of the
bedroom and saw Gary there with the two strange men, he, the
john, hit Gary. They restrained him until the cops arrived. They also
called the authorities because there were drugs lying out in the
open. Cocaine, needles, bags of pot. They looked in the cupboards
and refrigerator and there was no food fit to eat anywhere.”
“I did not know this,” Joyce said. “I remember he was a bully in
school and always demanded lunch money from the other kids.
Sometimes he’d even beat them for it.”
“I’m not making excuses,” Alex said as he took her hand in his.
“Maybe that was the only way he could get something to eat, and
was too embarrassed to say anything to anyone.”
“Or too scared,” Chuck spoke, “Maybe one of the johns or the
mother threatened bodily harm if he told anyone about his home
life.”
“Could be, but that’s all water under the bridge now. Samson
went to Juvie until the age of eighteen. Something happened while
inside, and he had to stay until he was twenty-one. He got out and
was clean for about eighteen months. Over the next few years, he
was in and out of either regular county jail for a few days, to a
couple of years in prison. All different charges. His final time he went
to prison was he accrued yet another felony, and the three-strike
rule was just put into play at that time.”
“What is that?” Wyatt asked with a confused look on his face. He
turned to Morgan with a grin. “Don’t bother taking notes on that
question, I really have no clue what it is.”
Morgan nodded, and laughed. “Sorry, this isn’t a laughing matter.
It’s a law that was passed that if someone gets a third felony
conviction on their record, they go to jail for the rest of their lives.
The lawmakers believed that if they didn’t straighten out and toe the
line then, they weren’t really interested in leading the good life, so
they would be locked up after strike three.”
“Ah, now I understand. Please, continue.”
“Nothing much more to talk about Samson. He went in for his
third strike, and two years later he was shanked in a prison fight in
the yard and didn’t survive his injuries. That was five years ago.”
Everyone was quiet for several moments after that.
 “Did he have any siblings?” Joyce frowned. “I seem to recall two
younger brothers.”
“One older and one younger, but yes, he had two siblings. Now
this is where it gets interesting.” He paused and leaned his hips
against a desk and placed his hands beside his hips. “Francesca,” he
said, and they all turned to watch as Francesca brought up a photo
on the big screen she had talked with Astrid about earlier. “This is
the photo from the motion camera in Joyce’s storage unit. This next
one is what our people did to enhance it.” They watched as the
picture became clearer. Owen held up his hand as they looked at it,
then at Joyce. “Yes, Joyce, that is the man that works for Marcus
Stinger. He was the man who told you that you couldn’t be in the
office the day you found out Stella had been stolen.” He looked at
everyone and waited for them to look at him before he continued,
“So far, I have found nothing bad about this man.”
“Who is it?” Dillon asked.
“Clifford Samson, Gary’s younger brother. I had my office here in
North Dakota, and Raymond had his people in Idaho run this guy.
Nothing. No criminal record, no parking tickets, nothing. He’s as
clean as a whistle. We only matched this photo to his driver’s
license,” Owen paused as he looked at the screen and saw the
document there. “He graduated from high school, middle of the
class. Not high honors, but not failing, or skimming by.”
“Looks to me,” Joyce said with a scowl. “That after watching his
brother get into trouble, he kept his head down and didn’t bring any
attention to himself. Did he go to college?"
"Not college, per se,” Owen said. “He did attend a trade school to
learn about motors. Upon graduation, he got a job at Stinger’s
Garage.”
“Marcus didn’t suspect anything?”
“No, my brother Arnie and I went to talk to Marcus to tell us
what he knew about the Samson family. So far, other than Gus,
Clifford was a model citizen.”
“But?” everyone asked when he paused.
“Yeah, this is where it gets interesting, and this case you all are
working on is about to be knocked on its ass.” He waited until
everyone settled down, then stood tall. “As I said, Arnie is my
brother, and he was able to get the arrest records of Gary Samson,
and Gus Carter. Other than the things that Carter was sent back to
California for, and his frequent stops in Idaho, Montana, and here,
there’s nothing really to pin him to this case. I believe deep in my
heart that Gus Carter was a pawn in all this. Someone is pulling his
strings and he was easily expendable.”
“Who?” everyone asked.
“Samson had an older brother. There was no mention of it in any
of his prison records. When he went away to juvie for attacking
Rizzo, he was fifteen. His older brother would have been twenty-one
by then and out of the picture. It turned out that Marcus Stinger had
a lot of information on the family. He told me when Arnie and I went
to talk to him about Clifford that he had hired a private investigator
to look into the family. He wanted to know if anyone would be
coming after Rizzo in retaliation.”
“What else?” Bernie demanded. “Stop stalling, Drake, you’re
dragging this out. Who was the older brother?”
“He had a different last name from Gary and Clifford. According
to Marcus, if you hear this guy’s name, run, run as fast and as far
away as you can.” He looked at the confused expression, then while
he looked directly at Morgan, he dropped his bombshell.
“Gary Samson’s older brother is a man by the name of Oro
Ronan.” You could hear a pin drop in the room. It even seemed like
the computers held their breath, then the explosion of swearing took
over. The loudest was Joyce Rizzo, and she never swore.
“Holy fucking shit!” she yelled as she jumped to her feet. “Are
you telling me that I grew up in the same neighborhood as that
asshole? The one we’re after?”
“Yes, Marcus gave me the file his investigators came up with, and
even back then, when he was young, he was bad. It turned out that
he would kill small animals in the woods, rabbits, squirrels, things
like that. Then when the neighborhood cats and small dogs came up
missing, they started looking at him. When he was caught red-
handed, he said that someone else did it.”
 “What exactly are you telling us, Drake?” Morgan demanded as
she stood and glared at him.
“According to the files I’ve been able to dig up so far, Oro Ronan
is his real name, but when he was caught killing someone’s pet, he
went to jail, except it wasn’t a normal jail, it was a mental
institution. I’m waiting for more records, but Marcas Stinger had
reports from his investigator, and it states that even back then at the
age of sixteen, he had multiple personalities. One of the names he
kept using was Frank Carlisle.” He watched as the room exploded
again. He sat back and waited for them to calm down. At one point,
Carl and Francesca made their way to the front of the room and
stood next to Owen.
“There’s more, and it’s worse than what Owen just said,” Carl
said as he held up his hand.
“What else could possibly be worse?” Morgan demanded with her
hands on her hips.
They all calmed down further when they watched as Francesca
pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, and held up a baggie containing
several thick envelopes.
“Carl and I obtained this information on a hunch from one of
those stops Stella made in Idaho.”
“That’s it, Stella is grounded, she’s not allowed out of the garage
ever again,” Joyce said firmly, her statement caused everyone to
chuckle and relax. They settled back in their seats and looked at
Francesca. “What do you have?” Joyce asked.
“I have no clue. On the way to Boise, we were riding our bikes,
but it seemed like someone was following us. We pulled over at a
rest stop to discuss it, then went to the first location Carl had
mapped out. While we got gas, the same vehicle we suspected
pulled in, and we moved our bikes, and the truck approached us. He
asked if we were with Carter, then asked if I was his old lady.”
“Please, tell me you were,” Morgan said.
“I did, I played like I was in charge and that Carl was a new
trainee. When he started making noise about Carter not coming
when he was supposed to, we told him that he got pinched and we
laid low until the heat was off.”
 “Good,” Bernie said. “How did he react to that?”
“He said he understood, and was glad we didn’t bring the heat to
him, then he handed me this envelope, and said all the information
was there. He also handed me another one asking me if I knew of
some boys I could obtain.”
“Oh, dear lord,” everyone said as one.
“Yeah, but he said everything I would need to know is in these
envelopes.”
“Where are you supposed to take these boys?” Bernie
demanded.
“To a New Year’s Eve party where the buyers will be.”
Morgan looked around the room and nodded only once. “Well,
we’ve now got plans for New Years. What are in the envelopes?”
“I have no clue, I wanted to wait to open them when I was here
with Boswell. The guy who gave these to us is called Manny. That’s
it. Carl has it all on his camera if you want to watch the exchange. I
only ask that you include me in this, and I don’t have to tell you this,
but please wear gloves when you handle this. We have yet to get
any fingerprints.”
The others agreed and it only took a few moments for Astrid to
bring up the video from Carl’s phone. No one said a word as they
ended up watching it three times.
“I want his photo sent to Tom,” Morgan said.
“Already done,” Astrid spoke for the first time. “I also sent it to all
your computers, and Owen, I sent it to our contact at your home
office.”
“Thank you, could you also send one here?” he asked as he
strode toward her with a business card. “This is the director of the
Idaho Falls office. Raymond Masters.” He watched her fingers fly.
“Done.”
They decided to take a break before they tackled what was in the
envelopes, and instead of staying in the office, they all went outside
to enjoy the fresh air.
 CHAPTER 5

