by C. R. Daems
"Include me," Jim said, decisively.
"For me that would be close to suicide. I couldn't practice Vodou or tell fortunes or work with herbs without giving them clues to my whereabouts.” I pointed to the horse-head tattoo. “That's my commitment to God."
"Well, suicide is unacceptable to me..."—Jim looked at Ron and Grace—"us. Maybe that's our commitment to God. To keep you safe." He grabbed me in a breath-constricting hug.
"Maybe I can find a reason to have you given police protection," Grace said, frowning in thought.
"Even if you could, these people have money and can hire whatever it takes to kidnap me, and I'd hate to see innocent policemen killed to delay the inevitable," I took Grace's hand in mine. "Thank you, but I'm content to wait. I won't help them no matter what. But if I can, I'd like to avoid you or anyone from being hurt. I don't know how, since they have identified you as important to me, but I'll try." Tears streamed down my cheeks. I knew it would probably be impossible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Black's compromise
Willis sat smiling at the blank monitor, sipping a glass of Cote de Nuits between puffs on his La Corona—a five thousand dollar celebration. The test had proved beyond the shadow of a doubt Mambo Renee had her grandmother's gift, and it was payday. Exactly at 10:00 p.m. the monitor lit and the smiley faces began appearing.
"Good evening, Mr. Willis. I understand from Mr. Black that your test was very ingenious and that it proved conclusively that Ms. Mathur has the gift of foresight." Blue's smiley face said in a cheerful voice.
"Yes, Mr. Blue. After each fortunetelling session with Angela, our paid viewer to witness the murders, Renee met with her friends and made sure the intended victim for that week avoided the place where the killing would take place. It's clear that she was able to see each event. If there were any doubt, the last event, a bombing, was too random for her to deduce from the first two. And they set a trap for the bomber and caught her."
"What if she talks?" Orange's voice was harsh.
"She doesn't know anything except she was contracted to kill several people. Her intermediate may know the person who contracted her services. But she's not going to rat on her intermediate."
"Seems like a loose end." Brown sounded concerned.
"Black, I agree. We don't want any link to Mr. Willis. He has served us well." Blue's smiley continued to smile.
"Consider it done," Black's smiley face said sounding amused. Willis shuddered. He didn't really mind them killing Sheila as she was a possible link to him, but it was the callousness or maybe the lack of loyalty. Sheila had been instrumental in designing, setting up, and monitoring the test which proved Renee had the talent. Their safety was the only concern.
"Mr. Willis, we thank you for your services. You will be paid as promised. Are there any outstanding issues we should know about, connections to you?" Blue's smiley face asked.
"Well, I guess there is Sheila's partner Ken."
"Mr. Black, if you would take care of that, and we need to arrange to secure Mambo Renee's services. The event we have been preparing for is near," Mr. Blue's smiley face said.
"That won't work. Mambo Renee has proved she can't be tortured into helping us, and I believe she would commit suicide if she knew exactly what we planned."
"You are saying this was all for nothing?" Violet sounded furious.
"No. I'm suggesting a change of strategy. I would like to discuss it tomorrow at our regular time," Black's smiley face said and his voice seemed to come from within the room. When Willis looked up a shadowy figure stood talking into a device in one hand while leaning against the doorframe into the room.
"Tomorrow, Mr. Black," Blue's smiley face said and the smiley faces began to blank out one at a time.
"Mr. Willis, I'm afraid you forgot to mention Harold and Tony," the shadowy figure said.
"But...they don't know anything."
"Under the old strategy, you and they weren't loose ends to be concerned about. But I'm afraid under the new strategy, you and they are loose ends we would be better off without."
* * *
Mr. Black sat in a typical hotel room chair in a small modest hotel room waiting for the clock to strike ten. As it did, his hand-held device began displaying the five colored faces one at a time.
Mr. Blue's smiley face lit last. "Good evening, Mr. Black. My friends and I were very disappointed with your observation yesterday and are not sure we agree."
"We have learned a great deal about Mambo Renee over the past months. Our friend the sheriff proved she couldn't be tortured into doing something against her will."
"Not true. She couldn't tell him the name of the informant because there wasn't one," Green's smiley face growled.
"She could have told him how she knew, but she didn't. That would have stopped him torturing her. I think it's safe to conclude torture won't work. Money won't work, otherwise she would have taken the two million they offered to buy her out. And she is deeply religious and would commit suicide before she would go against her ethics."
"Suicide is a sin and Voodoo isn't a real religion," Violet’s smiley face shouted.
"You may believe God doesn't recognize Voodoo as a religion, but she does, Mr. Violet and that is all that matters. But if she knew we were up to something but didn't know what, I believe she would be reluctant to commit suicide and abandon her congregation, friends, and ability to help people through fortunetelling. In that event, we can accomplish our initial goal over the coming months, then a change of strategy may work and would be worth trying."
"With your new approach, you believe we will at very least be able to achieve our initial goal?"
"Yes. I've cleaned up all the loose ends, those that knew anything about Mambo Renee's talent: Willis, Tony, Harold, and Ken"
"What about Sheila and Angela?" Mr. Green's smiley face asked.
