Cut and Run 07 Touch & Geaux (29 page)

“Why the hell didn’t you say something before you came down here?”

“You told me you were in jail!”

Nick made a disgusted noise. He leaned his elbows on the table and began to massage his temples.

“Call Burns, he’ll get you out of it,” Zane said, surprised by the bitter sarcasm that came out.

Ty stared at him for a long moment, looking wounded, before he began to pace again. Zane forced himself to meet his eyes.

He was ashamed to admit he still wanted to see Ty burn. He’d hoped Ty would come at him again last night, that they’d go down swinging at each other. But he knew deep down that Ty wasn’t that type of man. He wasn’t going to chase Zane, or beg and plead with him. He wasn’t going to hover over him and swat the drink from his hand every time he grasped it. He would let Zane walk away, he would let Zane self-destruct, he would internalize anything he was feeling, and become that same man he’d been the day they met. A hard, sarcastic shell. Zane could already see him building up those layers, and he hated Ty for it.

“So what’ll it be, lads?” Liam asked. He winked at Zane.

Kelly and Digger both craned their heads to look at Ty as he paced. Owen was resting his head on the table.

Ty had his back to them, his head down. He really only had two choices. Get himself fired to keep everyone safe, or risk their lives, and a murder rap, to take down the cartel heavies.

“Hey, Six?” Digger said quietly.

“I’m not your goddamned Six anymore,” Ty grunted. He began to pace again. “Call the Bureau,” he finally said, his voice grim.

“Ty,” Nick said carefully.

“My job or your lives? There’s no choice there.” Ty met Zane’s eyes across the room. “Make the call. Tell them you’re bringing in a Confidential Informant. That’s what I was supposed to be if my cover was ever blown. Use the name Tyler Beaumont; that’ll ping any dirty Feds, so we’ll go in expecting a trap.”

Zane didn’t move. His heart was sinking and it was too painful to move right now, to look away from Ty’s eyes. If Ty lost his job, what would they have between them? “You’re willing to give it up?”

“It’s not about being willing anymore, Garrett,” Ty snarled. “Make the fucking call.”

The curtain behind the bar wavered, and Ava pushed past it to lunge into the room. “They’re coming!” she hissed. “My daddy and his boys. They’re coming here. You have to leave!”

Chairs scraped on the wooden floors as everyone stood and scrambled toward the stairs to retrieve their gear.

“Are they coming for us?” Ty asked Ava.

She nodded. “Shine called me, told me they were on their way. They know you’re here.”

Ty cursed under his breath. He reached out and pulled her to him, hugging her tightly before he let her go and darted up the steps.

Only Zane remained, still sitting at the table, arms crossed. He stared at Ava until she turned to look at him.

“
You
called
him
. Didn’t you?” Zane asked, voice pitched low so only she would hear it.

Her breath caught. She swallowed hard and inclined her head, squaring her shoulders. “Ty isn’t the only one in town who’s scared of that old bastard,” she whispered. “But he’s the only one I know who just might be able to kill him if he’s given the chance.”

“You’re using him to get rid of your father. Risking his life.”

“That’s what men like him are for.” She turned on her heel and ducked behind the curtain again.

Ty led them through the residential streets of Marigny, pushing them to reach the French Quarter, trying to stick to the Easter crowds, desperate to keep his mind on survival and off the fact that his heart was breaking every time he and Zane were close.

“If we can get to the cathedral, we can lose ourselves in the crowd until the parades start,” he told them. Soon they neared Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral, one of the most recognizable landmarks in the French Quarter.

People milled around dressed in their Sunday best. Every woman wore a hat of some description, and many of the men did as well.

“Shit, you think we’ll be killing people on Easter Sunday?” Nick muttered as they neared the cathedral.

Ty nodded and Nick cursed, then stopped briefly in front of the cathedral and made the sign of the cross as he faced the soaring spires. Kelly grabbed him by the arm and tugged him, peering up at the structure.

“Forgive him, baby Jesus, he knows not what he does,” Kelly said, then pulled Nick with him.

“I’m going to Hell anyway, I don’t know why I bother anymore.”

Ty turned down Pirate’s Alley, the narrow lane that skirted the cathedral, and then they cut through St. Anthony’s garden, the tiny area behind the cathedral where four unmarked tombs rested. Ty leapt over one of the marble slabs. He could hear Nick complaining behind him.

“They’re empty!” Ty called to him. All but one, but Ty didn’t add that. He led them on through several turns until they reached Antoine’s Restaurant. The place was obviously closed, but a crowd was building in the street.

“What is this?” Zane asked. He was a little out of breath, but then, so were the rest of them.

“The first parade starts here at nine or nine-thirty. We should be safe for a while.”

“Despite the fact that the police station is two blocks that way?” Zane asked, pointing toward Royal Street.

“What are you, like a walking map?” Digger asked.

“Sort of, yeah,” Zane answered.

“The station will be damn near empty right now,” Ty told them. “There are three parades today, plus the Easter services. They’re already out. The safest place is in a crowd, and this is all I got.”

Nick patted him on the shoulder, nodding. “It’ll do.”

“Call the Feds,” Owen said as they all parked themselves near the façade of the restaurant. They looked like wandering vagrants. Their clothes were unkempt, they were carrying bags on their backs, and Ty and Zane were both wearing hats they had taken from Murdoch’s office before leaving.

Ty pulled out his phone and dialed the number for the local Bureau field office.