F rancesca looked at the people milling around and realized they all
looked happy and content with one another. She didn’t know if it
was because they were siblings, or what, but she liked the feel of
the group. When Morgan broke off and came to her, she braced
herself for what was about to be said.
“Thank you,” Morgan said without any fanfare.
“For?” Francesca asked in utter shock at her statement.
“For not opening those envelopes until you were here at Boswell
Group.” Morgan held up her hand to hold off what Francesca could
have said. “I know, you’re an agent with BCI, and we’re civilians,
you had every right to look at them without our knowledge.”
“First, it was stressed to me by my boss, Raymond Masters, and
your uncle that you and your team were the lead on this
investigation. I have no clue what they contain, other than what
Manny told me. My gut is screaming that it has everything to do with
your investigation. I’m not going to step on any toes here.” She
grinned as she looked around, then back at Morgan. “I’m out of my
jurisdiction here.”
“Ah, and again, I thank you for waiting to look at the information
until you were with us.”
“You’re welcome.” Francesca left it at that. A thought suddenly
struck her, and she looked at Morgan with wide eyes.
“What is it?”
 “Are there others involved in this case that aren’t here? You
know, someone that needs to know the information we reveal when
we get back inside?”
Morgan nodded. “Yes, but we have an understanding that
Boswell gathers all the information first. We determine how
important it is, then call in the others. Carl’s already here, he
represents BCI. We have an agent from the FBI that works with us.
Last I heard he was trying to get information from the men that shot
at Wyatt and me on our way back from our honeymoon. Then we
have the state attorney general, then representatives from the DEA,
ATF, and Homeland Security.”
“Watch that guy,” June said as she came up and joined him. “He’s
an ass and thinks he can run roughshod over our investigation.”
“How do you handle him?”
Morgan smirked. “Tell him if he doesn’t like the way I run my
investigation, then he can get the hell out and we’ll leave their
agency out of the matrix.”
“How did he take that?”
“Not very well,” Morgan laughed. “I don’t know what type of pull
Uncle Chip has, but he only has to give him the look, and Helm
backs off.”
“Is there anyone else?”
“Yes, we have three Canadians that we are working with. They’ve
been with us almost from the beginning. Griffin, Paul, and Harry.
They are here undercover, where they’re from is where the most
amount of suspicious Jane Does showed up. After finding the one
who survived and hearing her story, they went to their supervisors
and came here to see if they could get any more information.”
“Can they do that? Working here as Canadian citizens?”
“No clue what it entailed to get here, but they’re here and they
are our eyes from where they work. If anything suspicious is going
on, they contact us. We call them when we have information that
needs to be reported to everyone. There’s only one drawback to
having them here, but in the long run, it works for everyone.”
“What’s that?”
 “We have to have them come in on a Saturday or Sunday, they
work undercover during the week.”
“You’re not going to tell me where they work, are you?”
“Have you read the file?” Bernadette asked as she approached
them.
“I have. Everything Carl brought to Idaho with him, I’ve read.”
“Okay, then you know about Neil Mason?”
“I do.”
Bernie looked at the other two women and when Morgan nodded
to her, she looked at Francesca with her own nod. “The three
Canadians are working as security guards for Neil Mason. They are
the ones that when people arrive at the compound, their words, not
ours, they have to see one of the three of them before they can get
to the house.”
“That’s good, right? Do they let you know of any license plates,
or descriptions of the people entering?”
“They do,” Morgan said then stepped back a little to allow Astrid
to join their little circle. “What’s up?” Morgan asked as she saw
Astrid had been looking at her phone on her way to them.
“Griff just sent me a text.”
“And?” the other women asked as one.
“It seems that right after the wedding there have been some
changes to their work schedule.”
“How so?” Morgan asked. “Wait.” She held up her hand and
looked directly at Astrid. “Let’s take this back inside and discuss
this.” She put two fingers to her mouth, let out a piercing whistle,
and when everyone turned to look at her, she raised her hand above
her head and moved her arm like she was swinging a lasso. “Back
inside,” she said firmly, and sighed in relief when the men nodded
and headed toward the office. It took almost fifteen minutes for
everyone to grab a drink and settle down at the table or desk.
Francesca noted that the men paired with the women who had a
chair beside the desk, and sat next to their love interest. The way
the chairs were positioned reminded her of a police station. She
liked that it was that way.
 “What’s up?” Wyatt was the one to ask as they settled, and he
reached for a cookie from the front of Morgan’s desk.
“Astrid has something she wants to say, then we can get to the
task of opening those envelopes. Astrid, you have the floor.”
“Thanks,” she said as she stood and looked at everyone. “You all
know that if we need any contact with the Canadians I do it, and
one of them contacts me if they have anything for us. With that
being said, Griff just sent me a text saying that some changes went
into effect for his job a few days after the wedding.”
“Which are?” Dillon asked as he leaned back in his chair,
stretching to take a cookie from Morgan’s desk. Janice jumped to her
feet and disappeared to come back a few minutes later with a
container contained several plastic bags.
“Take one and pass it along,” she said as she grabbed two of the
baggies and went back to her desk. It turned out that all the baggies
held cookies.
Carl grinned as he took one, then said to Francesca, “Janice is
our resident baker.” When everyone had a bag of cookies, they
turned to Astrid for her to continue.
“You know the guys worked Monday to Friday from seven to
three, correct?”
“Yes, has that changed?” Morgan asked.
“It has. There had always been someone on the front gate from
seven in the morning to midnight. Now, Mason wants it manned
twenty-four seven. Our guys are split up. Griff now works the gate
alone, Paul replaces him and works from three to eleven, and Harry
comes in and works overnight.” As she said this the women sat up
straighter and looked at one other.
“Something’s going down, that’s what Griff is saying, but you
know he isn’t told anything. He says the air is different around the
compound. Oh, and more security guards were brought in for the
main house.”
No one said a word as they took in that information. This time it
was Wyatt who jumped to his feet, and everyone held their breath
as he stumbled just a little bit and had to grab onto the desk to
steady himself.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
zware nachtschaduw dreigden. De houten vloer glom van regen,
[133]en de geheele straat lag nat en triestig in het donker.

