The Trinity Game (46 page)

“Is Father Nick part of this?” He had to know.

“At most, he may have helped them unwittingly,” said Carter Ames. “He’s not a member of the council. But Conrad Winter is. And we know they have others in the Vatican.” He pulled a photograph from his breast pocket and handed it across. “Anyway, this is the man you need to focus on.” The man in the picture was bald, muscular, probably in his late thirties, with humorless eyes and thin lips. “It was taken at the airport yesterday. We spotted him coming off a flight from Montreal, kept him under surveillance until this afternoon. He slipped away from our operatives a couple hours ago. Just melted into the crowds. We have no leads on his location.”

“Who is he?”

“Ask your friend Pat.” The car came to a stop at the curb in front of the Saint Sebastian’s Boys Athletic Club. The driver got out and opened the coach door for Daniel.

“Wait a second,” said Daniel. “You know Pat?”

“Oh, Pat’s been in the game for years,” said Carter Ames. “As an ally, thankfully. We were very pleased when you brought him into this. Do give him my regards.”

Daniel locked the door behind him and stepped into the empty gym. He dropped the keys in his pocket and began spreading the groceries out on the edge of the boxing ring.

Pat entered the gym from one of the back rooms and made straight for the potato chips. “Jalapeño,” he said, ripping the bag open and inhaling. “My favorite.”

“We need to talk,” said Daniel, reaching into his back pocket for the photo Carter Ames had given him.

“Sure, what’s up?”

Tim Trinity came in from the changing rooms, wearing only boxer shorts, socks, and a bulletproof vest. “You’re right, it’s not too bad,” he said to Pat, “practically disappears under my shirt.” He stopped when he spotted the groceries on the boxing ring. “Oh good, I’m starved.” He grabbed a sandwich and took a big bite.

Pat said, “It won’t stop a bullet aimed at your head, Tim.”

“Don’t start that again.” Trinity groaned with a smile and turned to Daniel. “Our friend is in danger of becoming a nattering nabob of negativism.” He took another bite and chewed. “Great sandwich. Thanks.”

Daniel tucked the photo back into his pocket and picked up a sandwich while Trinity resumed the banter, teasing Pat about the health benefits of keeping a positive attitude.

After cheerfully wolfing down a couple of sandwiches and a handful of chips, Trinity announced he was turning in early to finish writing tomorrow’s sermon and get a good night’s sleep.

As soon as he was gone, Daniel turned to Pat and said, “Carter Ames sends his regards.”

“What?”

“You saying you don’t know who Carter Ames is?”

“Yeah, I know him. Just surprised you do.”

“We only just met.”

Pat thought for a second, then laughed through his nose. “I shoulda figured he’d show up in all this. Seems a little late to the party, though.”

“He’s been in it from the start. Remember I told you about the help I was getting from someone named Papa Legba?”

“Ah,” Pat smiled. “Crafty old bastard.”

“So what’s this Fleur-de-Lis
Foundation you guys work for?”

“He said I worked for the FDL?”

“He called you an ally.”

“That’s true enough. But I don’t work
for
them, I’m independent.”

“Who are they?”

Pat shook his head. “Carter Ames is playing us. He gave you a little glimpse, now he wants me to recruit you. I won’t do it.”

“But you believe in what they’re doing.”

“Yeah, and it’ll get me killed eventually. You too, if you join up. Look, man, when this thing with Tim is over, just ride off into the sunset with Julia and enjoy the rest of your life. You’ve earned it.”

“I’m not joining up. I just want to understand—”

“No, brother. You only think you do. I’m telling you, you really don’t want to know what’s going on out there.” Pat stuffed some chips in his mouth and chewed. “Anyway, you want to hear the sales pitch, you gonna have to ask Ames. You won’t hear it from me. Next subject.”

There was no use pressing him. Daniel pulled the photograph from his back pocket and handed it to Pat. “He gave me this. Said you—”

“Holy shit.” Pat stopped chewing. “What exactly did he say?”

“He said this guy came in on a flight from Montreal yesterday, but they lost track of him this afternoon. And he said you’d tell me about him.”

“His name is Lucien Drapeau, and he is a very bad man.” Pat handed the photo back to Daniel. “Pretty safe guess he’s here to kill your uncle.”

“An assassin?”

“Best in the world, maybe. They say he’s a fanatic for precision, never misses. I’ve crossed paths with him a few times over the years, but we’ve never gone head to head.”

“But he plays for the other team,” said Daniel, “the Council for World Peace or whatever it is.”

Pat shook his head. “Lucien Drapeau doesn’t play for any team. He’s all about the money.” He pointed at the photo in Daniel’s hand. “You need to memorize that face. Note the details…”

Daniel looked hard at the face. Eyes very close together, square jaw, small ears, and a dome shaped like a bullet, with a ridge running from front to back, right in the middle.

