Spicey knew she was running out of time, so she quickly scanned a few old phone bills and left the office. She was relocking the office door when she heard a voice from below.
“Wilma?”
Spicey froze. Then she heard the male voice again from farther away.
“Wilma?”
She quickly made her way down the servant’s stairwell only to hear heavy footsteps going up the main stairwell. She froze mid-step and estimated that if the wall wasn’t there, they would be looking at each other about now. She held her breath. The slightest sound could give her away. His steps continued up. She slipped out the back door, the side gate, and ran down the alley behind the house.
She leaned against an old dumpster to catch her breath. She was still panting when a young man jumped from around the dumpster with a knife and said, “Give me yo money Bitch!”
Spicey looked him in the eye as she lowered her hand into her purse, found her pistol and shot through her purse to the ground next to his feet. When he jumped, she tackled him, took his knife, and held the gun to his temple. He froze. She pawed around in his pants until she found his roll of cash. She let him watch as she peeled off two bills from his roll with only her thumb. Spicey yanked him to his feet, shoved the rest of his money roll down the front of his pants, and said, “You owe me a new purse. I want your momma’s name.” He mumbled something and Spicey shot again next to his shoe. “You don’t hear so good boy! Momma’s name!”
He answered “Donna Blew.”
Spicey said, “How old is she, and who’s her daddy?”
The boy frowned at her. “I don’t know how old she is. Her daddy named Daryl.”
Spicey frowned, reached into the front of the kid’s pants, and retrieved the roll of cash. She thumbed off another bill and stuck the roll back in. “Now. Tell me your momma’s name.”
The kid was terrified. “My momma’s name is Adele Brown. She’s been missin’ a couple weeks now. I ain’t lying’, lady. I just tryin’ to get by ‘til she gets home.”
Spicey sensed that was the truth. She looked at the kid, “What’s your name?” He answered Jerome. Spicey motioned with her head, “You’re coming back to my place, and we are going to talk. I just might be able to find your momma.” She glared at Jerome, “You try something cute…”
Jerome interrupted, “I know, you’ll shoot me.”
“Damn right.”
Mark Mills, the sniper, was being transported from the Indy Federal Building to a special prison in Richmond. The transport van had an FBI driver in a caged front seat and an armed FBI agent in the back with Mark. Mark waited until they were in heavy traffic and began making very slow half circle rocking motions with his chin. The agent just stared at Mark’s face. Mark was a trained hypnotist. He hoped eventually the agent would focus on his nose and enter a hypnotic state. The agent glazed over in ten minutes. The driver was consumed with traffic. Mark moved to the agent’s side, took his keys, unlocked his cuffs, and the back door of the van. Mark also took the agent’s gun. Mark quickly moved back and said, “When I count to three, you are going to tell the driver you have to piss. You want him pull to over to the shoulder, and come back here. You will not notice your gun is missing. One. Two. Three.”
Mark was back on his side of the van. The agent looked around some and grabbed the radio hanging on the side of the van. “Hey, pull over somewhere I can take a piss. Hurry. You come back here and watch this guy.” Mark chuckled. The agent looked at him, “Maybe I should just piss on you?”
Mark said, “Whatever makes you feel important.”
The driver pulled over on a large grassy shoulder between two highway exits. He put the flashers on and killed the engine. He walked around to the back of the van, opened the door, and stepped in. Mark shot them both. He took the clothes off the driver and put them on. He also took their money, phones, badges, and keys. He stepped out of the van, locked the back door, and slid into the driver’s seat. He knew the van was on GPS tracking, and he continued his way to Richmond. The whole thing took minutes. Once he arrived downtown he parked, took a cab to the airport, and got on a private jet to New Orleans with a pilot he and Mathew used fairly often.
Once in flight he called Mathew’s burn number, it was only good for another hour. Mathew answered, “Mark?”
Mark said, “Yeah. Wanted to let you know the Feds got me, I escaped in transport, and I’m headed to you now. I didn’t talk Mathew. They knew your name and address and Jason’s. I think they got the lab.”
