by Jana DeLeon
At the word “target” Big raised his eyebrows. “I’m going to assume that the real Sandy-Sue is safely tucked away somewhere while you fill her shoes and escape the view of whoever has forced you into hiding. I’m also assuming you have official protection?”
What he was asking me was if I was in witness protection, which meant a federal agency was involved in the placement and follow-up.
“Yes, and no. Two people are aware of where I am, but it’s not on the books. Our security is compromised, and my boss felt this was a better alternative.”
“That’s not good,” Big said. “When you have security problems within our sort of businesses or yours, people die.”
“My plan has always been to avoid that, which is why I’m here.”
“Has the traitor located you?” Big asked.
“No. But I’m done waiting for other people to handle things. I’ve decided to expose myself to draw out the man threatening me. But I need a location to do it in. And I need word to filter back to this man that I’m in that location.”
“If there’s a leak with your employer,” Little asked, “why not filter the information through your coworkers?”
“Because there was a recent coup in place, and this man slipped away in a manner that suggests he was warned by the mole. If the tip comes through his spy, then he’ll likely suspect a setup being pushed from higher up and won’t show. This man has escaped our grasp for many years. He didn’t get where he is by being foolish.”
Little nodded. “I think I speak for both Big and myself when I say that we have several vacant properties in New Orleans, and you’re welcome to use whatever best suits your needs. But what has me curious is why you think we would be able to filter information back to the man who seeks you? Or more importantly, why we’d be willing to?”
“Well, to answer the first question, I think your business interests give you exposure to the right people to get the information where I need it to go.”
“Fair enough,” Little said. “And the second?”
This was it. I was about to lay my cards on the table. I just hoped I had an ace in the hole and wasn’t putting up deuces.
“In observing you,” I said, “I’ve found some of your behavior, uh, inconsistent with my past experiences with gentlemen in your line of work. And there were a couple of cases of curious timing and beforehand knowledge that made me start to wonder.” I looked at Little, then at Big. “I believe you’re confidential informants at the federal level.”
Big tilted his head to the side and studied me long enough to make me want to squirm, then he gave me a single nod. “I think we have a reasonable understanding of each other’s status.”
“And now you understand why I didn’t want my friends to hear,” I said. “They know about me, but it wasn’t my place to let them in on my thoughts about you.”
“Little and I appreciate your discretion. It speaks well for your character, not that it was in question. But we have a certain position to maintain with our organization, and the fewer who know about the things we do on the side, the safer we are.”
It wasn’t any of my business, but curiosity overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help asking. “Does Mannie know?”
“Yes,” Big said. “He is the only person in the organization who is aware of our other pursuits. But his loyalty lies with Little and me. Not with the family.”
I wondered briefly what Big and Little had done to inspire such loyalty from a man like Mannie. I’d bet a case of ammo that it was more interesting than anything I could see at the movie theater. And I’d bet another case of ammo that the three of them were taking that story to the grave.
“And your deputy friend?” Little asked. “He’s hardly a fool. I assume he’s up to speed on your situation?”
“Yes. But not my visit here, and I’ve never told him about the other things we’ve worked on together. He has his suspicions, but he’s never asked. I think he’s afraid of the answer.”
Big nodded. “Definitely a professional quandary for the lawman. Well, as Little already stated, we are happy to offer the use of any of our vacant New Orleans properties. I’ll have Little prepare a list with descriptions and get it to you. The bigger issue, I believe, is going to be the filtering of information back to your target. In order for that to happen, we’re going to have to know more about you than just your abilities.”
“I need your word that if you can’t get the information directly to the source, you won’t even try. There’s a certain group of, uh, contractors who would take advantage of the information and might cause a derailment.”
Big narrowed his eyes. “There’s a bounty on you?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“How big?”
“One million.”
Little whistled and Big frowned. Both looked slightly unnerved.
“Who is this man?” Big asked.
“His name is Ahmad. He’s a Middle Eastern arms dealer.”
Big exchanged glances with Little, and for the first time since I’d met him, he seemed slightly stunned. Finally, he cleared his throat and pushed himself up from the park bench. I was afraid he was about to shoot me himself and collect, when he walked around and stuck out his hand. I rose from my chair, uncertain about what was happening, and clasped his hand in mine. He grasped my hand and gave it a firm shake, at the same time reaching out to hold my forearm with his other hand. Then he leaned in and kissed me on each cheek.
I was completely overwhelmed. The handshake holding the forearm, the kiss on each cheek, was a sign of respect shown only among men of a certain level within organized crime. That this man had bestowed such an honor on me was both exhilarating and humbling.
Still holding my hand in his, he looked me straight in the eyes. “I know exactly who you are. You saved a child from being sold as a sex slave. You risked your own life and your mission for a single girl the same age as my goddaughter. That girl was taken from my grandfather’s village in Italy. You have my undying respect, and Little and I will always have your back. All you have to do is ask.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to keep my voice from breaking. “You have given me such an honor.”
