by Billy Kring
Marc sipped his drink and Ringo did the same. Marc said, “I think we should keep her skull.”
“For her power?”
“Yes, don’t you?”
“I like the idea. I’ll take care of it.”
Marc patted his friend on the shoulder as he rose, “You always do.”
~*~
When the end to their good fortune came, it was swift and happened to other criminals in multiple homes all across the country. Marc had anticipated it a week before, but the new forces in power, backed by the U.S. government, hit the banks and organizations faster than he expected. In the matter of a single day, they lost their fortune, their home, and learned of the arrests of all who worked for them as buffers between them and the Columbians.
It was time to go. Marc and Ringo gathered their passports and a few things as police broke down the front doors. They slipped out the back, through the back yard and to a car they always kept parked on a nearby street. Marc drove north in a hurry to the harbor at Port de Paix. That day they sailed from Haiti to Florida. When they arrived in Miami, they had the boat, nine hundred U.S. dollars between them, and a human skull in a sport bag.
Chapter 6
Hunter drove to work the next morning feeling so good she was almost giddy. At the office, lots of thumbs-ups and handshakes for her and Andre. When they left to go to work, Hunter said, “Can we go by and thank Dessaline?”
“Sounds good to me.” He drove and they made slow time because of the traffic, but arrived at Dessaline’s office an hour later. Marc was by the assistant’s desk, his back half turned to them, working with something in his hands. He looked momentarily surprised, then wrapped the object in a red cloth and placed it on a nearby cabinet before turning and smiling. “A pleasant surprise,” He said. Marc led the two Agents into his office.
The first thing Hunter did was look around the room for Ringo Bazin. Dessaline said, “Ringo is not here. I am alone in the office today.”
Hunter said, “I didn’t want him to spook me again.”
“I’m sure it was unintentional.”
“I’m sure,” Hunter said.
Andre said, “We wanted to thank you for your help in locating Villard. I don’t know that we could have found him so quickly, otherwise.”
Dessaline said, “I’m glad I could help in some small way.”
Hunter said, “It was a big way, don’t sell yourself short.”
He sat behind his desk and said, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
On a whim, Hunter said, “One of the people off the ship, a woman, was poisoned while she was in Krome. You have any idea who could have done it, or what type of poison could kill someone in minutes?”
“I’m not sure why you think I would have that sort of knowledge. Are you accusing me of something?”
“Not at all. You know so much about Haitians and their culture, I thought you might have an idea.” Hunter thought he looked, well, a little pissed.
“I do not. All the stories about vodou, which is what I am assuming you infer, are wives tales. It is simply herbal medicine, nothing more.”
Andre said, “It’s not simple herbal medicine, there’s more to it, and vodou is the national religion of Haiti, or have you forgotten?”
Marc said, “Again, are you accusing me of something? Agent Benton, You’re Haitian. You know that plants and herbs are used in vodou.”
Andre said, “I’m American.” Both men bristled, like two male dogs facing each other.
Hunter thought, What the hell is going on with these two? She attempted to deflate the tension, “Hey, I apologize. I didn’t mean anything by the question. I’m searching for answers anywhere I can.”
Both men seemed to relax a hair. Marc said, “I can inquire about such things, and will call you if something turns up.”
“Thanks.” Hunter rose and said, “We appreciate your help.”
Andre didn’t say anything.
When Hunter turned, Ringo Bazin was five feet behind her. She felt a little jolt jump through her, like an electrical shock. She said, “I need to put a bell on you so I can hear you comin’.”
He didn’t answer, and didn’t move. Hunter and Andre circled around him and walked toward the front door. When they passed the cabinet with the red cloth on top of it, Hunter discretely pushed part of the cloth aside, exposing a gold medallion with words and images on it. The image was of an eerie human skull centered in an upside down arrowhead. In the haft portion, in small letters above the skull’s head it read, Republique du Haiti and below the skull, near the arrowhead’s point was Tonton Macoute. She heard a faint click as Andre shielded his phone from the two Haitians and snapped a photo, then slid the phone into his pocket.
Dessaline said, “That is mine, Agent Kincaid. Don’t touch it. Please leave now. You may return, but not Benton.”
Before Hunter or Andre could respond, Ringo closed Dessaline’s office door in their faces. Hunter said to Andre, “He must be having a bad day, huh?”
“He’s lying about what he knows, and he doesn’t want us digging. That’s what I read.”
Hunter bumped his shoulder with her fist and said, “I’m just glad to know that I’m not the only one who pisses people off without even trying.”
“It’s a talent.” He grinned at her, “Let’s get out of here. I want to ask your friend Young Anson about what this means.” He showed Hunter the photo.
As they walked to the car, Hunter said, “You got what was on the medallion.”
“Yep. My guess is, there’s an inscription on the back of it, and maybe more under the rest of the cloth.”
“Works for me.”
Dessaline watched them through the large window as they walked to their car and drove away. He looked at Ringo, who nodded, turned and left. The door made no noise when he closed it behind him.