Kon dit dezelfde weelde-straat zijn van enkele uren geleden,

stralend van heerlijke, wondere luxe-dingen, achter schitterend
verlichte glazen?

Kijk, er liepen toch nog menschen. Hoe klein en zwart beneden

onder die hooge, duistere huizen. Nu zag hij pas hoe hoog die
huizen waren. Wat deden die menschen hier nu nog buiten, zoo laat,
in den regen? Waarom waren ze nu niet veilig thuis?

Hij zag, dat het meest vrouwen waren. Ze liepen nu niet, of ze haast
hadden. Ze slenterden op en neer, of ze op iets wachtten, dat wel
eens komen zou, dat misschien ook niet komen zou.

„Waar wachten ze op?” dacht hij.

Het moest toch niet prettig zijn, in zoo’n koude, duistere straat, met
die dreigende, hooge schaduwen boven je in den regen te loopen,
zonder bladerendak dat beschutte.

Er liepen ook wel mannen, maar niet zoo veel. Zij keken naar die
vrouwen. Somtijds bleef er een staan. Dan keken de vrouwen naar
hem. Er kwam er wel eens een die hem aansprak. Die kende hij
zeker. Ze praatten even.… Wat zouden ze elkaar wel zeggen?.…
Dan ging de man weer door. De vrouw keek hem na. Ging dan weer
verder, langzaam. Wachtte weer.

Hij begreep het niet.

Waar wachtten ze dan op?.… [134]

De zwarte gedaanten, zoo klein en nietig daar beneden, tegen die

hooge nacht-gevaarten, zij draalden ál maar door.
Hier en daar stond er een tegen een kozijn geleund, of stil, onder
een pui. Stond maar aldoor stil te wachten, te wachten. Strekte nu
en dan den hals uit, keek, en keek. Waar keek ze naar?.…

Ze zochten iets, dat begreep hij. Maar wat zochten ze dan?.…

Somtijds sprak er een een man weer aan, die voorbijkwam, en dan
gingen ze wel eens samen weg, gearmd. Die hadden dan zeker
afgesproken elkaar daar te vinden. Ze had dan op hém gewacht
zeker, nu begreep hij het.

Maar dan die anderen? Die maar alleen bleven en niemand vonden?

Hoe triestig, die donkere figuren, slenterend in den regen, hoe

vreemd.…

En ineens voelde hij intuïtief het tragische in dat sombere dwalen

daar van al die donkere vrouwen in den nacht. Een vaag voorgevoel
van angst bekroop hem, voor een onbestemd gevaar. Hij voelde
onraad. Er moest ergens iets niet in orde zijn. Er wàs daar iets, er
wàs iets.…

Dat dwalen, dat dwalen, hopeloos, gelaten, van al die vrouwen daar,
dat wachten en wachten op wat niet kwam.…

Bij een lantaarn onder zijn venster zag hij een jonge vrouw staan.
[135]

Zoo heel anders dan de mooi aangekleede, vroolijke menschen van

’s middags in de straat, en van dien avond in het theater.

