by John Moore
The arrangements were made, and Sophia dropped me off at the hospital to get my car. I didn’t have time to see Piper and Tom because I had to be on the boat at dark. I didn’t want to see them anyway. I couldn’t let them know what I was going to do, couldn’t put them through the terror of it. If I died, they’d know I loved them. Hell, I was Tom’s wife now, and I damned well wasn’t going to die before I got to enjoy it.
I drove to the port and found the barge. I was met by a bearded, scruffy man of about fifty who stood five feet four in his shoes. He walked me onto the barge and went back ashore. The tugboat’s deckhands released the mooring lines from the pier’s bollard and we shoved off. Victor walked onto the barge from the tug and stood next to me. The sight of him filled me with rage, not terror. He gave my daughter plague. He will not get away with it, I thought. The sun had retreated and the sky was pitch black, no moon in sight. I started to talk, but Victor put his index finger to his lips and shushed me. When we’d made our way to the middle of the river, Victor broke the silence.
“Good evening, Alexandra. I am happy you wanted to see me. Now take off all of your clothes and throw them in this box.”
“What? You want me to get undressed?” I asked.
Victor had a deadly serious look on his face. “Yes,” he said. “Just a precaution. We wouldn’t want anyone listening to our private conversation now, would we? This box will make sure any bug on your clothes won’t work.”
I did as he said and stood completely naked in front of him. He didn’t ogle me. Instead, he began to speak in a monotone business brogue. “You have learned a valuable lesson, I’m told. You want to give up your useless, idealistic fight to stop pollution and feed the poor, and instead enjoy the riches my organization can bring you. Is that right?”
I bit my tongue, called on my inner bullshit artist, and put on an Oscar-worthy performance. “It pisses me off no end to say this, but you’ve won, Victor. I almost lost Piper, and I can’t let that happen again. I will do as you ask. But you must find a place for Tom too. He and I are married now. Do you agree with that condition?”
“Agreed,” he said.
“Tell me what your organization does and how I will fit in,” I said.
Victor looked me in the eyes and said, “I have just cut a deal for my hacking farm to work for the Chinese government. I also sold some plans my people acquired to some very rich Middle Eastern men. I need you to put a legitimate face on all of my companies here in the United States with your public relations skills. Constance can work with you. Your website will spin stories making my business look legitimate, even green-friendly. The Chinese have skills, but they don’t know how to manipulate public opinion like you do. They want the plans to any new weapons produced by your defense contractors. They are willing to pay huge dollars for them. You stand to make a great deal of money. Then, someday, when I don’t need you anymore, you can go grow your little vegetables. Do we have a deal?”
I paused, thinking about how to respond, fighting my urge to spit in his face. “Listen, Victor, I am tired of struggling to get by. My parents died poor at the mercy of large businesses. I don’t want to be like them. I want to have the money to do what I want, when I want. I have a child to support now, but I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to see a whole lot of you.”
He chuckled. “That won’t be a problem.”
We concluded our business and I put back on my clothes. The barge docked and I stepped off. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten away with it. Suddenly a surge of heavily armed men in combat fatigues rushed past me onto the barge. Sophia grabbed and pulled me into a nearby building. Soon, Victor and his men were led off of the ship.
“How could you have gotten the evidence you needed? I wasn’t wired,” I said.
Don placed Victor against a car with a camouflaged GI Joe on either side of him, his hands cuffed behind his back. Then Don walked over and faced me. “I heard your question, Alexandra,” he said. “You have a right to know. We had a silent drone in the air high above the barge filming the entire conversation with infrared cameras and parabolic microphones. I’m sorry you had to get undressed, but don’t worry. This video will never be used in court. Victor is being arrested under the Patriot Act as a terrorist. He’ll never see the light of day. We will show the tape to a secret court if necessary, and then it will be sealed.”
“I don’t care about the nudity. May I speak to Victor?”
Don mulled over my request for a second and then said, “OK. Walk over there and talk to him now because he’ll never be in public again.”
I walked to where Victor was standing, resting his butt against a car. I looked him in the eyes for a minute or two; then I kicked him as hard as I could in the balls. “That’s for Piper,” I said. “You stupid asshole.” He screamed and folded. I watched for a second with grim satisfaction, then turned and walked away. As I passed Sophia, I said, “I’m getting the hell out of here and back to my family.”
I drove as fast as I could on the still slick streets of New Orleans. The power was off downtown and in the French Quarter, so the traffic signals weren’t working. My trip to the hospital was agonizingly tedious. I thought I’d never get to them, yet at the same time relief was beginning to spread in my heart.
When I saw Tom, I told him where I had been. All he’d known was that I was helping Sophia catch Victor—not how. He shut his eyes briefly when I told him the details; then we held on to each other so tight light couldn’t pass between us. Our ordeal was over. The devil’s spawn were gone from our lives. We went into Piper’s room and sat by her bed, making jokes and plans. We finally could live our lives in peace. The men responsible for my mother’s and Piper’s mother’s deaths were gone. They would not be able to bother us again. We were free to make the life I’d always dreamed of. Granted, we weren’t a normal family, but we were still a family.