~*~
Ariel awoke under the pier to the smell of smoke. When she emerged, she saw her car was on fire. She detoured away from her burning car and walked toward the ocean, angling in a curve across the wide sand to the surf line. Her purse had been in it, under the seat on the driver’s side, so now she had no money, no credit cards, no identification. She walked south, wary of everyone she encountered, and moving away from men who paid her attention. Any of them could be the same one or ones who torched her vehicle. An hour later, Ariel had walked all the way to Hollywood beach, where there were more crowds in which to blend and more places to hide.
When she felt more secure, She slowed, taking her time to eye the patrons at the restaurants and bars and zero in on potential customers. A young man sat drinking coffee at an outside table and she approached him to ask if she could use his phone, saying hers had been lost last night. Ariel smiled and touched his arm as she talked. He was candy.
She called Hunter and told her some of what happened, and that she was scared. Hunter told her what to do, that she was coming.
Ariel felt better after talking to Kincaid, but still had one problem: no money. She looked at the growing crowd of older tourists on Hollywood beach and thought that maybe it was not such a big problem after all. The older ones seemed more open to what a reading might tell them. She knew they thought about death more often than people in their thirties and forties. The ones in their sixties and seventies could feel that life was shortening for them at an accelerating rate, and on the chance that this beautiful, exotic-looking young woman could tell them things that might enhance what was left to them, well, they didn’t mind handing over money for the opportunity. One hour later and eighty dollars to the good, she started into the shops along the boardwalk knowing she would have to buy cheap.
That’s when she saw them. She turned to face the ocean and glanced left and right along the boardwalk. Four men, far down the boardwalk, walked in her direction, checking out every young black woman on the beach and on the boardwalk, and no one else. She glanced the opposite direction and saw three other men doing the exact same thing, and coming at a ste
ady pace. Neither group saw her yet, but they would.
A store selling beachwear was two steps away, and Ariel walked inside as an older couple did the same. Sunglasses were first; the big oversized ones with dark lenses. Ariel put them on immediately. Next was a large canvas tourist’s shopping bag, and hats, two of them, with one of them a soft baseball cap with Hollywood Florida on the front, and the second one, a large straw hat with a big brim. She put on the big straw and shoved the cap in the bag. Then she continued down the beach, constantly checking her stalkers.
She walked into another store and found a Miami Dolphins tee shirt, an oversized swimwear cover shirt that reached to mid-thigh, baggy tan shorts, and cheap sandals. Ariel paid for them and asked if she could use the bathroom. The sales woman pointed to a door in the back, saying, “Make sure you flush.”
Ariel locked the door once she was inside, and changed as fast as she could. Her original clothes went deep into the trash and she covered them with paper towels from the dispenser before leaving the store and continuing down the boardwalk. The men were getting closer from both front and back, but still hadn’t noticed her. She ducked into another store as one of the men in front of her stopped to answer his phone.
She rarely wore lipstick, so she bought two different shades. She applied a soft rose for the first one, and slipped the other into her front pocket so she could change the color fast if she needed to. It wasn’t much, but with the other changes, it might be enough for a short while.
At least, she hoped, until Hunter came.
~*~
Traffic on I-95 was heavy and slow, and Hunter squirmed in the driver’s seat. Andre said, “If you twist any harder on that steering wheel, you’ll be holding two pieces.”
“I’m worried.”
“I know, and as soon as we get a little closer,” He tapped the GPS navigation screen on the dash, “I’ll show you some shortcuts that even Garmin here doesn’t know.”
She tapped on her phone, saying, “I think I’ll ask for a little help on this one.” She told the phone to dial John Quick’s number. When he answered, she explained the situation and, just like she knew he would, John said that he and Randall were headed that way. He only asked one question: what Ariel looked like. Hunter said, “Look for Rihanna.”
~*~
John and Randall parked at the back of an apartment complex on New Hampshire Street. As soon as they exited the sedan, a sour-faced man with a week-old growth of white whiskers stuck his head out of a second floor window above them and yelled, “You bastards get that car the hell out of here! This is private property!”
John showed him his badge, “There’s a woman in trouble on the beach.”
He said, “I don’t give a good goddamn if she’s being murdered!” Get that car out of here!”
Randall reached in the car, turned on the blue light and put it on the dash. He looked up at the angry man and said, “Have a nice day.” The man’s face flushed and he shook his fist at Randall, who grinned and waved as he and John trotted down the street to an alley that separated two apartment complexes and the opening went all the way through to the beach area.
The two detectives passed through and stood on the boardwalk, but saw no sign of Ariel. John said, “You go right I’ll go left.” Randall nodded, moving off the hard surface of the boardwalk to the sand so he could see people both on the beach and on the boardwalk. John stayed on the boardwalk.
Five minutes later, he saw three large black men escorting a scared-looking young woman from a restaurant. The men on each side of her held her arm at the bicep. The third man walked in front, not looking back. The woman turned her head as if looking for help. She looked exactly like Rihanna.
John made a quick call on his phone as he looked down the boardwalk for Randall. There was no one within fifty yards of his position. John spoke into the phone, “Come running.” He pocketed the phone and approached the group from behind, “Hey, I need a word with the lady.”
The three men stopped, and the one who led the group came back to face John. He was taller and heavier than John by three inches and probably forty pounds. He wasn’t fat, either. He said, “She’s going with us.”
