The Devil's Orchard

by Ali Vali

  “No, and my solution might not work, but it’s better than rolling over and inviting Hector to fuck me over. Jasper is someone I know, and his father was someone my father knew. To me that’s good enough.”

  “What makes you think he won’t do the same once he gets big enough to crush us?” Vincent’s tone had cooled and his question got a nod from Ramon.

  “If he does it’ll be with Vinny’s blessing, and if that comes to pass, I’ll leave the game and be content piddling behind the bars at my places.”

  “On my honor, I’d never do that to you, Cain,” Vinny said.

  “Then it’s up to your father,” she said as she walked up to Vincent and offered him her hand. “I graduated from that same old school, my friend, and my word is what means the most to me, aside from my family.”

  He shook her hand and stood to embrace her. “Thank you, and I do trust you. That hasn’t changed, and if anyone can think their way out of this shit, it’s you.”

  “I do love strategy, but sometimes you have to add a dose of something your opponent understands.” She glanced at her watch and wondered if they’d get a visit from Annabel Hicks before dessert.

  “Did you start without us?” Ramon asked.

  “I’m not starting with Hector, but I did want to send him a wake-up call. I don’t want him to feel like I’m not thinking of him. Tonight, though, is about dinner with friends and noodling.”

  “What is this noodling?” Ramon asked.

  “It’s a fishing technique,” she said, as she spread her hands out and wiggled her fingers. “You walk along in the water and stick your hands in every hole until you wrap them around the neck of the fish you’re looking for. That’s my version of it, anyway.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” Vinny asked.

  “Perhaps, but think of how rewarding the gutting and fileting will be once I find the pathetic little bastard.”

  *

  Judice O’Brannigan watched her daughter study the menu, knowing she’d probably narrowed her options to three choices. Fiona had always been like that, no matter if it was Burger King or fine dining like this. “Do you want any help?”

  “Do you think the veal or the steak is better?” Fiona never made eye contact, which meant she was leaning heavily toward her third choice.

  “Veal makes you feel guilty from the minute they serve it, steak is probably a good choice, but it’s an Italian restaurant—live a little.”

  “Lasagna it is.” Fiona tapped her wineglass against hers after laying her menu down.

  Vincent’s was packed but, surprisingly, not that noisy, as if everyone there was engaged in soft, secretive conversations. “There’s a lot of people not eating,” Judice said, also keeping her voice low.

  “Supposedly, according to Shelby, this is a mob hangout. If the guy’s not eating, he’s protecting his boss at the next table.” The door across from them opened and a beautiful woman stepped out and walked to the bar. Before she had a chance to ask, the bartender poured her a shot of something. “This is a different planet compared to California.”

  “Is that why you really moved? You want to make a name for yourself as a king slayer? Because that’s who these people answer to. Their king’s word is law, not the one that badge of yours represents. If one of them gives the order to kill you—you’re dead.” Judice held up her glass and swirled the good Chianti so it briefly colored the sides. “They’ll follow orders, then come here for a piece of veal, wine, and a cannoli to celebrate. They’ll feel no guilt for your death, and certainly not for whatever they order.”

  “Are you studying to be a mob expert on your breaks?” Fiona laughed and stopped when her mother didn’t join in. “What?”

  “I’ve never asked you for anything,” she said as she reached for Fiona’s hand, “but I want you to come back with me. I love you for wanting to help your friend’s daughter, but you know that’s a crime with no solution. There’s no reason to sacrifice yourself.”

  “You’re more worried about these goons than the gangs in LA?”

  “I worry about you all the time, but this,” she discreetly pointed around the room, “you have to be a member to understand or get safely close to this. Your friend, Shelby, how long has she chased her tail on this?”

  “She’s assigned to Cain Casey, and she’s honest about their lack of progress. I’m not FBI, but a fresh set of eyes never hurt.”

  “Have you met Casey?”

