Chaos at Crescent City Medical Center (30 page)

The governor felt his fear mount.  If I had a gun, I'd blow his
fucking
head off, he thought to himself.  The stranger outweighed him by at least forty pounds and
was
at least 25 years younger.  He
appeared rather strong.  George Raccine was trying to guess his age when he
noticed he had a ponytail.  By G
od, he thought to himself, I'm being accosted by a fairy.  The governor, empowered by false security, stood up and looked down at the
dark stranger.  The man didn't move and continued to look at him with disgust
.

"What the hell d' you want
”, the Governor blustered
. 
“
You know, if I make any noise, I'll have ten security guards in here in a second." 

  "No," the stranger said
softly.  "You'd only have eight and they are not immediately available.
  Two have been unavoidably detained.  You see, they didn't want me here, visiting you so late at night, especially without an appointment."

"What the hell d' you want, money, what?"

"I want Crescent City Medical Center, immediately.  You know some of my partners.  I believe you had a nice dinner in Washington a while back and you promised them CCMC.  Remember?  Remember the arrangements set at that meeting?"

The governor laughed.  "You couldn't p
ossibly represent Health
Trust.  They're a corporation which happens to be on the up and up."

The man smiled slightly.  "Of course they're very reputable, on the up and up as you say, and I help them stay up by making sure they get what they need."   

The
re was a long silence and the Governor began to feel a scary feeling permeate his
body.  The hairs stood up on his arms and neck.
  Both men glared at each other.  The ponytailed stranger continued, "You're a politician, a smart man, I hear.   You know how to get the things you need
…”

“I don’t need anything you SOB.  I have everything I want.”

The dark stranger just stared at him and said, “I
understand you have some rather unique tastes for young people, isn't it?"  The ponytailed stranger smiled broadly at the governor's discomfort.

As the evil one's insinuations sunk in, the governor paled.  "You
son of a bitch. 
You’re a dead man. 
I
can have you killed.
"

"Ah, but you won't, you can't.  Your taste runs a little towards Latin
a
young people, doesn't it?  Pubescent, I believe.  You and I both know about your 'specials needs'.  We both have special ways of getting what we need."

Governor Raccine listened helplessly as the stranger caressed his leather belt at an accelerated pace. 

The stranger's voice became stronger. 
“Governor, as a matter of face I know lots of people who would stand in line to kill you…people you have lied to and deceived over the years.
"

The Governor
, his fear mounting,
continued to
listen to him
.

“
I want Crescent City Medical Center, tomorrow.  I want a write up in the
Times Picayune
on Sunday
explaining why it is necessary for CCMC to join the HealthTrust network.
 
Think of it as s
ort of a Mardi Gras gift to the group who've financed you in the past, and, wh
o may finance you in the future
if you give us what we want. 
Of course, they may kill you as well.
Besides, if you do what we say, we won't tell the good people of Louisiana about your sexual proclivities."

"I don't want a dammed thing your group has to offer. I was dealing with a reputable group, or so I thought.  Get the hell out of here."
  Raccine was strong, but not nearly as strong as he needed to be to overpower the stranger
.  He could feel himself shaking as he realized what the stakes were.

"It's not going to happen, Governor.  You see, my people control CCMC now.  We could control East Jefferson if we wanted to, maybe we will.  By the way, how's Grace?"  The evil one's voice remained soft as he continued to look up at the governor.  "Haven't seen her for
a few days."

The impact of the stranger's words hit the governor like a wave of cold water.  "Get the fuck out of here.  I'll expose you as you
are
-
a band of thugs
!
"

The ponytailed stranger stood up, facing the governor.  "
Go ahead, do it
,
but I can guarantee that your betrayal to the people of Louisiana will be a bigger story.  You
’d
be history, rotting in jail while the cops look for us forever.  They’ll never find us.”

Raccine continued to stare at the stranger, unable to speak.

