Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 15 - The Mona Lisa Murders (8 page)

I threw off the lines and Edmund eased us into the river The powerful current caught us. ‘Boudreaux. You watch from bow. No telling what the storm, she throw in river. There is catch pole.’

The twin Mercs throbbed almost soundlessly as we slowly cut across the broad Mississippi. I retrieved a twelve-foot aluminum pole with a hook at one end from clamps on the gunwale.

‘Look!’ Latasha shouted, pointing behind us.

Headlights pulled into the parking area beside the fish house. Two figures dashed through the bright beams and disappeared inside.

‘Is that them?’ She asked, looking around at me.

Grimly, I muttered. ‘Who else?’

With a hint of frustration in her voice she asked. ‘But how did they find us?’

‘I don’t know.’ And I didn’t, but the events of the last couple days had given me a few ideas, ideas for which I really didn’t care. The tenacity of those following us nagged at me. That wasn’t the m.o. of small time hoods and clockers.

What it brought to mind was the bloodlust determination of remorseless revenge between crime families.

I patted the bulk of Edmund’s cell phone in my pocket, wishing for word from Eddie or Danny. Until then—

In the river before me loomed a darker object several feet in breadth. ‘Cut right,’ I shouted, extending the pole in an effort to ease us away from the oncoming tangle of logs.

Behind me, Latasha gasped. Edmund uttered a soft curse as he spun the wheel and tapped the throttle, quickly shooting us from the path of the tangled detritus swept downriver by the flood.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

‘They’re leaving,’ Latasha said.

The headlights backed up, then swooped across the river, catching us momentarily in their beams. Muttering a curse, I instinctively dropped to one knee, my eyes on the powerful cones of light. I breathed easier when they continued out of the parking lot.

Back to the east, false dawn crept across the sky, its fingers pushing back the night. Slowly, objects on the east shore took shape.

As we drew closer to shore, I spotted the obelisk monument of the Chalmette Battlefield due north. ‘Chalmette?’ I pointed to the monument.

Edmund grunted. ‘We wait in trees along levee until sunrise. Then we go into the city.’

Water willows lined the base of the levee. The wiry little Melungeon deftly slipped the craft into the thick crowns of the willows and I snugged us to an eight-inch thick trunk.

Edmund gestured to the backpack. ‘Bottled water. Coffee. Sandwiches. I make them myself.’ He patted his stomach. ‘We eat. Long day ahead of us.’

Latasha broke out a cigarette. ‘I need one,’ she muttered when she saw me watching her.

Edmund might be the river’s greatest pilot, but he was the world’s worst sandwich maker. The bread was dry and the bologna bordered on rancid. I got about half down. That’s when the cell phone broke into the’Geaux tiger’ LSU fight song.

I fumbled to unwrap the phone. ‘Yeah.’

It was Danny.

‘That was fast,’ I said.

‘The networks are jammed. I didn’t think I was going to get through.’

‘What did you find out?’

‘Not a whole lot, but enough to call you back and warn you.’

‘Warn me?’ I frowned at Edmund and Latasha. ‘About what?’

‘I don’t know who those goons are working for, but they’re members of an underground society in Italy called ‘
le frese di gola.
’

‘
Le frese di gola
? What does that mean?’

‘The Throat Cutters.’

Chapter Thirteen

A chill ran up my spine. ‘Throat Cutters?’

‘That’s what the man said. They’re from Calabria, Italy.’

‘Calabria?’

‘Yeah. You know how Italy is shaped like a boot?’

‘Vaguely.’

‘Well, Calabria is down at the toe of the boot. And the word back east is those boys play for keeps.’

At that moment, in a bobbing boat tied to a willow tree on the shore of the flooding Mississippi with the sun rising, it hit me just how deadly the problems we faced. The sobering word there was ‘deadly’.

Danny continued. ‘I can’t tell you what family I talked to, but it was one of the big five in New York. They say no one hires ‘
le frese di gola
’ unless they’re playing for keeps.’

I blew out through my lips. I tried to laugh, but my throat was too dry. ‘That ain’t exactly what I wanted to hear, Danny.’

‘I know, Tony. I don’t know if I can give you a hand with those boys or not, but I’ll do my best. I’m trying to get a handle on this joker out of Thailand, Nemo.’

