Sasha slowly nodded. Her stomach had just fallen to her knees and her head began to throb. She knew she couldn’t let Spicey go alone. “How we gettin’ there?”
Spicey answered. “Willie.”
Sasha exhaled. Seemed to her the Spirits wouldn’t ask Spicey to do something that would get her killed. “Okay, I’ll go. You best be givin’ me a raise. This here is employee harassment.” Sasha muttered, “Just hope he ain’t takin’ us on a chicken boat.”
Sasha’s voice rose to a shrill, “What about them snakes?”
Spicey answered, “Don’t got to worry ‘bout snakes at nighttime.”
Sasha relaxed.
Spicey mumbled, “It be the gators at night.”
Abram and Jackson left the field office in a rush. Roger assumed they were going to return the money Abram had stolen from the gang house before the theft was discovered. Roger, Paul, and John sat in a small room at the field office going over the answers Chiclet had given Abram on the phone. Chiclet knew of two other switch places and the names of the kids getting snatched. Abram told Chiclet he needed the names and phone numbers of the kidnappers so his guy could coordinate the switch. The children Chiclet said would be switched matched the missing children on Roger’s list.
Roger said, “I think we need Ellen’s help now.” John and Paul agreed and Roger’s phone rang. It was Kim.
Roger answered, “Hello again.”
Kim laughed, “Hi to you, too. Ellen is in my ear somehow and just said for you to ask your questions. She would give me her answers. Oh, before you start, Ellen said to tell you she was looking for the rig. She also said she knows about the abducted children.”
Kim made a noise, “You have a terrible job! Ellen says she can find them if you have any names.”
Roger gave her the names Chiclet knew and asked, “Are the children that are missing okay so far?”
Kim answered, “Ellen says, yes. She is going to get you the submarine information first, so you can deal with the drug delivery. Then she will work on helping you save the children.”
Roger said, “Tell Ellen thank you for us.”
Kim offered, “You know it doesn’t sound like you are having a very good day. Don’t worry about calling me later.”
Roger laughed, “It might be late, but I definitely will call.”
John and Paul looked at Roger. He had actually forgotten they were sitting there. Roger was a little embarrassed but shrugged it off. It was too late now anyway.
Paul chuckled and elbowed John, “See? I told you he was human. Notice how sweet he talks to her?”
Roger made arrangements with the field office closest to Jackson’s switch location, to be on standby. The logistics were still unknown on the information from Chiclet. He only knew the scheduled switch for Jackson’s trip was somewhere in Kansas. Ray and the FBI Crime Unit were searching for more information on the names Chiclet had given Abram. Roger was hoping the cell phone numbers would lead them to the kidnappers.
Paul pointed at the list of New Orleans kids, “Did you notice Mathew Core’s kid was one of the kids Jackson was supposed to grab?”
“Yeah, you know what really gets me? Nobody even asked Jackson what his plan was for snatching these kids. Just gave him a list of names. He was totally clueless. Doesn’t this all sound a little sloppy?”
John shrugged, “I’m always amazed at the sloppy planning on these things. Based on the number of missing kids every year, it’s amazing how successful they are.”
Roger shook his head, “I think we are all guilty of thinking this shit only happens to the other guy. We’re all so wrapped up in the little details of our lives, the big threats just sort of flash in and take us by surprise.”
Paul leaned back in his chair and pushed his chin forward in his nervous tick, “Going back to Core, sounds like Core and Zack walked into more than we expected. We got another drug bust tonight?”
John offered, “Why not? That ought to really piss Manio off. You notice we brought an oil company into it now? Lanitol Oil is the largest oil company working the gulf.”
Roger nodded, “Yep. Didn’t really want to hear that yet. We can’t pull this off ourselves in time. I want the Director involved on this drug raid. He will have to line up serious help, fast.”
We found the right oil platform just as the last submarine was unloaded by some men on a narrow dock under the pilings of the platform station. The boat they were loading was a Lanitol Oil cargo boat. All of the logos and marine signs were openly displayed. We counted two hundred bundles unloaded which Ellen said were kilos of cocaine. That was just one sub! We went into the cargo boat and counted how many kilos had already been loaded.