Mathew was silent, “They could have got all of that from you.”
Mark said, “All I ever knew about Jason was that he was in Virginia. I never knew his address. You believe me or not. I’m not running from you. This is your call, and I am telling you straight. Where do you want to meet?”
Mathew gave Mark another number to call when he arrived and hung up.
Jeanne and Jeremiah finished the work on the generator and were preparing to leave. Mary asked, “Okay, what do we write on our note?”
Teresa said, “Let me write it. I have tiny handwriting. We can get more on one note.”
Linda asked, “What do we ask?”
I said, “Write that there are Spirits in the room who can read her mind and to think of anything that will help us catch the man who did this to her.”
Linda said, “Good. Also ask her name.’
Mary frowned, “You guys, it’s a sticky note. Not a manuscript!”
Teresa said, “Before you start writing we have to get her attention. That note is only going to last a minute or so.”
I went over to the couch and held a blanket over me. She could see the blanket moving and screamed for Mambo. Mambo told her, “The Spirits want to tell you something.” She shrugged and returned to her spot on the floor. At least I got her attention. Teresa was writing like crazy and put the note on Kyeeta’s nose. She peeled it off and read it. It disappeared in her hand. She looked at Mambo.
We heard her thoughts. “If you can hear my thoughts, I am afraid for my son. The man threatened to kill him if I came back. I don’t know his name, but there are two of them! The one who raped me lives near the Quarter somewhere. He has a prison room in his house. Wears plastic gloves all the time. My son, Jerome Brown, needs me.” That was all we got. She just kept thinking the same thing over and over.
Mambo pointed to the outside. It looked like Jeanne and Jeremiah were leaving. Mary started waving goodbye to Mambo, and Mambo made a motion like she was swatting a fly. Okay then. We rushed out to the boat, and Jeremiah was telling Jeanne they were heading toward where he had found her.
The swamp was beautiful and scary at the same time. Jeremiah let Jeanne guide the boat for a while. He pointed to where he had found her. There was a small island type area that had a few huge cypress trees all knotted together. Jeremiah told Jeanne she had been curled up on the cypress roots. He almost hadn’t seen her.
He had her paddle a ways farther and pointed to a marshy clearing. “Look through those trees there, you see it? That narrow dirt area there. I think he drove you there and made you walk into the swamp. You made it quite a ways.” Jeanne’s skin was crawling. It looked very familiar, even though she knew she had been drugged. She remembered.
Jeanne look at Jeremiah, “When we get back, I want you to show me where that is from the road.” Jeremiah nodded.
Teresa was watching several alligators swimming around the boat. Mary said, “How did she get over there from here without being eaten alive?”
Linda shuddered, “Can you imagine how much worse this is at night?”
Jeremiah took over the paddle and said, “We best get you back so you can go see your brother. I think Mambo is pretty puzzled what that generator is supposed to do for her. I don’t think she has ever had electricity. This may get the Spirits jumpin’.” He laughed. It sounded like a bunch of swamp birds started laughing too.
Some pretty creepy noises were in the swamp. Jeanne couldn’t help but think you would
need Spirits nowadays to live without electricity. She asked Jeremiah why no one had thought to bring Mambo a generator before. Jeremiah answered, “I think folks believe she is above all that. They don’t think of her as having human needs like you and me. You saw what she did when we tried to give her a gun. Livin’ in the swamp all alone and still wanted no part of it. Plus, I hear tell that most things you give her she gives away.”
Tourey walked to his house after visiting Spicey. He couldn’t stop thinking about what she said about Mambo. Maybe he would go tomorrow. When he got to his door, there was a business card stuck in the trim by the handle. He pulled it out and turned it over. John Barry, a cell number, and a hand scratched note: Meet me at eight.
Tourey put the card in his pocket and slowly walked through his entire house. John Barry. Possibility he was on the wrong radar. What was it that Spicey said about a dark spirit looking for him? If there was, John Barry would know.
Tourey assumed they were meeting in their favorite spot, the Law Library at Loyola University. He decided to take a nap. He had almost two hours, and it was too hot to do anything.