  “Once, when I first got here,” Fiona said, but the woman at the bar downing her second shot was a distraction she couldn’t ignore because she was being watched by a guard much like the other patrons enjoying dinner. “Shelby was hot to see her, but Cain let us in just to taunt her. It was her son’s birthday, so all Shelby got out of it was a slice of cake and a kick in the ass out the door. Who’s that cruel to someone after her parents have been murdered?” The woman slid her glass toward the bartender and walked back to the room she’d come from, the large man opening the door for her. “I’d say her son, but from the files I’ve read, the children belong to the woman she lives with.”

  “You don’t consider them Caseys?” Judice realized they hadn’t had too many conversations about sex and sexuality except for the normal growing-up talks slanted toward education and safety.

  “Genetically…probably,” Fiona said as if she were picking her words carefully from a field of land mines. “They both look like Casey, so it makes the blonde an idiot for wanting to bring more of those killers into the world. Eventually they should let the bloodline die out—the world would be better for it.”

  “Children are a gift, sweetheart, no matter how or why they’re born.” The jump in her pulse and the ache in her gut was a warning to change the subject. Any more enlightenment on her daughter’s views about this and she’d throw up. “No one is all good or all bad—no one.”

  “That’s true, but some of us lean heavily in one direction or the other. The Caseys aren’t nice people, and their files are so thick they’re close to having their own room at the station. It’s like they start their indoctrination program early and something in their genes soaks it up.”

  “All the reason to stay away from them.” The place in her soul that housed the truths of her life knew Fiona wouldn’t stay clear of the mobster. Her new bosses had dangled the carrot, and that’s all it’d taken for her to bite down and not let go until she took them all down. At least she’d try, but sometimes even pit bulls got taken out with a bullet to the head when someone who didn’t know any better thought them a threat.

  “That’s not going to be possible, Mama. I volunteered for the joint task force the NOPD and FBI put together for organized crime. I’m concentrating on Casey and her network.”

  “Why?” she asked. It didn’t matter that she knew the answer. Fiona had always been noble and earnest to the bone, but that need to conquer sometimes blinded her to the patches of thin ice under her feet. So far she’d been lucky, but if she truly pursued this, Cain Casey would go out of her way to make sure Fiona not only fell through the ice, but drowned as well.

  “Casey didn’t kill Shelby’s parents, but it ties into her. It’s like they were killed not by her but because of her. They deserve the peace that’ll only come by taking her down.”

  “Sometimes life isn’t that simple, and you end up destroying yourself instead of the target you aim for.”

  Fiona stopped buttering her bread and stared at her as if she was trying to see the inside of her head to decipher her thoughts. “Do you think I’m incompetent?”

  “No, but I don’t want this to consume you to the point you waste years of your life. Is it really that important in the realm of all things?”

  “Ah, you think I’ll keep at it until either I win or die trying?” Fiona asked, using the same words Judice had spoken when she’d enrolled her in gymnastics and they were learning handstands. Five lamps and numerous knickknacks had been sacrificed until she’d perfected the skill.

  “Yes. I
don’t think you realize what a real possibility that is.”

  *

  Dino Romero parked the piece-of-shit car his uncle Lou had given him the week before a block from the address he’d found in the glove compartment. This was the first assignment like this he’d been given, and he cursed that his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Sabana Greco didn’t seem to have this problem.

  “You look green,” Sabana said in her blunt, annoying style.

  She was young but, in his opinion, a vicious killer with no ability to feel guilt. “I just don’t want to screw this up. Cain’s counting on us.”

  “You feel bad for these fuckers, though, right?” Sabana looped her thumbs into the straps of her backpack and only gave him a glance before continuing to scope out the area around them. “If it makes you sleep better, think about my brother Rick. Your uncle Lou must have told you about him and what happened.”

  “He still hasn’t gotten over that.” He followed her to the backyard of a house close to where they were going. “If I never said it, I’m sorry for your loss. Uncle Lou said Rick was a solid guy.”

