Frostbite (18 page)

Authors: Eric Pete

BOOK: Frostbite

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I sped down General Meyer Avenue like I stole something, running the red light at the intersection with Shirley Drive right in front of the former Naval Support Activity facility. An old Ford LTD clipped me as I passed, but I held the van on the road and kept going. Ignored the horns honking and the car in my rearview mirror trying to get my license plate number. When the avenue flowed into the two-lane Newton Street, I knew I was getting closer to Algiers Point and the ferry. Figured I’d made up some time on the DA and his escort. I went a few more blocks then turned right onto Elmira Avenue, speeding even faster on the dangerously thin street.

At the corner with Patterson Drive, I conveniently came upon a bus lot for Orleans Parish Schools on my left. Without braking, I swerved into the open grass lot and stowed the van between two large yellow-orange monsters. Changed my shoes and shirt in the back then made my way to the levee along the Mississippi River where I ran the half mile toward Morgan Street and the Algiers Ferry Landing.

Emerging from behind the Algiers Point Condominiums, I descended the sloping grass-covered levee into the area parking lot. And right next to it, on Morgan Street, was the line of cars, trucks, and SUVs waiting on the ferry. Vehicle traffic was heavier than I anticipated. A testament no doubt to how bad I’d fucked shit up on the bridge.

Started this morning with a risky plan that now I had to dismantle. But if the DA’s car had already crossed, I would’ve preferred it. Other than a report of my hit and run on General Meyer, there was no mention of anything else on the scanner I was still using to eavesdrop, so maybe Ivan got cold feet. Punk ass wasn’t a natural killer anyway, but that was why I picked him to carry it out. An expendable fool whose influence Sophia would be free of once this was over.

Now, after striking the match, I held it too long. Was too close to the fire. Torn between competing interests, all of them surrounding women. Sophia, who was so much like me, but whom I never could love for that very same reason. Collette, who I loved with all my twisted heart, but who I could never have because she loathed the true me. And now Taralynn, wife of my target, but also the mother of my child.

After another quick glance at my watch, I saw the ferry was nearing its departure time. Removing my earpiece, I dropped the scanner into my backpack and pulled out my Saints baseball cap, donning it for any surveillance cameras that would be picking me up. I sped up my pace, still looking for the DA’s Cadillac and its police escort among traffic waiting to board.

They weren’t there.

So I knew what I had to do.

Enter a ferry to confront an armed man on the river where my mother took her life. With no weapons and no means of escape.

But I had an advantage over him. My mind.

That and Ivan only knowing his part of the plan.

For there was always more.

Smiling at the challenge, I entered the landing with the rest of the pedestrians.

As the ferry pulled away from the landing, knew I had less than twenty minutes to figure it all out, to locate Ivan and the DA. With the way the cars were loaded, wasn’t hard to spot the lights atop the police car. Looked like only one made the trip across with him. Maybe the other was called into service with the wreck on the bridge. Still hadn’t spotted Ivan yet, so I quickly made my way past the other passengers and into the restroom where his change of clothes was placed. Found the bag tucked behind a garbage can and peered inside. Clothes reeking of alcohol and sweat from Ivan’s partying were crammed on top. Beneath them was the untouched NOPD uniform. Confirmed what I feared. He was on the boat and committed to going through with this. I removed Ivan’s clothes and hastily dumped them in the garbage can. Made the bag more compact, allowing me to store it inside my backpack, which I then stashed behind a ventilation grille before anybody came in.

Grabbed a tourist brochure then set about finding Ivan. Noticed the DA first as two NOPD officers were positioned near his car while he stayed inside on a phone call of some sort. Maybe he was telling his wife and daughter how much he loved them.

I unfolded my guide, playing the tourist as I strolled along the safety rail. Admiring the skyline of downtown New Orleans with the Aquarium of the Americas and the Riverwalk and the eastern edge of the Vieux Carré, with St. Louis Cathedral, from the water. On the upper deck next to the ferry wheelhouse, one of the workers leaned on the railing while he surveyed the assorted human cargo as well. Didn’t allow it to hold my attention for too long as we both had jobs to do.

Then I spotted Ivan by his walk and uniform that didn’t match perfectly with the rest of the crew. Was on approach from the other end of the ferry where he’d probably been checking for the Cadillac he’d just found. Had let him get too close to the DA, but he knew a signal awaited for him to do his job, which was to walk up and plant a bullet into Rodney Roy. That and the NOPD officer hovering near the DA’s car door were the only things that kept him at bay. From beneath his crewman’s hat, he checked his flashy watch, which didn’t fit his attire. The clock inside my head spurred me into action.

Tourist guide in hand, I eased along the rail. His hand was resting inside the jacket, glazed-over eyes locked in with a sole purpose, so he wasn’t paying attention to this lone tourist. Noticing where we were on the river cover, I spoke.

“Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me where the French Market is on this map?” I asked as I placed my tourist guide between him and his view of the DA. Irritated, he quickly turned toward me, his eyes overcome with recognition and surprise.

“Bro, you need to step the fuck off,” he hissed, probably thinking it was a whisper in his deluded state.

“Put it away, man. Just calm down and wait for the ferry to dock,” I said, smiling for the other passengers as I now placed myself between Ivan and the DA, pretending like I was having a friendly conversation. “You don’t want to do this anyway.”

“Get the fuck out my way, bro,” he said as he glanced around me at the Cadillac. Rodney had lowered his window to take in the sea breeze just then, making it even easier for Ivan to get a clean shot off.

“What? If you kill me you wouldn’t get your money anyway. But I got a newsflash for you. There’s no money.”

“What do you mean there’s no money?”

“This isn’t a paying job, bro,” I said, mimicking him with the annoyance. “The money I’ve been giving you is mine. You’re just a mark. Welcome to the real game, Ivan,” I taunted at the precise moment the Algiers Ferry reached the halfway point on the river.

At that opportune moment, from the opposite side of the ferry, Ivan’s signal came.

“Oh my God! Somebody’s overboard!” a woman screamed at the top of her lungs while hysterically waving and pointing down at the water. Ferry passengers, including the DA’s police detail, scrambled in the direction of her frantic pleas, not knowing that it was a baby doll that had been dropped by the woman. Then with the distraction, when Ivan was supposed to walk up and do his job, I rushed him. Held him up for a second during his confusion while still flapping my map around as if in a sudden, frightening tussle.

“What the fuck!” Ivan exclaimed as he tried to push me off. I suddenly released my grip on his wrist allowing his handgun to come free as I spun around and retreated.

Give him the briefest of smiles as he stood with his weapon exposed.

Right as I turned and fell overboard.

As if knocked aside by Ivan.

Savored his clueless stare. But the ferry worker watching from above, the one I’d paid to simply point out Ivan to the police at that precise moment, did his job despite the sudden change I’d introduced.

“He’s got a gun!” I heard him yell as gravity took hold of my body. Gunshots rang out on the deck of the ferry just as the Mighty Mississippi took me in its violent embrace.

By getting on the ferry, I’d inserted myself into the equation.

Now, as darkness claimed me, I’d removed myself. All was free to play out the same, except for the final outcome. Rodney Roy would live.

Sasha would have a dad.

Her dad.

Felt myself quickly fading as the current and the churning of the ferry’s engines overwhelmed and bounced me around like a rag doll. The irony wasn’t lost on me that I was going to leave in the same manner as Leila Marie.

Then through the deafening roar and blackness, I felt a pair of hands on me, a hallucination as my oxygen-starved lungs succumbed to the assault. Or that I was finally being dragged down to whatever hell awaited me for my sins.

A brilliant flash of light was my last memory.

Then searing agony and surprise as my eyes adjusted to clouds overhead.

If there was a heaven, I couldn’t be there.

“He’s alive!” one of the people standing over me yelled to others. I was on the deck of the ferry.

“Sir, are you okay?” a soaked gentleman asked as he leaned too close to my face for comfort. I blinked a few times, comforted by the oxygen entering my lungs. He was NOPD. One of the DA’s security detail. I turned my head to the side. Coughed again as I saw a smaller group standing over another body. But that one wasn’t moving.

Ivan.

Original plan was for Ivan to kill the DA then for the ferry worker to point him out right as he did it. By stalling Ivan just long enough, I’d succeeded in modifying it.

And somehow I was still ... alive.

“Sir, are you okay? Do you understand what I’m saying,” the officer asked again as he saw my dopey smile. He must’ve been the one to shoot Ivan then jump overboard to rescue me. A real black Superman he was.

“A man ... worked for the ferry. He shoved me overboard,” I said gasping as I coughed up some more river water from my lungs. “He ... he had a gun.”

“
Had,
” the other officer proudly affirmed, coming into my blurry line of sight as I tried to sit up with assistance. “We got him.”

The ferry had stopped dead on the water until I was rescued and revived, but was now getting back underway toward the East Bank. I was unsteadily to my feet, avoiding the DA who’d been moved securely to the ferry’s wheelhouse. Crime scene tape had been retrieved from the NOPD cruiser and was being strung up around Ivan’s body, which rested in a pool of blood. He got off one shot, not hitting a thing, before they unloaded on him.

“Sir, we’re going to have some questions for you when we dock. Just wanted to let you know,” my savior said as I stared at Ivan’s open eyes. From my silence, the officer probably thought I was traumatized by it all.

“I ... I feel sick,” I mumbled, hands trembling for effect. “Can I use the restroom?”

“I don’t see why not. Not like you can go anywhere,” he joked.

