by Judith Lucci
Jack looked a little sheepish. “White Lightin’. Where was that last night?” he asked, almost afraid to know. “I just went out to the pool house for another bottle of bubbly and someone gave me a cup of something … you know, a red plastic cup …,” his voice trailed off.
Kathryn glared at him. “In the pool house. That’s where Adam hides it. One time I found it hidden in a case of motor oil. Sometimes he hides it up in the eaves and I have to get Digger Stildove or Joe Parker over here to get it down and hide it. Every time we have a party that stuff turns up. Luckily, I confiscate most of it, or everybody around here would be blind, deaf, dumb, or dead. It sounds like I missed some?”
“I think I may have had a cup or two,” Jack admitted, paling at the thought.
Kathryn just shook her head, looked at him. “I hope you don’t go blind and are unable to see your beautiful wife,” she replied, with a caustic edge in her voice. “I keep telling Adam I’m gonna call the BATF and Virginia ABC on him.”
Robert laughed and turning to his longtime friend, said, “Jack, too bad we don’t have any nitrous oxide. We could start an IV, dump a bunch of fluid in you, give you some laughing gas, and then you’d be good to go for the next party. What do you think?”
Jack just stared at him and turned to Kathryn. “Then Kathryn would call the DEA too. Seriously, was that good champagne? I’ve had champagne lots of times, but I’ve never felt this bad.”
Kathryn laughed, her blue eyes sparkling again and replied, “Stop trying to blame it on the champagne, Jack. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the champagne. It was the moonshine, trust me. As a matter of fact, it was fairly expensive champagne that we pulled out for your wedding. I think that perhaps you were ‘over served’ by your own hand and the very willing hand of your host in the pool house. The best remedy I can suggest is a little bite of the dog that bit you.” She turned and looked at Robert and said, “You know what I mean, right Robert?”
“Of course, Grand.” He gave Jack the once over. Jack was looking more gray than green. After a critical appraisal he said, “Let’s go, Jack. We’re going to break into the Congressman’s Bloody Mary cache a few hours before everyone else, and then we’re taking a walk in the snow. We think Alex is probably in the barn and Kathryn would like her to come home.”
“We’ll get her for you, Kathryn. No problem.” Jack promised, not wanting to be on Kathryn Lee’s bad side. It just wasn’t good for him.
Kathryn laughed at them and added, “Be careful and bring my granddaughter home safely.”
Chapter 15
Jack and Robert headed out of the dining room, gathered their coats, gloves and jackets, and wandered through the kitchen on their way to the pool house where Congressman Adam Patrick Lee stored his precious Bloody Mary stash in five- gallon drums.
Jack wasn’t positive he wanted to drink again so soon. “Robert, you’re the doctor, do you really think I need more alcohol?” Jack’s gut rumbled at the thought.
Robert laughed, “How many Mardi Gras have you and I lived through and felt worse than this? Of course you need a Bloody Mary,” he expounded, his voice emphatic. “Besides, it’s a new year and you have a wife for the first time in your life, so yeah, let’s keep the celebration going.”
Commander Jack Francoise, the darling and the devil incarnate of the New Orleans Police Department, took a huge breath, straightened his shoulders, puffed out his chest, ran his fingers through his abundant salt and pepper hair and said, “Okay. I’m in. I’m ready to party! Let’s do it.”
The two friends paused briefly at the Secret Service Command Center located in the former maid’s quarters behind the butler’s pantry. The sophisticated security system was unmanned. Jack quickly surveyed the cameras and electronic media. Turning to Robert, he asked “Where the hell is the agent? He was here a little bit ago.”
Robert stared at the empty chair and said, “No idea. I haven’t been back this way for about an hour.”
Just then the door from the maid’s quarters opened and a young agent walked in. He nodded at Robert and Jack and sat down at the Command Center.
“Where’s Seth,” Jack asked, his voice brusque.
The young agent looked up from his array of security monitors and said, “I’m sorry, sir. Can you identify yourself?”
