“It looks like he took Aryana with him,” Jeff says and I can hear the disgust in his tone.
“Who’s this guy?” Zach asks, lifting the picture of the big man that was holding the duffle bag. “Have we identified him yet?”
I shake my head. “Don’t know who he is but I have seen him around recently.”
“Tony,” Michelle says coolly, for a brief moment, I see something flicker in her eyes and just like that, it’s gone. “His name is Tony Martin. He was one of Carmine’s men. I heard that Carmine had shipped him out here to help Enrico but I wasn’t sure if that was a rumor or not.”
“What did he do for Carmine?” Clayton asks picking up the picture and studying it.
“Mostly bodyguard but he has experience with advanced weapons technology.”
“Would that gun you were talking about fit into that bag?” I ask Clayton.
He nods. “Yeah, you’d have to break it into parts but it would definitely fit in here.” He picks up another picture of Tony carrying the bag and then tilts his head to the side.
“What? You see something?” I ask.
“Well, look right here,” he says turning the picture around.
He traces his fingers in a circle around a part of the duffle bag while we all squint to try and figure out what he’s seeing.
“I don’t see anything,” Zach says.
“Neither do I,” Michelle concurs.
“Can we blow this up? Is it on a flash drive or anything?” Clayton asks me.
I sigh. “No, I was rushing, trying to get all this developed for this morning.”
“You don’t have a digital camera?” Michelle asks surprised.
“No,” I answer shaking my head and rising to my feet.
“Why not?” She asks stunned.
I start taking various pictures from the pile and putting them on the large board. “I was taught that digital pictures were easy to manipulate, that you should always use film whenever possible.”
I look at my hand, seeing that it is shaking and squeeze it open and shut several times.
“That’s not how we do it here,” Jeff states annoyed.
“It’s a cop thing,” I hear Zach say and for the first time I hear something aside from disapproval in his voice. “A lot of detectives believe that film is the only truth when it comes to pictures because their philosophy is that digital pictures can be altered, dates and time frames can be changed and things can be blurred out. You can’t manipulate film that way.”
Everyone is quiet and I take a deep breath. Maybe Zach isn’t so bad after all. Once I have the pictures lined up in the appropriate places I turn and sit down. Zach gives me a knowing smile and I acknowledge it with a slight head nod. Clayton stands and sets the picture down on the table, circling the area he is concerned with. He then shows it again except this time he starts walking to each person.
“The way the bag bulges right there, you can see the shape of what could be the hand guard. Most assault rifles can be broken down very easily into several parts, separating the magazine, the scope, the barrel, any of the attachments. It depends on the particular rifle.”
He then sets the picture down after he has made his rounds and I immediately pick it up. Clayton walks to the board and makes a crude drawing of an assault rifle.
“The one I heard about had some kind of chip attached here,” he motions near the scope, “it increases the accuracy and the range of shot tenfold and I was told it had the capacity to shoot up to twenty-five hundred rounds, but that seems extreme to me.”
“Oh damn,” Jeff says shaking his head.
Clayton turns to face us. “If he is trying to get that in the states it would change everything.”
We all fall silent. The implications of this would be beyond dangerous. It’s bad enough as it is but if local families started using this, or worse, started selling it on the black market, the death toll would soar. Finally, Michelle breaks the silence.
“Why did he split up Gino and Aryana though? He never does that, they are always together,” Michelle asks in confusion.
“I know, that makes no sense at all because those two seem to function best as a team,” Clayton states with a frown. “He decides to bring this new guy instead of Gino. Why?”
“They weren’t happy, that’s for sure. Initially this Tony person was going to bring this duffle bag into the restaurant with Enrico but when Aryana stepped out she gave Gino a look and next thing you know this guy…” I say tapping Tony’s picture, “was hustling out of there with the bag in tow. I stayed another few hours but he never came back.”
Zach is shaking his head. “Maybe this has something to do with Carmine?”
