Vieux Carré Voodoo (22 page)

She inhaled sharply, and her eyes narrowed a bit. A smile
began to spread across her face. “He was right, you are sharp.” She punched me
lightly in the shoulder. “And good looking. I can see why he’s so crazy about
you.”

I ignored that and smiled back at her. “So, tell me, who
killed the Wolf? Was it you two?”

She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t us. We didn’t see it
happen. But we did see whoever it was dump the body.” She closed her eyes and
inhaled the smell of the brewing coffee. She reached over and filled her mug.
“Even with our binoculars—we were on a roof nearby—all we saw was someone climb
up onto your roof. They lugged something over to the edge and tossed it over.”
She took a gulp of the coffee and sighed with bliss. “This is good. Anyway, we
could see it was the Wolf’s body. Whoever was up there was a man, we could tell
that much, but he was wearing a stocking cap over his face, and all black.” She
shrugged. “It may have been Abram, for all we know. Whoever it was climbed back
down from the roof behind your building.”

I inhaled sharply.
Then if it wasn’t Colin, he had to
have seen who it was. He was down in the courtyard—

I cut off that thought before it went any further. There was
a half-smile on her face as she took another drink.

I was being played.

“Divide and conquer” was the oldest trick in the book—so was
splitting off the weakest member of the herd. I bristled a little inwardly.
Obviously, I wasn’t a trained agent like Colin, but I wasn’t exactly a fool. As
I watched the coffee streaming down into the pot, I realized two things—they’d
been watching us so they’d known Colin was here, and their dramatic entrance was
carefully designed to throw us both off balance. Or maybe just
me
—and
she was trying to drive a wedge between Colin and me.

Well, two can play at that game,
I thought, pouring
myself a cup of coffee and allowing a confused look to appear on my face.
Let’s see what you’re up to, Agent Zielinsky—I bet I can get some information
out of you.

After all, nobody can play dumb better than I can. I opened
my eyes a little wider and turned to face her. “You aren’t serious, are you?” I
allowed a little horror and uncertainty to creep into my voice. “You don’t
think…”

She shrugged. “It’s possible, after all. He works for
Blackledge now, and you know they’re capable of anything.” She shivered. “The
stories I’ve heard”—her eyes glinted—“make things we do look like child’s play.
But at least we work for the security of our country, and our people. They work
for whoever pays them the most.”

“I worked for them, too.”

She dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “You were just
part of their cover. You never really worked for them, Scotty.” She hopped off
the counter and refilled her coffee cup. “You’re not capable of what they
require.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Now I wasn’t playing dumb—I
really didn’t know what she was talking about.

“You and the other one—Frank, right—never did any research
on who you were working for?” She patted the side of my face. “Not that there
would be anything to find. They are much too good for that—it is necessary for
their success for them to operate completely under the radar. If people knew—”
She made a face. “I wish Abram would stop working for them and come back to us.
He was the best, you know, which is why none of us can understand why he works
for such awful people now.” She clinked her coffee mug against mine. “Have you
heard of Blackwater?”

“Who hasn’t?” Blackwater was a private company of
mercenaries for hire, and had worked for the U.S. government in Iraq. My mother
had raged against Blackwater as more of their atrocities and criminal conduct
had become public knowledge over the last few years.

She leaned in close and whispered, “Blackledge makes
Blackwater look like amateurs. I love Abram like a brother—but I wish he didn’t
work for those awful people.” She turned and walked out of the kitchen.

I gulped down the rest of my coffee and refilled it. I
leaned against the counter and closed my eyes.

She’s playing you, just like you thought. She’s trying
to drive a wedge between you and Colin—Abram, whatever the hell his name is. The
Ninja Lesbians are working their own angle here, and whatever it is, the endgame
is different than the one he’s playing for. And you already don’t trust him. Why
should you believe anything she says? You don’t know her, either. And the
Mossad—remember what Colin told you about why he left the Mossad? He had to kill
a young boy who was a suspected terrorist. But is that true?