Ze scheen het koud te hebben, want ze rilde. Haar kleeren leken

oud en dun. Een bleek, moê gezicht had ze, onvriendelijk, hard. En
toch zag hij er iets erg treurigs in, iets als van een hond, die
geslagen is en nu alles wantrouwt. Iets brutaals, en toch iets erg
schuws ook.

Wat moest die vrouw daar nu?… Waarom bleef ze daar bij die
lantaren staan, in dien regen … Zou ze ziek zijn? Zou hij haar
kunnen helpen? Naar beneden gaan, en haar aanspreken?

Maar een geheime angst weerhield hem.

Nog lang bleef hij staren naar het vreemd gedwaal daar beneden,
niet begrijpend. De zwarte gestalten werden nu al minder, er waren
er al heen gegaan, maar de enkelen, die over waren, kwamen nu
nog somberder uit.

Die bleven maar langzaam doorloopen, op en neer, in den regen,

zoekend en speurend wat ze niet vonden, of bleven roerloos
geleund tegen een raamkozijn, wachtend, almaar wachtend op wat
niet kwam.

En ’t bleeke vrouwtje, met het harde, schuwe gezicht stond nog altijd
beneden, hangerig tegen de lantaren gesteund …

Eindelijk ging hij naar bed, moê-op van al het [136]geziene dien dag.
Hij kon in ’t eerst niet inslapen. Hij zag nóg aldoor die donkere
vrouwengestalten, triestig en somber, dwalende zonder doel … Wat
zochten ze toch, wat zochten ze?…

Er wás iets, er wàs iets, iets vreeselijks, iets van bang gevaar en
gruwzame verschrikking … Maar wat?.…

Morgen zou hij het Marcelio vragen. Het was maar beter er nu niet
meer over te denken. Er waren toch nog zooveel andere dingen. De
groote Cathedraal bijvoorbeeld. De Cathedraal van de heilige
Leliane.

En ineens zag hij het ranke Godshuis weer voor zich oprijzen, in al
zijn teedere, kanten pracht van fijne figuren, hij zag de twee hooge
torenen als bloemen omhoog gaan, en de fijne spitsen zich verliezen
in de lucht … En ziet! Daar hoog boven, tusschen witte wolkjes,
zweefde de roze-figuur van Rosita, engelen-zacht.…

Toen begon alles te vervagen, en sloot een rustige slaap

voorzichtiglijk zijn moede oogen. [137]
[Inhoud]
 HOOFDSTUK IX.

Den volgenden morgen stond hij frisch en verlicht op. In het heldere
daglicht, met de nieuwe, klare ochtend-dingen om zich heen, dacht
hij niet meer om de donkere avond-figuren, die hem ’s avonds zoo
angstig hadden gemaakt.

En Marcelio had hem dien dag zooveel te vertellen, dat hij geen tijd
had hem nog te vragen wat toch die eenzame gestalten in de
donkere straat hadden gezocht.

’s Ochtends was Marcelio in het witte paleis bij de prinses geweest,

die hem had opgedragen, wat er met Paulus moest gedaan worden.

Prinses Leliane was heel dankbaar voor de diensten die

Willebrordus en Paulus haar hadden bewezen, maar zij wilde dat
alles strikt geheim zou blijven en er nooit iets van uitlekte. Paulus
moest op zijn eerewoord beloven, dat hij er nooit, aan wien ook, iets
van zeggen zou.

Om hem te bewijzen, hoe erkentelijk zij was, zou [138]de prinses hem
op haar kosten doen studeeren, en kende zij hem een jaargeld toe,
dat zij hem, om ruchtbaarheid te voorkomen, door Marcelio zou doen
uitkeeren. Hij zou lessen krijgen van de professoren die Hare
Koninklijke Hoogheid zelve onderwezen hadden, en, na voldoenden
proeftijd, zou hij dan wel zelf kunnen kiezen, welke studie hem het
meeste aantrok. Als hij hard studeerde, zou hij misschien nog wel
toegelaten kunnen worden tot de Militaire School, waar de garde-
officieren werden opgeleid van de koninklijke lijfwacht, en de
beroemde „Ridders van den Dood.”—De prinses zou zich door de
professoren op de hoogte laten houden van zijne vorderingen.—Ook
zou zij inlichtingen laten inwinnen omtrent Paulus’ afkomst, waarvan
hij zelf niets wist. Marcelio kon hem nog niets zeker er van zeggen,
maar het was zeer waarschijnlijk, dat Willebrordus indertijd een
bekende persoonlijkheid geweest was in Leliënstad.

Toen Marcelio hem vroeg, of hij goedvond wat de prinses over hem
beschikt had, antwoordde Paulus dat hij alles zou doen, wat zij
wilde, omdat alles natuurlijk was welgedaan, wat van háár tot hem
kwam. En dit meende hij, zonder er nader over te denken. Alléén
vroeg hij, heel deemoedig, of hij prinses Leliane nog wel eens zou
mogen zien.

Maar dat zou vooreerst heel moeilijk gaan, zeide Marcelio. Alleen de
heeren en dames van de hofhouding mochten Hare Koninklijke
Hoogheid zien, en [139]de hooge edelen en officieren, die op
audiëntie gingen, en genoodigd waren op de hoffeesten. Later
misschien, als Paulus officier was geworden van de garde, en als hij
waardig was bevonden, in het keurkorps te worden opgenomen van
de „Ridders van den Dood”, dan zou de prinses hem zelve
beëedigen, en mocht hij ook misschien wel eens dienst doen als
ordonnance aan het hof. Die gunst zou Hare Koninklijke Hoogheid
hem misschien wel bewijzen, omdat hij haar gevonden en verpleegd
had toen zij verdwaald was in ’t bosch.

En Paulus vond het een groote genade, dat hij misschien ééns in
haar tegenwoordigheid zou mogen leven. Het kon ook niet zoo maar
inééns gaan. Hij moest eigenlijk eerst iets doen om zoo groote
zaligheid te verdienen. O! Kon hij toch maar ooit iets groots doen ter
harer eere! En hij nam zich voor te werken, te studeeren met al zijn
macht, om dan later misschien ééns uit te blinken, en haar te
toonen, dat hij haar hooge gunst waardig was.

