by Louis Scott
“Not sure, but it didn’t involve me interrogating you like your dad.”
Their hands lingered in the exchange of the plastic bottle. He tensed his hold, and debated whether to try kissing her. It seemed like the moment was right. He leaned forward.
“Pike,” Bonny yelled from the living room.
“Well, there goes that,” he chuckled.
“She’s got perfect timing.” Voodoo smiled as she brushed the long strands of hair back across her face. “Perfectly bad timing.”
“Yes, Bonny?” He called out.
“Casanova, your cell phone’s going crazy. Five missed calls from AV.”
Bonny lifted the cell from the wooden bowl next to the front door that held car keys and his phone. “Your wife?” She sneered.
“No, my boss.” His voice shifted to a concern of dread.
“She must be a real doozie to be calling you at this hour.” Bonny continued with an attitude of doubt.
Pike snatched the phone away from Bonny’s long, manicured fingers.
“Who said it was a woman?” He challenged.
“Duty calls.” Voodoo pointed him to a room where he could take the call in private.
“I’m so sorry, I gotta take this,” he apologized as he tumbled through the dark toward what he saw was her bedroom.
“I still think it’s his wife?” Bonny’s accusation rung loud enough for him to hear her.
“No, my job, I told you” he said before shoving the door closed.
Moments later, Pike emerged from the room. He felt an anxiousness that wasn’t usually in his calm demeanor, but when Alex called, nothing else on earth mattered.
“You running out on me again?” she teased in a pouting voice that tugged at his obligation to FORCE.
Pike was a federal agent working for Alexandria “Alex” Vaughn. Alex set up the ultra-black ops government agency known as First Ops Response Command Enforcement, or FORCE, upon special executive order from the president of the United States. He was very aware that Alex had given him a second shot at life and redemption. He, like everyone under her command was loyal to her above all others.
“No, but seriously, I gotta go.” He cupped her soft face in his hands and kissed her. His somber expression showed the potential for losing Voodoo again with an unknown assignment somewhere around the globe.
“You sound so serious.” She leaned back. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I’ll be in touch.”
“You said that the last time.” She teased.
“This isn’t like last time.” Pike fumbled with his keys as he hurried out the door. “At least I know where you live.”
Voodoo and Bonny collapsed on the sofa near the front door. She was bummed with his sudden departure. Bonny seemed indifferent and a little less than impressed with him.
“This was one crazy night, girl.” Voodoo buried her face in a pile of throw pillows. She looked over at Bonny and exhaled. “Wouldn’t doubt if he transferred out by morning.” Voodoo laughed, but with a serious glint in her eye.
“You’re not serious, Krystal? He was a total slime ball—wham bam thank you ma’am.” She slapped her palms together.
“I know tonight ended weird, but you should’ve seen him at SWAT training. Something about him that’s broken—he’s searching for answers.”
“He ain’t no stray. You can’t fix him. His remedy is usually found in a bottle or a bullet,” Bonny admonished.
“He’s got a soul, Bonny. I sensed it.” A sad smile loomed until a light rap against the condo’s front door alarmed her.
“Back so soon?” Voodoo tried to cover her excitement.
“Grabbed the wrong car keys.” His sheepish admission caused Voodoo to fake fan her face.
“Here, hero. See you at the undercover briefing in about three hours. Be on your game, pretty boy. I’m counting on your best to watch my back.” She traced the clef dimple in his rock-hard chin—then blew him a kiss.
Chapter Five
“Alex, sorry I missed your calls, what’s going down?”
“Is that a dog?” She asked.
“Neighbor’s police k9.”
“Good you found a place to bunk.”
“Actually…” Pike hesitated.
“Never mind. Same old Pike.”
“Well, it is the Big Easy after all.” Pike tried to laugh as he maneuvered his SUV out of the parking garage.
“Dwight, I allowed temporary duty because you claimed you needed to sharpen your field skills. If I knew it was to pick up women during carnival, I’d have kept you up here to help FORCE get back on its feet.” Unmistakably pulling no punches, his boss, Alex Vaughn, head of FORCE wasn’t impressed.
