Silent Crickets: A Shallow End Gals, Trilogy Book Three

by Troutman, Kimberly

  He looked at them both, “How long you stayin’?”

  Cindy answered, “We’ll be here five nights.” She and Carol elbowed each other and giggled. This was just so exciting.

  “My name’s Ernie. You gonna have to pay in advance.”

  Cindy asked, “How come we have to pay in advance? Didn’t say that on your website. That doesn’t seem right.” She and Carol emptied their purses on his counter and started digging for their hidden money.

  The tattoo owner smiled, “You ladies be pretty fine lookin’. You’d be surprised how many ladies come up missin’. We just started chargin’ up front for the pretty ones. Just in case.”

  Cindy and Carol looked at each other. That didn’t sound real good. Carol pulled out a slip of paper from her purse, “We have a friend owns this Voodoo shop. Do you know how far this address is?”

  The guy drew them a little map and said, “Most them Voodoo shops don’t open ‘til afternoon. Go late into the night some of ‘em. Tourists, you know.” He pointed to a narrow staircase and said, “You be the first room on the left there. Got two big queen size beds and our best bathroom. Welcome to Nawlens!” He placed a long beaded necklace on each of them and handed them their keys.

  Carol was getting in the mood and kept repeating ‘Welcome to Nawlens” until she felt she had the accent just right. Cindy was shaking her head as she dragged her luggage up the steep stairs.

  Roger gave Core the phone number for Lisa. It would be up to Lisa to decide if Mathew was going to stay in their lives. Some people within the government considered Core a victim. Roger was fully aware that often people with his skill set were used up and discarded when no longer needed or trusted. Core had taken what the government had taught him and built his own retirement fund. Not only was this known, but some very important people had assisted him. Lisa would have to come to her own conclusions.

  Roger and Paul had just reached the Star Ship when his phone rang again, “Yes? Yes this is SSA Roger Dance.” He listened a while. Paul could tell whatever the conversation was, Roger didn’t like it.

  Roger took a deep breath and rolled his eyes, “Trust me. You have made a mistake. She is fine. Probably more sane than the rest of us. Let her go home.” He listened a while longer and then said, “I understand, it was a perfectly normal misunderstanding. Of course you have to follow procedure.” Roger disconnected and looked at Paul, “Kim was detained by the local cops.”

  Paul looked serious, “What for?”

  Roger started laughing, “Public nuisance. She was jogging and talking to herself. The police detained her for her own safety.”

  Paul leaned against the building laughing. Roger added, “Bet she wasn’t talking to herself.”

  “Bet she hated to give them a number to call you.”

  “Yep.”

  Paul opened the door to the stairwell, “Well, you calling Kim?”

  Roger shook his head. “Not yet.”

  They went inside and heard voices from the basement. It sounded like the team had decided to show up early. Roger and Paul went down the stairs to find Simon, Ray, Thor and Jeanne huddled around Ray’s computer screen. Pablo was sitting on the couch drinking coffee.

  Roger asked Pablo, “How are you feeling this morning?”

  Pablo nodded, swallowed, and answered, “Other than a bunch of pain, and this sling, I wouldn’t know anything happened.”

  Ray said, “French Quarter Bank is having a big day already. Simon thinks we’ll hit a trillion dollars’ worth of activity by lunch.” Paul whistled.

  Simon volunteered, “I talked to Mass’s guy Phillips a few minutes ago. He says the Branch Manager is just ignoring the whole thing. Figures it doesn’t have anything to do with him. That probably is a good thing.”

  Roger told the team about Manio’s men coming to his hotel room. He asked them to be extra alert since obviously Manio was feeling threatened. “Since you guys are all here, I might as well give you the scoop on how the drug raid came about last night.” Everyone listened to Roger recap how Zack and Core found out about the cocaine delivery by accident and how the Director arranged for the Coast Guard to do the seizure.

  Simon asked, “Lanitol Oil has a relationship with the Manio Cartel to smuggle dope in on cartel subs, unload at vacant rigs, and bring the dope into oil protected docks. Is that what I’m hearing?”