Marcelio begon hem nu te ondervragen over wat hij alzoo

gestudeerd had met zijn grootvader in het bosch, en hij stond
verbaasd, hoeveel Paulus eigenlijk al wist. Wel stond hij nog erg
onbeholpen in het groote stadsleven, waarin hij nooit gewoond had,
maar van de theorie der dingen wist hij al veel, en er ontbrak nog
alleen maar practische ondervinding aan zijne ontwikkeling. [140]

Marcelio vond het een interessant geval, en begon hoe langer hoe
meer belang te stellen in zijn’ jongen protégé. Hij voelde zich zoo’n
beetje als een oude corps-student, die alles heeft medegemaakt, en
een onervaren groen onder zijn bescherming heeft genomen.

Jong en rijk, in de verte zelfs geparenteerd aan het koninklijke huis,

en zeer gezien bij de prinses, die hem in hare hofhouding had
opgenomen, was graaf Marcelio altijd als een verwend kindje door
het leven gegaan, dat nooit ernst had gekend. Hij had een fijn gevoel
voor kunst, vooral waar die weelderig was, en een nog fijner gevoel
voor contrasten. De moderne strooming der tijden had hem niet
hevig voortgestuwd. Om op de hoogte te blijven, had hij ook aan
politiek gedaan, en eene studie gemaakt van de sociaal-
democratische ideeën, maar van alle toestanden in de maatschappij,
en alle beschouwingen er over, had hij alleen den humor van de
contrasten gesavoureerd. Verstandelijk was hij het met de sociaal-
democraten eigenlijk eens, dat de toestanden in de maatschappij
ellendig en onrechtvaardig waren, maar in zijn ziel was niet het
groote sentiment, dat hem partij kon doen kiezen. Hij leefde nu
eenmaal zooals hij leefde, weelderig en zinnelijk, en gaf toch gelijk
aan degenen, die zulk een leven nietswaardig noemden. Goedhartig
en edelmoedig, vol ridderlijke opwellingen, zat hij te vast in de sleur
van zijn door [141]hem zelf, verstandelijk, inferieur gevonden leven,
om zich aan de groote zaak van het volk te wijden. Hij hield van
goed eten, van elegante kleeren, en van mooie vrouwen, en kon niet
leven zonder de fijne emoties van literatuur, schilderkunst en muziek,
die hij als iets geheel buiten de realiteit beschouwde, welke hij nu
eenmaal gewoon dacht, wel met prettige, streelende ontroeringen,
maar toch gewoon. Hooge Liefde, en reine Godsvereering raadde hij
alleen intuïtief uit verzen en muziek, maar in het leven kende hij
enkel het zinnelijke genot, dat lief en verrukkelijk aandeed, maar
nooit zijn innerlijke ziel beroerde. Het was de bewustheid van het
nietige in zijn eigen bestaan, en van het onware in de menschen en
toestanden om hem, die hem in den lichtelijk spottenden toon deed
spreken, dien velen juist de charme in hem vonden. Alleen als hij
sprak over wat hij bewonderde in kunst en literatuur, was die spot uit
zijn stem verdwenen, maar liefst sprak hij er niet over, en bewaarde
dat eenige ernstige en heilige in hem als iets, dat hij beter deed te
verbergen.

Hij zat nu met zijn vreemden beschermeling eigenlijk een beetje in

de war. Er was nog zoo weinig in hem, dat hij als contrast genieten
kon. Hij leek nog zoo’n wezentje van droom en verbeelding, dat
nergens steun aan had, en als zweefde in een ledig. Zóó zou hij toch
nooit in het leven van de werkelijkheid terecht kunnen komen. Hij
zou eerst wat ontgroend [142]moeten worden, dat was duidelijk.
Anders kwam hij er nooit. En zóó voelde hij iets van het medelijden
voor Paulus, dat een ervaren student heeft voor een groentje, die het
leven nog niet kent, en nog „maagd” is. Volkomen te goeder trouw
en in allen ernst dacht hij, dat het goed zou zijn hem te leeren
kennen, wat hij „hèt leven” noemde, het mondaine leven van
Leliënstad, dat als het toppunt van westersche beschaving gold voor
de geheele wereld. Daartoe behoorde in de eerste plaats wat hij met
een onbewuste minachting „de vrouwen” noemde.

Hij genoot van de verbazing, die Paulus toonde over alle dingen in
het wereldsche stadsleven, waar híj al geblaseerd van was, en die
hem niet meer ontroerden. Somtijds werd hij ook wel eens werkelijk
getroffen door den angst en den afschuw, die Paulus toonde over
zaken, die voor hém doodgewoon waren, en waar hij het leelijke
nooit van had gezien. Er was eene prikkelende streeling voor hem
in, zijn jongen protégé voor allerlei nieuwe dingen te zetten, en dan
te zien, welken indruk zij op hem maakten. Het meest verbaasde
hem zijn groote, ideale vereering voor prinses Leliane, als voor een
wezen, dat eigenlijk niet op de aarde behoorde, maar in heilige,
hemelsche sferen. Hij kende haar van zijne vroegste jeugd af, kwam
door zijn dienst als ordonnance dikwijls aan het hof, en hij had haar
nooit anders gezien dan als de vorstin, die hij nu eenmaal eerbied
betoonde, [143]omdat dit zoo in de orde der dingen lag, maar een
eerbied, die uitsluitend uiterlijk vertoon was, en niet wortelde in zijn
ziel.

Paulus begon langzamerhand te gewennen aan het leven in

Leliënstad.

Marcelio had hem den weg gewezen in de voornaamste straten, die

hij doormoest, en met de kaarten van Baedeker wist hij al overal te
komen.