“I’m sorry, Alex, back to business.” The soft glow from his in-dash GPS reflected an unshaven complexion. He punched in a hotel’s coordinates and zipped his way through barren pothole infested city streets.
“You set to blanket an undercover operation later in the day?” she asked.
She knew the answer already. Alex had years of field experience, unlike many of the supervisors in the federal system. Her leadership skills had been learned during her time with the CIA and sharpened through the never-ending skirmishes between terrorists and politicians—some were one and the same.
“Yes ma’am. Briefing in about three hours at the Task Force warehouse.” Narrowed eyes scanned each intersection before he blew through the red lights. Pike ran his fingers over his pistol’s grip as his gut tightened. Full stops made ripe targets for ambush. Vicious memories of Afghanistan’s Kunar Province blasted in his mind as Alex’s monotone diatribe continued.
“You listening to me?” she snapped.
“Yes, ma’am. Old ghosts in the attic.”
Pike strangled the fine leather steering wheel. His other hand tucked the pistol below his hamstring. He’d been the lone survivor in a Middle Eastern attack that left him racked with guilt and never far from feeling completely alone.
“Why me?” He chomped on the insides of his cheeks.
“Survivor’s guilt, Pike. You’ve got a purpose—focus on finding it.” Alex’s tone switched from chastiser to counselor. She’d been there and knew where the cracks were. Healing them wasn’t her job—protecting America was.
“Why are you up at four in the freaking morning, Alex?” His voice strained from exhaustion.
“Gotta move when the data deciphers. Intel Division’s still muddling through the Serpent’s hard drive. Seems something’s brewing down your way other than coffee and beignets.” Her attempt at imitating the thick slur of Cajun dialect fell flat.
The sound of the Serpent’s name chilled Pike’s soul. The homegrown uber-extremist and his network of disciples had nearly pulled off the most significant terror plot against the American way of life. Though he'd been killed months earlier by FORCE’s very own, Alex, the Serpent’s diabolical schemes continued to be launched by his blood family and his network’s hierarchy.
The specialized FORCE team was authorized by the United States government to operate beyond the blackest of black ops’ environments both domestic and abroad. Deciphering the Serpent’s confiscated hard drive had allowed FORCE to anticipate the many still active attempts against America. According to Alex, Pike just so happened to be in the right place at the wrong time—something often said about the Big Easy.
“Did you say coffee and beignets?” His voice perked up.
“”Yes, I guess I did.”
“Great idea, I’ll hit Café Du Monde until briefing time. Not like I got a place to stay.”
“You could pawn that hundred thousand dollar car and buy a place.”
“A hundred and fifteen.” He punched in the new directions and navigated toward Decatur Street.
“Anyway, seems bayou country’s scheduled for more than Mardi Gras this March. The Serpent’s disciples are still hell-bent on carrying his torch for world domination through destruction.”
Pike heard the rapid rattle of typing in h
er background. Alex was not alone.
“Tell Jonas I said hello.” Pike laughed. His voice up-ticked.
“Tell him yourself in surround sound.” Alex’s throaty laugh said she was most happy next to Jonas West, FORCE’s resident Delta Force and Capitol Hill lion tamer.
“Pike, seems the FBI picked up chatter across the wire about your local chapter of animals recruiting sniper/spotter teams.” Jonas’s voice from across the room wasn’t as clear, but his message was crystal.
“Who’s their target, Jonas?” Pike stabbed at the dashboard controls.
“Unknown.” Jonas replied.
“Hold on, I’m on Chartres and I’m pretty sure I’m heading down a wrong way. Ever drive the French Quarter?” Pike said nervously.
“Watch them alligators, pretty boy.” Jonas teased, “They make great boots.”
“Sorry ‘bout that," Pike said as he got himself back on track. "If they’re advertising for outside contract work then they must have multiple targets. Amateurs gonna make it a hatchet job. No self-respecting shooter would answer a casting call—it’s uncivilized.” He stamped the center console.
