"Last week," her ex, Francisco Mela explained.
"May I ask why?"
"We wanted to restructure our accounts for insurance purposes. It seemed like the right time."
Ilsa turned to her son, the younger Francisco. "Are you okay with this, honey?"
"Yeah, Mom. As long as it's still okay with Dad. Since I'm going to be leaving and everything."
"It's going to be fine, son," his father assured him. "We'll set things up so you can do most of what you need to do remotely. And you can always call me if you aren't sure about something."
"Great!" exclaimed the younger Francisco. "Thanks!"
"Well, I believe that we have much to celebrate!" Ilsa announced cheerfully. "Francisco, do you still like that Japanese grill that we went to last year?"
"Oh my goodness! They have the best seafood!"
"Well, if your father says that it's okay, maybe you can drive me back to the hotel, and we can stop there for dinner."
"That sounds like a wonderful idea," the elder Francisco Mela agreed enthusiastically.
"Should I take the Benz?" his son asked.
"Yes, take the Mercedes. It's easier to park than the Suburban."
"Why don't you go get ready, Darling?" Ilsa suggested. "I need to talk to your father for a few minutes."
"Okay, sure!" The younger Francisco left the study and raced up the staircase.
Ilsa discarded her carefully practiced expression and stared at Francisco with striking blue eyes. "You are going to tell me what's going on. Everything! And don't give me this bullshit about insurance."
Francisco stood and walked over to close the door to the study. "Everything is okay," he assured her.
"Okay? You just signed over your home and business property to an eighteen-year-old. I know he's your son, and you trust him. But I know you, too, Francisco. You wouldn't have given up control unless you were in trouble."
He sat back down on the couch and turned to face her. "You're right. There has been some trouble."
"Does this have anything to do with your father?" Ilsa demanded.
"No, he has nothing to do with it."
"Because I don't want our son getting mixed up in his dealings. You know that I won't tolerate that."
"Believe me," Francisco assured her. "I don't want that either."
"So, what is going on?"
"I'm not exactly sure," he continued. "I got a call from Dave Birnbaum at the bank one day. Well, actually, I called him, but it doesn't matter."
"What did he say?"
"Well, he claimed that he couldn't provide me with any details. But he informed me that my US accounts had been frozen."
"Are you serious?" Ilsa exclaimed.
"I am afraid so."
"That means..."
"...that the feds are involved," Francisco said completing her sentence. "Yes, I know."
"What is going on?"
Francisco sat back and thought for a moment before responding. "I have reason to believe that this is some sort of personal vendetta."
"Personal?" Ilsa demanded. "By whom? A business contact?"
"I'm not certain..."
"Oh, my God!"
"It's going to be okay," he said.
"No, you idiot!" Ilsa snapped. "I wasn't saying that because I was upset. I'm saying it because you're a fool."
"Okay, hold on..."
"It's that girl, isn't it?"
Francisco sat stone faced and unwilling to answer.
Ilsa continued. "That's it, isn't it? You won't even deny it!"
"I don't think you're being fair," Francisco argued.
"Fair? What is there to be fair about? You hooked up with this girl without even checking her out. She's bringing a mess from her pass into YOUR house, and now you're involving our son. What is fair about that, Francisco?"
"Ilsa..."
"You're an idiot! A fool and an idiot!"
"Okay, you're right," Francisco admitted. "I am an idiot. But don't take this out on her."
"Oh, don't even get me started, you son of a bitch!"
"Ilsa, calm down. Please! You were right about everything. This was caused by someone from her past."
"That doesn't make me feel any better right now."
"I understand. But I haven't mixed Francisco up in anything."
"Do you really believe your own bullshit?" Ilsa asked crossly. "What if the person who came after you decides to come after our son?"
"That's not going to happen," Francisco assured her.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because it's being handled."
"Handled by whom? Your father and his...mercenaries?"
"No, I told you already. I am keeping him out of this."
"You had better not be lying to me, Francisco Mela!"
"I am not lying to you, Ilsa. In fact, I was going to talk to you about all of this tonight anyway."
"That is the last thing that I would ever believe."
"Well, you can believe it, because it's true."
"Why would you volunteer to tell me all of this if I had not figured it out for myself?"
"Because you have a right to know," Francisco said, wringing his hands tightly. "Because I had to involve Francisco to avoid losing the farm."
"Yes?"
"And because I need your help."
Ilsa's demeanor changed to show concern. "What kind of help?"
"We think that the guy who did this was able to apply pressure because he has a contact in the State Department."
"Oh, I see!" Ilsa raised her chin and leaned back slightly. "So, what is it that you think that I can do for you?"
"I know that it's a lot to ask..."
"Yes, it is a LOT to ask, Darling. And you do not have much leverage right now, so think very carefully about how you ask me."
"I was wondering whether, if you might know someone in the Argentine or Venezuelan embassies..."
"...someone who could place a call to the State Department and ask why their people are harassing a naturalized American citizen with extensive business holdings in their countries?"
"Yes, sort of..."
"Is that what you are asking me to do, or not?"
"Yes. Look, I know it's a lot..."
"Are you crazy?" she asked tensely.
"Okay, I'm sorry," Francisco said.
"Are you seriously loco? Out of your mind?" Ilsa demanded.
"Okay, I'm sorry. I'll handle it another way."
"No, you idiot! We'll handle it this way."
Francisco was caught off guard by her response. "What do you mean?"
"I am telling you, Darling, that you should have come to me sooner." Ilsa took a sip from her mimosa and leaned toward him until her face was inches from his. "I know everyone."
'The Horse Farm'
Copyright © 2015 Daniel R. South
All Rights Reserved
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