Todd shot a quick e-mail to Roger about the three Virginia agents who were in New Orleans yesterday for the raid on Core. They were in New Orleans because of some big weapons bust going to take place on Friday. He would follow with names ASAP.
Pablo pushed the agent for more, “Roger will want the names of everyone in that raid for his report. Can you bring those to me? Get their jacket numbers too.” Agent Mathews said no problem and left the room.
Todd looked at Pablo, “Nice work. I already sent Roger an e-mail. Our local problem may not be local after all.”
Roger and Paul were in Roger’s room at the Marriott working on Ellen papers and waiting for John Barry to finish with Adele Brown. Roger said, “I am going to reprint the e-mail from this Voodoo lady so you have your own copy. This has been gnawing at me all morning, but I haven’t had two minutes to get back to it.”
Paul was busy highlighting any comments from Jason or Mathew that referred to Carl. He knew as soon as John arrived they were leaving to see the Director. Neither Paul nor Roger had ever met the Director, and Paul had never even spoken to him on the phone. Paul looked at Roger, “When you get a mental moment, I want it.”
Roger looked up, “I’m all yours.”
Paul said, “Would you rather I stay here and just you and John go to see the Director? I don’t think I’m bringing anything to the table on this.”
Roger looked thoughtful but said, “I want the Director to see the level of trust I have in you. If something were to happen to me, I want you taking over.” Roger looked back to his paperwork.
Paul was staring at him. “What makes you think something might happen to you?”
Roger chuckled, “Nothing, bad choice of words. Relax.”
“Neither one of us is going anywhere until we talk this out more.” Paul had leaned back in his chair and fixed his gaze on Roger’s eyes.
Roger exhaled, “I have a feeling is all. Watching Thornton’s level of frustration when he was on the phone to me was very telling. He’s in some kind of situation he is losing control of, and he is making some desperate decisions. He wants this case to go away and me with it. And I don’t know why. If he is the ‘Carl’ Mathew Core gets orders from, then he is willing to kill federal agents without blinking an eye.”
“Have you asked Ellen?”
Roger said, “No.”
Paul pushed his arm out and said, “Hand me those Voodoo pages. If we are going to do this the hard way, I might as well be prepared.”
Roger chuckled. He appreciated that Paul didn’t push it. Roger noticed two new e-mails from Todd and opened them. He read them out loud to Paul and said, “I guess now I could use Ellen.”
He no sooner said it than Ellen was on Paul’s lap. Paul jumped, “I will never get used to this!”
Roger read off the names of the FBI staff that went on the raid at Mathew Core’s building and got an all clear from Ellen on all but the last name he gave her. SSA Jim Spelling out of the Virginia office. Roger asked Ellen if Agent Spelling made the call to Mathew Core. Ellen winked. Roger asked if the weapons case the field office was working on was connected to Core also. Ellen winked. Roger asked if the weapons case was going to be compromised by Agent Spelling. Ellen did nothing. Roger said he didn’t understand. He asked Ellen if Agent Spelling was working with Mathew Core. Ellen did nothing. Roger’s phone rang. It was Kim.
“I bet Ellen told you to call. I’m putting you on speaker for Paul.”
Kim answered, “Okay. Ellen said you were asking questions she couldn’t answer with a yes or no. Here is your answer, but keep in mind I don’t know the question. Spelling called the Deputy Director when you ordered the raid on Core’s building. Spelling had been told that the Deputy Director had based the entire weapons case on information from Core. The Deputy Director told Spelling to call Core and warn him you were coming. The Deputy Director told Spelling you were not in the loop and were messing things up for everyone. He told Spelling Core was too important to the weapons case to risk you getting in their way.”
Roger said, “Really.” Kim thought Roger sounded angry.
Kim said, “That’s it. End of answer. Ellen asked if you could get to the Director ASAP and take John and Paul. She is going to prepare the Director for your visit.”
“What does that mean, prepare the Director?”
Kim laughed, “I don’t have a clue. I don’t understand anything I have said to you. Hopefully, some of this makes sense to you?”
