Authors: C. R. Daems
"Herbs," I said and
smiled.
"Oh, that will satisfy
her." He gave a hearty laugh. "I've the tape of the fight. You were
impressive. Those were scary guys, and the idea that they could just kidnap you
and keep you for their amusement is beyond comprehension. Yet you know it
happens, probably more frequently than we can imagine." He snorted.
"Grace must have stayed up all night going over the tape trying to figure
out how you managed to kill those two. I did manage to get her to stop for an
hour while I scanned the security footage for last night. Nothing that I could
see."
"Give me your hands,
Ron," I said reaching out towards him. However, when he saw me grimace in
pain, he got up and moved a small table between us and placed his hands on it.
I placed mine over his and watched as his day and the next unfolded. I smiled.
"Are Grace and I supposed to
stop having mad, passionate sex while you're watching my future?" His
cheeks turned a pale shade of pink.
"Tell Grace, the break in will
be tonight, well officially tomorrow around 2:15 a.m., it's Sheila, and she
will be there for about a half hour. Tell her I'd like to come along. I have an
idea."
"How?" He shook his head
like a dog after a bath and stared off into the distance. "By now they,
whoever, have decided to break into your shop looking for clues to where you
might have decided to go. So I will be reviewing a tape tonight with nothing on
it, but the one I reviewed tomorrow night will have the break in on it. Of course,
by then it would have already happened. Grace is right. It's enough to give one
a headache, but it is obvious why a criminal could think of a hundred ways to
capitalize on your gift. Seeing is great but being able to change the outcome...priceless."
"Yes. But if I change
A
then
B, C, D
...are also influenced and possibly changed."
"Now I definitely have a
headache. How is Grace going to find you?"
"Tell her I'll join her at my
shop at 2:30 a.m."
"I almost forgot to tell you.
Grace said to tell you they discovered two bodies in the ocean, about a mile
off the coast. One was a cigar smoker."
* * *
"Vicky, I really appreciate
you driving me home at this hour," I said. It was two-twenty a.m., and the
roads were deserted.
"Are you sure you are going to
be safe at your shop? You are welcome to stay at my place as long as you need.
It's no trouble."
"I appreciate you putting me
up without any questions. Unless I am mistaken—"
"Renee, there's two cars in
your alley and a man standing next to your door. Want me to continue going? We
can go back—"
"No. It's safe. Again, thank
you," I said as I climbed painfully out of the car. The man, who I didn't
recognize, watched intently as I approached.
"Hi, I'm Renee. I live
here."
"Grace did say you'd be here
at two-thirty," he said, as he knocked on the door, and a minute later,
the door opened.
"Renee," Grace said,
smiling. "You're scary. Sheila isn't being cooperative. What do you have
planned?"
"Let me talk to her. We're in
need of a lead, and she may be in need of protection," I said thinking
about the two bodies Grace had said they found in the ocean. "Do you have
a photo of the two dead men Ron said you found?"
"Yes," Grace said pulling
out her smartphone, tapping a few times on the screen, and handing it to me. I
took it and proceeded into the shop where Mike and another woman stood guarding
Sheila. She was dressed completely in black, skinny ankle pants, long sleeved
sweater, and running shoes.
"Hi, Sheila. Nice outfit,"
I said as I sat down next to her. She showed considerable control, not moving
when it was obvious from the hate in her eyes and shifting posture that she
wanted to attack. "The people who want me to do their bidding are
evil—"
"Don't know what you are
talking about," Sheila said with a slight smirk.
"Then you don't care that your
cigar smoking man and his aide were found floating in the ocean. Wouldn't be
surprised if you couldn't contact Ken either. It's a throw-away world. No more
fixing things when you no longer need them. Just buy new ones." Although
she didn't comment her eyes grew wide for a second. I leaned over and grabbed
her hands. She tried to jerk free but the handcuffs limited her motion, and she
reluctantly relaxed. As I watched she was released from custody in a few days,
which wasn't surprising as her only crime was breaking and entering. I watched
as she consolidated her funds—a little less than five million—and
took off for New Zealand where she had property and an established identity.
Maybe real. I sat fascinated as I watched the time go by. Six months later,
they found her.
"Well, are you going to tell
me someone is going to kill me?" she said with a know-it-all smile.