“Place not open yet?” Alex asked.
“How’d you know?”
“You’d be crazy to slap a hundred grand car unless your caffeine fix had gone dry. Look again, their website shows it’s open twenty-four hours a day.” Alex was spot-on as usual.
“Pike, anyone mention Carvaka yet?” Jonas had moved closer to the microphone as his usual soft-spoken voice became dominant.
“Indian or Hindu, but never heard of it. Is that our main baddie?”
“Half right as usual.” Jonas chuckled. “It’s a secret society based on the ideology of hedonism. You know, where they believe no afterlife exists, so you should do any dang thing you please. Even murder.”
“Must be a nice fantasy to live in.” Pike quirked.
The morning was quiet as Pike walked casually along Decatur Street. He settled into an empty table at Café DuMonde across from iconic Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral. He lifted a finger and smiled at the waiter. “Yes, one coffee black and six beignets please.”
“You know I’m going to kick your tail for teasing us with beignets,” Jonas joked.
“I’ll mail one to you.”
“Errr, no need. He’s back on the diet.” Alex snickered.
“I’m following,” Pike refocused. “but how does that jive with a Mardi Gras assassination and the Serpent’s plan for destruction? No pleasure in that.” He slid the phone between his jawline and shoulder.
“Follow the logic.” Jonas said.
“Guys, I’m operating on eleven hundred miles driven, one thousand rounds of ammo fired, three glasses of scotch and one sexy bayou babe. I’m trying to focus, but you gotta tie it together for me.” His score sheet was more brash accomplishment than complaint.
“Back to the same old Pike,” Alex snapped. “Your screwed up encounter with Dr. Cheryl Raymond at the Georgia CDC didn’t teach you a thing about taking your job seriously. You almost cost us a mass contamination disaster because you were more concerned scoring with the doctor than with the facts.”
Alex’s tone seamlessly switched from kidding to condemning. Pike knew she was all business, but never appreciated the way she bit at others when they didn’t meet her expectations. Her emotions sounded raw, so he allowed her words to spew past a simmer.
“No Alex, I’m not going to make the same mistake, but it’s been a long two days and you’ve told me nothing that adds up. Just tell me what you expect from me, and I’ll make sure it happens. Ol’ Pike would hate to disappoint your majesty.”
Thick white powdered sugar spewed across his expensive shirt as his hand flailed.
His mind skipped back to how his mother had doted over him as a child. The family’s fortune required a certain appearance—it wouldn’t include powdered sugar. Old habits were hard to break—part of why he’d absconded for the military.
“Now hold on a second Pi…Dwight. That’s no way to speak to Alex—she’s only doing her job. Making sure you're focused on saving lives is more important than looking for a place to play the dating game for the day.” Jonas covered the microphone in defense of his precious Alex Vaughn.
“I’d order you to get some sleep and call me after you’ve had a chance to balance your emotions, but unfortunately we don’t have time for naps in the shadow ops world.” Alex bit back at him.
Pike knew she wasn’t pleased with his self-induced state of fatigue. He should’ve passed on the party with Fats, but then he wouldn’t have run into Voodoo. Pike was sure Alex had probably pulled another consecutive week of all-nighters. The woman was a robot.
“Yeah, thanks. Another coffee—black please.” Pike’s voice trailed as he turned his attention to the waiter. “Sorry Alex, I’m honestly working to get my edge back. Not my fault some glory hound SEAL decided to punk us out for a paycheck.” He slapped a hand across his bent knee—the snub nose revolver strapped around his left ankle quivered at the vibration.
“I understand, Dwight. Think you know a guy, but…” Jonas tried to console.
“…people can be pricks.” Alex completed his sentence for him. They’d done that for years, but the seamless supervisory team seemed double-minded of late. Pike presumed the intensity of chasing down the Serpent’s endless empire and assets had forged a wedge between them.
“I do understand, and I’m sorry one selfish bastard stained the historic work your SEAL team sacrificed so much for overseas.” Alex knew where the cracks were, and she always did her best to help heal them.