The ponytailed man continued, “Governor, where is you
r
political reason?
Your astuteness?” Salvadal egged him on, his voice terrifying the chief Executive. “
You have no bargaining power, nothing.  You failed with the paroles.
You failed with the prisons, you failed with everything we asked you to do.  I am not sure why you are still alive.  Each day, sometimes each hour, I sit and wait for the order to kill you. “

Raccine said nothing, his eyes wide open.  He was paralyzed with fear.

The stranger continued, “
Some
of our best people are still in prison because you screwed us.  Didn't you also fail some Latin children?  One young
girl, in
particular, as I remember? 
She’s grown up now but reme
mbers everything you did to her,
and she is ready to talk.
"

The color began to drain from the Governor's face.

The ponytail  continued.  "
We want CCMC tomorrow.  You understand?"
  You disgust me.  Raping children on a missionary trip.  What kind of low life bastard are you?  I should kill you now.”

With that, the ponytailed
str
anger lunged at the governor.  H
e moved
behind him in an instant, wrapping th
e leather strap around his neck and
making him gasp for breath
.  H
is eyes bulged wildly, as he anticipated his death.

The stranger held the strap for just the right amount of time,
and then released
the strap just seconds before the governor lost consciousness.  He said, "CCMC tomorrow.  No excuses or Grace dies.  It won't be a painl
ess death, and neither will yours
."

The evil one left quietly through the terrace door of the library and headed towards the French Quarter.

Robert and Alex stood gaping
at each other in her kitchen. 

"Robert,
you scared the hell
out of me.  I thought you
were an
intruder, someone
coming to kill me.  Why didn't you call?"  Alex was so frightened her voice was shaking, and her breath was little gasps.
She thought her lungs would burst.

"We've got to get out of here.  You're in danger.  Right now.  Hurry, my car's out front
!
"

"I have on my nightgown. Besides, there's a New Orleans cop guarding my house."  Alex hesitated for a second,
and then
added, "
He’s
obviously not doing a good job since you got in."

Robert shook his head and said in a terse voice, "He's dead.  Got a fresh bullet hole in his head.  Grab a coat, we're leaving
!
"

"Call Francois while I get dressed.  His numbers are on the table by the phone.  Tell him we're coming to the station, to meet us there."  Robert nodded
,
and Alex ran into her bedroom to grab some clothes.

Robert h
ad just dialed Francois' cell
when he heard Alex scream.  Robert dropped the phone and ran into Alex's bedroom where a tall, ponytailed man was attempting to break through the glass doors.  The double dead bolt was the only reason he hadn't entered.

"Hurry, Alex."  Robert grabbed her and pulled her out of the bedroom.  They were leaving through the front when they heard the sounds of breaking glass.

The two made a dash for Robert's Mercedes parked in front of the NOPD police car.  Alex heard several dogs barking as Robert tried
repeatedly to start the car
.  "Damn, it won't start.  He must've pulled the coil wire."

"We've got to run, Robert
!
  It's the only way
!
"

They ran down the street, aware the stranger was following.  Alex thought he was gaining on them.
She could almost feel his hot breath on her neck.  At any moment
she expected to be shot in
the back.  Why doesn't he kill us
, she
wondered.
A
lex’s muscle
s
were burning in her legs,
and
she was weak and
tiring
. Her
heart felt like it would burst in her chest.  The pain in her shoulder was excruciating. 
She knew they were losing the battle when s
uddenly, luck intervened.  Alex heard a loud snarl and a curs
e.  She looked back and saw two Siberian
Huskies attacking
the ponytailed man.  Thank goodness for those dogs, she thought.  They belonged to her neighbor down the street, a sculptor who stayed up at night working.

The dog fight
gave Alex and Robert an edge.  They crossed Saint Charles and headed towards the
Vieux Carre
where they lost themselves in the thinning crowds of the French Quarter.  They sat on a bench in Jackson Square for a moment to catch their breath.  All around them drunks, street people, and masked tourists looked at them strangely.  At any other time Alex would have been petrified to be in the Quarter at two in the morning, much less in her nightgown. 
But now
, t
his
motley
group was friendlier than the ponytailed stranger.   A slightly worn, weary clown sat down beside them and asked if they were okay. 