“What do you mean?” Jeff asks.
“What if Enrico made an unplanned trip behind Carmine’s back and he needed someone he could trust completely to run the show here just in case Carmine got suspicious and called to check on him. Plus,” he turns to Michelle. “You said this Tony guy is a weapons expert.” She nods and he turns to all of us. “If you were trying to get your hands on some new super-secret weapon you would want an expert with you, wouldn’t you?”
We all nod in agreement.
“Enrico is definitely acting peculiar,” I say and then turn back to the board, looking at the pictures on display. “My gut says he went to New Orleans and came back with a sample.”
“Yeah, that’s what my gut says too,” Clayton concurs nodding his head.
“I agree,” Zach and Jeff say in unison.
“Me too but the only way to know for sure is if he actually uses it,” Michelle says nonchalantly.
I turn around and everyone is staring at her. None of us want to see this thing used. I breathe in deeply, placing my hands in my pocket.
“Let’s gather all the info we can find on this new guy and try to ascertain if Enrico did go to New Orleans. He didn’t just appear there. He had to fly which means there has to be some form of trail we can follow.”
“I’m on it,” Zach says, grabbing his designated laptop.
“I’ll get on Tony,” Michelle says, quickly logging in on her computer.
I turn back to the board staring at the picture of Enrico. “What are you up too?” I mumble to myself.
6 Le Creole
Dominique Walker
June 22nd
I wake with a start. Today’s the day, my first dinner service as Executive Chef at Le Creole. I am up and out of the house before Santiago has a chance to wake up. Well, considering he didn’t get home until very late and seeing that Jackson’s boots are near the door I don’t expect either of them anytime soon. My heart is pounding rapidly as I leave a quick note for Santiago, reminding him of the reservation time he and Jackson have tonight. I make it to the restaurant just before noon and once in the kitchen I feel immediately at ease. It is quiet as I start prepping the food I will need for the evening meal. As the day progresses more chefs come in and we all concentrate on being as prepared as we possibly can for our first dinner service.
“Are you ready, Chef Dominique?” Phillipe asks, coming into the kitchen with Marshall and Whitney.
He is dressed to the nines in a brilliant navy suit, crisp white shirt and striped tie, once again wearing the unusual tie clip. Marshall is also dressed very nicely in a black suit with a mauve tie and handkerchief. Whitney is stunning in a floor length evening gown that matches Marshall’s tie to perfection.
“We are,” I respond proudly.
“It’s going to be a full house,” he glances at the others and then turns back to me. “Tell me the special again?”
“For our appetizer we will be serving a Crabmeat Broussard made with fresh lump crabmeat baked in artichoke hearts, brie béchamel with herbsaint spinach and lemon butter. Our entrée for this evening will be Tournedos La Louisiane consisting of two petite filets of beef, one crowned with bayou crawfish tail meat and the other with fresh jumbo lump crabmeat, both in a mustard-dill sauce and sauced with a light Madagascar cream an
d our dessert will be Profiteroles Au Chocolate Marion which is vanilla ice cream between sugar-coated Italian pastry cookies, engulfed in a decadent chocolate brandy sauce topped with almonds.”
He nods. “Sounds divine, Chef Dominique.” He turns to the other chefs in the kitchen, “Let’s have a spectacular grand opening everyone.”
He then turns to Marshall and Whitney who shake their heads, indicating they have nothing to add. He nods at them before the three of them strut into the dining area to greet customers. It’s show time, Dominique! I breathe in deeply but now that I am in my element, I don’t feel so nervous. I will do what I need to do and let everything else fall into place. I turn to my chefs, looking at them decisively.
“Many of you are new chefs while others have worked at busy establishments. I worked at Arnaud’s for several years and know the pressure of a fast-paced dinner service.” I see several nervous faces and offer them a determined smile. “I need you all to know that I am right here with you. We will rise or fall together. You give your best this evening and I will give you mine and together we will put Le Creole on the map.”