"They are still necessary. Angela is part of my new approach and Sheila is her only contact. Besides, neither Angela nor Sheila has any knowledge of us."
"What about Renee's friends?" Mr. Orange smiley face asked..
"They are our insurance that Mambo Renee will continue to play the game."
"Any objections to Mr. Black's proposal?" Mr. Blue's smiley face asked. When no one said anything, he continued, "You have our approval to precede, Mr. Black."
* * *
When Sheila answered the knock at the door, a young bellhop stood smiling. "Ms. Volland, I have a special delivery package for you," he said and extended the narrow box. Sheila took it, turned it over, and tested the weight, curbing the urge to put it to her ear.
"Just a minute," she said and retrieved a ten dollar bill from her purse and handed it to the young man. "Thank you." She closed the door and inspected the package. The return address read JOBS with an address she doubted existed. When she opened it, she found a small laptop with a green sticky with ten a.m. printed just below a black square with a yellow smiley face. It was now nine thirty a.m. She opened the HP laptop to find it was a thirteen-inch Spectre, one of their better machines. Almost reluctantly, she pressed the power button. When nothing happened she sighed in relief. The people she was dealing with this time were more scary than usual. She sat back, wondering what this was about. She had completed her assignment, the test had gone well, and Willis owed her the money he promised.
All of a sudden, the screen went black. A smiley face appeared in the center and its lips began moving. "Sheila, I'm Mr. Black, replacing Mr. Willis, who has retired. I have deposited into your account the three million he promised and am willing to pay another three million for your continued services, plus expenses. Are you interested?" The damn smiley face looked to be listening for the answer.
"Unless you want me to kill someone in the White House, I'm very interested," Sheila said, resisting the urge to react with the excitement she felt. "What’s the assignment?"
"Simple, you are to continue managing Angela who will continue to visit Mambo Renee."
/> "But I thought..." Sheila stopped short of saying "You would kidnap her."
"One must adapt as circumstances change. I've been impressed with your creativity and resourcefulness. As a result, I decided to offer you a full-time position with me." Before she could protest he continued. "I know you prefer to be an independent contractor, but this pays better and provides benefits you couldn't get on your own."
Everything clicked into place. She had tried to contact Willis and Tony without success, which she thought strange since he owed her money. At least Tony should have been available to set up a meeting. Then she tried Ken's firm. They hadn't heard from him. And finally she couldn't get hold of Harold. The group was cleaning up loose ends, which was anyone connected with Mambo Renee. You were either in or out—permanently.
"Thank you, Mr. Black. I accept." Alive and wealthy or running for the rest of my life, Sheila mused.
"You will check your email once every day. Angela will continue to pay for weekly fortunetelling sessions. She will be playing a game and needs Mambo Renee's help..." Black went on to explain the game and her part. For three million dollars she was merely Angela's unseen go-between.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The Game
Although I doubted that Angela would show for her fortunetelling session, I told Jim I wouldn't be coming over and got ready anyway. To my surprise, Angela showed right on time, dressed casually, but not less spectacularly. Her bright-yellow slacks were skin tight like they were molded to her shapely hips, her sweat shirt a size or two too small, prominently displaying her D-cup breasts and nipples.
"Good evening, Angela. I thought you would be on your way back to Miami," I said, wondering why she wasn’t. I had thought they had enough proof that I had Granny's gift.
"I've been asked to stay and continue my fortunetelling sessions with you. I don't know what is going on, but I doubt whoever is paying me means you well. I like you and think you're a good person. I'll leave and go home if you want."
"Thank you. I'm sure you're being well paid. Stay. You can use the money, and I'd rather have someone with a good heart like you than someone else. I don't know what they are planning, but I'm sure they will find someone else if you leave."
"I will share what I learn, if that will help. My contact, who I've never met, has just told me they would continue to pay me to stay. They pay very well, Mambo Renee."
"Yes, I'll just bet they do. Sit. Let see what kind of a week you are going to have," I said, wondering what surprises they had in store for me. As I watched, Angela took a couple of nights off to relax each week. Nothing seemed to happen for the two months I watched. "It looks like you are going to be here for quite a while, but it looks like you're slowing down, taking a couple of days off each week. That nice guy is still hanging around."
"Sounds like I don't feel rushed to make it while I can. Hope that sounds good for you."
"I guess we are both going to have to wait to see what they expect from us." I was certainly confused. I thought they would be moving to kidnap me or threaten me with something, but what I saw didn't seem consistent with either scenario.
"Mambo is like a priest, and Voodoo is a real religion isn't it?" Angela asked after I removed my hands.
"Yes." I got up and walked over to my books to pull out a small, fifty page book on the Vodou religion. "If you are interested, here is some light reading when you are lazing by the pool. It outlines the history of the Vodou religion and gives a brief overview of its main beliefs."
"How much," she said reaching for her purse.
"It's free with no obligation to read it. Some religions believe it’s the participants’ obligation to recruit new members. I don't. To me, religions, through their priests, are there only to help a person develop a strong connection to God."
"What about a sinner like me?" Angela asked hesitantly.