“Unfortunately it does. Thanks Kim, I’ll call later when I get a minute.” Roger turned to Paul, “What do you say we get involved in this weapons case?”
Paul shook his head and said, “Might as well, I mean, we probably have an hour or two tonight we haven’t booked yet.”
Ellen jumped over to Roger’s computer and touched the space bar. A full screen of notes made by Agent Frank Mass detailed the case like a journal, from assignment to where they were now. He even had updated the file yesterday after the planning meeting on the weapons deal. Roger printed it out and gave a copy to Paul.
Paul stopped reading after about five minutes and said, “If they really have the amount of weapons Mass says they do, thirty tons, this would be one of the biggest busts in FBI history. Why are they waiting until Friday to do this? Mass thinks it is already here at the port. Friday is two days away.”
Roger said, “Did you notice that Agent Spelling was the one who suggested they would have more manpower if they waited until Friday? He’s also the one who has said all along he didn’t trust Frank Mass’s information on this. He doesn’t think it will prove out. Let’s see if the Director will flip this to us since we are here.”
Paul looked more somber. “If we are right about Core’s Carl being our Thornton, taking this weapons bust won’t make Thornton very happy.”
Roger smiled and started putting his folders into his briefcase.
Ellen decided we should meet in Paul’s room at the hotel, so we could move papers around and not be seen. Paul was in Roger’s room, and we would have privacy. We were all sitting on Paul’s bed with the papers spread out in front of us. We told Ellen what we had found from following people in Patterson’s address book. Linda showed her our video of Patterson talking to Senator Kenny.
Ellen looked thoughtful and said, “Patterson may have to go on the back burner for today. I think Roger and Paul might end up in a big weapons deal. There is only so much our mortal friends can do in a day.”
Teresa asked, “A weapons bust? YES! Now we are talkin’ some real fun!”
What is wrong with her?
Linda started humming that song again.
“What is with you and that song? Last year when we were chasing down Devon and Patterson, you started humming that, and now here you go again. What is it?” I couldn’t stand not knowing. It was one of those melodies you wanted to join in as it got louder and faster. I had heard Mary sing with her a couple of times as we were flying. I caught myself humming it too.
Ellen answered for Linda, “She is humming “Hall of the Mountain King” by Edvard Grieg. Very exciting little three minute melody that starts out playful and ends up in chaos.” Ellen laughed, “I think it is very fitting to this assignment actually. It’s kind of motivational too.”
Ellen announced she needed us to go to the port, locate the ship the weapons were on, and locate the building some of the weapons were being moved to. Little cameras attached to straps appeared on our foreheads. It looked like we were wearing miner caps. Ellen wanted us to record everything we saw and get good surveillance pictures for Roger to use to plan the raid. We were also supposed to read as many minds as we could to figure out what the bad guys were planning. She said she was leaving to see the Director of the FBI and would need our videos in about an hour.
Geesh! Not a heck of a lot of lead time here. I looked around and everyone was gone. You’re kidding. They just left me to find the port on my own? I caught myself humming Linda’s little song while I flew aroun
d New Orleans looking for the port. There was water and ships everywhere. This was going to take a minute or two.
Tourey had flipped through the papers he had gotten from Spicey. Nothing really jumped out until he looked at the very small pages of what was probably an address book. Several names had the word club next to them. Tourey recognized the name of the gallery owner where George worked, Theodore Chain. Other names with club written next to them were Rolland Kenny, a retired U.S. Senator, Andre Baton, a wealthy benefactor of Loyola University, and Harold Williams, a Mississippi judge.
Tourey wondered what kind of club Bernard Jacobs had been able to infiltrate in less than a year living in town. The judge’s name actually caught his attention first. Judge Harold Williams had almost been named in a child trafficking bust last year, but they could never get any hard evidence.