‘So, what you’re saying is that there’s a locomotive coming and there’s no way for us to get off the tracks.’

He hesitated for several long moments, then muttered. ‘Yeah. I suppose it is. For the time being.’

I tried to laugh. ‘Do what you can for us, hear?’

‘I hear. Good luck.’

‘What did he say,’ Latasha asked when I punched off. Her taut face reflected her apprehension.

‘Not good. You somehow got yourself tangled up in some kind of international intrigue.’

Edmund grunted. ‘Huh? What that you say?’

I held up the cell phone. ‘This guy just verified what we had suspected. Someone wants Latasha’s package bad enough to kill for it.’

Her face grew pale. ‘Then, let’s give it them. I’ll flip burgers for my tuition.’

I thought back to that night in the swamp with Antone. I could still hear the guttural voice,
Maybe we ought to go ahead and do them now. Save time later.

‘To be honest, I think it’s gone too far already. If there was some way to negotiate the situation maybe we could work something out, but I don’t see how.’

‘What’s this throat-cutter business?’

I looked at her, then Edmund. ‘You might as well know it all.’ I went on to tell them of the society of
le frese di gola,
the Throat Cutters, and the black octopus tattoo that identified them, and the fact they took no prisoners.

A broad grin split Edmund’s swarthy face. ‘Them
peeshwanks
, they don’t scare me none. Ah yeeeee! We go.’

I laughed at his bravado, but none of the goons I’d so far met were what I would call
peeshwanks
or runts
.

He gestured upriver. ‘Ahead, we turn back north. That be the Ninth Ward.’

Latasha cast a worried look upriver. ‘What happens if we meet someone?’

‘Don’t you worry, little
cher
. Edmund, he sell fish and crabs all over this part of the city. I know everyone. No one bother us.’

We eased into the current and headed upriver as the city came to life. I checked the cell phone. The battery was low, so I put it on the charger and secured it under the console of the Marlin.

Overhead, occasional helicopters flew by. What few small boats we encountered simply waved and continued on their missions.

After a mile or so, we turned up the Harbor Canal and then eased into neighborhoods surrounded by muddy water up to the bottom of the windows.

Edmund grimaced. ‘This be worse than Katrina, I tell you.’

Latasha looked around at him. ‘You know where we are?’

He nodded to a broad expanse of water a hundred yards wide stretching from east to west. ‘
Oui
. That be St. Claud, the boulevard. East about a mile is Jefferson Parkway. That where your bus station be.’

Before Latasha or I could reply, shouts from behind jerked us around. Fifty yards back, three men were pushing through the waist deep water toward us. One carried a bottle of wine by the neck. Another waved a revolver over his head. 

‘Stop or I’ll shoot,’ he shouted.

Latasha screamed.

Edmund gunned the engine and cut sharply to the left then back to the right.

I don’t know if the bozo took a shot or not for the roar of the engines was all I could hear. A hundred yards up St. Claud, Edmund slowed, shaking his head. ‘Looters. Me, I hear on the radio that they be taking everything they can find.’

I cursed under my breath. On both sides, I caught glimpses of faces staring from dark windows at us. Some waved, some started toward us, then turned back when we continued.

By now, other rescue boats had appeared, methodically loading people into their small craft and transporting them to Refugee Centers.

None of the rescue workers paid us any attention other than cursory waves of greeting.

Thirty minutes later, we pulled up in front of the flooded Americanways Bus Terminal.

The looters had already worked the bus station over. Windows were shattered; vending machines torn open; half the locker doors hung open; and every TV screen on the walls had been smashed. The stench of mold and mildew assailed our nostrils.

I eyed the expanse of water from the door to the stairs. About thirty feet, I guessed, not anxious to wade through it. ‘Second floor you say?’

‘Yeah.’ She studied the water with the same apprehension I felt.

‘Here. You two, you need this.’

Edmund handed us plastic bottle with spray heads. ‘Gasoline,’ he said. He made a wiggling motion with his hand. ‘The snakes, they don’t care none for gasoline.’

‘Good idea. Darn good idea.’ I looked at Latasha. ‘Give me the key. I’ll go. No sense in both of us.’

‘No. I’m going too.’

‘You sure?’

She swallowed hard, none too eager to slide into the muddy swirling water. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Move slow,’ I cautioned. ‘From the looks of things, there’s broken glass everywhere.’

