Spicey flipped a card and looked straight in Jackson’s eyes, “It’s horrible. You have to save the children.”
Jackson stood. “I knew it! Damn. I knew I be the one needin’ to save ‘em.” Jackson sat back down. “How I supposed to do this?”
Spicey smiled, “There are people that can help you. Tell the spirits your name. Maybe you will get a sign.” Jackson had his hand in his pocket and rubbed the piece of paper with John Barry’s phone number on it.
Jackson swallowed, “My name is Jackson Moore.”
Simon and Ray started getting the evening wire instruction transmissions from the French Quarter Bank. The Fed had installed a software program for reassigning numbers. Ray simply had to forward the wire transmissions through the new software program before he sent them on. Roger had warned them he expected at least a few transactions would be ordered just to test the ‘cover story’ about the accounts. The numbers being assigned would ‘appear’ to overwrite all previous account numbers and activity. In reality the information was still accumulating, just not viewable. It had taken all day for the CIA computer gurus to perfect the program and add the clearing info to a trailer from the Fed. The trailer, also invisible, allowed the transactions to move freely through any clearing house in the world.
The first batch of wire instructions looked similar to others done earlier in the week. Simon stated these were probably some of the business accounts of the bank simply reconciling accounts. Then they noticed a few $100K transfers to offshore clearing houses. About thirty minutes later the same $100K wires came back. Half an hour later the $100K went to a different clearing house. Then came back. Then another wait.
Ray looked at Simon. “Why the wait? They can see these are going through.”
Simon answered, “They are checking what history is showing on the new account numbers and what tracking info is attached. I think they are buying this. If I am right, this is going to go on all night on a few accounts, and run through several international clearing houses. Tomorrow all hell is going to cut loose.”
Ray made a face. “God, I love my job.”
Simon chuckled and dialed Roger to tell him his plan was working. Roger told Simon to let the automatic systems take over and get some rest. If Roger needed him later he would call.
Abram had a group of men waiting outside for him when Jackson arrived at the gang house. One of the men asked him, “You’re Jackson, aren’t you? Abram said when you got here to send you straight in.”
Jackson opened the door and strained to see across the large dark room. There was a faint blue glow in the corner, and Jackson could tell that Abram was sitting at a computer. Jackson walked over and pulled a chair out to sit next to Abram. Jackson cleared his throat and Abram glanced over. “Hey. You know much about computers?”
Jackson answered he worked in the prison library, because he knew enough about computers to keep that one running. He had also spent his five years taking whatever classes were offered at the jail. Abram pushed his chair back and looked at Jackson. “I need help man. I can’t tell what all Manuel been messing in, all these damn files to sort through. Finally found his password an hour ago. Who uses the word ‘jailtime’ for a password? Especially if you be a crook?” Abram was frowning.
Jackson mustered all of his courage and asked, “Do you have that list of kid names?” Abram shoved a piece of paper toward him. Jackson continued, “Where am I supposed to meet up and switch these kids for the ones that go in that barn?”
Abram looked at him, “It’s all on the paper I just gave you. You best get going on it too. Not a lot of time.” Abram was frowning at the computer screen and started pulling on his hair. “See this shit right here? What this mean?”
Jackson looked at the screen directing Abram to open a secured file. “It means you click on this here to see the next step.”
Abram clicked and an organization chart appeared. They both starred at it. Abram used his finger to trace where Manuel had been on the chart. Then his finger slowly traveled up the chart to other names and the activities they were responsible for. Jackson saw drugs, guns, human trafficking, money laundering, and cartel names. Abram looked at Jackson. “Holy shit!”
Jackson thought this might be a good time to mention Ms. Spicey. Jackson could sense that Abram wasn’t ready for his new job. “I stopped at that Voodoo lady place.”
Abram pulled his head back, “What you do that for?”
Jackson took a deep breath and answered, “Cuz. I’m not feeling right ‘bout this shit you want me to do.”
Abram looked angry. He had been hoping Jackson could be groomed to be his second man. Abram needed him. Now it sounded like Jackson wanted out. “What Ms. Spicey tell you?”