Jack stood as tall as he could, sucked in his gut, and answered, “Commander Jack Francoise, New Orleans Police Department. I’m a close friend of the Congressman’s family.”
The Secret Service agent was unyielding. “Identification?”
Jack was pissed. He lunged toward the young agent, slammed his NOPD ID on the counter, and repeated his question. “Where the hell is Seth?” Robert placed a restraining hand on Jack’s shoulder, which Jack furiously brushed away.
The agent carefully checked the ID and quickly replied, “Agent Farmer left a while ago on foot patrol. The agents in the Treehouse thought they heard something in the woods so Seth left to investigate.”
“Anything on the cameras,” Robert queried.
The agent flipped through all seventy cameras, quickly scanning six to eight image each time he scrolled the monitor, and said, “No. Just your requisite wildlife and farm animals.”
Jack clapped the young man on his shoulder. “Carry on and keep your eyes open,” he cautioned as he and Robert exited through the back door.
“Will do, sir,” the agent muttered as he was hit with the blast of cold air from the open back door.
Robert gave Jack a sideways look and said, “Hey man, weren’t you pretty hard on him. He’s just a kid.”
“That’s just the point. He is a kid, and that station should never be unmonitored. There’s a lot that can go down in just a few minutes.”
“Okay, but I think he was in the bathroom. I don’t think he was deliberately derelict in his duties,” Robert offered in the young agent’s defense. “You were kind of a jack ass.”
Jack laughed and said, “Take it easy, man. I am not going to get the kid fired. I just wanted to teach him a lesson. When did you become an advocate for young federal agents?” Jack turned his head and examined Robert’ face.
“I’m not. I just felt sorry for the guy. He was shaking in his boots. You can be a scary dude.”
Jack nodded, “As he should have been. Besides, you’re a doctor. You’re supposed to advocate for everyone. I’m a cop and I don’t.” He looked through the back door windows and up at the sky, “I’ve never seen snow come down this fast. Do you think this is a blizzard?”
“I don’t know. But it sure looks like it to me. How would I know? I’m from New Orleans too. I just know its cold out here!” Robert pulled his down jacket closely around him for warmth.
“You lived here for a long time. I thought you would know,” Jack grumbled. “Are we headed the right way? I can hardly see ahead it’s snowing so hard. Can you see the horse barn from here?”
“Yeah, it should be about one hundred and fifty yards ahead. I can see the cupola on the top,” Robert reassured Jack.
“Damn, we need a freakin’ snowmobile,” Jack remarked. “How many inches you think there are?”
Seven or so,” Robert responded, looking at their boot prints. “It is snowing like a son of a gun. I think they are predicting over a foot, at least that’s what I heard last night.”
Jack pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and squinted at the screen as he checked the weather. “Hell, it keeps up this way, they’ll be a foot before the party even starts. The updated forecast was fifteen inches about an hour ago. You think this will cut down on the brunch attendance,” Jack asked.
Robert shook his head. “No way. These folks will drive a combine if need be. Besides, this is the country, rural Virginia, and every one, and I do mean every one, has a Ford F150 or some other pickup truck. They may not have running water, but they will have a pick-up. The word party is serious talk in these parts, and no one misses Congressman Adam Patrick Lee’s Annual New Year’s Day Brunch. It’s the
only way to begin the year,” Robert assured him.
Jack digested this information and smiled. “That’s pretty wild. It sounds as popular as Mardi Gras in New Orleans. But of course, Mardi Gras lasts for weeks.” He paused for a minute and continued, “Robert, check out the sides those dudes are putting up around the Pavilion. I bet that’s a tough job in this weather.”
Robert nodded. “Got to be. These wind makes that job much harder than it usually is. That’s the dancing tent. Adam and Kathryn generally have two or three bands throughout the afternoon and evening. Everyone wanders over there to shake a leg or two. It’s a great party. You’ll love it!”
“I’m sure I will,” Jack agreed. He smiled to himself, thinking how wonderful his wedding weekend was. He’d worked long and hard hours without a vacation for years, and he was going to celebrate his time in Virginia with his bride for as long as he possibly could. I’m the luckiest man in the world.
