Crescent City Chronicles (Books 1-3)

by Judith Lucci

  The Governor's aide nodded and said, “I will tell him, thank you. The Governor is thankful for the resources of the Federal Government at this time." Tansill looked over at Mayor Devries and snickered. "We, the Office of the Governor, understand the severity of these potential threats and are grateful for all federal assistance."

  Stoner nodded his thanks.

  Alex raised her hand. "I have one more question. Is the first lady planning to come to New Orleans?"

  "That remains unclear at this point. She had planned to accompany her husband, but due to the dual threat, she may not be coming. I seriously doubt she will come." Stoner paused for a moment and added, "I recommended the President not attend either but I am sure he will insist upon being a part of Operation Fix America. Quite frankly, we are working with his chief of staff and asking for his support in keeping POTUS in D.C."

  Alex digested this information and said, "Thank you, Mr. Stoner and Mr. Bodine and all of you in this room, for all you are doing here for us. Let us know if we need to do more at Crescent City Medical Center." Her voice was clear and she knew that the lives of potentially thousands of Americans were currently within the purview of these two men as well as the other police officers around the table. "Oh, Mr. Stoner, where will the President be speaking on Saturday?"

  "Currently, his main address is scheduled for the Convention Center, but that could change to one of the closer hotels if the threats continue. Thank you, Ms. Destephano. If that is all, then we're dismissed."

  As Alex and Robert stood to leave, Jack caught Robert's sleeve. "Can you guys get with me later? I need to find out more of the plans and pass them on to you. Yvette needs to be a part of this meeting as well."

  "How about coming to my house for dinner around 7:30 or so? I'll order in. It will get us out of the hospital for a while and Yvette and Robert probably need a break."

  "Good idea, Alex. I'll tell Yvette. She left a minute ago to see Maddy Jeanfreau. She finished autopsying Blankenship and has some interesting findings, though I don't know what yet.”

  "Okay. We'll meet up this evening. See you then.”

  As Alex and Robert walked toward his car to return to CCMC, Alex’s angst was clear, "Robert, I’m really scared. This is very serious. Do you think the murders are part of the terror threat?"

  Robert shook his head. "Don't know, Alex. Possibly. Three politicians is pretty significant and doesn't sound random to me. And you're right - this is very frightening. I never realized the essence of terror until just an hour ago."

  "Oh, did I tell you that the Congressman murdered in the Quarter was my grandfather's protégé? He was like a son to him. They’ve been guests at the farm many times. I met them during Christmas break, right before I moved to New Orleans. My grandparents are devastated and I am worried for both of them."

  "Oh my God, I am so sorry. I can check on them if you like." Robert’s voice was kind, sympathetic as he touched Alex’s shoulder.

  "They're coming tomorrow. I just spent time with Beth Blankenship, the widow. She’s lovely, and this is so tragic. I hope to see her again. She’s under Secret Service protection at the Hotel Burgundy. My grandmother is planning to stay with her. She and Granddad arrive in the morning."

  Robert shook his head, his grey eyes sympathetic. "I’m so sorry, Alex. I know how you worry about them." He took her hand and clasped it tightly as they walked hand in hand to his car. There was something comforting about their relationship and their ability to rely on each other. They were silent during the short ride to CCMC.

  Alex wondered again if she should just love him and let go of all of those red flags she seemed to manufacture in her mind. It felt good to be a couple, if only for a few moments.

  Chapter 16

  Mohammad Abdu turned off his remote and stared into the blank screen of his large television set. The thin veil of anxiety he had felt hours before now provided him with a pounding headache. What was wrong? Why wasn't Nazir communicating with him? In desperation, he picked up his cell phone and dialed his New Orleans operative again on his burn phone. This time Nazir answered.

  "Ahlah," said the quiet voice. Mohammed Abdu thought he sounded depressed.

  "Nazir, I have been trying to reach you for hours. What is happening down there? What of this virus?"

  The silence on the end of the phone made Mohammed Abdu uneasy. "Nazir, you must speak to me. What do you think of the virus at the big hospital there?"