“No, no she’s not.” He showed them his badge. “She’s my C.I., and that’s Confidential Informant in case you didn’t know. I’m taking her with me.” He reached to remove one of the men’s hands from Ariel’s arm.
The big man slapped his arm away. John said, “You don’t want to do that.” He reached again, and when the big man slapped at his arm, John grabbed his wrist and twisted while grasping the man’s shirtfront with the other and dropping to one knee, slamming the man’s back onto the hard boardwalk. The big man looked stunned, and when John glanced at the other two, Randall was there, pistol out and pointed at their faces as he showed them his shield. John patted the big man’s chest and said, “Take your time getting up.”
The big man cradled his wrist, his eyes bright with pain. “You hurt me.”
John ignored him and said, “Ariel, we’re friends of Agent Kincaid. How about coming with us?”
She stepped from between the two other men and said, “Thank you.”
Randall told the other two men, “We’re not arresting you three today. Next time, though, you see us comin’, just assume the position. Have a nice day.”
An older couple some forty yards down the boardwalk watched, then the man gave John and Randall a thumbs up.
Ariel didn’t say anything, but she felt a pull to Randall, like a magnet to iron. There is something about this one, she thought.
As they walked toward their vehicle, John said to Randall, “What’s with all this, ‘have a nice day’ stuff lately?”
Randall said, “I’m spreading a little sunshine among the populace.”
“Huh.”
As they exited the alley and turned toward their vehicle, John saw the old man standing by it, still ranting. He said, “Doesn’t look like your ‘have a nice day’ worked on that one.”
The old man saw them and waited as if he wanted to fight. When they were five feet from him, Ariel stepped ahead of the two detectives and touched the man’s arm. She said, “I am sorry for your loss.”
He blinked at her, then glanced at John and Randall, seeming confused. He said to Ariel, “You knew her?”
She left her hand on his forearm, “I feel her near you. She loves you and will always be close.”
His eyes brimmed, “I miss her so.”
“I understand. You know what she’s saying to you, don’t you?”
John and Randall looked at each other.
The old man gave Ariel a sad smile, “Enjoy every moment, because it is a gift.” A tear slid down his cheek.
“And?”
“She’ll be waiting, first star on the left.”
“Yes,” she patted his arm.
He wiped his eyes and faced the two detectives, “I’m sorry. You park here any time you want.” He turned and shuffled into the apartment door.
Randall said to Ariel, “You want to explain that?”
She looked at him a long moment, “You know of such things, too.”
Hunter and Andre pulled up and Ariel waved at them.
As they gathered together, Hunter said, “Any problem finding her?”
John said, “Nope.”
Ariel said, “They saved me from the others.”
“What others?”
Ariel didn’t know exactly how to explain who the men were. She said, “Men involved in black magic. I will explain it all to you when we are somewhere else. The men are still near, and I don’t want any more trouble.”
Hunter looked at Randall, “More trouble?”
Randall looked at the sky, avoiding eye contact. Hunter tugged at his sleeve. He said, “Oh, all right. John had to persuade them a little.”
“Uh-huh.” She looked at John.
Randall said, “Okay I’ll tell you.” John frowned at his partner. Randall said, “What it was, the big guy
, who was like two-sixty, slapped John’s arm, so John persuaded him not to do it again.”
Hunter looked at John, but said to Randall, “Like how?”
“He slammed the guy down on the ground like he weighed about as much as Verne Troyer.” That got quizzical looks from the others, so he added, “Mini-Me, in the Austin Powers movies.”
John shrugged, “Randall drew his pistol on the others, but didn’t shoot.” Randall gave him a pained look. John continued, “It was all worked out when we left. Those guys and us, we’re good.”
“I should know better than to ask,” Hunter said. “Thanks for protecting her. I owe you.”
Randall said, “Not that we keep track of that, but yes, you do.”
Andre’s phone rang and he answered, listened for a moment then said, “We need to go, Hunter.”
Ariel hugged John’s and Randall’s necks, lingering a second longer on Randall, then she hopped into the sedan with Hunter and Andre, and waved as they drove off.
John said, “Don’t think I didn’t notice the extra hugging you got.”
Randall said, “I enjoyed the heck out of it, let me tell you. We ready to go?”
“Yeah.” They slid into the car, and as they backed out, both of them saw the old man waving goodbye to them from his upstairs window. John said, “That was a little spooky, what she did.”
“Witchy,” Randall said as they drove away from the apartments.
~*~
Hunter asked Ariel, “Do you have a place we can drop you? We have to go to a meeting.”
“I don’t know of any place.”
“Would you wait in the lobby of my hotel until we come back?”
“Yes.”
Hunter drove to the hotel and let her out, saying, “I’ll be back.” Ariel nodded, then entered the hotel lobby, found a comfortable seat and a discarded paperback by Colleen Hoover and began to read.
Hunter and Andre drove to Sector Headquarters and joined Bob Redus in the conference room, where four DOJ attorneys sat on one side of the long table. One of them said, “We have some preliminary questions for all of you, then we will need to speak to Agent Kincaid alone.”