Robert, who weighed much less than the burly, thick police commander, pulled his stocking hat as far down on his ears as he could and said, “Big guy, let’s pick up the pace. I’m sure Joe Parker has a pot of fresh coffee in the barn and I want some.”
Jack finished his Bloody Mary, crushed his cup, put it in his pocket, and said, “Sounds good to me, and by the way, Dr. Bonnet, my headache is just about gone. That Bloody Mary did the trick, and damn, it was good!”
Robert chucked, “Your headache is gone because your brain is frozen.”
The two men high-fived each other and continued their friendly banter as they trudged toward Kathryn Lee’s pride and joy, her horse barn, home to twelve incredible horses and Joe Parker’s coffee.
Chapter 16
What the hell is this? Visit the Barn day? Yassar cursed under his breath as he saw two men walking toward the horse barn. He grabbed his field glasses out of his jacket and looked at them. Neither of them appeared armed. Nevertheless, he spoke quietly into his earwig, “I’ve got two men walking toward the barn. No, cancel that. There are three men near the barn. One man is near the tractor and he is looking into it.”
“What the hell are they doing?” Stark’s voice was tense.
Yassar was irritated, and it was evident in his voice. “Who cares what they’re doing, they’re in my way. Permission to neutralize.”
“Hell no! Are you insane? This isn’t the killing fields. Just watch them and see what they do.” Stark looked around, searching for a tree to climb for a better look. He’d had no idea so many people would be out walking, particularly in a blizzard. This was a bitch.
Yassar didn’t respond. As he watched the men close the distance from the main house to the horse barn, he backed into the trees. Then he saw a tall, red-headed woman emerge from the barn and wave at the two men. The two men waved back and gestured her to come toward them.
Yassar adjusted his field glasses and zeroed in on the woman. She was beautiful, spectacular even, and Yassar felt his heart rate increase. He had a secret obsession for white women, particularly white American women, and had been guilty more than once of abuse toward them. Of course, once he was done with them, he spat his disrespect on them and tortured them, or handed them over to his buddies for more sex and abuse.
His mind digressed as he reflected back to a woman he had tortured and killed several weeks ago, before he left Yemen. She’d been a beautiful young American, supposedly a ‘human services worker’, but he and his friends were convinced she was a spy, and they followed and captured her at the market. I loved torturing that woman. What was her name? Mindy, yes, that was it. Short for Melinda.
He remembered how her teeth chattered when he told her what he was going to do to her. She’d been terrified. The things he had done to her had given him great pleasure, particularly killing her. His friend, Jamal had become livid, telling him he was cruel and crazy. Jamal had called him a psychopath. His heart hardened at the memory of Jamal’s words. Screw him! He is a nothing, a chicken.
Yassar’s thoughts were interrupted by Stark trying over and over again to reach him. He tore his earwig from his head and threw it in the snow. He was sick of Stark and sick of this mission. His earwig lay in the snow and became quickly covered. Yassar returned to his dreams.
For a few seconds he fantasized about having this woman in his bed, about how he would ravage her. He envisioned his hands wrapped around her long, white neck as he choked her, her eyes enormous and pleading. He felt himself become hard with anticipation. Hmmm, I wonder if I can capture and take her as a prize.
The thought of having Alex for just a few hours cheered him immensely, and suddenly he wasn’t cold any more. He’d figure a way to get her. If necessary, he’d dance into the party with his AK 47 and kill as many infidels as needed to capture her. That thought excited him even more. Yes, he would have the woman before the day was over. For a brief instant he felt guilty about his unholy thoughts, but then rationalized that Allah would excuse him because the woman was an infidel.
He picked up his earwig from the snow, “Yes, yes, I am coming. I know what time it is. I am almost done, so stop calling me.”
Yassar hung behind the tree line, watching the man walk toward the tractor. He was prepared to shoot if he discovered the shrapnel. Yassar smiled to himself, thinking about how the painstakingly, festively decorated tractor would shortly become a weapon of mass destruction. Besides, he had made it super easy to attach the fuse to the Christmas lights. That would add no suspicion to the lethal, shrapnel-filled tractor. He rubbed his hands in anticipation.