“Thanks Alex.” Pike said. “Okay, what we got going on?”
Jonas’ voice deepened when he became serious. It was one of the tells that helped everyone beat him in poker. Of course, no one bothered to tell him.
“This afternoon a Task Force member by the name of Krystal Laveau is scheduled to meet two locals called T-Boy and Tater about the sniper’s job. Audition of sorts.” Jonas said.
“Voodoo?” Pike whispered. His heart ripped at its chains—no way would he allow her to get mixed up in this cesspool.
“Who’s that? Another target?” Jonas pressed.
“No, Krystal Laveau—they call her Voodoo.” Pike reached for the coffee cup, surprised to find it empty. His shoulders stiffened. “She can’t get involved with these people—it’s too dangerous.” He bit his lip at the overexposed advocacy he felt for Laveau.
“You know her?” Alex’s directed question seethed—as though she knew he was guilty.
“We can’t allow local cops to get involved at this level. We’ve been trained to combat these vile killers. These good folks just want to go home at the end of the day. I’m pulling the red card on this until you contrive another way to undermine their plan.” He paced through the restaurant to release tension that stiffened his back and hips.
“That’s not an option given the immediate threat.” Alex demanded.
“Everything’s an option. Don’t play me.” Pike’s posture reeled up from anger as cords twanged in his neck. The waiter stopped in his approach and backed away with open palms.
“They swore to an oath, just like we did. Nothing makes them better than us. She’s got to be the one,” Alex rationalized.
Pike’s gut wrenched. He dropped the paper basket with two beignets into the garbage can—he knew what was coming.
“Tell me why can’t you deploy a local team attached to FORCE? There are DEA and ATF field offices here.” He scraped scarred knuckles across his teeth as her green eyes and milk chocolate skin ran through his memory.
“Thanks to the still uncovered leak in the system, the Serpent’s disciples have every federal agent profile at their fingertips. The DOJ and Treasury Department have suspended U/C ops until the training of new secret operatives can be completed,” Alex explained.
“So what’s that got to do with Voodoo?” He rubbed sandbagged eyelids. The earliest of sun’s light had begun to take it
s eternal toll. He sucked in soupy gulps of humidity-burdened air to clear his head.
“She’s bait. A fresh fish.” Jonas spoke quickly.
“At least mobilize FORCE, and get down here to help me cover this.” He tugged at his clothes, which now seemed to bind him, and picked at the deep-fried crumbs, finally throwing his hands up in surrender.
“Sorry, no-can-do. In the big scheme of things, this crew of local cops is…” Jonas walked Pike to the ethical cliff.
“…expendable.” Alex cut in the conversation and pushed Pike over it.
Chapter Six
Voodoo rocketed her unmarked police cruiser across the rock-topped levee toward the Task Force headquarters just outside of Chalmette. Glimmers of light bounced off of the Mississippi River. Dust spewed from beneath four-wheel drive Wrangler tires, while sunshine baked her dark hair and face. She stole glances at the mirror as she eyed the next slide of gravel and oyster shells that led to the warehouse.
“Not today,” she said, looking at her reflection. “That hunk gonna be in the house and I look like crud.” Voodoo rarely fussed to fix herself up for duty. Sure, a dab of deodorant and fingers through her hair, but no need for makeup among the group of Task Force agents. She’d been raised to hunt and fish—no waiting on Mr. Right to take care of her, she was a true bayou brat.
She shoved the stick shift forward. Her body lurched as the transmission ground back a gear for the descent. Voodoo smacked moist lips, her mouth opening to expose a set of perfect pearly whites.
The thought of her grandmother, who’d labored three jobs to pay for braces, brought a smile to her face. Her MawMaw had passed away before Voodoo could afford to repay, or thank, her. Then, the thought of Pike in her house the night before made her forget all about the makeup and the braces. A rumble echoed in her throat, and she fought to focus on the mission. She had it bad for Pike, and it wasn't easing up.
The Jeep skidded across the oyster and gravel Task Force parking lot. One last flash in the rearview mirror and she was set to face Pike.