  Roger answered, “Yes.”

  Simon continued, “After the raid, Lanitol Oil claimed to be victims of the Zelez Cartel to cover this up?”

  “Yes.”

  Thor rubbed the back of his neck. “Just think about how long this has been going on. We don’t even check the cargo boats of the oil companies do we?”

  John had come down the stairs and answered Thor’s question. “We will now.”

  John whispered something to Roger, and Roger looked at the team. “OSI has authorized John to share some information with you. It seems this team is getting involved in another set of problems that was discovered in our communication sting.”

  Thor coughed, “Oh goody.”

  When John finished explaining the history of LUCY, the group was silent. Before they could ask any questions Roger informed them the Coast Guard was prepared to raid eight more ports that will disclose large shipments of cocaine in Lanitol Oil storage buildings. They planned to delay that raid until later tonight. The money sting would be jeopardized if they moved on the drug raid sooner, given they were dealing with the same players.

  Simon asked, “How will Lanitol Oil maintain their victim status once drugs are discovered in eight more ports?”

  Paul answered, “That will be a tough one.”

  Roger pointed out Manio was the one feeling the true squeeze right now. Manio was out the drugs and associated income. Lanitol Oil had yet to suffer. Roger was hoping the additional raids would push Manio or Lanitol Oil into doing something stupid.

  Simon commented, “I’m still wrapping my mind around cocaine being brought into the gulf in subs. Unloaded at protected oil rigs, to protected cargo boats and simply unloaded again at protected docks. No wonder we are losing this drug war.”

  Roger shrugged, “Don’t forget we still have the Zelez Cartel sniffing around. If we get lucky, we can dent their operation too. However, Zelez is playing this smart. He’s staying in the background.” Roger sat down and let out a small chuckle, “We seem to have come a long way, considering a year ago, we were called to South Bend, Indiana, to help catch a serial killer.”

  Ray said, “I can’t believe everything that has happened since we got to New Orleans. The Big Easy ain’t been so easy.”

  Roger stated Thor had some news. “Why don’t you tell the group what Mambo said to you?”

  Thor straightened up. What the hell? He wasn’t going to tell anyone what Mambo said to him. How did Roger even know?

  Roger continued, “You know, the human trafficking.”

  Thor relaxed. Oh that.

  Dusty couldn’t believe he was awake. Last night in the swamp, he promised himself if he lived, he could sleep ‘til noon. Nope. Wide awake. He looked at the check Agent Mass had given him last night after they arrested all of those dudes. Another one thousand dollars. He still had the last check for a thousand and five hundred from when he and Alan took that Voodoo lady to Mambos. Alan told Dusty he was paying off the last of his mortgage. Dusty figured he best open himself a bank account.

  He went into his bathroom to shower and shave. He looked in the mirror and wondered if he was turnin’ all establishment or somethin’. All this time he’d been spendin’ with cops. Now he needed a bank account? Hadn’t had one of them since college. He turned on the shower and stepped in. He could still smell the swamp. Weren’t ‘nough showers in the world to get rid of that smell. Never did hear who that dead guy was. FBI ain’t like the local cops. FBI don’t say shit.

  He figured he would open an account, save out about a hundred cash and go over to Jackson Park for a while and do some portraits. Sooner or later Nawl
ens had to go back to normal.

  The French Quarter Bank branch manager walked over to Amy and asked, “You sure you want to work today? You can take as much time as you want after your ordeal.”

  Amy looked at him and smiled softly, “Home is too quiet right now. I’d rather stay busy. I’ll be okay.”

  The branch manager walked over to Agent Phillips, “She’s one of the girls that murderer kidnapped and took to the swamp to die.”

  Agent Phillips looked over. Amy looked very professional and was seated at the customer service desk. Phillips looked at the branch manager, “People deal with stress in different ways. If she says she’s okay I would leave it alone.” The manager nodded and sauntered back to his office where Phillips knew a game of solitaire was open on the computer.