Tourey did a web search on the Gallery owner’s name and saw an announcement that he was a member of a National philanthropy group that sponsored young artists. The group bragged they had chapters in nearly every state. Tourey saw there was currently a local contest with the winner being announced by the end of the week. A picture on the philanthropy group website showed the group presenting the oversized check to a child in last year’s contest. Tourey recognized four of the five men in the picture. He assumed the last man was Bernard Jacobs.
In itself the picture meant nothing. The club names in Bernard Jacob’s book could be the one decent thing the guy did in his life. Tourey leaned his chair back and stared at the picture. Something in his mind was trying to crawl forward. He clicked his pen and waited. Then he felt a wash of dread. He had a faint memory from last year connecting a murdered child to an art contest in Mississippi. He selected the key words for more info and found a tab that said “Last Year’s Winners, Mississippi Chapter”. There it was, just as he remembered it. A picture of Daniel Morris.
Tourey searched Daniel’s name and found the newspaper article describing the missing five year old boy, the plight of the parents, and the eventual discovery of the boy’s body six months later in California. The case had never been solved, and there were no suspects. Daniel had vanished from his family’s front yard a week after winning an art contest. The FBI still carried it as an open case.
Tourey did a search on every contestant name from last year’s contests from each chapter of the group across the United States. He ran the names through law enforcement data bases for the entire country. From the contestant lists of last year, there were ten missing children. Three had later been found dead. The dates of the abductions were about six months apart and from different states. The pictures of the missing children filled his computer screen. He bet the connection had never been made.
Tourey called Spicey. “You got any friends who work at the Senator’s place in Uptown? Good. I need someone at Judge William’s place too. I’ll call you later.” Tourey hung up and started pacing in his small library, occasionally glancing at the menacing images on his computer monitor. He had also seen the name of Attorney Michael Parker in Bernard Jacob’s book. Tourey knew from John that was the alias for Devon. Tourey couldn’t think of any good reason Bernard Jacobs would have Devon’s phone number in this private little book. Tourey exhaled. This felt bad. It was time to pay a visit to Bernard Jacobs.
Alan had hitched a ride home to Slidell after his lunch with the FBI. What a day. He couldn’t believe Uncle Jeremiah was caught in the middle of so much drama. Nobody ever did explain to him what was going on. He guessed the guy Jeanne shot at lunch had something to do with the kidnapped women who were showing up in the swamps. There hadn’t been anything in the newspapers about any of it. Uncle Jeremiah had a whole box of people bones? What was that all about? Alan popped open a beer and sat at the picnic table in his backyard. The first phase of the storm had passed and he watched the clouds rolling in for phase two.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Mambo. How did she survive out there? How old was she? Was that even human? He saw her stop the snakes and the storm with his own eyes. What was that? How did she know about the other two girls in the swamp? What did it all mean? Had he lived his whole life ignorant of the true Spirits around him? He felt like a child who had nothing but questions. When Uncle Jeremiah had picked him up this morning, he was full of nothing but answers.
Alan had worked hard building his electrical business and trying to provide a positive role model for his two sons. His wife was a teacher in the Slidell school system, and his boys were just now entering high school. He decided it would be a good idea to have his boys meet Mambo after this mess was cleared up. A little respect for the Spirits is a healthy thing. A lot of respect might save your life.
Alan flipped open his appointment book. He decided to head into the city and purchase the supplies he would need for tomorrow’s jobs. Maybe he would pick up some staples to drop off at Jeremiah’s. He had realized today how alone and vulnerable his uncle was out there. He felt guilty he hadn’t given him more thought over the years. Uncle Jeremiah was a good man, and a wise one. He could help Uncle Jeremiah in a lot of ways. It was time.
Dusty had set up his easel is Jackson Square and tried to forget the morning. At least he was able to find a spot in the shade. It was over a hundred degrees. He wouldn’t draw for long; he just felt the need to do something normal. He had a check for a thousand dollars in his pocket. That wasn’t normal. No part of this morning had been normal. Normal would be he was just now waking up!
Crap! He still couldn’t hear right. All that damn gun firin’ and people screamin’. Mostly him doing the screamin’. He shivered. Snakes! Mambo! Women sittin’ in the middle of the swamp! Dead people with every meal, and he was with the good guys. What was Nawlens comin’ to?