There must have been five subs. We counted one thousand kilos of cocaine. According to Roger, each kilo was worth about thirty five thousand dollars on the street. That’s thirty five million dollars’ worth of cocaine to be unloaded tonight. Yikes!
Linda asked Ellen, “How did they get so much of this here so fast?”
Ellen shrugged and answered, “I expect after the drug seizure last night a lot of pressure was applied to replace what was taken. Some important people had to pave the way for this to happen this fast. The supply will always be there, as long as there is a demand.”
Teresa shook her head, “Mortals are frying their brains with this stuff. It’s scary.”
Ellen nodded, “Very. Okay, we’re done here. I’m getting this information to Roger, and you guys start chasing down those names Abram gave Roger.”
Back to ugly aura shopping.
Andre followed his GPS to find Pete’s Swamp Boat Rentals. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place he would normally go. The narrow, winding bayou roads were perilous at night, and he had to wait twice for alligators to cross the road. His car lights reflected from slime covered tree trunks that looked like milky white, ghostly figures jumping from the road’s edge. This couldn’t be a worse night if his mind had dreamed it in a drunken, drug induced nightmare.
Andre thought about what the others were probably doing. He was sure they would cut up Patterson’s body to make it easier to move. At least he didn’t have to see that. He finally came to a sign that said Pete’s Swamp Boats. An arrow pointed down a narrow dirt drive. Wooden signs declaring the rental fees and business hours were nailed to trees. Branches draped with gray moss bent low and brushed his windshield. He had thought the bayou road was spooky. This was downright terrifying.
His window was lowered about an inch. The stench of the swamp seeped in to mix with his air conditioning. The further he drove, the louder the sounds of the swamp. An owl screeched nearby, and Andre slammed on his breaks. Was that a scream? He knew he would shortly be walking this road to get the second boat. Andre pressed his fingers to his forehead. He was getting a headache. He looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror. Could be the last time he ever saw his reflection.
He parked near the porch of a run-down shack and took a deep breath. At least someone was here. An old pickup was parked right up to the building, and a light was streaming from the window. Andre walked up the steps to the porch. A tin sign, hanging from a hook on the wall, said to walk in.
A man, Andre assumed was Pete, sat in a tattered chair with his feet up on the desk. “You be Andre?”
Andre nodded.
“Told the judge he ain’t wantin’ no shrimp boat to go in the bayou at night. Them’s for deep water.” Pete laughed. “I ‘spect you boys have no clue what you doing, but hey? Do I care?” Pete laughed some more. Then he asked, “Do you know where in the swamp you will be goin’?” Andre shook his head, he wasn’t saying shit about anything. Pete got a serious look on his face, “You have guns, right? You ain’t thinkin’ bout takin’ this little adventure with no protection?”
Andre didn’t feel like a lengthy chat with this filthy swamp man, “I just want to rent two boats, okay? Talk to the judge if you want his full agenda.”
Pete snarled as he stood up, “Ain’t no reason to
get all persnickety. I’m tryin’ to give your ass some good advice. But you know what? I really don’t give a shit what happens to ya as long as I get my boats back. Just pick two of them flat bottom jobs and grab two poles.”
Andre frowned, “Where are the keys?”
Pete laughed, “For what? You wantin’ my truck too or somethin’?”
Andre sighed, “To start the boat engines.”
Pete shook his head, “You be in bad trouble boy. These boats ain’t got motors. You take a long pole there, and find just the right spot in the muck to get you some traction without disturbin’ the gators.” Pete pulled his big feet from the desk top and stood. “Get goin’ now. You dock one and walk that spooky road back here for the other. I’m willin’ to bet this here entire rental fee, I never see your pansy ass again.” Pete slapped his desk hard. “Nobody see your ass again!” Pete sat back down, laughing hysterically. “What’s on your feet? Them must be five hundred dollar alligator shoes! Who puts on their Sunday best to go in the swamp?” Pete was dabbing his eyes as he laughed.