Dusty was trying to think of the guy’s name that used to hang out at Mickey’s bar all the time. Seems like he came from that building across the street every now and then. If Tourey was willing to pay him five hundred dollars, he wanted to get it. His income from portraits was still only half what it had been before Katrina, and it seemed his bills kept going up. Swear to God, if Tourey got him in trouble again, it would be the last time! He decided just to stop in at Mickey’s, do a couple of portraits, get a feel for the place. You couldn’t really ask any questions without puttin’ on suspicion. Not in Nawlens. In Nawlens, you put yourself somewhere, and the information comes to you.
He walked into Mickey’s about eight o’clock. Quite a few tourists were having sandwiches and beer. The bar stools were all occupied but one at the far end. Dusty took that stool and laid his drawing pad next to him. The bartender came over and asked, “What you havin’?”
Dusty really didn’t want a drink, but he had to justify being there, “Man I hate to ask, but I think one of those girly drinks that tastes all fruity sounds good. I’ve been out in the sun all day.”
The bartender laughed, “Why don’t I fix you an ice cream grasshopper and put it in a coffee mug, so no one knows it.”
That actually sounded good. “You do that, and I’ll do a free picture for ya.” Dusty turned his pad over and started sketching. He wanted it to look flattering, so the bartender would promote him to the locals.
By the time the bartender came back Dusty was done. He tore the picture off the pad and handed it to him. “Damn, that looks just like me! Thanks man!” The bartender walked past everyone on the stools holding up the picture and pointing down at Dusty. Then he taped the picture to the mirrored wall behind the cash register. The drink tasted great. No wonder the chicks liked this stuff. Dusty gulped it and pushed the mug to the edge for another. The bartender came down and said, “They may taste harmless, but they’re not. I’ll get you another, but at least give the ice cream a chance to melt.” He grinned and left with the mug.
A couple in their thirties walked down to the end of the bar and asked if he would sketch them. He had them sit at a small table behind him, turned his stool around and did the sketch without leaving his spot. They liked it so well, they gave him a hundred dollar bill. Dusty turned around and asked the bartender to break the bill into twenties. When he came back, Dusty gave him one and said, “Your commission.”
“Thanks,” put his hand out and said, “Name’s Scotty.”
“Dusty.” He raised his mug and said, “To my new best friend,” and smiled.
Scotty smiled and asked, “You want another?”
Dusty shook his head, “Nah, time I took a nap. I might see ya later after the tourists crap out. You work the late shift?”
Scotty answered, “All but Wednesdays. I pull the good tip nights.” He held up the twenty Dusty had just handed him, “Like tonight!”
Dusty’s cell phone rang. The caller ID said, “Govt.” Ah shit! He laughed that his guilty conscious was getting the better of him. He answered, “Yeah?”
It was Agent Frank Mass from the local FBI field office. Agent Mass asked, “Hey, Dusty, I know it’s late, but our artist is out sick. I need a couple of portraits done here if you’ve got the time. I’m willing to pay double for the short notice.”
Dusty said, “Sure, I got time. Be there shortly.” He hung up his phone and thought about all this sudden extra money. He might just go down and pay off the whole light bill this month. At one time!
Thor and Pablo headed over to the field office so Pablo could meet with the artist, and Thor could get a feel for the staff there. The plan was to have Jeanne meet with the artist, and then come back and interview with Thor at Core’s building. Now nicknamed Star Ship because of the level of technology in the structure.
Agent Nelson and Agent Frost decided they wanted to visit the local police and just drive around the area. They had rented a car and were armed with several maps of the area as well as a local newspaper, the Times-Picayune.
Roger and Paul had gone back to the Marriott to look over some papers. John Barry had stated he wanted to hook up with an old friend and do a little bar hopping. Ray decided since it had only been eight hours since he was blown up, he was going to bed.
Roger invited Paul to come to his room to go over the Ellen papers. Paul came into the room, saw the empty carrier, and looked around. He asked Roger, “How do we explain Ellen popping in and out of places? Cats don’t do that do they?”