Everyone starts clapping and nodding their heads as streams of ‘yes chef’ echo in the room. I feel very confident with this crew. They take direction well and are eager to learn how to make the meals as I want them made, not necessarily how they made them at other restaurants, which makes working with them so much easier. I want Le Creole to be unique, not to mimic that of other restaurants. I want people to leave here thinking they had something new and different yet still familiar. Moments later we all turn as the tickets start coming up.
“All right everyone, let’s do this!” I say, clasping my hands together, eager to begin.
The next several hours go by in a blur. The service has gone off without a hitch. Well, we did have to alter one of the recipes because I underestimated the amount of shrimp I would need but that was it. At one point in the evening, I wanted to check to see if Santiago and Jackson made it and what they thought of the meal but I simply did not have the time. After the dinner service is completed, I sneak out the back for some fresh air and to get my bearings again.
“You managed the kitchen exceptionally well tonight,” Phillipe says, offering me a glass of wine. “It’s hard to believe that you have never run a kitchen before.”
I take a sip of my wine and smile. “Thank you.”
“Let me take you out to celebrate?” he asks.
I smile. “I’m sorry, Phillipe. I can’t.”
“And why not?” he asks while moving a piece of my hair that has fallen out of the bun.
“Because it would be inappropriate,” I tell him uneasily.
“Nonsense…” he starts to say something else but I raise my hand to stop him.
“Even if you weren’t my boss, I’m simply not ready to jump into the dating ring again. Thank you for the wine,” I say before heading back inside and leaving him in the alley behind the restaurant.
I gather my things and speed home. My emotions feel like they are all over the place. One second I want to scream at the top of my lungs, I did it, while the other part wants to curl into a ball and cry my eyes out. At this point, I think the latter is winning. The minute I step through the doorway Santiago has his arms around me, hugging me tightly.
“Dominique, everything was perfect!” he says as he steps back from our embrace.
I bring my hand to my mouth. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Dominique, everyone, and I mean everyone, was talking about how wonderful the meal was. How extraordinary the restaurant is and that they could see it being a five-star establishment in no time if tonight was any indicator of the quality of food to be offered. I swear it took everything I had not to jump up and scream at the top of my lungs that my best friend is the one that made it happen.”
I can feel the tears already forming in my eyes. Yep, I think curling up in a ball is probably in order. He grabs my hand and leads me to the couch, sitting us down. He then turns me so that we are facing each other. He has a thoughtful look on his face as he brings his thumbs under my eyes, wiping my tears away.
“What’s the matter, boo?”
“Nothing, it was amazing. Tonight was beyond anything I could imagine.”
“But…”
“But, I don’t know,” I close my eyes, trying to get my bearings. When I open them again he is still watching me, waiting for my response. “I felt weird afterwards and then, well, Phillipe asked me out again.”
“Why don’t you go out with him? He seems to like you and he is definitely easy on the eyes,” he says with a wag of his brows.
“Because… I’m not ready to start dating again.”
“Who says you have to date? Just get a little bump and grind action to get you back in the saddle again,” he says as he does a little sway move with his shoulders.
I frown and shake my head. I can’t believe he basically just told me to have a one-night stand, with my boss no less. In what universe would that ever turn out right? And yes, Phillipe is very attractive but there is no spark there with him. It just feels weird. I’m not an idiot. I know he wants me but it doesn’t feel right.
“Dominique,” he says as he stops couch dancing. “If you don’t ever try to be with anyone you’ll never get over him.”
I throw my head against the back of the couch. He and I have had this conversation many times. I close my eyes. God! I hate this part. I know he is right to a certain extent but I’m just not the kind of person that has ‘flings’. I want a relationship. I want the love story… without any of the angst. My mind immediately drifts to Jonathan. I thought I had that with him. Wait, I did have that with him. I swallow thickly as I remember why he is no longer here with me.