Andre slammed the door as he left the building to find the damn poles. Andre vowed to find some reason to sue this guy someday. If he lived.
Roger called the Director and explained the situation at the docks. The Director agreed the Coast Guard could seize the Lanitol Oil cargo boat and maybe a few of the subs leaving the rig. That plan would alert Lanitol Oil that the authorities were wise to them and maybe keep future drugs from arriving at the dock. Their hope was the already short supply of drugs, and confiscating this shipment, might push Manio to an even more daring plan.
The Director sighed, “You remember Thornton calling Franklin Morris at the Fed? I have confirmation that Thomas Fenley called a member of the National Security Council regarding the banking issues at French Quarter Bank. You were right. He didn’t take Thornton’s word for it. Our guys monitored the call and the story was relayed as we wished. Thornton has a legitimate reason to feel comfortable calling Morris. Thomas Fenley is outside of official channels. For him to make this call personally to someone at the National Security Council in itself is troubling. The Security Council member Fenley called is now the number one suspect as being a mole for LUCY. I can’t tell you who it is at this time but I will tell you LUCY has infiltrated our National Security at the highest level. No wonder they do anything they choose.”
Roger wasn’t surprised, “We keep uncovering security problems under every rock we kick. What has been done about the computer code we passed on to the CIA today? The one Mathew Core gave me.”
The Director’s voice sounded troubled, “That little line of code has caused quite a stir. I’m hearing noises that a few people very deep in this LUCY case had it programmed for covert purposes. I certainly can understand the guys working on LUCY not knowing who they could trust. Especially with what I know now! That code was a way for them to get whatever information they needed without asking for it. I’m told Jason Sims was asked to design and implement it before he ‘retired’. The question becomes how many people really know about it and why. CIA programmers are attaching a reverse snooper to the code line to identify anyone using it. I confess my understanding of the technology we use is limited. I suppose it is fair to say that LUCY is no longer a secret among agencies. Something will have to be done now, before the wrong people find out how much we know.”
Roger said, “Mathew Core told me Jason Sims was a good guy. Ellen confirmed.”
The Director answered, “That’s what I’ve been told too. My understanding on Jason is that we are now protecting him from LUCY. The powers that be are sure the LUCY members will try to eliminate Jason to protect the codes he has installed. When Ray saw Jason making programing changes in that ‘cloud’, it was Jason trying to block the few LUCY backdoors that were still open. He had to leave them some access to look legitimate. Back to our money sting, I understand tomorrow may be a very busy day at French Quarter Bank.”
“Yes, it does look that way. Let’s hope this works. It appears to be our only leverage. Every illegal activity they do is for money. If they can’t clean it, they can’t use it. I’m betting on their greed. If this works, it will expose their cleaning methods for the last five years. Not to mention the actual loss of their money.”
The Director said, “We only get one shot at this. Heaven help us.”
Roger dialed Core to tell him the Coast Guard was taking over the cocaine delivery between Manio and Lanitol Oil, and to get out of there. Core didn’t answer.
Zack waited ten minutes. He hadn’t heard any gunshots. He walked to the service door of building four and grabbed the door handle just as his phone rang. It was Roger. Zack answered and explained Core was already inside the building and exposed. They would ride it out. Unlike the dock area which was pitch black, the lights inside the building were glaring. Zack saw a group of guys huddled by the back of a truck.
Core moved away from the group and motioned him over. Evidently he had managed to blend in. When Zack moved next to the group, Core put his arm on the shoulders of the guy next to him. “Zack, meet Jimmy. He and I did a nickel together in Dade County.”
Jimmy slapped Core’s back and laughed. “I stayed close to this bad ass. Only thing that kept me alive.”
Core looked at Zack, “We timed this perfectly. One truck is already loaded. Just waitin’ on one more, and we can call it a night.” Zack smiled, which had always been their cue they needed to talk. Core looked at Jimmy, “Zack and I got plans for later. You interested in joinin?”
Jimmy shrugged, “Sure.”
