Silent Crickets: A Shallow End Gals, Trilogy Book Three

by Troutman, Kimberly

  Spicey was frowning as she looked around and heard the car burp again. “How long you been drivin’ this thing on chicken fat?” Willie declared this was the maiden voyage, and Spicey turned to look at Sasha. “Assumin’ we get back from this trip, we goin’ to have to take about four showers ‘fore we go anywhere. We be havin’ dogs chasin’ us down, we smell so good.”

  Sasha pointed and tapped on the window, “There’s Miss Wilma. Now don’t she look pretty, Willie? She all gussied up in that flower dress an’ all. You need you a good woman. Ought to think hard ‘bout Miss Wilma there.”

  Willie grunted and pulled over to the curb. He got out of the car, took his hat off and opened the back for Wilma to get in. “Miss Wilma, you lookin’ mighty fine today,” he gave a little bow and the sunshine bounced from his gold tooth.

  Wilma giggled and seated herself in the car. She said hello to Spicey and Sasha and immediately started sniffin’ and lookin’ around. Sasha volunteered, “Willie is such a genius. He made this beautiful car to run on chicken fat. You get a little aroma here and there, but you save big money on gasoline.” Wilma was impressed. Willie beamed with pride. Spicey looked out the window, rubbed her amulet, and prayed they would make it home again as the car burped every mile or so.

  William C. Thornton needed to speak to Fenley in person. Fast. First he wanted to make a couple of phone calls to find out the extent of the communication sting revelations and talk to Core. If Dance was really focused on taking out Zelez, he and Fenley might want to alter their plan. Thornton sent Fenley a fairly innocent looking email stating his recent contribution to the duck wildlife fund was appreciated, and the amount of five hundred dollars would be put to good use. The real meaning of the message was “meet me at the duck pond in Washington Park at five”.

  Thornton wanted to call Core. Damn. Core was in New Orleans and none of those lines were secure. The Director had said this stupid communication sting would last until tomorrow night. Thornton dialed his contact at the Federal Reserve, Franklin Morris, sitting member of the Board of Governors, Chairperson of the FOMC, Federal Open Markets Committee. Thornton wanted to find out the real situation at the French Quarter Bank. A lot of very important people used that bank. Serious money was spent to keep it open, in spite of overwhelming regulatory violations. Core ran his corporate account through there for that very reason. Core had also established accounts in Thornton and Fenley’s names as insurance. Having these accounts under a microscope because of some stupid mistake of Dance’s could be bad.

  Thornton leaned back and pulled a slip of paper from the center drawer of his desk. The account Mathew Core had established in Thornton’s name was based at that bank. Damn. There goes forty million dollars out the window. Thornton was told his call to the Federal Reserve couldn’t be put through at the moment, to try later. He stood and hit the intercom to the Director. “I’m heading out. Should be in the office early morning.”

  The OSI surveillance team monitoring Thornton was in position to follow. The email had looped to them and the true meaning was foolishly transparent. The call to Franklin Morris had been intercepted and delayed. Thornton had just confirmed he was tied to LUCY. He was being sloppy, and he just brought in Fenley.

  Mathew Core knocked on Roger’s hotel room door and put his hands in the air when Roger opened it. Core walked in, turned to the wall and announced he had a carry permit, a gun in his waistband, and a knife in each boot. Roger disarmed him while Paul held him at gunpoint. They knew Core could possibly take them both if he wanted to, and he had already told them he had been hired by Thornton and Fenley to do so.

  Ellen was sitting on the credenza licking her paws. Core looked at her, “You bring your cat on field assignments?”

  Roger answered, “She helps me think. Sit here.” Roger had pulled out one of the chairs from the small table. Sitting across from Core he would be able to watch Ellen’s eyes during the interview. Roger pointed at Paul, “Mathew, this is SSA Paul Casey, and you know who I am. We need to know about you. Who is Mathew Core, really?”