Met geld wist hij al heel gauw om te gaan, en Marcelio had hem
genoeg gegeven, om ruim mede rond te komen. Alles ging zoo
gemakkelijk en geleidelijk met dat geld, dat Paulus niet beter wist, of
het hoorde nu eenmaal zoo dat je in een winkel of een restaurant
kwam, en dan zóó en zóóveel muntstukken gaf in ruil voor de
dingen, die je hebben wilde. Maar over de eigenlijke waarde van dat
geld, en de manier, waarop het onder de verschillende menschen
verdeeld was, dacht hij nog niet diep na. Hij vond het nog te
onbeduidend en te gewoon, om er kwaad of gevaar in te zien.

’s Ochtends en ’s middags kreeg hij nu les van erg geleerde

professoren, die alles wisten, of volgde hij een college, of maakte
aanteekeningen bij boeken, die hij bestudeerde in de groote,
koninklijke Bibliotheek. Dat was een heerlijk ding voor hem geweest,
toen hij voor de eerste maal door Marcelio in die bibliotheek was
gebracht, waar al die duizenden boeken waren, waar hij uit mocht
kiezen wat hij wilde. De [144]eerste dagen studeerde hij veel over
staathuishoudkunde en de inrichting van het rijk. Het allereerst wilde
hij weten, wat betrekking had op prinses Leliane.

Toen las hij, dat in Leliënland eene kroonprinses eerst dàn koningin
kon worden, als zij in het huwelijk was getreden, en haar achttiende
jaar had bereikt. Prinses Leliane, eene weeze, was de laatste
afstammelinge van een eeuwenoud geslacht, waarvan alle
mannelijke nakomelingen waren gestorven, en zij voerde nog den
titel van prinses, totdat zij eenmaal getrouwd zou zijn. Een raad van
voogdij bestuurde tot zoolang het land in haren naam, en hare tante,
de oude hertogin Marcelia, die eene verre nicht was van graaf
Marcelio, was met de moederlijke zorgen over haar belast.

Er werd nu al veel geschreven in de couranten over een aanstaand

huwelijk van de kroonprinses, nu zij al ruim zeventien jaar was, wie
alzoo de pretendenten konden zijn, enz.

Paulus dacht over deze dingen niet eens veel na. Hij besefte nog te
weinig, wat een huwelijk eigenlijk was, en zag Leliane nog altijd als
het héél verre schoon dat, hoog boven de stad, troonde in haar witte
paleis, in haar eigen sfeer van heilig licht, buiten het
werkelijkheidsleven van alle dag. Het was of de couranten een
geheel ander wezen bedoelden in hun geschrijf.

Marcelio had hem verteld, wanneer de prinses gewoonlijk [145]uitreed

om te toeren, en dan stond hij, tusschen het volk verscholen, te
wachten op den Leliën-Boulevard, als zij van haar hooge woning
nederdaalde naar de stad.

Dan reed zij hem voorbij, een goddelijke verschijning, in witte kant
gekleed, leunende in de blauwe kussens van de koninklijke victoria,
frêle en bevallig als een fee van louter licht en glans.
Alle ontbloote hoofden bogen eerbiedig, en vriendelijk knikte zij de
menschen toe, die voor haar negen in vereering en groetenis.

En dit éven haar mogen zien was hem een groote, genadevolle
zegen, die hem rust en vrede gaf in het leven onder al die vreemde
menschen. Alleen het denkbeeld, dat hij in hare nabijheid mocht
wonen, dat hij haar morgen, of overmorgen weer éven zou mogen
zien, en diep het hoofd voor haar buigen, maakte hem al gelukkig.

Dikwijls liep hij den Leliën-Boulevard op om, boven bij de Cathedraal

staande, in de verte haar lichte paleis te zien. En als hij dan het
schitterende licht zag, waarin haar koninklijke huis als blank
porselein stond te glanzen, voelde hij den vrede weer terugkomen in
zijn ziel. Dáár ademde haar maagdelijke, lelie-reine leven, dáár
woonde zijne goddelijke gebiedster, die schooner was dan de witte
water-lelies in het bosch, dáár woonde zij, die heerlijker praalde voor
zijn ziel dan de stille sterren.… en dít was [146]genoeg, alléén dit
weten, dat het wonder bestond van haar leven, en niets meer.…

Hij raakte nu ook langzamerhand gewoon aan het drukke gewoel

van de straten. Dikwijls ging hij nu ’s avonds ook alleen uit, zonder
Marcelio.

Hij at nu geregeld elken dag in een vegetarisch restaurant, waar de

lucht van vleesch en wild hem niet hinderde, en om aan het
ongewone leven te wennen wandelde hij na het diner de groote
Boulevards op en af.

Het vreemde werd daardoor langzamerhand gewoon, maar toch had

hij nog dikwijls de sensatie van een onbestemden angst en een vaag
vermoeden van onraad, als hij ’s avonds te midden van het luid
lawaaien van de stad liep. Er moest iets in die straten zijn, dat hij
nog niet zien kon, maar dat gevaar was, en verschrikking.…

Die jagende herrie, dat áltijd door gejoel en gejacht, kregen iets
tragisch voor hem, dat hij niet kwijt kon worden. Al die menschen,
die daar voortjoegen, of die zoo schijnbaar vroolijk opgepropt zaten
in de cafe’s, zij zagen er niet uit of zij gelukkig waren. Hij had nog
géén gezicht gezien zoo rustig en sereen als het maanlicht-vredige
gelaat van Willebrordus. Allen hadden zij iets zenuwachtigs, iets
angstigs, iets van onrust pijnlijke spanning.

Hij voelde het zóó: die menschen moesten geen lief „home” hebben,
zooals zijn eenvoudige kamertje [147]in het bosch, zij moesten niet
rustig ergens alleen kunnen droomen, in stil verkeer met eigen,
mooie gedachten, dat ze allemaal maar zoo roezemoezig door
elkaar woelden tusschen die koude, doode huizen-gevaarten, of
nauw samenhokten aan tafeltjes met flesschen en glazen, in zoo’n
muffe café-zaal vol weeë menschen-lucht en verstikkenden tabaks-
damp. Kende hier dan niemand den stillen droom van boomen, en
het wijze spiegelen van vlakken vijver, en het vaag gevlied van
transparante wolkjes in de lucht? En wat joeg hen toch zoo angstig
door elkaar, met geratel van rammelende wagens, en triestig getoet
van horens, en schel klokkengebel, door die steenen, troostelooze
straten, waar geen bloemen uit bloeiden, en waar alle dingen koud
en gevoelloos strak stonden om hen heen?