He finished a portrait for a tourist couple and then Thor sat down. “Mind if I sit a minute? This heat is brutal.”
Dusty looked up, recognized Thor, and moaned, “Long as you don’t want to take me nowhere.”
Thor chuckled and then got a very serious look on his face. “You recognized one of those drawings from last night. We need any information you have. I think you know we mean business.” Dusty swallowed hard. Thor continued. “Anything you can think of might help.”
Dusty said, “The man who used to have that building you’re in, across from Mickey’s? That was the man at the Crab Shack. Same dude, no doubt. He used to hang out at Mickey’s some, and I have seen him over at Colby’s by the port. He hangs with some brute who wears a ponytail and some big black dude from Uptown. That’s all I know man. I got no names.”
Thor said, “Need to ask a favor Dusty.”
Dusty could feel the dread spreading through his body. Damn it. “What?”
“Ride with me to this Colby place. We won’t go in. Just let me get a feel.”
Dusty said, “That place is hard core man! Almost as bad daytime, as night. Dock workers, local brutes, whores. I saw ponytail guy take on two big dudes in the parkin’ lot about a month ago. Just banged their skulls together and walked away. He is bad ass.”
Thor raised an eyebrow.
Dusty snapped his easel shut, grabbed his pad and box of pencils, “Fine. My own government tryin’ to get me killed.”
They walked the long block to the corner, and Dusty hailed a cab. When they got in, Thor said, “Well, if it isn’t my ol’ buddy Albert!”
The cabby looked in the rear view mirror with a puzzled expression then his eyes opened wide, “Oh shit!”
John Barry notified Roger he was ready to leave. Roger told him they would meet him in the hotel lobby and leave immediately. Roger arranged for a car to pick them up and drive them right onto the tarmac where an FBI jet was waiting. It would be almost a two hour trip. On the way they planned to go over the Ellen papers about the mind-reading and the Voodoo papers from Spicey.
Once they were seated and were airborne John said, “Tourey called and said he is following up a lead on a Bernard Jacobs. This Jacobs had Devon’s alias in his address book. Tourey said it migh
t not be anything, but this guy’s name has come up before as a pedophile. Bernard Jacobs is affiliated in some way to an art group Tourey thinks may have a sinister connection to some dead kids.”
Roger sifted through the papers from Spicey and showed John they had that name too. Roger called Ray and asked him to run the name Bernard Jacobs in their transaction data. Then Roger called Nelson who was at the field office with Pablo and asked them to run the name Bernard Jacobs also. Nelson told Roger he remembered that name from a plaque at the police department. Bernard Jacobs gave the police a check for one hundred thousand dollars. Nelson told Roger he had actually joked with Simon that the guy looked like a skinny Patterson with a beard.
Roger waited until John had finished reviewing the Ellen papers, and he said, “Before you start feeling like you know what is going on, we have a new twist.” Roger and Paul filled John in on the weapons sting, and the connection between William C. Thornton, SSA Spelling, and Core.
John was silent. He was looking out the airplane window as he said, “I have to admit this case is intimidating. Seems to be leaping toward the top of a pretty bad shit pile.” He looked right at Roger. “You will find Patterson soon. He may be this Bernard Jacobs guy. You could go home. Call it done. You don’t have to get deeper into this Core mess.”
“I think for whatever reason I am meant to stay with this until the end which in my mind includes Core, Thornton, and anyone else we find in this.”
Paul nodded and said, “I feel the same way Roger does, John.”
John smiled, “Heaven help us.”
George was preparing the gallery for an exhibit on a new featured artist when he received the call from Tourey. Tourey wanted to meet with George in two hours. He wanted any information George could get him on his boss, Theodore Chain. George had protested he wasn’t comfortable with the request. Tourey had said, “Trust me Georgie. You said you wanted to make a difference. Here’s your chance. Two hours, Jackson Park.”
Extreme Heat Warning: A Shallow End Gals Trilogy, Book Two Page 22