Core signaled for Jimmy and Zack to walk away from the group. Mathew waited until they were on the other side of the room and asked, “What’s up?”
Zack looked at Core and then Jimmy.
Jimmy whispered, “CIA.”
Zack told them about Roger’s call.
Jimmy said, “Don’t know as we have time to wait for the Coast Guard. That loaded truck is leaving as soon as the driver gets out of the bathroom.”
Core looked down and pretended to be laughing. Some of the other guys had started watching them. Under his breath he said, “No, it’s not.”
Dusty was waiting at his brother’s dock for the FBI agents. He had brought a large lantern, a sack full of bug spray, and three poor boy sandwiches from Mickey’s bar. He took a broom from the dock and swept the empty cartridge shells from the boats deck into the murky water. He couldn’t believe how many bullets these guys had shot yesterday in the swamp. He finished sweeping and sat on an old bucket in the center of the boat.
The noises coming from the swamp sounded like some kind of musical mix of normal and mystical. He could hear crickets, gator growls, cicadas, and owl screeches. He could also hear what sounded like wails and moans. Bullfrogs croaked in the mist and animal screams preceded sounds of surface water thrashing. Each scream provided a few moments of absolute silence. The sounds of the swamp recoiled with each threat and then resumed after each kill.
Dusty was acutely aware living things were dying as he sat there. Things he could only hear. He strained to see beyond the first bend in the bayou. The thick swamp mist only hinted of forms moving in the grasses. Dusty shuddered. There was no good reason he was there. This had to be that damn karma everybody always talkin’ about. He tried to remember the last time he did something wrong. It must have been a doosey.
“You ready?” Simon’s booming voice startled him and he clutched his chest.
Nelson walked down the dock and gently dropped a small leather bag containing the video camera onto the deck of the boat. Nelson nodded hello to Dusty, “Feel like I have to yell, it’s so loud out here.”
Dusty was grateful for human voices of any volume. “You guys have one sick boss send you to the swamp at night. That’s why I work for myself.”
Simon stated the obvious. “You’re here too.”
Dusty frowned.
Simon asked, “You know where a guy by the name of Dicky lives out here?”
/> Dusty answered, “Only one Dicky I know. Heard he was in jail.”
Nelson offered, “That’s the one. We need to get near his place and stay out of sight.”
Dusty pulled the long pole from the edge of the boat and gave the dock a push. They started gliding toward the south when Dusty said, “It ain’t like goin’ to Mambo’s clean on the other side of Honey Island. Dicky’s place is just down the way a piece. Not too far from the swamp boat rentals.” Dusty raised his eyebrows. “You know you could have rented a damn boat and left me at the bar.”
Willie, Spicey, and Sasha pulled into the Swamp Boat rental parking area just as Pete was locking up the door to the shack. Pete walked over to the car as they all got out. Willie asked, “Any way we can rent a flat bottom boat tonight?”
Pete answered, “Only got that blue one over there left, Willie. This other boat here already been rented. Just waitin’ on pickup.” Pete was more than a little curious what everyone was doin’ in the swamp tonight. He looked at Willie, “Pert near worse idea I ever heard for a date. You takin’ these two beautiful ladies in the swamp at night. What you be thinkin’?”
Willie chuckled and Spicey answered for him, “We got a date all right, but it be with the Spirits. We need to be at Mambo’s by midnight.”
Pete straightened up, “Mambo’s? She be clear on the other side of Honey Island.” Pete looked at his watch, “I’m thinkin’ you ain’t got time to go the regular way.”
Sasha rolled her eyes as she chewed on the inside of her bottom lip. Can’t nothin’ be easy?
Willie said, “I ain’t gone by way of ol’ Jeremiah’s in years. Don’t know the swamp still open that far down.”
Pete nodded his head, “Oh hell yes. Especially lately. Been FBI and all kinds of shit down by Mambo’s. ‘Bout halfway from here to there is where the FBI been findin’ all them bodies.”
Silent Crickets: A Shallow End Gals, Trilogy Book Three Page 12