  "I do not know. I am afraid that Vadim may have double-crossed us. I have been trying to reach him, but he is not to be found." Nazir's voice was distant and sounded like he was speaking from a deep hole.

  Abdu was silent for a moment and then said, "What does Ali think? Is he working on the virus at the hospital? Does he have any insight, any knowledge?"

  "He is there, but he doesn't know. The CDC says it is not Ebola. It is a combination of viruses. Ali is working on models to identify the virus. He said it is difficult and it is not anything like the virus we planned."

  Mohammed digested this information as anger surged through him. "Nazir, you must find Vadim. It is critical to see if he has betrayed us or has in any way altered the virus."

  Nazir sighed deeply and said, "I have been trying and trying, but he is not at home nor does he answer his phone. For all I know he planted the virus and left New Orleans. I never trusted him. A Russian! Blah! Kalet! Naqual! Dirty bastard!" Nazir had recovered from his apathy. He was furious, ready to kill. Then he remembered how he had contradicted Ali a short while before and felt humiliated.

  "Ibn haram! Filthy bastard indeed, but we must find him to learn what he has done," said Mohammed. "I am sending several brothers down to assist you. They are close by and will be there in several hours. Stay where you are and meet them. They know the plan. They know our mission. I am coming this evening with Omar Hassan on a plane. Be prepared for us. We must be ready for this. It has been in plans for years and we must not fail."

  "We will not fail." Nazir sounded more pumped than he felt. "Please wear Western dress. I am sure they are looking for us."

  "Yes, I am sure they are. What does our NOPD police informant say? Is he loyal?" Mohammed Abdu certainly hoped he was. He was the only insider in the cell that had any fix on what the Americans might do to protect against the Jihad plan.

  Nazir's voice was bolder now. "Yes, he is loyal. I just spoke with him. He is part of the American FBI and Secret Service security plan. He will report to me later. He has a lot of information. I will share it with you later tonight."

  "We will be there by midnight. Wait up for us. Please have more information for us when we arrive. And nourishment. We will be hungry. As-salaam'alaykum."

  "Peace with you as well," Nazir added as Mohammed Abdu clicked off. Nazir looked around his shotgun house apartment that would soon become a full-fledged terrorist cell. The peaceful, planning, dreaming, days for he and Ali were over. Of course, who knew where the neighboring sleeper cells were. He could have mortal enemies next door or down the street and not know it. It could be the man at the market who sold him taboule. He supposed that was what made terrorist organizations so powerful and successful. It certainly should scare the infidels, especially since it scared him so much.

  Chapter 17

  Alex was exhausted by the time she reached home, arms piled high with food from Napoleon's, flowers and cheese from the French Market, and wine from Martin's Wine Shoppe. She quickly set five places for dinner in her dining room and decided to serve informally from the kitchen. She had originally planned for six, but Jack had phoned to let her know that Monique wasn't up to a long evening and had declined her invitation. Alex had to remind herself that Monique was still very fragile and certainly in no need of the stress of a terrorist strike, as well as the fear of more murders in the Quarter. Besides, Monique didn't need to be pressured with the problems occurring in the city and at CCMC. Her major focus and energy needed to be directed toward her recovery. She would pack a doggie bag for Jack to take
home for Monique. Monique loved food from Napoleon’s.

  Alex had just finished arranging flowers for the table when her home phone rang. It was her grandmother. It was a little after seven p.m. local time, eight p.m. in Virginia - almost dark. Alex visualized her grandmother sitting in her glass sunroom watching the horses graze in the pasture that surrounded the house in the darkened night. Her heart ached for Virginia and her home. Things seemed so sane there, so easy and predictable, so unlike her life in New Orleans. In her mind's eye, Alex saw Dundee, her horse, running down the river path toward the river. Her loneliness was palpable. She wanted to cry at the sound of pain in her beloved grandmother’s voice.

  "Grand, how are you? Is everything okay?" Alex asked, a little concerned to hear from her grandmother again so soon.