  Mathew had a very serious expression on his face when he answered, “That is the second time today I have been asked that. The first was my wife, Lisa. I’ll tell you what I told her, I don’t know anymore.” Roger looked at Ellen, who winked. Mathew continued, “I plan on answering anything you ask me as honestly as I can. I will also do whatever you ask of me if it ensures the safety of my wife and daughter. If I could have some chance of getting back with them, that would be nice, too.” Mathew offered a weak smile. Ellen winked.

  Roger answered, “First things first. We have multiple murder warrants out on you.”

  Mathew raised an eyebrow and said, “Then let’s get started. What murders do you think I did?”

  Paul walked over to the table and sat down, “We have testimony from Daniel Warren, Devon’s imposter, that six men were murdered in that escape plot. Warren saw pictures.”

  Mathew nodded his head, “I didn’t kill them. Next?” Ellen winked.

  Paul continued, “Patterson’s double was shot in transport from the trial.”

  Mathew smiled, “I believe you have proof I was in New Orleans when that happened.” Ellen winked.

  Roger was clicking his pen, “I suppose you didn’t shoot Mark Mills behind Mickey’s bar?”

  Mathew paused, “There’s no proof I shot Mark Mills.” Ellen winked.

  Roger smiled, “You are playing with semantics here. Let me remind you that I only have to establish your likely involvement. Don’t play coy. We need each other, unfortunately, and none of us has time for bullshit.” Roger didn’t have time for a pissing match with Core.

  Core answered, “I know I can be valuable to you. I’m not being coy, I’m pointing out there may be problems prosecuting me. I’m hoping that fact will make it easier for you to accept my help. Where are my wife and daughter? What are you doing to protect them? You answer that, and we have real traction.”

  “They are at our field office. I’ve arranged to expedite their move into witness protection.”

  Core nodded his head, “Let me show you something. Can I borrow your laptop for a minute?” Roger nodded to Paul, who brought it over. Core entered several web addresses, numerous key entries, and proclaimed, “They are preparing to transport them here.” He turned the laptop around and showed them both he had located the witness protection address just assigned for Lisa and Jamie. “I wouldn’t call this safe.”

  Roger was stunned. What information was secure anymore? Roger looked at Mathew, “Okay, we’ll get back to this. Where would you consider safe?”

  Core shook his head, “That’s a good question. I don’t know.” Mathew looked genuinely stumped. Roger looked at Ellen, she winked. Great, even Core was clueless.

  Roger asked, “If I can get them to our Hawaii base, I have a personal friend who will take over security, off the grid. Does that work for you?”

  Core nodded slowly, “If you trust this friend, it works for me.”

  Roger stood and began pacing. He looked at Mathew, “I am in the awkward position of needing you, and I don’t trust you. I want to convince Fenley, Manio and Thornton that my only goal is to bring down the Zelez Cartel. I want them to think they have escaped my radar completely.”

  Core closed his eyes and rolled his neck. He was surprised Roger had mentioned Thornton and Fenley. He was curious how much Roger knew. Especially about Fenley. Manio’s connection to New Orleans drug traffic wasn’t a big secret. “You probably don’t know everything you need to know about these guys. I have to deal with Manio and Zelez within hours, and you took my leverage. Was it Manio who went after Lisa and Jamie?”

  Roger answered, “Yes.”

  Core looked very serious. “I need to buy time, I need someone to blame. What new leverage do I have? I’m assuming you won’t let go of the guns or drugs.”

  Roger sat down across from Core, “You’re right, the guns and drugs are not going anywhere. I might be able to offer up someth
ing better. Convince Manio I am only interested in taking down Zelez. Then I need Manio to believe I have screwed up bad by having the banking information of French Quarter Bank included in our martial law sting. I want Manio, Fenley, and Thornton to believe a ‘money safe haven’ has been created through technical errors and is theirs for the taking.”

  Core answered, “Zelez will give us more time if he thinks he’s getting all of the weapons. Manio will give us some time if he believes you can really bring down Zelez. I would have to lay out some heavy details for Manio of that proposed ‘sting’ on Zelez for this to work. Convincing Fenley there is a true ‘safe haven’ in an American based bank is a whole other story.”

  Roger knew he was on dangerous ground. He had just told Mathew Core a large part of his plan, based only on Ellen’s winks. “I think I can deliver both. I have one more question for you before we proceed. Which side of the fence is Jason Sims on?”