Jackson leaned in and lowered his voice, “She told me my future showed kids being hurt. In a barn. No shit! She knew I just got out of prison and came into some new money.” Jackson thumped his index finger on the desk. “She said your name.”
Abram whispered, “My name?”
Jackson nodded his head, “If we do this thing, we ain’t gettin’ away with it.”
Core called Thornton and told him he was out of the New Orleans area far enough for the call to be safe. Thornton appreciated the call. “Fenley said for now to lay off Dance and Casey. They may be useful. What does Dance have you doing?”
Core answered, “Nothing. I think Dance just wanted me to pass messages to Zelez and Manio and get lost. He doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t seem to have a very tight grip on this shit yet.”
Thornton chuckled. “Dance has your wife and kid. Seems to me, he would be holding that over you.”
“I know he has them. He told me. Between us, after what Lisa went through today I don’t think she cares what happens to me now.”
Thornton didn’t even pretend to care, “You’re surprised? Why would anyone in your profession have a family anyway?”
Core answered through clenched teeth, “Seemed like a good idea at the time. Look, I need you to find out what Dance is planning for the weapons. Maybe we can still keep Manio happy and let Dance take the fall.”
Thornton didn’t know how much he could trust Core anymore. “Dance isn’t sharing his plans with anyone.”
Core laughed. He knew that would piss off Thornton. He also knew Thornton and Fenley would suspect he flipped to Roger’s side. He had to be sure he sounded like his old self. “So you are saying you are at the end of your usefulness? Wouldn’t let that get out.”
Thornton was pissed. “I meant whatever Dance is doing shouldn’t influence any plans we come up with.”
Core asked, “Can you arrange for the drugs and guns to be moved? I can’t touch them at the Navy yard. You guys have screwed the pooch on this and left me out to dry.”
Thornton answered, “Call me back. Give me a few hours.” Thornton hung up. It struck him Core might be right. He might be at the end of his usefulness.
Core looked at Zack. “Thornton has been challenged now. He will try something to prove his value.”
Zack scratched his chin, “How did you know I was ATF? I was careful.”
Core smiled, “You are good. That’s why I want you now. I was told you were being assigned and to keep you in the dark.”
Zack asked, “Does Roger know that?”
“I don’t know.”
Zack figured whatever was going on would be resolved with people much higher in the food chain than he was. All he knew right now was that Mathew Core had been given the name of a ‘train man’ by Zelez. He also knew that Roger had baited both the Zelez Cartel and the Manio Cartel with a Monday train filled with drugs and ninety tons of weapons.
The logical place the drugs and weapons would be sent to was to Kansas underground storage. Most federally confiscated items were stored there until they were distributed or destroyed. A train heading for Kansas left a lot of opportunity for problems.
Zack asked Core, “Which cartel will make a grab for the train?”
Core answer
ed, “Whoever’s more greedy than smart. Let’s check out the train man.”
Roger was back at his hotel room. He turned the television on to listen to the news and rest his eyes. An hour later his phone woke him. Mass was calling, “Roger? Bad news. We have four kids missing from LA, two from Chicago, and one from Topeka.”
Roger rubbed his eyes and stood, “What happened?”
Mass answered, “I think we just got the heads up too late for these kids. There may be more. I’m still waiting on some of the other field offices. Are you making any progress on this?”
“We think we will have the New Orleans branch of this club in a compromising situation tonight. We may get something out of them. Thanks for the call.” Roger disconnected from the call and paced the small room. He felt guilty. He had actually lost an hour to a nap.
Roger’s phone rang again. “Roger? John Barry. We just got lucky. I have two guys headed for the field office who say they were hired to snatch kids for Judge Harold Williams.”
Roger exhaled, “Thank God! I’ll get Paul and meet you there.”