Roger said, “I don’t know what we are supposed to do. I guess I have just expected she will know what she can get away with.” Just then Roger’s phone rang, he looked at the ID and mouthed “Director” to Paul. Paul sat down. He watched Roger’s expression deteriorate quickly. Then Roger asked, “Are they both dead?” Then, “I’m sure he’s headed here. I’ll keep you posted.”
Roger closed the phone and said, “Mark Mills escaped. Killed two transport guards. He has their badges and weapons.”
Paul couldn’t believe it. “What is the problem? Everybody is just escaping us? We have four dead Feds in one day? You think he’s coming here?”
Roger answered, “I would. He has to convince Mathew he can still be trusted, or he is dead. Oh shit. He knows we got the lab.” Roger was pacing, “There is an APB out for a private pilot who left Richmond for New Orleans two hours ago. Mills is probably already here. I have to call Thor.”
Paul rolled his eyes and said, “Thor’s hanging by a thread now!”
Roger said, “I know.”
“While we are talking about threads, I think it is a thin one that Barry chose to stay at the Marriott and sit in the lobby bar. Kind of like he was expecting us.”
Roger nodded, “He was. He knows I stay here. The Marriott is Fed friendly. I don’t know exactly what we have with Barry either, but he did tell me he is OSI. Keep that one to yourself.” Paul had a lot of questions he needed to ask if this roller coaster ever stopped. Roger dialed Thor. Paul could hear his reaction from across the room. Roger was holding the phone away from his ear and shaking his head. It was a good five minutes before Roger was able to tell Thor that he would talk to him in about an hour.
Paul stated that the Ellen papers may have saved their asses. Roger nodded agreement, while he called room service to order a few cartons of milk for Ellen. He had actually seen her drink it before. Paul laughed, “We need to pick up a litter box even though she doesn’t use them. I’m sure the hotel staff will wonder about a cat that doesn’t shit!” Roger laughed.
Paul sat at the small table with both his hands on the pile of Ellen papers and said, “This has been quite a day even for us. I’m starting to question everything and everybody, and you haven’t even decided about Manigat yet!”
Roger nodded, “If we ever close this case for good, it is definitely going to make the Bureaus top ten case fi
les. We may be famous!” Roger smiled.
Paul laughed, “I’m already famous just being able to hang with you! I heard Thor call us Bat Man and Robin to Pablo.”
Roger laughed and said, “He’s just pissed that cabby got him.”
Paul was now wiping his eyes he was laughing so hard, “I will never get that vision out of my head! They think this case is nuts, and they don’t even know about the gals and Ellen! The more I think about it the more it blows my mind!”
“I doubt either one of us passes the Bureau shrink this year.”
Mathew Core had some decisions to make. He was sitting on his veranda sucking on a straw shoved into a sweet tea. It was either all over now, assuming they had the lab and Jason, or he had to take the whole game. He decided to call Carl.
Carl spat, “I’m going to have to ask you not to call this number…”
Mathew interrupted him, “Listen to what I have to say first. About five years ago, I decided that my personal business needed some insurance. I have paid a premium on that insurance policy from each transaction you assigned me. Five percent to you and five percent to Thomas. Offshore accounts, your names, and a few scattered transactions to prove you were aware. Plus you guys gave each other money from time to time. You are a very rich man now Carl, but you have a problem. Jason and his little programs were not the only system I have in place. Failure of certain transactions to be ordered by me will cause a lot of data to be sent to places and people you don’t want seeing your real business. Now, were you about to say you had a different number for me to call?”
Carl was silent.
Mathew asked, “You still there Carl?”
Carl answered, “How do I know you’re not bluffing?”
Mathew said, “You got a piece of paper? Let me give you an account number and a code you can use to see some of your money.” Mathew dictated the information and hung up. He took a long draw on the straw in his sweet tea and wondered what he was going to do about Mark.
Extreme Heat Warning: A Shallow End Gals Trilogy, Book Two Page 12