“Honor is earned, not given,” Little said. “You deserve this.”
Big nodded. “Now, let’s get to work figuring out how to take this bastard down.”
Chapter Five
By the time I finished up with Big and Little, it was already 10:30 a.m. As soon as I hopped in my Jeep, I checked my phone and saw two missed calls from Gertie and a text from Ida Belle asking me to check in because they were worried. I immediately felt bad. I hadn’t meant to make them worry but given my current situation, I suppose it was only natural for them to assume something might be wrong if I disappeared first thing in the morning without telling them what I was doing.
On my way home now. Meet you in 30.
I sent the text, then directed my Jeep toward the highway, still amazed at the turn my meeting with Big and Little had taken. I would have never guessed that my actions had turned me into some sort of underground legend, but Little had made it clear just how big a deal I was among certain groups of people—mostly those who hated Ahmad and his business practices. Probably some didn’t like the power he held in the arms dealing community, so to speak, but I learned that mostly people didn’t like him because he was crazy unpredictable and his word meant nothing. When they’d found out he’d been trafficking children, many had refused to deal with him any longer.
Ida Belle and Gertie were already in my kitchen when I arrived, and I was thrilled to see Gertie unpacking a box of food. Ida Belle was sitting at the breakfast table, popping the top off of three beers.
“If that’s for people,” I said, “I will forever be in your debt.”
Gertie pointed to the two pans covered with tin foil. “One for people. One for Godzilla.”
“So we’re set to go on that?” I asked.
Gertie nodded. “Carter talked to his friend
this morning, and they’re happy to take Godzilla at the preserve.”
“And my friend is happy to lend the trap,” Ida Belle said. “He’s going to drop it off here sometime this afternoon.”
“Cool. So what’s the plan for getting Godzilla to pay us a visit?”
“We track him down by boat,” Gertie said, “then entice him to your place. Once he’s here, I can get him in the trap with a casserole. I have some chicken necks and Lay’s potato chips to use to lead him here.”
“Sour cream and onion?” I asked, teasing.
“No. He prefers barbecue.”
I looked over at Ida Belle, who gave me the “don’t ask” look.
“So what were you off doing so early?” Ida Belle asked.
“And without us,” Gertie said.
“She doesn’t have to take us everywhere, you know,” Ida Belle said.
“Unless she was having a romantic time with Carter, I don’t see why not,” Gertie said.
“Maybe she was having her hair done,” Ida Belle said, “or grocery shopping, or sitting next to the bayou contemplating life.”
“Please,” Gertie said. “We’d have to put a gun to her head to get her into a salon, although those extensions are starting to need work. And what few groceries she uses, Walter has Scooter deliver weekly, otherwise she wouldn’t have anything in this house. As for contemplating life, she’s got a bayou in her backyard, and the only thing I’ve ever seen her contemplate next to it was the back of her eyelids in that hammock.”
Ida Belle inclined her head. “Touché.”
“I had a meeting with Big and Little,” I said, figuring I might as well lay it all out now.
“About what?” Gertie asked. “Did they contact you?”
I shook my head. “I contacted them. I thought they might be able to help with my situation.”
“I think it needs a name,” Gertie said. “All the cool missions have one. What about Operation Fortune Freedom?”
I smiled. “I like it. From henceforth, my situation will be referred to as OFF.”
“Ooohhh, I didn’t even think about the short version,” Gertie said. “Very nice. I’m a genius.”
“Obviously,” Ida Belle said. “So back to the Heberts—what kind of help were you wanting from them?”
“A place to stage the coup, for one. I know they have properties in New Orleans, and I figure that’s the best place to do this.”
Ida Belle narrowed her eyes. “So you just strolled into their offices this morning and asked to borrow real estate? I know they are fond of you, but that seems a bit of a stretch.”
“They know about me.”
Ida Belle’s and Gertie’s eyes widened and they looked at each other, then back at me.
“Your cover was already blown?” Gertie asked.
“No,” I said. “They already had their suspicions that I wasn’t a librarian.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Given their line of work, I suppose they’d have to be blind to miss your training. Did you tell them everything?”
“I didn’t have to.” I told them how the conversation went down, and when I got to my exchange with Big, Gertie gasped.
“You’ve been made,” she said. “You’re officially an underboss or something cool like that.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” I said, “but it was pretty overwhelming.”
“I can imagine,” Ida Belle said. “So you’re famous in the underworld. Not really surprising given Ahmad’s reputation. Do they have the ability to pass the tip along?”
“They’re pretty sure they can get word directly to Ahmad’s people in the Middle East.”
“What if his people act on the tip and don’t pass it on?” Gertie asked.
“Word is Ahmad’s obsessed with killing me. None of his men would move on me in secret because Ahmad would kill them for taking away the joy he would get from torturing and killing me himself.”
“Still, it’s risky,” Ida Belle said. “Someone in his organization could tell a mercenary, planning on splitting the reward.”