He quickly programmed the fuse into the cell phone and set the timer for detonation. Detonation time, high noon, Boom, boom. He visualized the shrapnel flying through the air, killing and maiming anyone in its path. Thank you, Allah, thank you for selecting me, your servant, Yassar, to do this holy work.
Back to reality. From the safety of the woods, Yassar watched Joe Parker slowly approach the tractor. His eyes wandered over to the metal building that housed the semi he had hidden in the midst of a party the night before. The semi was packed with several tons of shrapnel and would blow about ninety minutes after the tractor … just about the time the police and ambulance responders arrived, and those infidels, those laughable ‘do-gooder’ infidels, would be blown to smithereens.
Yassar’s heart constricted with hatred as he remembered the Hanover County policeman who had called him a psychopath a few months ago when he was in Virginia to scope out the mission. The cop had stopped him at a traffic light. That bastard will be dead in no time, he thought, as he continued to daydream.
Yassar was aroused by a stream of constant static in his earwig. It was Stark trying to reach him. I hate this son of a bitch, Yassar admitted to himself as he fumbled with his channel buttons. “What,” he hissed into the microphone. “What the hell do you want? I’m trying to get my job done,” he replied, his voice mocking Stark.
Stark was enraged by Yassar’s voice. “Can you see the all the people around you? Are you trying to screw this up? Finish your job at the tractor and get behind the tree line before you blow our mission!” Stark’s voice was tense and angry. His patience was gone. “There’s law enforcement all over the farm. Get your work done and get behind the tree line, you idiot.”
“I am behind the tree line. I’ve loaded the tractor,” Yassar replied impatiently. “I’m watching this man walk toward the tractor.”
“Get back over here, now,” Stark insisted.
Chapter 17
Joe Parker scratched his stocking-capped head with his gloved hand as he debated whether or not to return to the horse barn and call security about the man he had just seen darting into the woods. The man had a gun but it was snowing so hard that he wasn’t sure what kind of gun. It looked sort of like a hunting rifle. After some thought, he decided not to.
He’s probably a hunter, poaching on the Congressman’s land. This place is crawling with policemen and federal officers. I’m sure if this guy was a problem, they would have seen him. Besides, I’ll just
check out my tractor to make sure the guy didn’t mess with it, he decided, as he trudged through the deepening snow toward the old tractor.
Joe had almost reached the tractor when he thought he heard a voice calling his name. He turned and saw Alex, Robert, and the police commander from New Orleans standing outside the barn. They were hailing him to come their way.
Joe was delighted anytime Alex was home and visited the barn. He moved as quickly as he could in the deepening snow, smiling broadly, his hand raised in greeting as he approached the trio.
Alex spoke, “Joe, where have you been? I’ve done all your work. I’ve watered the horses, given them sweet feed, and mucked the stalls. They’ve all had apples and carrots. I would have put them to pasture, but there’s too much snow.”
Joe gave her a sheepish grin. “To tell the truth, Miss Alex, I been out walking to clear my head. That wedding champagne did a number on me,” he said, eyeing Jack suspiciously. “What was in that stuff? White lightening?”
Alex laughed and said, “I hardly think so, Joe, but you know Adam does put white lightening in his famous Bloody Marys, right?”
Joe nodded. “Yeah, the Congressman does like his moonshine. He doesn’t put too much in there, though. Miss Kathryn won’t let him. She thinks it’s dangerous.”
“I had some of the Congressman’s Virginia white lightening last night, and I thought that was what gave me the headache. So, Joe, you’re thinking it was the champagne,” Jack asked.
Joe nodded. “Yeah, I can handle a little bit of the lightening, but that champagne ‘bout killed me. I mean it,” he added emphatically. “I had a killer headache, like maybe I was drugged or something.”
“Man, I can identify with that,” Jack opined. “That champagne about killed me too. I thought my head would burst open an hour ago, but the cold air has cleared it up.”