Tom had spoken to Zach and Maddy. They’d ridden the storm out in the farmhouse. LaPlace didn’t get as much wind or rain as New Orleans. They were fine. Charlotte and Jason decided to pack and go to Baton Rouge. I suspected they’d ridden the storm out in a different way. The doctor told us that Piper was responding well to the new course of antibiotics and if she continued her progress we could take her home tomorrow. Home? I wondered where that was now. The last I’d seen of our condo, Bart Rogan’s body was slumped down in one of our dining room chairs.
Sophia’s voice came from behind me, “Alexandra, Tom, how is Piper? Is she better?”
I spun around and hugged her neck. “Is everything over?” I asked. “You aren’t here to ask me to do something else, are you?”
Sophia giggled.“No, we are both through with the NSA, Bart Rogan, and Victor Ivanovich. They won’t be bothering either of us anymore. I’m here to tell you, Piper, and Tom what will be happening in the next few hours and days.”
We took seats next to Piper’s bed, and she continued, “Bart Rogan’s body was removed by the CIA. A story will be leaked that he died in an automobile accident in Africa. The CIA cleaners have already removed all evidence from your condo that he was ever there. His and Victor’s assets have been seized under the Patriot Act. Rogan’s assets will be used to compensate his victims in India. The fund will be administered by a friend of mine from Interpol living in India. Victor has agreed to cooperate with the CIA, FBI, and NSA to combat international terrorism. He will be living at sea in a government ship doubling as a detention center for high-value figures like him for the next two years. I am told he will need to stay in the ship’s infirmary for a week or so to recover from an unfortunate fall that injured his testicles. Who knows what the government will do with him after that.”
“What about the condo? Is it still quarantined?” I asked.
“No, the CDC has released it, and you are free to go there as soon as you’d like. There’s more, Alexandra. Tom, do you remember the spill that your crew found in the Gulf and th
e explosion at the ACC plant?” Sophia asked. “The spill was from a secret government weapons project ACC was executing for the United States Department of Defense. That is why your investigation was shut down. The government uses ACC to do some of its dirty work. The explosion was just an ordinary accident, but the government used it to remove all evidence of its weapons project before the EPA stumbled upon it.”
“Now we know how they get away with all of the shit they do,” Tom said.
“Some of Victor’s assets will be liquidated, and a trust fund will be established for Piper. As you know, Tom, Victor gave the order to murder your brother. The money is rightfully Piper’s. It will be enough to send her to the finest schools.”
“What about Burak?” I asked.
“He is going to a super-max prison where he’ll be confined to solitary for twenty-three hours per day for the rest of his life,” Sophia answered. “As it turns out he had millions of dollars too. His assets have been seized, and you and Charlotte will be receiving a considerable sum as reparations for the damage he, Rogan, and Victor did to your business. The CIA has persuaded the Times to run a full retraction about the contamination story. The new story will state that you were victimized by hackers who created a false contamination scare. Your business will be able to recover nicely, I suspect.”
“That is some great news, Sophia. What will happen to you?” I asked.
“Interpol has promoted me, and I am the new liaison between the United States and South America. I will be coordinating all of our joint investigations. So we’ll be seeing a great deal of each other.”
“Wow,” I said. “What a day. Look, Tom, Piper’s asleep. Let’s go home and get some rest.”
A broad smile filled Tom’s face. He winked at Sophia and said to me, “Let’s go. We have a marriage to consummate, you know.”
Chapter Thirty-Two:
Our Life
For some reason walking into our home felt different, more like a home. Like Sophia said, they’d cleaned everything, leaving no trace of the earlier events. We went on the balcony to survey the hurricane damage. We saw candlelight dancing in many of the windows, and flashlights bobbing their way up and down Bourbon Street. Litter filled the streets and sidewalks, but there was no visible damage. Power was out, so Tom and I slept with the French doors leading to the balcony open, allowing the evening breeze to cool the condo. We both slept longer than we’d done in a long while. I felt peace for the first time, comforted that I was now Mrs. Alexandra Lee Sanders.
The following six months passed quickly. Sophia cut through the red tape for us and made sure the government kept its word to compensate us for the damage Rogan and Victor had done to our business. Charlotte and Jason stuck to each other like they were Velcro’d together, sneaking kissing when they thought no one was looking. It was the second time in my life I’d seen love at first sight, the first when Charlotte introduced Tom and me at Pat O’Brian’s. Our farm in Indiana and our farm in LaPlace were ready for planting when spring arrived. I spent time in the condo writing and helping Piper with homework. When Jason and Charlotte asked if they could to stop by to talk to Tom and me, I thought I knew why, the excitement about to kill me.
The doorbell rang and Piper let the lovebirds in, and we sat on the balcony enjoying the cool weather. “I love this place,” Charlotte said as she removed a glove from her left hand. “I love this too.”
Once her glove was off she revealed a three-caratdiamond engagement ring whose brilliance was matched only by Jason’s and Charlotte’s smiles. “Oh my God, you’re engaged,” I said.
Tom stood, walked over to Jason, and shook his hand. “Congratulations. You two are perfect for each other.”