  "Yes, honey, things are pretty well. Your grandfather has gone to bed. He's exhausted and really upset by the events in New Orleans today, but even bigger than that, he's worried about Beth, her family, and the future of America. Apparently, Ben Blankenship was a shoe-in for the vice-presidential nomination next fall. I had no idea about any of that. How is Beth?"

  "As well as expected, I guess. She's very sad. It's tragic. I stayed with her for over an hour. She’s pretty much in shock right now." Alex paused for a moment, thinking, and then continued, "She cried a lot but I guess she is doing okay considering what has happened. I wish I could take her pain away. I tried to get her to stay with me, but she wanted to stay at the hotel. I'll try to see her tomorrow."

  "That's one reason why I called you. Do you think Beth and I could stay at your house? It would be so much more comfortable than the hotel. Of course, that would mean Ben's aide would need to come as well, and there would probably be Secret Service in your home. I think the White House has ordered that."

  "Of course! Absolutely, Grand. I would love for all of you to be here. I can make up the Carriage House for the Secret Service and NOPD, as I am sure they will be here as well. I’ll pick up all kinds of food for you all early in the morning. Maybe I will just order it online. I can also ask Martin if one of his daughters or Carla, his wife, will come over and help prepare meals and clean up. You know they are the best Cajun cooks in the world. Will Granddad be staying here?"

  "I suspect he'll be in and out. He'll keep his room at the Palm, but he'll probably sleep here. He also kept his room at Hotel Burgundy. Could you arrange for Martin's cab to take him back and forth? That would be helpful."

  "Not a problem. Martin will be happy to be of assistance. Is there anything else I can do for you, Grand? You sound so tired."

  "No, Alex. I'm just a little worried about your grandfather. He's really depressed about all of this. He feels he lost the son he never had and I cannot alter what only the passage of time can heal."

  Alex felt tears spring into her eyes. They were getting so old. The anchors on her life were aging and she was powerless to stop it. She needed to be closer to them. She could feel her grandmother's pain through the phone line. Her stomach contracted into a huge knot when she considered life without them. She couldn't wait to see them in the morning. "Robert said he would be happy to check Granddad out when he gets here if he’s still under the weather."

  Grand laughed and said, "We would love to see Robert. How is he doing these days?"

  Alex smiled and said, "We’re both up to our eyeballs in this virus stuff. It's huge to have the CDC in our hospital. We're the acting administrators since Don is away. Actually, I am glad he's not here. He'd just get in the way."

  "I know you are both working very hard. How's Monique doing?"

  "She's continuing to improve, much slower than before, but she is getting there. Jack is very patient with her. She tires easily, but she’s really together intellectually. She is actually amazing. I never would have believed she'd be this good so soon."

  Grand sighed audibly and said, "What a gift. Who'd have thought several months ago she would have even come out of her coma. God is really good, isn't he, Alexandra?"

  "Yes, He is. Yes, He is. I learn that more and more the older I get. I'm having Robert, Jack, Dr. Yvette Charmaine, and Dr. Maddy Jeanfreau over for dinner. I picked up pasta and a salad from Napoleon's. Monique begged off because she was tired. Anyway, it's just takeout but it should be good."

  "Hmmm, Robert? You know how I feel about that, right?" Alex could hear the hope in her grandmother’s voice. Kathryn Lee loved Robert Bonnet.

  She sighed and replied, "Yes, Grand. You know I do, and you know how I feel. This is sort of a business dinner about security for CCMC." She loved her Grand more than life, but sometimes she could kill her. She knew her voice sounded exasperated.

  "Alexandra Destephano, I can see your eyes rolling from here. Show an old lady, who only wants your happiness, some respect." Kathryn Rosseau Lee's voice was sharp, a little acidic.

  "Sorry, Grand, I really am. I do need to get going. These people will be here shortly. Give Granddad a hug for me. Love you." Holy Cow, she will never give up on Robert and me. But I need to remember that she is rarely wrong. Actually, can't even remember when she has been wrong, ever. That little voice she often hated to hear, the inner or the other Alex, spoke to her and suggested her Grandmother was most likely right.