  Abram watched as one of Chiclet’s guys moved in six kilos of cocaine. One guy looked at Abram and said, “Chiclet called back and said to give you one extree. Since you be related or somethin’. ‘Member you paid double for this shit. Your guys gotta charge double or you be loosin’ money for the boss. That there ain’t a good retirement plan.”

  Six of the guys standing around got busy dividing up the dope, weighing it and putting it in small bags. Jackson walked over and held up a tiny plastic bag, “What be the street cost of this here size bag?”

  The one guy looked up and said, “Normal be twenty. Guess now it be forty.” Jackson watched them for a while longer and motioned for Abram to step over by him. Jackson was doing some math on a piece of paper.

  “Looks to me you be making about two hundred and fifty grand profit from that.”

  Abram’s eyes got wide. “Shit.”

  Jackson raised an eyebrow and Abram frowned, “I know.”

  A big guy with a pencil mustache leaned against the far wall and said, “We got fourteen people just been loaded up from a Mississippi boat in Baton Rouge. They be on their way here. Only take a few hours to get here. Got no place to put ‘em, ‘less we make room like last year.”

  Jackson hair went up on his arm. What was this guy talkin’ ‘bout?

  Abram had a small notebook in his hand and looked at the guy that just spoke. “Keep in mind this all new to me. I got to fix all these messes. What’s your name?”

  The guy stood up straight and crossed his arms on his chest. “Daryl Cotton. Manuel used to be my cousin.”

  Abram shook his head, “Hey man. That be some bad shit ‘bout him dyin’ and all. What are you talking about boat people?”

  Daryl frowned. “Man you got no clue what all Manuel’s job be. Manuel stores the prostitution people for Manio. We got a dozen or so fresh ones coming to replace who’s here now.”

  Abram asked, “Where this storage place be?”

  Daryl didn’t answer right off. Abram frowned at him, “You want I call Manio and tell him you won’t give me information I need?” Abram had no clue how to reach Manio. Jackson was shaking his head trying to look bad.

  Daryl shuffled his feet some and decided he didn’t care one way or another. “Our buildin’ over on Commerce Street. Manuel called it the flea market there in that computer.”

  Abram gave Jackson the signal to look it up in the computer. Jackson found a file named flea market. It indicated there were fourteen people there now, and fourteen new ones expected today. Manio was paying fifty thousand dollars for their delivery and some kind of percentage calculation for their storage. Jackson signaled Abram to come look, and Jackson pointed to the pertinent information.

  Abram asked, “How did you make room last year?”

  Daryl looked around, “Ain’t talkin’ ‘bout that with these dogs here.”

  Abram yelled for everyone but Jackson to leave the building. When everyone was gone Daryl said, “We load ‘em up in a van, drive ‘em up to a special spot at the swamp, and make ‘em cross over to a little island out there. Then we target practice. Not that big a deal really. Two of us can do it.”

  Abram rubbed his face and told Daryl to wait outside with the others while he made a couple of calls. Damn.

  Jackson looked at Abram, “I think I’m gonna be sick, man.”

  Donavan called Manio at ten a.m. Friday morning. Manio had decided to visit New Orleans during this time of trouble and tighten the leash on his men. After a night at the casino he wasn’t in the mood for any more bad news from London. Manio knew Donavan was the acting head of LUCY but Donavan’s personality had never impressed him.

  Manio answered, “I trust you will start my day well.”

  Donavan answered, “I’ll do you better than that and start your day great. The martial law operation caused a computer problem at the French Quarter Bank. What I am about to tell you has been verified with the highest sources. We have tested this information with the best computer people in the world for over twenty- four hours. I did not want to bring you bad information.”

  Donavan proceeded to explain how the French Quarter Bank was now virtually a safe haven for all of their money. Existing and new accounts opened today were being issued special federal account numbers. Transactions moved freely without reporting tags and effectively erased all previous banking activity records. Even the international clearing houses reported the transactions moved through with absolutely no information tags.

  Manio listened with great interest. He finally said, “I have accounts there now. If I move money from these accounts to offshore and return with larger balances, my money has been laundered by the United States Federal Reserve? This is hard to believe.”