‘You’re the one to be careful,’ she said, nodding to my running shoes. ‘I found some boots at the fish house.’

I studied the brown water surrounding the boat, imagining e-coli germs the size of Moby Dick swimming around just waiting for some idiot to jump in the water. ‘O.K.,’ I muttered. ‘Here we go.’

Armed with our gasoline, we slipped into the water. It was warm and greasy. A slick film of slime covered the floor, and through the soles of my Nikes, I felt shards of glass with every step. I scanned the lobby, searching for floating bodies, but saw nothing.

In the distance came the cries from isolated citizens punctuated by the coughing of straining outboards.

‘How you doing,’ I mumbled over my shoulder, keeping my eyes on the water before me.

‘I’m still here.’

To my relief, only a few pieces of broken glass and a couple water-logged boards littered the stairs—no snakes.

I waited for Latasha to go ahead of me. Halfway up, she pulled the key from her pocket and gave me a big grin.

‘Let’s get with it,’ I said. ‘The sooner we get that package, the sooner we get out of here.’

‘It can’t be too soon for me.’ With an impish grin, she turned and bounded up the stairs to the landing.

I started up, but jerked to a halt when she screamed and stumbled backward. She slammed to the floor, one hand thrown wide. With a terrified scream, she leaped to her feet then lunged for the railing around the edge of the mezzanine.

All I could think about were the snakes up above, and then I saw the key.

Just as it toppled over the edge, her hand shot under the railing, grasping frantically at the small key.

I saw it fall in slow motion, except it wasn’t slow enough. I leaped at the rail, stretching as far as I could in a desperate effort to catch the falling piece of metal, but it missed my fingers by inches, landing in the muddy water with a solemn plunk.

Chapter Fourteen

Latasha lay motionless for what seemed like hours, then she jumped to her feet and in a amazing litany of curses, spun and sprayed the snakes slithering around on the terrazzo landing.

A couple slid over the top of the stairs and started down.

I hit them with a few heavy doses of gasoline, sending them curving through the railing and into the water below.

Edmund shouted. ‘What happened?’

Latasha called back. ‘The key! I lost the key!’

Ignoring his shouts, I hurried up the stairs, fearful she’d been struck by one of the serpents when she fell to the floor.

By the time I reached to landing, the last snake was disappearing over the edge, dodging a poorly-aimed kick she’d made at it.

Latasha spun and raced down the stairs in tears. ‘I can’t believe it. Not after all this.’ She looked up at me, a glimmer of hope on his face. ‘Did you see where it hit? Maybe we can find it.’

‘In that muck down there? Forget it. Which locker is the package? I’ll see if I can jimmy it.’

‘Two eighty-seven. Over there,’ she replied, pointing at the end of a bank of lockers.

One look, and I knew there was no way to break into it. Then an idea hit me. ‘A master key,’ I blurted out, looking around. ‘They’re bound to have a master key for these lockers.’

His face red with frustration, Edmund shouted when he saw us descending the stairs. ‘What the blazes be going on?

‘We told you, we lost the key,’ I replied.

‘You what?’

‘I’ll explain later.’ With Latasha at my side, we waded across the lobby. By now, the humid hair was heavy with the stinging odor of gasoline ‘Watch out for snakes,’ I warned her. When we rounded a corner, we froze.

Sprawled on the counter staring at us with glassy eyes lay a six-foot alligator.

‘That’s no snake,’ she muttered.

‘You’re telling me.’

‘On second thought,’ she whispered. ‘Let’s forget the master key.’

‘Good idea,’ I mumbled, backing away. ‘Best you’ve had all day. We can figure out what to do next when we get in the boat.’

Even as we took our first step back, the reptile slid lazily into the muddy water and vanished. ‘Move,’ I whispered. ‘Fast.’

We covered the twenty feet to the powerboat in mere seconds, but they seemed like weeks.

Edmund stood in the bow, his dark eyes searching the water and his fingers tightly gripping the butt of an revolver. With his free hand, he helped us over the gunwale.

Ten feet behind us, the alligator drifted to the surface, only the tip of his snout and his eyes above water. Edmund chuckled. ‘I be sorry, Mister ‘Gator. You gots to find your dinner somewhere else.’