“DOMINIQUE!” Santiago screams and I blink my eyes several times, trying to focus.
“Santiago, I know,” I say standing up. “But I’m not ready,” I kiss the top of his head. “I love you though for continuing to try.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’m going to go lay down. I’m exhausted,” I say smiling.
“Today was fabulous, Dominique, don’t let thoughts of him damper what you did tonight, okay?” he says and I nod.
As I walk back to my room, I contemplate if I can do what Santiago said. What he wants me to do is easier said than done. Jonathan would have loved to see me accomplish my dream. He would have been front and center of everything. He would have already made it perfectly clear to Phillipe that I was taken and he certainly would have made me feel better about the situation with Marshall and Whitney. Unfortunately, Jonathan isn’t here to do any of that so I’ll have to deal with this on my own.
7 The Untouchables
Valentino Masterson
June 26th
The next four days were extremely slow. We started gathering Intel on the new guy, but there isn’t much to tell other than what Michelle said. He was one of Carmine’s guards that was sent to Chicago to help Enrico get this new venture up and running. Anderson reluctantly gave me permission to stake out Enrico’s place, but he was pissed that I had done it on my own for nearly a week and I had to endure the ‘no vigilante or solo mission’ speech again. I shouldn’t complain, it could have been worse. It was then decided that each team member would take a shift watching Enrico’s place at night, which will hopefully work out well.
“Do you work late every night?” I hear from my door.
I turn to see a woman with shoulder length blond hair, leaning against the doorway. I have seen her around a few times. I think she’s new here. I never paid attention. She smiles, that sex smile, and in spite of my better judgment, I smirk at her. She walks stealthily inside my office and sits on my desk, crossing her legs sexily.
“Maybe you should take a break,” she purrs seductively.
My hand moves up her bare leg and over her knees, uncrossing her legs.
“I could definitely use a break,” I say, moving my hand up her thigh. She whimpers and lea
ns back before I move my hand out from under her dress. “But I don’t screw people I work with. It makes things complicated.”
She starts to say something but my phone starts ringing.
“What!”
“Boss, we got a problem,” Jeff says.
I sigh. “All right, I’ll be right there.”
“I already called the others,” he says before hanging up.
“You need to leave,” I say hurriedly. When she doesn’t move, I start to direct her towards the door. “I don’t mean to be a jerk but I need to go.”
“Can I see you …” she starts to say, but I immediately shake my head.
“No, this would have been a mistake anyway.”
I uncomfortably lead her out of the building and then head to my car. Something big must be going down for Jeff to call me. I speed out of the complex and make it to our hideout in record time. Parking in the structure across from our surveillance spot, I take the back entrance inside, racing up the steps two at a time, my gun drawn. When I get to the fifth floor I listen in the hall before approaching the door and try to determine the voices I hear. Once I ascertain that it is just Michelle and Jeff, I open the door, and when I do, they both draw their weapons at me.
“Ah, shit,” Jeff lets out a breath before holstering his Glock.
“How’d you get here before me?” I ask Michelle.
“I was eating around the corner when Jeff called,” she says quickly.
I nod and walk over to the lookout, picking up the binoculars. There are a few cars there but no movement. About ten minutes later, Clayton and Zach arrive. Everyone gathers around Jeff while I am still watching across the street.
“They are doing some kind of a deal down there,” Jeff says confidently.
“Are you sure?” Clayton asks.
“Yes, one-hundred percent,” Jeff replies.
“Tell me everything,” I demand as I turn to face him.
Jeff goes into detail about how he saw a car pull into the alley. He didn’t think anything of it until several more cars did the same thing. He couldn’t make out anyone specific because of the way they were parked. His gut told him there was something happening since the restaurant is already closed, there is no legitimate reason why anyone should be there. After his report, I make a call to Anderson to get permission to take down Enrico.
Retaliatory Justice (The Talionic Files #1) Page 6