Zóó gingen de eerste weken voor Paulus voorbij, in studie van stil-
doorpeinsde uren bij lessen of werken in de bibliotheek, met ’s
avonds het altijd nog vreemde en vaag-beangstigende van ’t drukke
straatleven, waar hij al meer en meer aan wende, maar dat hij tóch
nog niet begreep, en dat hem niet vertrouwd werd.
Een groote troost was hem de Cathedraal, met zijn innig, heilig leven
boven de stad. Dikwijls, als de huizen-straten hem te angstig
benauwden, ging hij zich even veilig voelen bij de Cathedraal. Zij
had een eigen, apart bestaan, als een levend schepsel, en [148]hij
kende haar, zooals zij was op vele uren van den dag.

Hoe het witte, reine Godsgebouw boven de stad opbloeide uit de

duisternis, met het eerste dagen van het licht, als eene groote,
blanke bloem, oprankende ten hemel! En vooral, hoe het ’s avonds
ernstig vroom werd van stille aandacht, met al de pracht van zijn ijle
kantwerk oprechtelijk uitgespreid, fijn als de loovertjes van boomen
tegen donker wordende lucht! Wat werd die wijze, kalme cathedraal
een steun in zijn moeizaam leven daar in de duistere stad! Somtijds,
als hij er langs ging, leunde hij zich vertrouwelijk tegen een harer
oude muren, zooals een kind, dat tegen zijn moeder steunt. En,
zooals hij vroeger wel eens de stammen der boomen in het bosch
gestreeld had, ging hij liefkoozend met zijne handen langs de grijze
steen om het beter te voelen, hoe het heilige wezen bij hem was.
Eéns, op een laten avond, toen hij had staan droomen in een
portaal, waar vrome heiligenbeelden op hem neerzagen, was
opeens het machtige klokkenspel uitgeklingeld in statig-bronzen
carrillon, en in zalige verrukking was hij nedergeknield, denkende dat
hij de heilige muziek hoorde der engelen, jubileerend in de luchten.
En de zware, sonoor-gedragen klokkeslagen, daarna nedergalmend
van omhoog, wijd-uit gonzend over de groote, donkere stad
beneden, waren hem als ontzaglijke woorden Gods, metaal-rein, van
rechte gestrengheid … [149]
[Inhoud]
 HOOFDSTUK X.

De luchtige feeën-gratie van Rosita was al die dagen niet van hem
weggeweest, en als een kleurige vlinder, telkens weer terug-
fladderend, was zij door zijn ernstige gedachten heengewiegeld.

Avond aan avond was hij teruggekomen in het Variété, op de voorste

rij van de stalles d’orchestre, om haar voor hem te zien verschijnen
als een licht visioen, zwevend met haar roze droom-lijfje in de witte
wolkjes van kant en tulle, ijl in het ledig, als een broze, kleurige
vogel, zonder den grond te raken, een liefelijk licht-wezen van enkel
droom en glans.

Zij verscheen hem na het drukkende, moeitevolle bestaan van den

dag tusschen de kille huizen en de vreemde menschen, als het
mooiste en teerste uit zijn vroegere, jonge leven, met al de bekoring
van zijn boomen uit het bosch, met de fijne transparantheid der
morgen-nevelen over het gras, met de weifelende kleur-nuances van
avond-schemering, met de pure schittering van de sterren. [150]

Maar een vage droefheid kwam weleens in hem opgeweld, door al

zijne verrukking heen, hoe het zijn kon, dat dit schoon zoo
bedriegelijk op Leliane geleek, en toch Leliane niet zijn kon, omdat
het Rosita was. Ook kwam er somtijds een ongekende, vreemde
ontroering in hem, die hij nooit bij het biddend aanschouwen van
Leliane gevoeld had, een onbestemde angstigheid, wee en huiverig,
die pijn deed, en zijn ziel deed sidderen.…

Hij had Marcelio verteld, hoe hij dikwijls naar het Variété werd
toegedreven door een zenuwachtig gevoel, dat sterker was dan zijn
wil, en hoe hij somtijds niet kalm kon zitten studeeren, omdat hij dan
altijd die vlinderachtige roze vrouwen-figuur vóór zich zag zweven.
Het liet hem geen rust, telkens kwam het terug, en dikwijls was zijn
leven een onbewust wachten op het uur, dat hij haar zou zien
verschijnen. En hoe meer hij haar nu al gezien had, des te sterker
kwam het terug.…

Dan lachte Marcelio guitig-geheimzinnig, zooals hij wel meer gedaan

had. Hij raadde Paulus aan, haar eens wat bloemen te sturen,
zooals de gewoonte was, als iemand haar erg mooi vond, en haar
dat wilde zeggen. En Paulus vond dat heerlijk. Ja, spreken was
eigenlijk te gewoon tegen zoo’n luchtig droom-wezen, dat in het ijle
zweefde. Veel mooier was het, haar met bloemen te zeggen, hoe zij
zijn ziel verrukte.

Zijn liefste bloemen moesten het zijn, die het innigste [151]waren, en
teeder als de dingen, die hij haar toch niet zou durven zeggen. En hij
kocht nu elken avond een corbeille met enkel viooltjes voor haar, die
haar op het tooneel werd gebracht.

Hoe heerlijk, als zij dan, lachende, op de toppen der fijne voetjes
zwevend, terugkwam voor het voetlicht, en genadiglijk de bloemen
tot zich nam! Dan was het Paulus, of zij de liefste gedachten van
innigheid had medegenomen uit zijn binnenste. Zoo ging het avond
na avond, en nooit dacht Paulus er aan, haar dichter te durven
naderen dan met die simpele viooltjes uit zijn hart, tot eindelijk
Marcelio hem kwam vertellen, dat hij haar gesproken had, en zij naar
zijn jongen vriend gevraagd had, die altijd zoo galant voor bloemen
zorgde als zij optrad.

