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along with the data.”
    Moll
joined in, “And we checked each other’s laptops to be sure we didn’t have any
copies or residual files.  Be seeing you.  Uh, you’ve been great,
helping us.  Thank Terry for me – he’s like my brain-twinner.”
    Brian
smiled his sweet smile.  “Thank you.  Ivy, you’re the best.”
    “Glad
to be of help.  Call me if either of you are back in Portland. 
Should you need anything more, you have my business card.” 
    The two
agents filed out.  Steve walked into her office to stand staring out the
window.  He turned to face her.  “Mt. Hood is unbelievable, isn’t
it?  Almost like a fantasy mountain.”
    “Even
to those of us who see the mountain every day, well every day she is out, the
view provides inspiration.”
    “She?”
    “Yes,
that is the way us locals refer to the Mountain.  Not sure why. 
Perhaps because she is so graceful.  Or perhaps because somewhere
underneath that beauty lies a powerful earth force that could erupt without
warning, the way Mt. St. Helens did.”
    “Reminds
me of someone I recently met – elegantly attractive but potentially volatile.”
    “I
assume you mean me.  Well, I’ll take part of it as a compliment,” Ivy said
with a smile, back in command of her temper.
    Steve
walked closer to her.  “Thank you, Ms. Littleton.  Your cooperation
has given us a place to start digging, which is far more than we had
before.  It also has given us some indicators on how large this operation
might be.”
    Despite
her annoyance with him, Ivy could not help asking, “How do you know that? 
Apply experience?”
    “Guesses. 
Never handled a matter quite like this one.  Just in case I need to
follow-up on something in a hurry, could I have your home phone and personal
cell?”
    “Seems
like I am always working or checking my work cell,” she said grudgingly.
 “Oh well, you probably can find them out anyway.” 
    She
pulled out another business card and wrote down the two numbers, then added her
personal email.  “Let me know how the case turns out.”
    Surprised
by her request, Steve nodded and moved towards the door, then stopped and
turned back. 
    “Goodbye
Ivy.  You really are the best,” he said softly.

Chapter
3
     
    While he waited for takeoff on the FBI
plane, nicknamed the “Bubird” at the Bureau that Friday afternoon, Steve
realized it was his birthday -- October 5th, 1952.  He turned 60 that day
almost without realizing it.  They were heading to New York to drop off
Brian and Moll who worked out of that office, and then he would take the short
hop down to D.C. where he was based.  Using the Bubird allowed them to
work in privacy and reduced their travel time.  The complex cases they
handled meant that dedication and long hours were critical to their success,
and they were always successful, no matter how long it took.  He smiled a
bit dourly to himself at their failure in Manzanillo, yet he was proud of their
overall record.  They would apprehend that evasive drug lord who eluded
them in Mexico and they sure as hell were going to nail this child trafficking
perp.
    Putting his laptop aside, Steve leaned
his head back and thought about the importance of this milestone birthday.
 Sixty years of his life were now behind him, along with most of his
career.  He wondered how long he could hold on with the Bureau.  For
sure as long as the Chief stayed, although the President was overdue on
appointing a replacement.  The Chief, Robert Mueller (or Mule as Steve
sometimes called him), had been appointed by George W. Bush and had stayed on
under President Obama.  Sooner or later when that changed, Steve would
likely be forced to retire.  Every year their Human Resources folks
reviewed agents over 57, the mandatory retirement age for those in field
work.  Every year the Chief stepped in and extended him.  While the
FBI had been his home for Steve’s adult life, age was catching up with
him.  Without the Bureau,