“Yes, I need to speak with Gregory Pike,” Ty said as soon as the call was answered. He could feel the others forming a sort of barrier around him and Zane as they stood on the periphery of the parade crowd. He ducked his head to avoid being recognized or caught on any security feeds.

“I’m sorry, sir, Special Agent Pike no longer works here.”

“Shit,” Ty hissed. He put the phone to his chest and closed his eyes, trying to think. Pike had been the handler for all UC cases before Katrina hit. He’d been a solid, trustworthy local, one who’d proven impervious to bribes or scandal. His replacement could be anyone, and Ty didn’t trust just anyone. He cleared his throat and brought the phone back up. “I need to speak with his replacement, then.”

“One moment.”

Nick shook his head urgently. “Replacement?”

“I know. I don’t think we can trust him,” Ty whispered.

Zane extended his hand. “How do you know?”

“This is New Orleans, Zane, you don’t trust anyone. But if I hear his name, I might know him.”

“Hang up,” Nick hissed.

Kelly gripped Nick’s shoulder and shook his head. “This is the only avenue that doesn’t end bloody. We’ll go in careful, bug out if he doesn’t feel right.”

Ty glanced around the faces staring at him and noticed one missing. “Where’d Liam go?”

The others searched around, but Liam Bell was nowhere to be found.

“He bailed,” Zane said. He sounded surprised.

Ty gritted his teeth. “We consider him hostile now.”

“Does that mean I get to shoot him?” Nick asked.

“Yes.”

Owen cursed. “We can’t fight a three-front war with a few of Digger’s toys and four guns.”

Zane shook his head. “We can’t fight one front if we don’t get help.”

Saint Louis Cemetery #1 on Basin Street was the oldest cemetery in New Orleans. It wasn’t far from where the parade started. The walk was excruciating for Zane. Ty wouldn’t make eye contact with him, wouldn’t even glance in his general direction. Zane wasn’t sure which of them should be apologizing or if there was even anything left to say after last night. Ty had crossed a line, there was no question of that. But last night, Zane had crossed one too.

He trailed along, silent as Ty told them a little of the history of the cemetery so they’d be familiar with the terrain.

The raised tombs were due in part to the Spanish and French traditions of the original New Orleanians, but also served as a solution to the fact that New Orleans was below sea level. Solid land was at a premium even in the 1700s, and using it to bury the dead was just bad business. So the iconic aboveground cemeteries of New Orleans were pieced together over the centuries. Ty told them they would have lots of cover, but to be careful about taking blind turns, as they might wind up smacking straight into an abandoned vault that had sunk half into the ground.

There were three gated entrances into the cemetery, only one of which stayed open. It was otherwise surrounded by high walls. Not a fortress by any means, but an excellent place for such a meeting. The maze inside would offer cover, and the limited points of egress would make it easy to spot anyone who shouldn’t be there.

As the parade inched down Bourbon, they began to split off. Ty was to double-time it to the north and circle back, heading down Rampart and then cutting through Louis Armstrong Park. He would approach Basin Street Station, a visitor center with a roof terrace that was the perfect place to put a sniper. He’d secure a position up there and remain until it was clear. He carried Liam’s British-made AWS suppressed sniper rifle with folding action in a nondescript violin case he’d stolen from La Fée Verte.

Owen and Digger were to enter the cemetery and loiter on the south side to prevent entry, while Nick and Kelly were to guard the back gate from outside the cemetery.

Zane was left to head straight down St. Louis Street and approach the cemetery at its main entrance.

The ear buds Digger had provided were dependent on small wireless radios, and as long as the radio was within a few yards of the ear bud, they would work. Zane kept his in his pocket. They had a limited range, but Zane could still hear the others after they all went their separate ways. Ty remained silent for several minutes, his harsh breathing as he ran the only evidence that his ear bud worked at all. Then his breathing evened out and he began to whistle a tune. Zane slowed his pace, a feeling of dread coming over him. When Ty whistled, it never boded well.

The street in front of the cemetery’s main entrance was crowded with parked cars and several horse-drawn carriages. Zane hung back, loitering and strolling up and down the street for nearly an hour as he observed the area. The others were doing the same, reporting in occasionally. Ty had made his way to his roost somehow, and since Zane hadn’t heard him trying to charm any employees, his guess was Ty had just snuck up there.

“I got a Fed,” Ty finally whispered in Zane’s ear. “Coming up on Garrett now.”

Zane watched a thin man in a dark suit step out of a black Tahoe that he’d parked illegally along the street, then head straight for the cemetery entrance as he buttoned his suit jacket.

“Got him,” Zane said under his breath. “Anyone following?”

“It’s clear back here,” Nick said.

“Got a vehicle parked on this side,” Owen reported. “Some sort of touring van.”

“Go on your count, Garrett,” Ty murmured.

Zane waited a few more minutes, then crossed the street at an angle, standing in the grassy median and shielding his eyes from the sun. The Basin Street Station building was to his right. It was pale yellow with black iron workings around the top terrace. That was where Ty had set up. It was impossible to see him, though; the sun sat right behind him. Behind the enclosed walls of the cemetery, Zane could see the uneven structures of tombs and tiny chapels. Stone angels wept. Brick faltered to the hands of time and unstable earth.

Zane took a moment to steady himself, and then crossed to the other side of the street. The agent saw him coming and nodded at him, then turned, following a small tour group into the cemetery and breaking off to the right. Ty had told the FBI contact to meet them in the front of the cemetery.