Robert answered quickly.  "No, we're not.  A tall man with a ponytail is chasing us.   We've got to go somewhere and hide, at
l
east until we can get the police
.  "Uh-oh.  Got to go,
Alex
!
"  Robert gestured toward
the man two hundred
feet away at the corner.  Alex and Robert ran up Saint Peter's to Bourbon, hoping to get lost in the crowd.

The evil one saw them take off.
  He figured they'd head toward
Bourbon, so he cut through some alleys and courtyards to meet them.  He wasn't
even winded from the dog attack or the run.
  One of
the dogs
had bitten him, although it didn't hurt at all.

Alex's breath was again coming in short, small gasps as she and Robert approached Bourbon Street
,
and she had a terrible pain in her shoulder.  She knew that she couldn't go much further. 

Suddenly, they were face to face with the ponytailed man.
She was paralyzed with fear.
He looked at them both an
d smiled.  As he reached toward
Alex,
he grimaced, then crumpled to the ground, unconscious.  Behind him stood the clown, wielding a large pink club in his hand
.
On the side of the club was printed the word "BONK" in large green letters.

"Call Alex at CCMC next week.  I'll reward you
.  You saved our lives,
” Alex
, breathing heavily,
ma
naged to say.

The clown smiled broadly, his make-up thin and running. 
"Mind if I hit him again when he wakes up?" 

"
Be my guest.
Do what you want, but call Captain Francois at the NOPD before he gets away.  Thanks.  You saved our lives."  Robert shook the clown's hand before he and Alex moved off.
Alex wanted to hug him but there was no time.

They ducked into the Maison Bourbon where Robert's friend, Steve, the owner, was stacking chairs on tables.  Several of the jaz
z musicians drank coffee as they sat
in th
e corner
of the store
.  They looked startled when
the tall man and the beautiful lady in her nightgown entered the bar after hours.
 

"Steve, you've got to hide us.  There's a man down the street trying to kill us.  Can we go upstairs?"

One look at Robert and Steve didn’t hesitate. 
"Sure.  Want me to call the police?" 

Steve looked nonplussed, calm and collected as if half dressed women entered his bar after hours every evening.  Of
course, this is New Orleans, they probably do, Alex thought to herself.

"Take us up and we'll talk.  No police.  They'll lead him to us."  Robert knew he wasn't making sense.

Steve looked at Robert strangely.  "Let's go."

Taking a circuitous route, t
he three of them headed
through the kitchen
and passed cases of
wine and kegs
of beer
. They headed
toward
the back room where Steve summoned an ancient brass elevator.  With considerable grunting and groaning,
squeaking
and screaming
,
the monstrosity pulled to a screeching halt and the three got on.
In a normal situation, Alex would never have boarded the old
b
rass elevator but at this point, there was no choice.  Her
uncertainty
showed on her face and Steve noted it.

"Here goes.  Cross your fingers."  Steve pressed the big black button marked three.  "It usually makes it."  Steve's non
chalance was relaxing to Alex as he looked at her and said, “I promise!”

Alex gaped back at him, he
r blue eyes huge
as she viewed her new brass prison.

“So…..Robert, what’c
ha been up to,” Steve bantered and grinned
at the bewildered couple
as the elevator attempted to climb upwards
.  Alex decided she really liked Steve and admired
his
casualness and insouciance. 

Robert picked up Steve’s cue
and responded dispassionately, “Not much really, just fighting voodoo, hexes and curses and running away from ponytailed stra
ngers
who are trying to kill us.”

Steve nodded, “Yeah, I see that.  Hang loose, we’ll almost there.”
 