And what she said made a certain kind of sense.

Frank and I had simply taken his word all those years ago
that the Blackledge Agency—which was how he’d always referred to it—was just an
international investigation company, with offices all over the globe. I’d
certainly never thought to do any research, even after the Mardi Gras case.
Angela Blackledge had denied all knowledge of Colin and us.

How could we have been so stupid? And after Colin was
gone—we hadn’t bothered to do any more checking. I hadn’t wanted to know any
more than I did.

Maybe Lindy was right. My mind just didn’t work that way.

It is necessary for their success for them to operate
completely under the radar.

Angela had lied back then, to protect their agent. She’d
already admitted as much on the phone.

You’re assuming that was actually Angela Blackledge you
spoke to this morning—it could have been anyone, really—someone working with or
for Colin, someone he put up to it. No, that doesn’t make any sense. Angela
Blackledge ran Blackledge, that’s been verified. And if Colin is working for
her…it makes sense.

My head was starting to hurt again.

I plastered a smile on my face and walked back into the
living room in time to hear Rhoda say, “Okay, then. We will touch base with you
later this evening here—and compare notes.” She stood up and held out her hand
to Colin. “It’s a pleasure to be working with you again.”

Hugs were exchanged, and the two of them left by my front
door this time. I escorted them down the stairs and out the gate, and just as I
was about to shut it, Lindy smiled at me and whispered, “Remember what we talked
about.”

I nodded, gave her a brittle smile, and shut the gate behind
her.

I climbed the steps. Colin was pacing in my living room. I
stood and watched him for a moment, then folded my arms and leaned against the
hallway wall. “Okay, so now we’re working with them?”

Colin looked at me. His face was grim. “No, we aren’t.” He
sat down on the couch, and patted the cushion next to him. “Sit down, we need to
talk.”

I ignored him and sat down in the armchair. “Wasn’t that
what was decided?”

“Scotty, I don’t trust Rhoda and Lindy as far as I can throw
them.” He shook his head. “You forget, babe, I
trained
them. They are
very good at what they do.” He smiled at me. “No doubt when you were in the
kitchen with Lindy, she told you some things that made you wonder if you could
trust me.”

I kept my face impassive. “She suggested you might have
killed Levi—I mean, the Wolf.” I gave a nonchalant shrug. “It wasn’t like I
hadn’t wondered about it myself.”

His eyes narrowed for a moment. Finally, after a few moments
he said, “They killed him,” he mused aloud. “But why? He wasn’t close to finding
Kali’s Eye, and supposedly he was their only lead. And I don’t believe for a
minute they didn’t know you were my Scotty. As soon as they had an address, they
would have found out everything about the building—who owns it, who else lives
in it. I trained them, remember, and that’s what I would have done—what any
agent worth his pay would have done.” He pulled out his cell phone and punched
in some numbers. “Excuse me for a moment.” He got up and opened the shutters,
stepping out onto the balcony.

I got up and walked over to my computer. I logged into the
Internet and pulled up a search engine. I typed
Blackledge Mercenary
into the search box, and clicked Enter. A number of links popped up. I leaned
forward. The first one was an article from
The Times
of London
.
The headline read:
government paid
mercenaries, mp charges
.

I clicked, and started reading.

In 1968, mercenaries paid by the British government
stole a valuable religious symbol of a small country called Pleshiwar, charges
Charles Driscoll, MP.

“A full investigation is called for,” Driscoll went on
to say in a press conference. “How long has our government been employing
mercenaries to conduct covert operations in violation of international law?”

Driscoll alleges that the UK government hired an
international mercenary company called Blackledge to steal Kali’s Eye, a
sapphire of deep religious significance, in the small country of Pleshiwar in
1968. The theft resulted in the collapse of a theocratic government that had
ruled the country for centuries. Driscoll also charges that operatives in the
country were involved in the revolution that followed. The end result was the
installation of a government friendly to the Western powers.