Charlotte glowed as she looked at me. “Wait,” she said. “That’s not all. There are some things about Jason he had to tell me before he proposed. He wanted me to know what I was getting myself into.”
I thought, oh shit, not another guy with a checkered past and uncertain future. Maybe he is a hitman for the Italian Mafia or a spy with a double life. I couldn’t I could take anymore cloak and dagger for a while. I was too happy with my simple life.
“Jason invented technology for the construction industry years ago,” she said. “It can be installed on backhoes or any machine that digs or picks up objects. It allows the operator to feel the object as if he were using his hands. The user wears special equipment Jason designed, and becomes a part of the machine, so to speak. The building and construction industry loved it.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said. “But why was it a secret he had to share before proposing?”
Jason blushed, and Charlotte said, “Because he’s a gazillionaire. He tries to keep his financial status secret so people won’t stereotype him. He’s earned his money, but with so many people struggling, he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. His remediation company and his organic farm are his passions, and he is trying to show the world that sustainable farming is possible.”
“Jason, that’s fantastic. I knew you were a good man from the first day we met, but I didn’t know you were solid gold,” Tom said as we laughed.
Jason looked at Tom and said, “I felt the same way about all of you, and I’ve got a proposal. Why don’t we form a nonprofit organic farming company? Please don’t think me brash for saying this, but I’ll finance the whole operation.” He turned to Piper and me and said, “Alexandra, you and Piper can promote the company on the company’s website. People will be able to order fresh organic food from us at reasonable prices. We can deliver fresh produce to poor communities using UPS, FedEx, or Uber drivers, for that matter. We will keep the costs down and refine our model as we learn. What do you say?”
I was shocked. Piper maintained a calm demeanor because she only got excited if vampires were involved. Tom jumped up and said, “Hell yeah!”
We hammered out the details over the next couple of weeks and set our course. We enjoyed initial success, but struggled at times meeting the growing demand. Charlotte and Jason put together a consortium of growers to help fill the orders till our farms produced more. Growth was slow and steady, which suited me just fine.
Tom and I enrolled Piper in a private school that challenged her mentally and allowed her to have multicolored hair. One day, my Lois Lane curiosity got the better of me and I cornered Piper about why she spent so much time on her computer. She showed me an online graphic novel she’d authored which was growing in popularity. Her talent seemed to be limitless.
We didn’t see Mandy for a long time. I imagined she and Bob went to a non-extradition country to live. When she visited New Orleans, she kept to herself, dealing only with people directly associated with Superior Sugar. She avoided her Uncle Garrett, which wasn’t hard since he’d adopted a low profile. I suspected he was hiding from Bob, worried he’d get the same treatment Bart Rogan received.
Piper and I ran into Amanda one morning in the Quarter, and she asked us to stop by her apartment. She was still working for Superior Sugar but wanted to show Piper some drawings she’d done as an idea for the graphic novel.
“Piper, I didn’t know you were keeping in touch with Amanda,” I said.
Piper scrunched her nose to make a funny face. “Only online. She’s a fan of my graphic novel,” she said. “Amanda’s a little out there.”
“I know, Piper. I feel sorry for her. She’s one of those lost souls. I think she was close to Mandy and she must feel abandoned since Bob vanished. She certainly needed someone to talk to other than Garrett Morris. I’m glad you’ve stayed in touch with her.”
We entered Amanda’s apartment and were both taken aback. She lived in an efficiency apartment of about five hundred square feet on the fringes of the French Quarter. She’d decorated the place like a voodoo cave. There was a makeshift altar with at least twenty-five partially melted candles resting on it and a bevy of shrunken heads.
I whispered t
o Piper, “Shrunken heads aren’t used in voodoo, are they?”
Piper just shook her head, her eyes glued to a poster of Vlad the Impaler prominently displayed on the wall. Amanda noticed Piper’s stare and said, “Vlad was the original Dracula, you know.” Piper didn’t answer.
Amanda dug through a hope chest stashed in a corner, looking for her drawing. While she dug, Piper nudged me and directed my attention to a group of neatly piled hatpins sitting on the altar. We looked back at Amanda before she spun around with a handful of drawings. They were dark interpretations of Mother Goose nursery rhymes and Grimm’s Fairy Tales.
“My great, great granny was from Haiti. She was married to a Romanian sailor who came ashore from a cargo ship and stayed. She moved to Oakdale, Louisiana, fifty years ago, and my family lived there and in Oberlin. We are called Redbones, because we are mixed race. My granny raised me in Oberlin, and she read me nursery rhymes when I was a small child. I loved her, and life hasn’t been the same since she died. She told me I could connect to her with voodoo and by reciting the nursery rhymes we’d enjoyed, after she’d gone to the spirit world. I practice my voodoo to channel her spirit. Do you like the drawings?”
“Uh, uh, sure,” Piper said. “They are remarkable.”
Amanda turned to put the drawings back in the chest. Piper whispered to me, “Let’s get out of here; she’s crazy.”
She didn’t need to tell me because I’d realized she was the serial killer in the Quarter. Amanda saw Piper whisper in my ear, and her expression soured.
“What did she say? She didn’t like my drawings, did she?” Amanda said, becoming increasingly agitated.