„Ze vindt het zóó aardig van je,” zeide hij, „dat ze je door me laat
vragen, of je eens met haar wilt soupeeren, en met haar in haar
rijtuig naar huis gaan, na de voorstelling. Ze wil absoluut eens kennis
met je maken.”

Paulus schrikte.
Het leek hem zoo onmogelijk.

Dat wezentje van glans en droom, dat luchtig zweefde in de luchten,

dat hij altijd had gezien in een verre, aparte sfeer, buiten het reëele,
hoe zou zij ooit tegen hem spreken kunnen, gewoon als ieder ander,
hoe zou hij naast haar kunnen zitten in een rijtuig, ratelend door de
straten? [152]

En hij begreep het niet.

„Hoe kán dat?.…” zeide hij, verwonderd. „Marcelio, dat kán toch
niet.…”

En weer lachte Marcelio geheimzinnig.

Hij had niet aan Paulus verteld, hoe goed hij Rosita kende, die eene
oude vriendin van hem was, en hoe dikwijls hij haar van zijn jong,
onervaren vriendje verteld had, die de vrouwen nog niet kende, en
ontgroend moest worden. En hoe Rosita nieuwsgierig geprikkeld, en
ook vereerd door zulk een simpele aanbidding, zich door Marcelio
had laten overhalen, om het jonge droomertje eens te vragen.

Dien avond zat Paulus in angstige spanning in het Variété. Hij had
met Marcelio gedineerd, die hem had overgehaald, weer wat
champagne te drinken.

Toen hij Rosita weer zag aanzweven boven de bloemen, als een
lucht-wezen van niets dan droom en liefelijkheid, kon hij zich
onmogelijk voorstellen, dat zij straks in de heel gewone werkelijkheid
als een vrouw voor hem zou staan, en tegen hem zou spreken. En
heimelijk hoopte hij eigenlijk, dat het ook niet zou kunnen gebeuren,
al verlangde hij er tegelijkertijd tóch naar.

Toen zij ná het ballet weer omhoog zweefde tusschen de witte

wolken, dacht hij stellig, „nu is ze ook heen in hooger sferen, nu kan
ik haar ook niet meer zien.” Maar Marcelio schrikte hem weldra
wakker.

„Kom nu mee,” zeide hij, „ze gaat zich kleeden, [153]en haar rijtuig
staat te wachten in het zijstraatje links naast het gebouw. Maar drink
eerst nog een gobelet goede champagne. Dat wekt je wat op.”

Een beetje bang, half onwillig ging Paulus mede, en liep toen met
Marcelio wat op en neer in de zijstraat buiten.

Tot een deur openging, en een luchte gestalte met zilverachtig

geruisch van zijde aan kwam wuiven.

Nu gebeurde verder alles aan Paulus als in een roes. Zachte,

melodieuze woorden dreven als muziek over zijn ziel. Hij voelde zich
buigen, hoorde zich wat beleefdheidswoorden prevelen, en zag
opeens, dat hij in een rijtuig zat, met een vreemd, zacht
vrouwenlichaam naast zich. Er kwam zoete, bedwelmende geur van
haar, als van een bloem.

Hij kon haar niet goed zien in het donker van den coupé. Nu en dan,
als zij voorbij een lantaarn reden, schemerde haar lief, lachend
gezicht even voor hem op, om dan weer te vervagen, als iets dat
even oplicht in een droom, en dra weer in het niet verdwijnt.

Hij wilde even voorzichtig met zijne hand haar aanraken, om te

weten of hij niet droomde, maar voelde niets dan weg-ritselende kant
en donzen veeren.

Eindelijk hield het rijtuig stil. Hij voelde een zachte hand die hem
medenam, hem voortleidde, een trap op, naar boven. [154]

En opeens stond hij in de werkelijkheid, in een lichte kamer.

Zij stond voor hem, lachend, met al de betoovering van haar luchte
gratie naar hem toe. Ook zij, evenals Leliane, was mooier dan een
vlinder of een bloem, vond hij. Een zachte, vreemde geur van
viooltjes droomde van haar af; zijn al van de champagne lichtelijk
dronken hoofd duizelde er van. Zij had een lichtroze lijfje aan van
glanzende zijde, en toen zij een donzige sortie van witte veeren
afdeed was haar blanke hals en decolleté open. De voorzichtige,
zachte opwelving van haar borst was van een groote teederheid, en
zij deed hem aan als een gebaar van haar ziel. Haar volle, witte
armen kwamen nu en dan uit het veeren dons, als vreemde,
betooverende verschijningen.

Aan hare gestalte was iets luchtigs, iets van trilling en ruisching, als
van een vogel, die straks zou opvliegen in de lucht. Zóó zou zij ieder
oogenblik kunnen opspringen, en dansen dien luchtigen, zwevenden
dans, waarin hij haar zooeven als een vlinder zwevend had zien
wiegelen.

Haar zijden rok ruischte, en aan haar arm ritselde zacht-zilveren

geluid van schuivende edelsteenen. Zij zag hem aan, nieuwsgierig
hoe haar nieuwe aanbidder er van dichtbij uitzag. Een aardig, jong
kereltje, vond zij. Die nog niet goed durfde. Die zeker nog erg
verlegen zou zijn. Zij hield wel van zulke maagd-jongelingen. [155]

En ze lachte.

Hij vond het erg vriendelijk van haar, en hij was er heel blij mee. Hoe
zacht en glanzend was alles aan haar! Al die zijde, en dat dons, en
die schitterende steenen, waar heilig vuur en licht in leefden! Hoe fijn
en ijl waren die gouden haren van haar kapsel, als uit zonnestralen
geweven! Ja, het was toch waar. Een vrouw was mooier nog dan
bloemen. Dit liefelijke en lachende daar voór hem was van inniger
uitdrukking nog dan een lichte lente-roos. Maar vooral dat even,
vage opwelven van haar blanke, zachte borst deed hem aan met