“That’s true enough,” I said. “The whole thing is risky, but there’s a serious lack of options and the others are riskier than this one.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Ida Belle said. “I know there’s no level of certainty with this sort of thing, but I can’t help wishing there was.”
“Me too,” I said. At one time, the uncertainty had been part of the excitement—one of the reasons I loved the job. Uncertainty meant I got to test my skill when things went off track. It meant every call and action was mine, and I’d experienced a lot of satisfaction from pulling off successful missions despite derailment.
But this one was different. If someone gave me a magic button to press that would dissolve Ahmad into dust, I would press it so fast, you wouldn’t even see my hand move. As far as I was concerned, the only uncertainty I wanted to deal with anymore was everything in my life that would happen once Ahmad was no longer a factor. I figured living in Sinful, with all it provided, would be plenty to keep me off-balance.
“So did you get a list of properties?” Gertie asked.
“Not yet,” I said. “Little wanted to do some asking around about the nearby businesses to make sure the location wouldn’t put up any red flags due to things the neighbors might be into.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Illegal activities tend to draw the interest of cops.”
“Exactly,” I said, “and Ahmad could spot a local cop from across the Atlantic. Anyway, Little is going to get a list to me as soon as he’s done poking around.”
“So what’s the next move?” Ida Belle asked.
“Lunch,” I said. “Or I’m going to faint. I only had a protein shake for breakfast.”
Gertie, who’d been fixing up plates while we talked, shoved a huge serving of lasagna in front of me. “I didn’t bring any bread with me. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s not like you have regular groceries here.”
“I don’t need bread,” I said. “There’s enough carbs on this plate to power ten people.”
Ida Belle looked at the plate Gertie slid in front of her. “Got that right. Good Lord, woman. Are you trying to give us clogged arteries in a single meal?”
“Stop your bitching,” Gertie said as she sat with her plate, “or you can cook the next meal.”
I’d eaten Ida Belle’s cooking before and she wasn’t half bad at it, but I was certain she’d rather spend her time loading shotgun shells, or sharpening knives, or waxing her SUV. She cut off a big piece of the lasagna and shoved it in her mouth, not about to say another word. I didn’t have to worry. No one wanted me to cook. It was strange how being inept sometimes gave you an advantage.
“This is awesome,” I said, both to pacify Gertie and because it was the truth. Gertie had many talents, but cooking was right up there at the top. She hadn’t made a single thing I hadn’t liked, even the time I accidentally ate designer dog food kibble she’d baked for a neighbor. How was I supposed to know it wasn’t granola? Anyway, it tasted good on yogurt. The neighbor’s dog thought so as well.
“Did you tell Carter about your upcoming acting job as bait?” Ida Belle asked.
I nodded. “Last night.”
“What did you wear?” Gertie asked. “Did you go with my suggestions?”
“Who cares what she wore?” Ida Belle asked.
“I do. Because what she wore is probably indicative of how it went,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle rolled her eyes. “She could have been standing in the middle of his living room completely naked and holding Kobe steak and a five-hundred-dollar bottle of whiskey and it still wouldn’t make what she had to say go down any better.”
“If a hot naked man wanted to stand in my house with steak and expensive whiskey, he could tell me anything he wanted,” Gertie said.
“If a hot naked man was standing in your house, it would be because he got the address wrong.”
“Not necessarily,” Gertie s
aid. “I could order up one of those strip-o-gram men. I hear that even though it’s not an option online, you can tip them into taking off their G-string.”
I didn’t even want to know why Gertie was aware of the online menu or the secret tipping policy, and from the look on her face, Ida Belle was terrified she was going to tell us anyway.
“All door-to-door stripping aside,” I said, “the conversation went better than I thought it would. Carter isn’t happy about the situation, but he understands my reasoning and admitted he would do the same thing if he were in my shoes.”
“He’s showing remarkable restraint,” Ida Belle said. “Especially given that you wanted to involve the Heberts.”
I shifted in my chair. “I didn’t exactly tell him that part. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone until I knew they were willing and able to help. And honestly, I don’t think I’m going to tell him now.”
“I don’t blame you,” Gertie said. “No use fanning the flame unless you have to.”
“Finally, we agree on something,” Ida Belle said. “Took long enough.”
“Anyway,” I said, “if I say nothing, Carter will assume the CIA set up the place for the takedown. It’s not that I like lying by omission, but Big and Little are doing me a huge favor, and I’d rather not have them officially dragged into this unless it’s absolutely impossible to prevent. I owe them that.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Look, I get why you’re conflicted, and it says a lot about your character that you are. But the reality of your line of work—and Carter’s—is that you will always have informants and other connections that you keep secret. Otherwise, the law enforcement business doesn’t run so well, and technically, you are still a CIA agent. It’s for your protection as well as theirs. If it meant mission success, Carter would do the same thing.”
“I know,” I said. “And you’re right. I need to get used to keeping professional secrets now. It’s not like Carter shares the details of his work with me.”