Rolland watched as Judge Williams’s car pulled up the driveway. He knew Harold would be the first to arrive. He always was. Harold noticed Rolland waiting outside by the front door. As Harold got out of his car, he heard motors behind him. Theodore Chain and Andre Baton were also heading up the drive. Obviously Rolland had called a full club meeting. The only person missing was Bernard. Harold assumed he would arrive shortly.
Theodore pouted as he acknowledged the others. “This better be important. I have a gallery showing I’m already late for.” Rolland grimaced. He had forgotten to tell them to wear old clothes.
Andre walked up the steps to the front door, “What’s up? Is there a problem?”
Rolland answered, “Go see for yourself, in the living room.” He watched them all inch through the foyer, walk reluctantly toward the living room, swatting flies, and covering their noses.
Andre sputtered, “Jesus! What the hell smells dead?”
Rolland followed them in. “Bernard.”
Ray started yelling, “Simon! Get down here. We have company at the country house.” Simon took the stairs two at a time and sat next to Ray.
Simon pointed at the screen, “Let’s see if we can figure out who each of these guys are. Turn up the volume.” Ray clicked the volume as high as it would go just in time to hear Andre puke all over the rug. Simon laughed as he dialed Roger, “We have four guys at the country house. I’ll let you know what they decide to do.”
Rolland had just told everyone that Bernard was really escaped felon William Patterson, and the FBI and some crazy spook guy had found him in New Orleans. Rolland told the group Patterson had donated one million dollars to their club, so he could hide at the country house for a while. Rolland figured it didn’t make any real difference now that Patterson had actually given him ten million dollars. After all, he should be compensated for this new mess.
Judge Harold Williams sat on the couch and put his head in his hands. “William Patterson? THE William Patterson? Did you know this Rolland?”
Rolland assured them all he had found out just yesterday. He was as shocked as they were.
Harold shrugged, “Well, we can’t call the cops. We have to get rid of the body.”
Andre went nuts. “If you think I’m touching that, you’re crazy. There are maggots!” He started gagging again and went to the corner to puke.
Theodore looked at Rolland. “How long have you known he was dead? Do you have a plan for this?”
Rolland answered, “I found the body a couple of hours ago. I brought my gardener’s truck, some tarps, and some shovels. I figured we’d bury him.”
Harold looked up, “Where? If you bury him here, he is tied to us forever. Don’t you ever watch crime shows? Some damn animal is always digging up old bodies.” Harold got up and walked to face the chair Patterson’s body was in. His face was contorted with disgust. “I say we dump the chair, the rug, and his body in the middle of the swamp. Not right off the edge like your friends do, Rolland. You know how many bodies the FBI found over there yesterday? At least six! One was a kid!” Harold’s eyebrows went up, and Rolland dropped his head.
Rolland didn’t realize that Harold knew about the swamp dumping site. That was actually how Rolland met Patterson. They were both there at the same time getting rid of bodies. That was quite a night.
Theodore was studying the body. “Should we leave it all in one piece?” Andre ran for the corner again. He held onto the fireplace mantel as he dry heaved. Rolland proclaimed he didn’t know anyone with a boat he could trust to go into the swamp at night. From the far side of the room, Andre announced he wasn’t going into the swamp.
Harold whipped around and pointed his finger at Andre, “You will do everything the rest of us do. We are all going to be equally guilty in this. It’s our only protection.” Harold could tell he was going to have to take charge. These idiots had no clue what to do.
“Look, we can’t involve other people in this thing. Not one soul. Andre, you run out to Pete’s, rent a shrimp boat, and take it down to Dicky’s place. He’ll be in jail for another thirty days. You know what? Go back to Pete’s and rent a swamp boat too. Somebody said once you have to be careful not to have too much weight on those boats. Pete knows I could have him in jail anytime I want. He won’t say anything to anybody.”
“Dock the boats, walk back to Pete’s for your car, and get back here fast to help us get this piece of shit ready to transport. At dark we can leave from Dicky’s, make it clean out into the middle of the bayou.” Harold frowned at Patterson’s body. “He’ll never be found.” Harold rubbed his chin, “I don’t know what to do with the chair and rug.”