  “He was, and people like this killed him.” Sabana pointed to the moderately large house with iron bars on all the windows and two guys guarding the back door. “They might do the same to me eventually, but I’m taking out as many of these fuckers as I can before they do. Odds are, I’ll kill the bastards that murdered my brother for running an errand.”

  “I hope you’re right about everything except them getting to you. When Uncle Lou partnered people up you might’ve wanted someone with more experience, but I got your back, so it sure as hell ain’t going to be tonight.”

  Sabana momentarily relaxed, which transformed her face. She was a beautiful woman with real anger issues. “Thanks, and if you want, I’ll do everything until you’re more ready. I swear it’ll be between us. Rick didn’t kill anybody either before he died.”

  “I’d rather find out now if I can or not.” He took his gun from his holster and checked the silencer before he aimed. When Sabana stepped closer to him the tremor in his hands calmed, and he took her advice and thought of Rick. They’d never met, but when the guy he shot went down, his sense of satisfaction covered any guilt he’d thought would overwhelm him. “You ready?”

  “Yeah, and good job,” Sabana said after she’d shot the other guy, so they had a short window before someone sounded any type of alarm.

  He ran ahead of her and kicked in the back door. The noise started a series of screams, but he didn’t hesitate to start firing once it swung open. Sabana threw the bag as hard as she could and yelled at him to get moving before it hit the ground. They didn’t have much time to get clear.

  They made it back to where they’d taken their shots before the explosion blew out most of the windows and shot a fireball out of each one. The screaming got louder, and they had to walk a block before they didn’t hear it anymore. They’d done their part. At least he hadn’t fucked up their end.

  The money his uncle had paid out on the street had purchased three addresses, and after tonight, they’d all be burned to the ground. Fuck, he’d killed a guy and God knows how many others before the place was a pile of rubble. His father’s warning rang in his ears: “There’s no turning back.” He couldn’t undo or take back what he’d done, but he was too pumped to care. He did it, and he was okay with that.

  “Let’s go to my place and wait,” Sabana said. They walked back to the other car they’d left ten blocks away, and again, she got in the passenger seat. “That’s all we got for tonight, but you never know. Lou might need something else.”

  “Sure.” He was so full of adrenaline he tried not to let his voice crack. He’d killed someone and lived to serve Cain like this whenever necessary. It hit him again and made him want to howl at the moon to get it out of his system. He was going to love this job.

  Chapter Eight

  Cain stood in front of the small television set in the kitchen and watched the reporter point to the still-smoldering pile behind him. The guy had the thickest eyebrows she’d ever seen on a human being, which almost distracted her to the point of missing what he was saying.

  “The calls poured into nine-one-one late last night, but not even a quick response from the fire department could save this and two other houses in other locations. Fire inspectors suspect arson, but no word on how it was done. The neighbors we’ve spoken to are collectively relieved, since they suspected a large drug operation was working out of here,” the reporter said. He was trying too hard, in her opinion, to appear serious, but his expression made his eyebrows come together in what looked like a freakish unibrow.

  “At least he got the story right,” she said softly to her coffee mug.

  “We’ll be updating this news throughout the day, but to recap, this and two other homes were destroyed last night, and authorities have confirmed that people were inside all three. No confirmation on how many dead, so back to you, Randi.”

  “Is an omelet okay, Ms. Cain?” Carmen asked.

  “That’s fine, thanks.” She picked up the paper and sat at the table in the kitchen they used for breakfast.

  The three places she’d ordered hit contained a large portion of Gracelia’s inventory in the city, but she wasn’t counting on it all being gone. Anyone with an operation supposedly as large as Gracelia’s didn’t stockpile that much product in only three spots. At least, Cain certainly didn’t. Last night wasn’t a deathblow to their business, but it’d be painful to recover from. However, she didn’t know if any of Gracelia’s top people were inside along with the local idiots she’d hired to move and guard her stash.