“I do not know, as of yet, why this was necessary,”
Driscoll went on to say. “The country has no apparent strategic value, in either
its location or in resources. But I demand a full investigation be launched into
this matter—and into this company, known only as Blackledge…”

The article didn’t really say anything else of significance.

But there it was, in black and white.

I smiled to myself. MP Driscoll would be very interested to
know there was uranium in Pleshiwar.

It made sense. Doc and his buddies had been hired by
Blackledge to steal Kali’s Eye—to trigger the overthrow of the priests who’d
ruled the country for centuries.

It explained the financial windfall Gretsch and Doc had
enjoyed after their tour of duty was up. It also explained the question of why
they’d done it. They’d been paid to do it. It also explained Colin’s presence in
New Orleans. Former employees of Blackledge were being murdered. They’d probably
been paid to steal it, hide it away, and now the trail had finally led back to
them.

I heard the shutters close, so I minimized the program and
spun around in my desk chair. I smiled.

“What are you doing?” Colin slid his phone back into his
pocket.

“Checking e-mails.” I put the computer to sleep and stood
up. My heart was beating quickly, and I hoped my face didn’t give me away. “What
do we do now? Who did you call?”

“Just letting Angela know about this new complication.” He
yawned.

“I have a question for you.” I folded my arms.

“Shoot,” he replied.

“You trained them for the Mossad?”

“No, I trained Lindy.” He smiled. “Rhoda and I went through
training together.”

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth about Blackledge?”

His eyes narrowed. “What exactly did Lindy say to you in the
kitchen?”

“Don’t lie to me, Colin,” I replied. “It doesn’t matter what
she said to me. I can use a computer—anyone can.” I gestured back at my
computer.

He sighed and sat back down on the couch. “You weren’t
checking your e-mails, were you?”

“No.” I sat down next to him. “Look, you’re back. For
whatever reason, you’re here. All I want you to do is tell me the truth.”

He looked down, and started drumming his fingers on his
knee. “I tell you what I am allowed to tell you—and sometimes, and I know you
don’t want to hear this, but sometimes I didn’t tell you things because you were
better off not knowing them.”

“I get it.” I took a deep breath. “I really do, Colin. But I
just read an article about Blackledge being paid by the British government to
steal the Eye of Kali, which triggered a revolution that wound up overthrowing
the Pleshiwarian government. I’m not going to get into the morality of
self-determination, or whether or not the old government was a bad thing or not.
But is that true? Were Doc and the others working for Blackledge when they stole
the Eye?”

He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. “I honestly
don’t know, Scotty. I don’t know. But if I had to hazard a guess, I would say
it’s highly likely.” He shrugged. “I had access to a lot of information about
Doc before I got here—information that could have easily been gathered, but it
also seemed pretty handy.” He sighed. “I honestly can’t tell you one way or the
other. I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do.”

I hadn’t expected that much, to be honest. I smiled at him.
“Thanks, Colin, I appreciate that.”

He yawned again, and stretched a bit. “Man, I am tired. You
mind if I take a little catnap?”

I feigned a yawn myself. “Not a bad idea.” He got up and
started to walk down the hallway. “Not so fast, mister. You can sleep on the
couch.”

He looked hurt. “I thought—”

“You thought wrong.” I grabbed a blanket and a spare pillow
out of the hall closet and tossed them to him. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Scotty—”

I ignored him and walked down the hallway, slamming my
bedroom door for effect.

I was tired, but I wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep.

I got my laptop out of the closet and turned it on. It was
all starting to make sense to me now.

Man, I wished Frank were here. He’d know what to do.

But for now, I was going to do some more research on
Blackledge and Pleshiwar. And wait till Mom and Dad found out Colin was working
for a company worse than Blackwater—that overthrew governments and who knew what
else.

I sat down on the bed and leaned back against my pillows,
propping the laptop on the bed next to me. I yawned again as I waited for it to
boot up. As soon as the little icon popped up showing I was connected to the
wireless, I opened the search engine again. This time, I just typed in
Blackledge
.