  Donavan cleared his throat, “I have tested this. Seven hundred billion dollars of Lanitol Oil money has been moved since yesterday afternoon. I did this before telling you. We will save billions of dollars not having to launder this money any longer. I understand this opportunity will expire at midnight tonight.”

  Manio smiled, “This certainly is surprising news. I thank you for the information.” Manio disconnected the call and picked up his elderly cat to cradle in his arm. As he stroked its fur, he muttered, “Foolish men create opportunities for their enemies. I am not convinced Roger Dance is a foolish man.”

  Carol sat cross-legged on her bed surrounded by maps and brochures. She yelled to Cindy who was changing clothes in the bathroom, “Where do you want to go first?” Carol wore costumes often in her day to day life. Just for fun. So bringing a wardrobe suitable for her vision of New Orleans had been no problem at all. She had decided that today she would wear her long, blue, old lady dress with the oversized boobs and fake big butt. Instead of her wig though, she chose a wide brimmed hat with twinkle lights around the brim.

  Cindy came out of the bathroom in a cute walking short set with a twinkle necklace dangling. “The guy downstairs said the Voodoo shops open later, so why don’t we just walk around some? We can do a little shoppin’, grab lunch, and then go see Sadie.”

  Carol corrected her by holding up her index finger, “You mean Spicey, remember? We promised.”

  Cindy chuckled, “Right.” Carol stuffed her coin purse and room key inside one of the fake boobs and declared she was ready. Cindy grabbed her purse and one of the maps from Carol’s bed.

  Carol said, “I already packed a map and some extra money in my fake butt. Case we get robbed.”

  They locked their door and made their way down to the tattoo shop. Carol’s big fake boobs made it hard to see to walk down the narrow steps. The owner of the shop was bent over some fat guy’s arm doing a tattoo of a big spider. Cindy and Carol leaned over to see what he was doing, and he raised an eyebrow at them. He stared at Carol’s huge boobs and fake butt and laughed. “You gals gonna love Nawlens!”

  When they stepped outside the door, a kid on a unicycle nearly ran them over. Carol squealed. “Oh, how cool is that?” She started running after the kid on the bike. “Wait! Wait! I want to learn how to ride that thing!”

  Cindy watched them both turn the corner. Carol’s gigantic fake boobs and butt bouncing, and the kid’s terrified face looking back at her as she chased him.r />
  At least four times Spicey paced by the table holding her crystal ball before she had the courage to sit down. She put the book the Spirits had given her on the shelf next to the table. Her hands were clasped tight. She unclasped them, wiggled her fingers, and placed her palms against the ball. With one eye closed she peeked deep inside. Huh. It looked like it always did.

  Spicey relaxed, opened her other eye and asked, “Is there something I’m supposed to be doin’?”

  Her ball started getting a bluish tint in the center and suddenly the face of a small boy said, “I want to go home.” Spicey fainted. Her head dropped on the table and sent her ball rolling. It dropped on the floor, rolled under the curtain and out into the main store. Sasha was ringing up a lady’s purchase of some beads as the ball rolled by. The lady tourist watched the ball stop next to a display cabinet.

  She asked Sasha, “Do you need to get that?”

  Sasha shook her head and said, “I ain’t touchin’ that no how. It be fine right where it landed.”

  The lady left and Sasha poked her head around the curtain just as Spicey walked through the doorway. Spicey’s hair was all tussled and she was breathing hard. “This ain’t goin’ so good.” Spicey walked over, picked up the ball, and frowned. With a look of determination she said, “You come for me in ‘bout ten minutes if I ain’t back out here.” Sasha nodded. This gonna be a steep learnin’ curve by the looks of it.

  Sasha swiveled in her chair, staring at the small jars of potions. She decided to memorize the labels in case Spicey needed her help. Some were easy. Herbs and roots. Some sounded very strange. All had the same caption: Caution.

  Roger and Paul took one of the SUVs and went to the field office. Frank Mass met them in the lobby area. “Uh oh. Trouble follows you two. I just heard you had company for breakfast.”