"You already know that. These
aren't the normal rich or mafia type you’re used to dealing with. These people
have connections and power." I leaned closer to her. "Your millions
and New Zealand identity will only delay the inevitable," I whispered. She
jerked back away from me so violently her chair would have crashed to the floor
if the male agent hadn't caught it in time. The hate in her eyes had turned to
fear, and her face drained of color.
"Grace, how bad do you want the
evil Mister X?" I asked, turning towards her. "Enough to give Sheila
witness protection if she helps catch him?"
Grace stood silent for a long while
looking between Sheila and me. "I'll consider it."
"How will that help?"
Sheila asked, looking at me. "If he has the kind of power...you
believe."
"To begin with, it could
prevent any possible prosecution for other things the FBI finds in the course
of future events, and you won't be alone. I'll help." I thought the
implied
by viewing your future
might
be the deal clincher. While Sheila sat quietly contemplating her terrible
choices, Grace pulled me aside.
"What did you see?"
"Didn't have to. I know Sheila
worked for the cigar man, and it's reasonable to assume he was in contact with
the man or group after me. He's dead because the group is very careful and doesn't
like loose ends. Sheila knows she walking on a knife’s edge and she could
become a loose end when she accomplishes her task. These people have real
power, so she going to need protection as soon as they discover she's been
identified."
"We certainly can't hold her
for long. We have her on breaking and entering. She didn't have time to steal
anything." Grace laughed. "OK. We make deals with the minnows all the
time in order to catch the big fish. And I agree with you. I think the people
after you are big fish."
The discussions went on for hours.
I doubted Sheila had too much faith in the Witness Protection program, but she
liked the idea I would keep tabs on her future. Sheila would claim that I
contacted Angela, which I would do tomorrow, and apologized for not letting her
know I wasn't going to be there for our session. I had panicked over the MS666
incident. But I had decided to return when the FBI assured me they were
monitoring them closely. Angela would then contact Sheila. The FBI would
monitor Sheila's laptop in an effort to discover the server and a possible
location of the individual on the other end.
After the specific details had all
been worked out, I took Sheila's hands to make sure she would be alive for the
next couple of weeks and actually got to see the communications between her and
the man called Mister Black. Grace took me back to the condo where Jim was
sitting up waiting.
"Being in love with you is living
on the wild side. I think the Chinese have a saying, something about living in
interesting times," he said, holding me in a death grip and kissing my
hair.
"I think that's a curse."
"It would be if you weren't
part of it. I caught you. You're a keeper. And I'm not throwing you back."
When they let Sheila go, she drove
back to her hotel and went straight to her room. She felt brain-dead. How the
hell had they caught her? She had been sure no one had Renee's shop staked out.
Why would they? The gang wasn't likely to return. She'd bet the FBI were
swarming over their territory. By the FBI's response, she'd wager they knew to
the minute when she'd arrive and how long she'd be there. She felt like they
had her on a small island in the middle of a swamp full of crocs, poisonous
snakes, and God knew what other creepy crawlers. She had nowhere to go that
didn't have a bad ending. She opened her laptop and typed the agreed upon
message—
she had found nothing at
Renee's shop
—and got drunk.
* * *
The next day, after several Tylenol,
she sent a message to Angela to go to Mambo Renee's shop and see if she could
find out why she didn't show. Of course, she already knew why, and that her nemesis
would be there. Shortly afterward, there was a knock at the door. When she
answered, two men in maintenance clothing stood smiling outside.
"Ms. Volland, we're here to
look at the leak you reported in the bathroom," the older man said,
flashing FBI identification.
"About time," she
answered. She had agreed it would be a good idea to sweep the room just in
case. The older man immediately began walking around the room waving a handheld
device.
"If you'll show me what's
leaking, we'll have a look. Usually something just needs tightening or a washer
replaced. Shouldn't take long."
"In there," I said
pointing to the laptop lying on the bed. He nodded, picking it up and heading
for the bathroom. A few minutes later the older man waved for her to follow him
into the bathroom.
"No bugs, but there are
windows. Why don't you show Darin how it works."
"Simple. The login password is
Blackman
with a capital B. When it
comes to life, I click on the
black
envelope icon
to send Mister Black email, the
red envelope icon
to send Angela email, and the
black square with the yellow smiley face
to check in with Mister Black."
"Does he always answer?"
Darin asked.
"Yes, but I only click on it
when he sets up an appointment. There is also a slot machine icon that is used
for the game Angela is playing."