  "Love you too, Alex. See you tomorrow. I should be at your house around noon. Please have Martin pick up Beth. She will love to come and see you. Just wish it were all different. "

  Alex could hear the strain in her Grandmother’s voice as she clicked off. Almost immediately, Alex heard her front door chimes. She gave her dining room another quick look, and satisfied that things were in place, moved through her living room into the foyer to greet her guests.

  Chapter 18

  Nazir paced up and down the Riverwalk as his anxiety mounted. He had a premonition that something bad was going to happen. He prayed for peace but it just wouldn't come. Surely, things would work out. After all, he was doing Allah's work. Jihad was a Holy War and he was on the side of the righteous. Of course, Jihad was an inner spiritual struggle as well as a physical struggle.His greater Jihad, the inner struggle and religious faith, was unhampered. Nazir had no difficulty with his inner Jihad, but the lesser Jihad, the physical struggle against the enemies of Islam, terrified him.

  Where was Yahwa? The NOPD informant was supposed to meet him an hour ago, but hadn't shown up yet. Certainly, he wasn't betraying him like the still elusive Vadim? The thought of another betrayal robbed his breath. But then, who knew? None of the terrorists knew each other until several days before the event was to take place. That was when the cells were activated. That was how Al-Qaeda and Hamas operated. It was all secret, but unnerving at times. Praise be to Allah. Allah helped him trust other people of his own kind.

  The sun had set as Nazir sat on a bench and overlooked the mighty Mississippi River. As always, he was appalled by the muddy color of the huge body of water. He likened the water to the infidels, to Americans and the other Western cultures – dark, dirty, and ugly. It was nothing like the pristine, azure Mediterranean Sea in his country that was perfect, with its beautiful sandy and rock beaches. He was jilted out of his thoughts when a little girl with blonde hair approached him.

  She asked, "Would you like some of my peanuts to feed the seagulls? They really like them. I have popcorn too." The little girl held out her bag.

  He just stared at her and examined her pure smile and sweet face.

  The little girl's big blue eyes stared at him, imploring him to share her popcorn and peanuts. He was momentarily confused, and intrigued. She seemed to be an innocent. He had never spoken to an American child and was surprised she had approached him. He shook his head when he heard a female voice behind him.

  "Kirsten, come here right away. You know you are not supposed to talk with strangers." The voice was stern and scolding.

  Nazir turned around to see the child's mother, a young woman who was a tall twin to her daughter. His dark eyes met her blue ones and locked in place. The mother scrutinized h
im and it unnerved him. Finally, he broke the stare and quickly shuffled away from the child.

  The mother said, "Kirsten, I have told you over and over again that not everyone is our friend. Not everyone loves you. You have to be careful."

  As the woman and child moved back into the crowd in the French Quarter, Nazir realized for the first time in his life that children were innately good, at least until grownups corrupted them and taught them to hate. He was surprised that he was so affected by the incident when suddenly a strong hand grabbed his shoulder.

  Nazir turned quickly, prepared to defend himself.

  A voice said in Arabic, "Brother. What is wrong? You look as though you have seen a spirit!"

  Nazir smiled in relief when he saw Yahwa. "Where have you been? You are late. I was worried." His voice was angry and Yahwa laughed at him.

  "Relax, Brother, all is well. I had to work late, then go home and take off my police uniform. I came as quickly as I could. Traffic was heavy, so it took longer to get here."

  "You could have texted me. You could have let me know." Nazir's voice was irritated. "I did not know what to think."

  "Calm down. We have a lot to do, a lot to talk about. In Western speak, 'take a chill pill'. Besides, we are cautioned against texting. The American's have eyes and ears everywhere. We have a lot to do. Let us walk and talk."

  The men walked a short distance without talking then stopped to look at an ornate calliope, complete with an organ grinder and a monkey. The organ grinder looked Slavic with dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and a broad forehead with wide-set eyes. His body was short, powerful and resembled a tree trunk. He was dressed gaudily in bright colors with lots of fake-looking gold jewelry and chains. He stared at them as he played his instrument.