Theodore offered, “There’s that junky spot where the gator hunters launch their boats. Out toward Slidell. Lot of people dump old furniture over there.”
Rolland piped in, “There’s a difference between old furniture and a chair covered in blood and bullet holes. I say we chop these up and burn ‘em out back right here. Let’s get rid of the chair and rug first, so when we’re done in the swamp, we’re done.”
Harold shook his head, “Be our luck, someone would see the fire out here and call the fire department. Let’s just clean this blood off the chair and dump it in Slidell.”
They had a plan.
Simon called Roger to tell him what was happening at the country house. Ray reminded them that Tourey had placed a GPS locator deep in one of Patterson’s bullet wounds, his throat, and also in the anal cavity. Depending on how they chopped Patterson up, they might have a clear trace. Roger told Simon he was just walking into the field office and would be there a while. They were about to get a big break on the kidnapped kids.
Roger wanted to catch the club actually disposing of the body. Since the sicko club mentioned the swamp, Roger wanted Simon to line up both Jeremiah and Dusty’s boats for tonight. Frank Mass could call Dusty, and hopefully someone had a number for Alan, Jeremiah’s nephew. Whatever plan the sicko club came up with, Roger wanted to make sure his team would be ready and wouldn’t be seen. He prayed Tourey’s equipment held up.
Dusty and Alan were still at Mickey’s bar. It was eight o’clock. They’d been there since four. They really hadn’t had much to drink. They were actually a good team and had made three hundred dollars from playing pool with tourists. Alan looked at his watch, “I’m in deep shit with the wife about now. Looks like she called me a couple of times. Damn good thing I can cross her palm with some money. I best get goin’.”
Dusty laughed, “All I got waitin’ at home is some damn cat thinks he lives with me. If I be too slow gettin’ in my door, he just runs in.” Dusty started laughing to himself, “Did I tell you ‘bout the time that damn cat jumped in my bed….” Dusty’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and grabbed Alan’s arm. “You’ve got to be shittin’ me! It’s the FBI callin’ again!”
Alan was laughing, “You better answer man. Not like
they don’t know how to find ya.”
Dusty answered, frowning at Alan the whole time. Alan heard Dusty say, “I don’t suppose I have a choice?” A few moments of silence and Dusty shrugged and said, “You guys lookin’ to fund my retirement all in one week? Oh, crazy me. Ain’t gonna be no retirement is there? You got your head set on gettin’ me killed! You look out a window? It happens to be dark out at night.”
Alan realized they wanted Dusty to go into the swamp again. Alan’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. FBI. “Shit!” Dusty hung up his call and stood by his bar stool looking at Alan.
“Best you answer that. Not like they don’t know how to find ya.” Dusty had his hands on his hips, smirking.
Alan answered. It was Agent Simon Frost calling. Alan listened a while and finally said, “Sure. Need to get your guys to Jeremiah’s.” Alan hung up and frowned at Dusty. “I gotta go too. Seems they want two boats. Must be some bad shit gonna go down tonight.”
Scotty, who had been listening, asked, “One last beer?”
Simon called Thor and told him boats had been arranged to take them into the swamp. Roger wanted two agents on each boat and two agents on the streets. It sounded like the sicko club was heading for the swamp in about an hour or so. Roger had told Simon he and Paul had a huge break they were following up on. Thor would be in charge of the swamp plan.
Thor laughed, “Sounds like you’re finally going to get a swamp tour. Have Mass and one of his guys take the streets. Jeanne and I will go in Jeremiah’s boat with Alan. You and Nelson can have Dusty.” Thor paused a moment and said, “Bring all the ammo you can carry. The swamp at night will not be fun.”
Jeanne and Nelson had been listening to Thor on the phone. Jeanne had just gotten up from a nap, and Nelson looked like he had been asleep in her recliner. Nelson spoke first, “How did I know the sicko club would get rid of the body in the swamp? Why can’t we just grab ‘em as they unload from their car? On good ol’ terra firma?”
Silent Crickets: A Shallow End Gals, Trilogy Book Three Page 10