  Core sat up straight and answered, “He’s one of the good guys, but he’s in deep undercover.” Ellen winked. Mathew looked concerned when he stated, “He may be dead. I haven’t been able to reach him.”

  Roger smiled, “He’s alive, and we have him.”

  Roger, Paul, and Core discussed what the two cartels would believe to stall for time. Roger looked at Core, “Manio will suspect that you know he tried to kidnap Lisa and Jamie. Why would he trust you now?”

  Core answered, “He won’t. He’ll check with Fenley on everything I tell him. I can plant a few seeds of doubt with Fenley about Thornton. That may help down the road. Thornton is disposable at this point.”

  Abram drove Jackson toward the city then turned on a rural road. Jackson looked over and asked, “Uh, where you takin’ me?”

  Abram said, “Start paying attention to where we are. You are goin’ to bring the snatched kids to this place out here in the country. You leave ‘em there, come back to find me, and then you get paid. Five grand per kid. There should be five kids, but I don’t have the specifics of who yet. We’ll get that when we get to town.” Abram jerked his neck around, “Should be a dirt road around here somewhere.”

  Jackson did the math. Somebody pretty important wanted these kids if that was just his cut. Jackson asked, “Who’s gettin’ these kids anyway?”

  Abram frowned at him, “Ain’t none of your business! Your job be getting’ the right kids and bringin’ ‘em here.” Abram’s voice raised, “Right there. That dirt drive. See it?” Jackson nodded and Abram turned the car onto the dirt path. It could barely be called a drive it was so bumpy and overgrown. Abram cursed he’d have to wash his car again. Jackson still worried why Abram had him way out in the woods.

  Abram must have sensed Jackson’s fear and chuckled, “Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to ya. I’m tellin’ ya straight. This is where you bring those kids. There! See that big barn up there?” Jackson nodded. Abram continued, “Driveway to house comes in from that other road over there. You don’t never go near the house, you understand? Just the barn.” Abram pulled up behind the barn, next to a side service door.

  “This here’s how you get in.” Abram rolled a big rock by the door to expose a key that opened the padlock. They walked inside. Jackson thought this must be the cleanest barn in the world. Over in the far corner was a row of kennels.

  Jackson asked, “Where’s the dogs?”

  Abram scrunched his face, “How many dogs you know need a cot and a toilet?”

  Jackson looked again. Each kennel was outfitted with a cot and a toilet. Holy crap! Jackson looked at Abram, “I’m supposed to put the kids in these kennels?”

  Abram looked very serious when he said, “You can’t do this, we got us a problem.” Abram took a gun from his waistband and waved it at Jackson, “This ain’t really my style, but I be a fast learner. You in or out?”

  Jackson got the message loud and clear, “I’m in. Don’t mean I like it none.”

  Abram nodded, “Yeah, I hear ya.”

  Just then they heard a loud sound like a gunshot or a backfire. Abram motioned for Jackson to follow him across the barn. They peeked out of a semi-boarded up window. Abram saw a long burgundy Cadillac stopped in the driveway for the house, and people getting out. It looked to him like the woman getting out of the front seat was Spicey, the Voodoo lady. Damn. Why she always showin’ up when he be on a job?

  Willie had insisted that the car only smelled hot because of the chicken fat. When smoke started coming from under the hood and the car backfired, he conceded maybe he needed to tinker with it some. They hadn’t been able to see anything from the road. Spicey had urged Willie to just pull in the drive enough they could see what the house looked like.

  Now they were all out of the car. Willie had the hood up fanning the smoke that billowed from under the hood. Everyone started coughing and waving it away from their faces. Wilma was beside herself, “Oh Lordy! Now what we gonna do?” She had looked up the drive to the front of the house. “Oh Ms. Spicey, look how fine that house be. Uh huh!”

  Spicey noticed the front door was wide open, meaning someone was probably there. Suddenly she was thinking this probably had not been her best idea. Tourey told her not to come out there.

  Spicey looked at everyone and said, “I might have left off we’re not supposed to be out here.”