“How tall?”

“A smidge taller than me. About six-four, I’d say.”

Daniel looked back to the face in the photograph. “Weird,” he said, “the guy’s got no eyebrows.”

“No hair at all,” said Pat, “anywhere on his body. He removes it.”

“Some kind of kink?”

“No, he’s just that committed to his craft. No hair, no DNA evidence trail. The man is uncompromising about his work.” Pat put the bag of potato chips down on the boxing ring. “With Drapeau in the game, our chances of keeping Tim alive just went from slim to very-fucking-slim indeed. Wish I could tell you different, but that’s the truth, Ruth.”

J
ulia called just after ten o’clock. “Got your messages,” she said. “All five of them. Sorry, it’s been a little hectic around here. What’s up?”

“Come have a drink with me,” said Daniel.

After a second of silence, she said, “That would be nice, really, but not tonight, Danny. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“We’ve been having a lot of big days lately.” He could hear her laugh through the phone. It was a warm laugh. “Julia, I realize we’ve all got a lot on our plates right now, and tomorrow’s gonna be crazy. I just want to call a brief time-out, a couple of hours, just you and me and a bottle of wine.”
Stop talking
, he told himself. But he didn’t. “You know, don’t think of it as a date. I just, I need to focus all my attention on security tomorrow, and I can’t afford to be thinking about things left unsaid.”

“Geez, it sounded a lot more fun when I thought of it as a date,” said Julia, a smile in her voice. “OK, tell me where you are and I’ll come over and drink your wine while you leave nothing unsaid.”

“Cut me a little slack, would ya? It’s been a while since I asked a girl out.”

When Daniel was eighteen, Father Henri let him have a key to the place so he could lock up or open the gym in the morning, and he’d brought Julia here a few times late at night to sit up on the roof and watch the world go by.

But fourteen years have gone by since she was last up here. Fourteen years. Man.

And now he was about to ask her to just forget about that. He would tell her that, this time, he would not run away chasing ghosts and dreams. He would tell her that, this time, she was his dream.

He would ask her to make that dream come true.

After she’d agreed to come over, he’d come to the roof and set up a couple of folding lawn chairs and a small table he took from the office, a portable radio, the wine, and two plastic cups.

And now she was here again, standing with him on the roof, the skyline of downtown New Orleans glittering behind her in the night, her black hair fluttering in the hot, thick summer breeze, her olive skin shimmering, slightly moist, a glass of red wine in her slender hand.

He was tongue-tied by this woman. He switched on the radio, tuned it to WWOZ. A jazz tune he didn’t know, but it was sultry and slow and perfect.

“Julia, I-I have so many things…” He searched for the right words. “I want a second chance with you. I have thought of you every day for the last fourteen years, and I want you back.”

She smiled and sipped her wine. “Every day?” she said.

“Well, not
all
day, every day. But yeah.” He drank some wine. “Every day. I guess that sounds a little desperate.”

Any answer—even
Yes, that sounds desperate
—anything at all, would’ve been easier than the silence that followed as she sipped her wine and thought her private thoughts. Daniel struggled to
hide the tension that felt like it was about to rip him in half. He noticed his own hand shaking as he sipped his wine, hoped she didn’t notice it too.

Waiting…his heart pounding out the seconds that passed in silence.

Waiting…and reminding himself to breathe.

Waiting…each second a lifetime.

Finally Julia approached with an expression he couldn’t read and put her palm flat on his chest and said, “OK, but you can’t just walk back into my life and claim me as your girlfriend. If we do this, we take it slow. We go out on dates. If we like it, we go on more dates. And who knows? Maybe it leads to a relationship. Maybe it leads to forever. But we don’t just pick up where we left off fourteen years ago. We start anew.”

Daniel clinked his plastic cup against hers. “I’ll drink to that.”

As they drank, the radio DJ said, “And this one goes out to all the broken-hearted lovers in the Crescent City. Leroy Jones, with
Mood Indigo
.”

Daniel turned up the volume, put his wine down on the table. “Dance with me,” he said.

They danced, her hands behind his head, his hands on her waist. And as they danced, they kissed. Soft, inquisitive
getting to know you
kisses that became stronger, declarative
I remember you
kisses and finally grew into passionate, demanding
I want you right here right now
kisses.

Coming up for air, Julia said, “Wow.”

“Wow, indeed,” said Daniel.

She reached for her glass, drank some wine, and shared some with him from her mouth. “Can I ask you something?” she said.

He smiled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’ve really been celibate for fourteen years.”

“Gawd am I in trouble,” she laughed. She drank some more wine and they kissed again. “Say, do they still have that horrible yellow tartan fold-out couch in the office downstairs?”

They did.