  “Good morning, Mom,” Hayden said, and Hannah repeated his greeting. “Don’t forget my game tonight.”

  “We’ll be there cheering. Right, Hannah?”

  “I can’t wait.” Hannah clapped her hands.

  Katlin entered and held the door for Merrick. After Merrick was seated next to Hannah, Katlin pointed to the headlines. The picture showed the place Lou had sent Sabana and Dino. She’d spoken to Lou the night before to make sure Dino’s first job hadn’t changed his mind about his future with them.

  “Big news day,” Merrick said, and pointed at the television where their action reporter had moved to another of the burnt shells. “You think it’ll get any more exciting by the five o’clock cycle?”

  “I predict the noon break will be unusually productive if you’re an action reporter.”

  They finished their coffee and Cain took the kids to school on her way to the warehouse. It was important that she be visible today since her message to Gracelia wasn’t complete. As they drove away, the van across the street surprisingly stayed put, and a smaller van took position a few cars behind them. She was sure it was Annabel’s way of circling her wagons in hopes of an ambush. But the special agent in charge needed to realize that when you were so focused on trying to find the small crack to get in, it was easy to lose sight of your own defenses. That was the blind spot Cain was planning to exploit to the fullest when the time came.

  “We might have company,” Katlin said. She’d taken over for Lou behind the wheel for the day.

  The Suburban she’d recently switched to sat so far up it gave her a good view of what was in front of them. About four guys with the same short haircut, gray suits, and boring ties were leaning against navy sedans that blocked her entrance.

  “Take it slow, but if anyone tries to punch me in the head,” she said as Katlin turned toward the gate, “shoot them.”

  “You want to move your cars?” Katlin said to the guy who’d taken a more alert stance by the first vehicle in line. The guy smiled but stayed put. “You deaf, asshole?”

  “Is Cain Casey hiding back there?” The guy unbuttoned his jacket and put his hands on his hips, as if to show off his weapon.

  “Why are you guys this tough only when you travel in packs?” Katlin taunted him. “Is that something they teach you at FBI school, or is that a New Orleans policy only?”
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  The man took a step toward them and Cain laughed. She opened the back door and repeated her order to shoot anyone who got within five feet of her with a clenched fist—only she said it loud enough for everyone to hear. “Is there a reason you’re blocking the way into my office?”

  Behind the now obviously pissed agent, the passenger side of the illegally parked car opened and Annabel Hicks got out. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her skirt and looked at her as if trying to decide the best way to start.

  “Can I speak to you?”

  “When you retire, Agent Hicks, you should consider a career in acting.”

  “Why?” Annabel asked. The dark circles under her eyes made her appear older and drained.

  “You have a flair for the dramatic that’d come across well onscreen, I’d think. No matter what, you go out of your way to find the most extreme ways to get five minutes out of me.” She tapped the spot over her eyebrow that held the scar Agent Brent Cehan had put there when he slammed her head into the trunk of her car. “Normal people, even those I don’t like very much, either call or knock on the door. I’m not so inhospitable that I won’t consider such an approach.”

  “I’ve never considered our relationship normal, and when I’m replaced you might actually come to miss my flair, as you put it.”

  “Going somewhere?”

  “Not willingly, no.” She motioned for the guy with her to move everything from the entrance. “Can I have five minutes of your time?”

  Cain saw Cehan in one of the other cars and stared at him for a long moment before she answered. “If you want that, I’d be happy to accommodate you, but if you insist on guests I’ll pass.”

  “Just me,” Annabel said, and glared at the agent closest to her when he opened his mouth and complained.

  “Let’s walk from here, then. Katlin, drive in and we’ll meet you.” She waved Annabel ahead of her and turned to glance up at the apartment across the way where the team assigned to them usually spent their days when she was here. “What can I do for you, Special Agent Hicks?”