  Sasha knew the look Spicey had on her face, and it wasn’t good. Sasha was afraid to ask but couldn’t stop herself, “Who be sayin’ we best not be here?”

  Spicey very quietly answered, “Tourey.”

  Sasha threw her arms up in the air and brought her fists down to rest on her hips. “Ain’t Mambo tellin’ you Tourey into some bad shit ‘nough to have you listen? No tellin’ what kind of bad shit rich people up to.” Sasha gave Spicey her neck waggle and asked, “Well? You be the one with all the IDEAS. Now what?”

  Spicey looked at Willie and asked, “What do you need to make this car go again?”

  Willie pulled his head from under the hood. “We just had a hose blow underneath. Got a spare in the trunk.” He scratched his head and said, “I think we let it cool down a spell, replace that hose, poor in another bucket of chicken fat, and we be gone.”

  Wilma looked like she was going to cry, “I be fired ‘fore I ever start this job. We can’t be caught sittin’ in this here driveway!”

  Spicey pushed her bracelets up her arm and said, “Let’s push this here boat back to the road. It’ll look like we broke down there. Never did come in this driveway.” Spicey opened the driver’s door, climbed in, and proclaimed that she would steer.

  William C. Thornton made one last attempt to reach his contact at the Federal Reserve. He was in his car heading for his meeting with Fenley in Washington Park. Much to his surprise, after a brief wait, Franklin Morris answered and said, “You boys are certainly causing everyone problems aren’t you? A little late for an apology call, don’t you think?”

  William figured Franklin must be talking about the messed up accounts at French Quarter Bank. “Actually, I just found out. How bad is it?”

  Franklin snorted, “As if you don’t know. This is all the FBI’s fault.”

  William pulled his car over and turned on his emergency flashers. What the hell was Franklin talking about? “You need to give me a little more here Franklin. I haven’t been given the specifics on the money mess yet. As you can imagine, I have been pretty busy putting together a martial law operation in one day. I wanted to hear from you directly.” Franklin wouldn’t know he had nothing to do with the martial law operation, but it gave him an excuse and some added credibility. There was a pregnant pause from the other end.

  William continued, “You understand there are things I can’t talk about yet.”

  Franklin finally answered, “You might afford me the same courtesy. I can tell you this much. Friday, midnight, when this damn martial law thing ends we can START to rebuild our entire tracking system on laundering. It is going to take years! Your little FBI fiasco corrupted accounts so badly the only thing we could do was
re-issue exempt clearing numbers to all established accounts there.”

  William asked, “So these accounts at French Quarter Bank are exempt from what?”

  Franklin huffed, “Everything! They all have Federal ID numbers now. No reports, no tracing, no activity logs, nothing! That’s not the bad part. Anywhere this money moves, the new exempt numbers become primary and clear all info on the old numbers. It’s like a damn eraser! From last night until tomorrow midnight, there isn’t a damn thing we can do.”

  William’s mind was spinning, “How long is it going to take to sort this out?”

  Franklin chuckled, “You and I will be retired if they do this the standard way. I think the best plan is to re-issue new legitimate numbers on real Fed accounts and start again from there. The Board is meeting in an hour to make this official. We actually have programmers working on it now. Real time before we can switch? Maybe two months. Every clearing house in the world will need the new numbers programmed in. Any new accounts opened after Friday will have normal numbers. I guess we can be grateful that this is a very small bank.”

  William had one last question, “Who knows about this?”

  Franklin answered, “The whole story? Me and a handful of guys here, the National Security Council and now you. I’ll bust your balls if this list grows.” William assured him it would not grow from him, said goodbye, and started back down the highway. He suddenly felt a sense of glee sweep through his body. My God, they had a safe haven in the U.S.!

  The Director listened to Thornton hang up from what had actually been a conference call. Franklin directed his next question to the Director of the FBI, “Well, how did I do?”

  The Director answered, “I believe you did just fine Franklin. You will probably get a similar call from someone verifying for Fenley. Make sure the National Security Council guys know the story, too, in case the call goes there. Give the same speech, and then call me. You can hang up now.” After Franklin hung up, the Director asked, “Is that what you wanted?”