The ancient elevator
finally reached its destination and the elevator opened into a
stud
io apartment with a window
wall
that offered a panoramic view of the Quarter.  The furnishings were
art nouveau with Italian leather sofas.
Antique juke boxes and pin ball machines lined the walls. 
From the
exposed rafters
hung
numerous Tiffany light fixtures that colored the room with a romantic light.

"What a
cool
place
," Alex stammered
, stunned as she looked around the old building
.

Steve gave her a crafty smile
as he walked toward an antique walnut cabinet and removed a
stainless Smith and Wesson
45
semi-automatic
from the drawer
.
After making sure it was loaded, he handed it to Robert and
took a 357 revolver
for himself.  Alex watched him with bewilderment, a dazed expression on her face.
  "Yeah, most people expect a warehouse with large rats and cockroaches.  Now, what in the hell's going on with you two?
  By the way, who in the hell are you
?
"
Steve asked, looking at Alex.

"It's crazy and tied together with the problems at CCMC," Robert began to explain. 

Alex
was shocked back into reality and
interrupted.  "
I’m Alex.
I must have lost my cell while we were running.
Can I use your phone?  I need to call Captain Francois at the NOPD."  Alex was searching the apartment for a phone.

Steve handed her
his black
iPhone
.  Alex looked at Robert. "Do you remember
the
numbers?"  Robert shook his head.

"I don't want to call 911 because they'll send a bunch of units here, and if the ponytail got away, you can bet he's looking for us."  Robert
thought
out loud.

"Would you guys speak English?  What ponytail?"  Steve's voice was insistent as he became aggravated.

Alex tried to explain.  "A man with a ponytail was chasing us.  He broke into my home and was going to kill me.  Anyway, he killed the policeman who was guarding my house.  He chased us into the Quarter and had just caught us when he was hit in the head with a club by a clown
."  Alex finished breathlessly and realized
how ridiculous her story sounded.

Steve started laughing.  "
I feel like I’m on an acid trip back in the
seventies
. 
You must mean old Frank."

"Who?" Robert and Alex said together.

"Old Frank.  He's sort of a self-prescribed one man vigilante who spends his evenings and nights protecting unassuming tourists from danger
in the Quarter
.  Usually he dresses as a clown although he has other disguises, too.  Next favorite costume is a pirate.  He hangs
around Jackson Square and tells tourists about the safe boundaries of the Quarter.  You know, don't go north of Bourbon, east and west of whatever.  He's a good man."  Steve looked
particularly
pl
eased at Frank's latest triumph since he had saved his old friend Robert.

"
He s
u
re saved us.  Do you have that
phone
book, Steve?"

“I haven’t had a phonebook for
ten
years but I do have the internet.  Be my guest.
Steve
directed
Robert
toward
a computer where he quickly located the number for the NOPD.
  He left his name and an emergency message for Francois. 

“Might as well have a nightcap,” Steve said and handed them each an Irish coffee with lots of whipped cream.

***

Jack Francois was wild with worry.  He'd recognized Alex's
number on his cell
but hadn't gotten an answer w
h
e
n
he'd called.  When he had arrived at her house, he found his officer dead and knew immediately Alex was on the run.  He'd become even more concerned when her neighbor, Peter, verified Alex had been running down the street with one man, and another man in pursuit.  Peter admitted setting his dogs loose to help protect Alex.  He had sobbed uncontrollably when Francois had told him that both of his huskies were dead.

The death of the dogs disturbed Francois the most.  Both dogs had been strangled, simultaneously.  Francois couldn't imagine what kind of man had the strength to strangle two Siberian huskies at the s
ame time.  It was inhuman that one
man could have
overcome two
such powerful dogs
at the same time
.  His thoughts returned to the man he'd tussled with at the voodoo gathering.  He was convinced it was the man with the ponytail.  But, that was
all he knew
.  He had no idea who the stranger was, or how he was involved with Alex and CCMC.  Francois still hadn't been able to locate Mitch, but he didn't think Landry was dead - just well hidden. 
As he sat in his car, h
e was
wondering where to look next
when his phone rang.  It was the watch officer at the precinct.