"How does that work?"
Darin asked.
"Mister Black notifies me he
wants Angela to pick a color, and I set up an appointment with Angela. At the
time arranged, I click on the slot machine icon, it rotates, and three colored
coins appear. Within a minute or so, two blank out, and I send Mister Black an
email with the color she selected."
"Clever, only this machine is
in contact with Mister Black, and I assume you never see or hear him."
"True. When I click on his
icon, the smiley face looks to be talking when I hear a voice speaking;
however, I doubt it's his real voice. It just doesn't sound...natural."
"And I assume Angela never sees
or hears you," the older man said, frowning.
"Right. We only communicate by
email and the game."
"Give me a few minutes to copy
things and set up a trace on your machine. I doubt I'll find anything or the
trace will lead to Mister Black, but I might provide a few bread crumbs for us
to point us in the right direction. Maybe get a bit closer."
Sheila agreed with Darin. Mister
Black was very cautious and well connected, which meant he would have had these
two laptops specially customized to prevent a trace back to him or his
organization. But what choice did she have except to play along. They left
about an hour later.
* * *
For the next two days, a flurry of
emails went between Sheila, Angela, and Mister Black. Angela reported Mambo
Renee had called her and would be returning to her shop. After she had been
released from the hospital, she had panicked and decided to leave the state;
however, the FBI had convinced her it was safe to stay. She and Renee had
decided to reschedule the fortunetelling session until next week since Renee
wasn't feeling well and didn't plan to reopen her shop until after the weekend.
Sheila got the impression that Mister Black was aware of the incident, the
FBI's involvement with MS666, and was all right with the delay.
I decided to keep the shop closed
over the weekend and to stay at Jim's condo while I recovered. His place was
better than a hospital—I had my own sexy doctor, and it had the added
advantage of being able to keep in touch with Grace and hear the latest news.
"Well, my computer people have
traced the emails to and from Mister Black to Sheila to a server in Washington
D.C. Of course, it's unlikely the email user on that server will be a real
person, and even if it is, it's unlikely to be the one we want. But it puts us
one step closer." Grace paused for a bite of her cheese cracker and a sip
of wine.
"I can continue to play the
game with Angela. I don't believe it's helping him do anything. He's trying to
establish how far I can see into the future," I said, hoping it would give
them extra time to trace him.
"That would be good. One of
the men suggested contacting the NSA and having them do a search on one of
Sheila's emails. They think the emails are being rerouted from the receiving
server to another."
"I thought they said our
emails weren't being monitored," Jim said.
"Define monitored. If you mean
a person sitting down and reading each one, then they aren't being monitored.
If you mean scanned for a list of
words
and phrases of interest
, then they are being monitored. Let's face it, why
would they collect the information and then discard it? That would be like you
buying every American newspaper but only reading one."
"What words?"
"Knowing the government, it's a
large list and includes lots of common words you use every day."
* * *
"Are you feeling well enough
to open the shop tomorrow?" Jim asked after
we had returned to his place. "I know I'm being
paranoid, but I feel better when you're here, and I know you're safe. You have
to admit I'm justified in being worried sick. The Locos are running loose in
the French Quarter; you've been firebombed and kidnapped; and the MS666 are mad
at you. Oh, I forgot Mister Black." He didn't smile.
I leaned over and kissed him
tenderly. "Yes, you do have reasons to worry just as I worry about your
safety since you insist on marrying me. Our only alternatives are either to
hide in fear for the rest of our lives or to take reasonable precautions.” I
held up my hand and wiggled my fingers to emphasize my rings. "Maybe I
should have one made for you."
"No, I'd probably stick one of
my patients by accident," he said with a sigh and pulled me close.
"Maybe it's the Loa, or
intuition, or wishful thinking, but I believe staying and fighting is the right
thing to do."
"Then we stay and fight."
* * *
I knocked on Sheila's room door
just before seven a.m., and was just about to knock again when I heard the door
being unlocked. Sheila had a short terry-cloth robe on, no makeup, hair
jumbled, and looked like she hadn't slept.
"Renee, do you know what time
it is? Sane people are just getting to bed at this hour," she said but
waved me inside. "If it's bad news I don't want to hear it until I've had
coffee." She made a straight line for the small bar and the coffee maker.
"Do you want some?"
"No, thanks. I just stopped by
to give you a fortunetelling. I promised you I'd support you if you helped."
