The Devil's Orchard (10 page)

“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.

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?”

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?”

“Why so formal today? You usually take such pleasure in saying my name so I sound like a backwoods pig farmer.”

“Annabel it is, then. Is there something in particular you’d like to talk about?”

“If that was you last night, it might’ve misfired. Explosions of any kind attract more federal agents, and it becomes sort of an acronym convention.”

“If you’re talking about what I saw on the news this morning, I hope you do bring in all the troops you can.” She slowed her gait to make sure Annabel didn’t twist an ankle by catching her low heels in the cracks spread across the front of their building. “Maybe if stuff like this keeps happening, you’ll reassign some of these guys someplace they’d do more good. I’m not so dangerous that I need to be watched twenty-four hours a day. It’s such a waste of taxpayer money.”

“No, this,” Annabel pointed to Cain, then herself, “is a waste of my time and taxpayer money, but do you have any idea what happened last night?” Annabel followed her inside and nodded when she pointed to the coffee service in the corner of the large open space.

They’d sit out there since Cain didn’t want anyone with a badge in her offices. “I can repeat what I read in the paper and saw on the news, but I’d hope you have more information than that.”

“So you couldn’t tell me who owned those places?”

She brought back two full cups with a tray of sweetener and cream. Any more of this and she’d have to retire and become a Southern belle whose life revolved around genteel pursuits. “We’d get along so much better if you all would spit out what you want rather than trying to play these bullshit games. Let’s try that approach. What do you want?” So much for her Southern belleness.

“The places hit last night, according to the DEA, allegedly belonged to the Luis family. From what the neighbors say, whoever owned them was moving inventory in and out in large quantities. Since no one ever reported anything out of fear, these locations weren’t under surveillance.”

Cain watched Annabel’s mouth as she spoke and the way it set to a grimace when she finished. Annabel appeared to be a woman with a great weight, which, if she had to guess, was caused by the accumulation of failures she’d experienced since her predecessor Barney Kyle was relieved of his post. Desperate people were usually dangerous, but because of Annabel’s position, she seemed almost gun-shy.

“Sounds like the beginning of a drug war,” she said, when Annabel didn’t add anything else.

“Or someone with a grudge against the owners.”

“So I’m your first stop…again?” She smiled, finding the predictability of these people laughable, even though in this case Annabel was right.

“I’m not blaming, I’m asking if you’ve heard anything. For someone who owns a bar, you’re surprisingly in the know about stuff like this.”

The answer was another surprise because it rang true. “I can promise you that drugs and the people who sell them are subjects we agree don’t have a place in this city. It’s not realistic that you or any police organization will get rid of all of them, but whenever I can help you take someone like Juan Luis down, I will. I even spoke to the police department when Rodolfo Luis was found dead, and they asked for my help. All I discovered then was he was a major player who was partnering with Big Gino and his sons.”

“We found Rodolfo,” Annabel said, and finally smiled. “Gino and family are still MIA. Do you know Big Gino’s wife still calls me about her grandson? She’s accepted that her husband and sons won’t be coming back, but that baby haunts her.”

“Let’s get back to what you need,” Cain said so she wouldn’t get sucked into this conversation.

“Hit a nerve?”

“You don’t think much of me, but to hang the death of a child on me is a stretch even for the FBI. I have children and one on the way, so there are things I’ll never be guilty of, no matter where your limited imagination skitters off to.”

“Fair enough.” Annabel spread her hands out and dropped them as if exhausted. “If you have contacts on the streets that tell you anything about this, I’d appreciate if you’d share that information with us. If your predictions of a drug war are true, the city’s going to become a cluster of chaos. Nothing thrives in chaos, Cain.”

“Give me a few days and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

Her assistant walked Annabel out, so Cain headed for her office. It was about the time Lou had set for the next part of her plan, and she only trusted the phone in there for his update. What Annabel failed to see was that war was at times chaotic, but also cleansing. The smaller dealers, who by nature were the most aggressive and vicious, didn’t survive, and only the fittest of the larger operations were left standing. It was easier to see your enemies coming when you thinned the herd.

“So, Annabel, the war is on its way whether your people are ready or not.”

*

“Mr. Rhodes.” The customs agent stared at the passport in his hand, then at Jerome. “Are you here on business or vacation?”

“Vacation,” he said as he scratched his face, not used to the stubble of his new beard. He didn’t panic because Gracelia’s forger was too good for this idiot to figure he was holding a bogus document.

“How long will you be in the country?” the agent asked, his eyes back on the passport.

“Two weeks tops. My plans are flexible, though.”

After another long hesitation, he stamped the document and waved him through. Had Gracelia been with him it might’ve taken longer, but he’d convinced her to give him a week before she came to meet him. He needed the time to bring her son in line and try to find a new partner. Staying where he was, surrounded by idiots, was suicidal, and he had no interest in that.

“Those two,” he told one of the crew waiting for him in baggage claim. “Where’s Gustavo?”

“He wait for you at the hotel.”

“Let’s go there first.” He got in the car and shook Pablo’s hand. He doubted Pablo had the opportunity to do what he’d asked, but he planned to keep hammering at him until he owned him. “Anything?”

“I speak with Miguel Gonzales and he promised a meeting with Señor Delarosa when you come. He sound
interesado
.”

“Good, now tell me about Gustavo. What’s he been up to?”

“He become a movie-star fan, so we ignore him. He no is a harm.”

“What movie star?” He had to give Gustavo credit. His new face might’ve woken up some of his listless brain cells, and with time he could have maybe found out something about Cain by following someone close to Remi Jatibon. But Gustavo had run out of time. It was Jerome’s goal to reel him in and ship him home to Gracelia. They could sit and spin revenge plots all they wanted together, with no hope of carrying any of them out.

“Dallas Montgomery,” Pablo said, mutilating the last name but confirming he was right. “He go every day to see the film, the men say. They complain it too hot for that shit.”

Jerome had broken down his theory of Casey’s partnership with the Jatibon family for Gracelia and Gustavo, but something must’ve gotten lost in translation, because if Gustavo thought Cain would trade Emma for some piece of ass Remi Jatibon was bedding, he hadn’t learned anything. The only reason to follow Dallas was a move toward Cain. Gustavo had definitely inherited Gracelia’s drive when it came to what they wanted, but he didn’t have a fucking clue how to get it.

Gustavo had picked a place they’d never used, and the shabbiness of the lobby and the people in it made him think you could kill someone in the middle of it and no one would claim to have seen a thing. Jerome looked everyone who glanced his way in the eye, a trick from his FBI days. People with something to hide had a tendency to turn away from someone who did that.

“Where is my mother,
puta
?” Gustavo asked as soon as he opened the door, using his usual curse for him by calling him a bitch.

Gustavo appeared unkempt, had bloodshot eyes, and smacked his lips when he wasn’t talking. The bindings keeping his sanity in place appeared strained and at a breaking point. Obsession complicated by heavy drug use was a recipe for disaster.