"I'm not much on the Bible, but it seems to me Jesus had no problem with prostitutes. You mean no one harm, and the act of sex breaks no law of God I know of," I said, thinking about the Ten Commandments, which most religions endorsed in one form or another. "You provide a service for money like I do."
Angela roared with laughter. "You're comparing your service to mine? They don't arrest fortunetellers." She gave me a hug which I returned. "Thank you for the book, Mambo Renee. See you next week."
* * *
"What's the latest, Renee?" Grace asked as we settled down with our plates and drinks. When I wouldn't agree to staying at either Jim's or their unit, she had insisted on a weekly Saturday night party. We alternated units weekly and the meals were usually ordered from restaurants that had take-out. Tonight it was sushi.
"They appear to have changed tactics. I expected them to either kidnap me or come by and threaten me. They've done neither."
"I wish you would close your shop and move in with Jim or us. We would worry less. I feel like calling you every hour to see if you are all right," Grace said to nodding heads.
"You and I know if they decide to kidnap me, you couldn't stop them and would only get hurt trying. And if I were willing to close my shop and hide, I'd be better off trying to disappear altogether."
"Good idea. I'll go with you," Jim said.
"Anyway, they are paying Angela to stay in New Orleans and to keep her regular weekly fortunetelling session with me. I saw nothing unusual over the next two months."
"You can see two months into the future?" Ron asked, stroking his chin in thought. "You could tell me the verdict..."
"But then would you work as hard for your client? Then you would stop accepting cases you wouldn't win. And maybe some of those people are innocent, and you would only lose them because you had become lazy."
"You're right. Like knowing the answers to a test. You would get an A but have learned nothing."
"I think the news is good. If they want Angela to keep seeing you, they aren't planning to abduct you in the near future. That gives us time," Grace said. "I'm afraid the news on our bomber isn't encouraging. We believe she's an international assassin from what we've been able to piece together, but I doubt we can ever prove it. She is a very careful person and prepared well for being caught. The name she gave us doesn't have a record, and her official residence doesn't contain any clues to her activities. She only lives there briefly during any given year. Her lawyer is excellent. He's confined all our questions to the bomb incident, which he won't let her answer beyond saying that someone paid her to deliver the bomb to my car. She claims she didn't know the phone number to activate it, what the bomb was going to be used for, or who made it. I wouldn't be surprised if the District Attorney wouldn't end up giving her a plea deal to some minor charge since he's facing years of legal proceedings and could lose in the end. Her lawyer is good and will certainly raise lots of probable doubt with any jury."
"So that's a dead end," Jim said in disgust.
"Yes."
* * *
Mambo Monique attended my Sunday service, which delighted me, as I hadn't seen her in several weeks what with all the excitement. "I'm thrilled you came. I've been distracted for the past couple of weeks. They have been testing me."
"That makes sense. They need to be sure. Are they?"
"Yes. I couldn't fail the test without being as evil as they are. Nor could I avoid it."
"Can you share your plans with me?"
"They are the ones with plans. I can only wait and react. For now, I’ll continue my services and provide whatever help or comfort I can."
"Spoken like a true mambo. Mambo Eshe would have been very proud of her granddaughter. If you don't mind, I'll stay for the service.”
After walking around talking with those attending, I drew the ve've for Legba-Papa Labas and began. As I chanted prayers and danced I felt alive with energy, relieved of my worries and fears—touched by the Loa.
* * *
Life seemed to have returned to normal. I spent the days in my shop, nights working on my website or telling fortunes or with Jim
. Oatha had a session, which showed nothing exciting, and we spent most of the time talking about her children.
Ellen had her monthly session. Her future showed her doing well at work. She had paid for her friend's breast surgery and the prognosis was good based on what I could deduce from Ellen's visits.
"Mambo Renee, I believe in God but admit I don't belong to any organized religion," she said after her session. "And have to admit I don't know what to think of Voodoo as a religion. But I know if I felt the need for moral counsel I would come to you. You may be young, but you put others’ needs above your own and have a good sense of right and wrong. I keep wanting to give you money although I know that is not what motivates you. Consider it a donation for you to use to help others as you've helped me or towards a place of your own someday to hold services."
On Thursday I had my normal session with Angela. This time she was dressed for partying. I saw nothing that seemed to be directed at me, which was both a relief and a concern—relieved that there were no immediate threats but concerned over what they were planning. Angela was their connection to me, and they had to be planning something otherwise they would have let her leave, but what?
Jim and I almost seemed married. If it hadn't been for the shop, I would have moved in with him. I was definitely in love and would have accepted a proposal of marriage if it hadn't been for the group after me. And he had made it crystal clear he had proposed and would wait my decision—well, more wait for me to set a date. The man was my dream come true and biggest worry. It drove me insane worrying about the group hurting him to get at me, knowing I wouldn't help them even for Jim.
* * *
"What's new?" Grace asked as her chopsticks deftly delivered a piece of Kung Pao chicken into her mouth.
"Nothing. Life seems good. My business is more profitable than it has ever been, thanks to the Internet and fortunetelling clients. I've found the love of my life and have fantastic friends." I paused for a sip of tea.