"All right, but if you see
something bad... What am I saying. Bad! It would be hard to get my future any
worse. A hard place and a rock—Mister Black and the FBI." She sat
close to me and held out her hands. I took them in mine. It was obvious from
her actions she was worried; however, I saw nothing bad happening for the next
month.
"You're good for the next
several weeks. You've got plenty of money; relax and enjoy yourself, Sheila.
Like you, I have a few things to worry about: Mister Black, MS666, the FBI, and
others. But I've decided not to be a victim but rather to fight back. I’ll help
you if you continue to help me."
"Why? I've done some..."
"Because you are going to
retire and become a model citizen."
"You saw that in my
future?"
"No. Right now you and I are
worrying too much to think of the future. But I believe we have one."
"All right, Mambo Renee. You
seem to have enough faith for both of us. I will help anyway I can."
* * *
I opened the shop at the usual time,
and it was a pretty normal day. In the slow periods, I checked my website and
found it had been working while I wasn't and showed a nice profit. The number
of hits per day continued to increase. After I closed, I fixed dinner since I'd
be staying here tonight as I had Mr. Bishop for a fortunetelling session. He
appeared right on time and looked to be in a good mood.
"Evening, Mambo Renee. I heard
you were attacked by some gang members. Locos?" he asked, frowning, and gave
me the once over. Of course, he couldn't see anything as all the injuries were
hidden beneath my clothes.
"No, MS666. They seemed to
think I helped the Locos a while back."
"I don't like the Locos, but
if you helped them keep those Salvadorians out of the French Quarter, we all
owe you. I have a friend who has a business in their territory, and they are a
nasty group. Far worse than the Locos, which is saying a lot." He sat,
placing his large hands on the table.
I placed mine over his and closed
my eyes. It was obvious Harry was enjoying life. He and his wife seemed to be
spending more time together doing things. They looked very much in love. But
about two weeks in the future a fire occurred and the flames spread throughout
half of his business. The damage was significant, and he had to close for what
looked like an extended period.
"Yes, your life does appear
good. You and your wife seem very happy. But you need to be careful at your
business. There is something not safe in your storage room. Whatever it is,
it's a fire hazard," I said. I didn't know what it was but I could have
told him within a few minutes when it would occur.
"Thank you, Mambo Renee. I'll
check it out." He frowned and looked down in thought. While he did, I
watched as he went back to his bar. He spent almost the entire night after the
bar closed examining the storage room. Around five a.m., he moved some things
around. I fast-forwarded ahead and didn't see the fire occurring over the next
month. This was why I was determined to fight Mr. Black. I wouldn’t save the
world, but I wanted to help people find peace in their life through Vodou and
smooth the bumps where I could, even if I could only help a few.
* * *
On Wednesday, Oatha was scheduled
for a fortunetelling session, so I again planned to sleep at home. Customer
traffic was moderate most of the day. I closed at the normal time, fixed myself
a dinner, washed, and dressed. She was on time as usual.
"You look all right,
Renee," she said as she entered. I heard you were attacked by some
gang."
"The police showed in time and
saved me from being seriously hurt."
"That was fortunate. You have
been lucky, what with the firebombing, kidnapping, and now gang
troubles—well, not lucky those things happened...you know what I
mean," she said in frustration.
"I know what you mean, and
yes, I have been lucky. What about you?" I said in an attempt to switch
topics.
"Yes, my life is perfect. Good
children, a good husband, and good friends." She sat back and smiled.
"Want to look at the
future?"
"Yes." She placed her
hands on the table, and I placed mine over hers. I was relieved to see nothing unusual
happening. Her husband Virgil had a small accident on his boat judging from his
wrapped forearm, but it didn't appear serious based on Oatha's reaction.
"Life looks beautifully boring over the next couple of weeks. Maybe Virgil
might have one of his usual minor accidents," I said. It wasn't unusual
for fishermen to have accidents on their boats, so she wouldn't worry, but it
maintained my image. These were the normal kinds of events we all encounter. I felt
I shouldn't interfere even when I could. In this case, I couldn't, since I had
no way of knowing how he hurt himself. I guess if it had been really serious, I
might have suggested he come for a fortunetelling. It was back to a set of rules
I keep thinking I need to develop but never seem to get around to making. Oatha
left happy after a glass of tea and bringing me up to date on her children,
husband, and neighbors.