As I hurried to the bathroom, I could hear the ferry engines beginning to reverse. We were slowing to dock. Thought I had a broken rib, so another jump into the water was out of the question. Rushing inside in my wet clothes, I retrieved my backpack then entered an open stall. Having been for Ivan, the NOPD uniform wasn’t a perfect fit for me, but it would do for the short term. Rather than leaving my wet clothes behind, I stuffed them into my backpack after removing a fake moustache that I applied to my face in the restroom in the mirror.

Then I took a deep breath, psyching myself up for one more dangerous round. Placed my hand against the restroom wall as I felt for the engine vibrations. When they came to a halt, I flew out the door. Tried to walk as steady and confident as possible toward the front of the ferry. Instructed the passengers, eager to depart, that they needed to stay put until NOPD had control of the area.

As the boarding ramp dropped and the gates on the East Bank opened, a group of NOPD officers and crime scene investigators were waiting. I walked toward them, hoping they didn’t pick up on some of my uniform accoutrements being off or missing.

“What we got? Somebody tried to shoot the DA?”

“Looks like it. Shit was crazy. Jackson got the perp then rescued one of the passengers from the water,” I volunteered, remembering my savior’s name off his uniform. “Shell casings accounted for and waiting for processing by you guys,” I muttered, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about. “I gotta get another transport for the DA. Don’t let any of the passengers and crew off.”

Sufficient in my explanation and instructions, they got to work.

And with that performance, I walked past my last impediment to freedom, veering away from the reporters who’d just begun to gather. Water dripping from the backpack I carried as I vanished yet again.

“Honey, are you okay? Where’s Sasha?” Rodney asked his wife as he entered their home through the front door. She ran into his arms, kissing him. Relief evident.

The opposite of what she was feeling toward me at the moment.

Especially as I showed up inside her house, insisting that she call her husband home without answering any of her questions.

Scared the hell out of Sasha as she was the first one to discover the strange man. Taralynn sent her to her room. Told her to stay there and not come out. It was ever so brief, but I looked at the young girl differently than I had at the dance studio. Wanted to assuage her fears. Tell her it was going to be all right and that I wasn’t a bad man.

But children can see through lies.

I sat in a wingback chair in the foyer, silently observing Rodney and Taralynn while careful not to make a sudden move due to my ribs. Wore a dark blue business suit now. A shade similar to his, but minus the gray pinstripes.

“Who the hell are you? And what are you doing in my house?” he asked, protectively stepping in front of his wife when he realized I’d been sitting there.

If this didn’t go just right, Rodney’s security detail outside the house would be in here and all over me. And in my state, I’d be helpless to do anything about it. Body felt like one big bruise from hitting the water.

“Rodney, wait,” Taralynn said as she attempted to calm him. Even though she no longer trusted me. “This gentleman says he’s here to help you.”

Made Taralynn swear not to use my real name.

Or reveal the extent of our relationship.

In exchange, I conceded certain things.

Things a father shouldn’t ever have to concede, but for the greater good.

“Well, you need to start talking now. Because I just survived an attempt on my life, so I have a short fuse.”

“I work for an agency that’s been monitoring your situation down here in New Orleans. Particularly, your upcoming Braxton Lewis trial,” I offered, straining to stand without grimacing.

“What are you? FBI? DEA?” he questioned. Still odd meeting him face-to-face.

“I’d prefer not to divulge those details. But let’s just say, things took a severe turn this afternoon.”

“So—
pardon my French
—what the fuck does that mean? You boys want me to drop my case? Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Bricks back on these streets!”

“No. But if you were out of the way, we’re pretty sure that there are others in your office prepared to blow the case against this man. On some technicality, if I had to guess. Bricks has money. A lot. And that buys influence,” I submitted. Wasn’t positive about his coworkers being prepared to bungle the case in his absence, but I was pretty sure. Otherwise Mr. Smith wouldn’t be so certain that removing Rodney would resolve his
family matters
problem.

“Before we go any further, show me some ID,” he demanded, holding out his hand.

“Can’t do that. And if I did, it wouldn’t be real,” I responded. If I’d had the time, I would’ve made an ID, but this was all impromptu. A wild attempt to keep him alive and to give me more time.

“And why should I believe you?” he asked, the attorney in him still razor sharp.

“Because I’m here risking my career by going outside the normal channels, Mr. Roy. And because your wife and kid are still safe,” I threw out there.

Taralynn looked at me. Still not believing what I was saying. But this really hurt. Ignoring her pain, I pressed on with my lie. Between what I’d learned from Mr. Smith and on my own, I had enough to pull it off. I think.

“What about my wife and kid?” Rodney pushed, getting in my face as Taralynn tugged on his arm.

“We’ve been watching them. Know that Braxton Lewis’s people have been trying to get threats across to you through them. Threats that we’ve intercepted and neutralized.”

Rage flashed in Taralynn’s eyes. Eyes I was avoiding as I stared down her husband. She now knew for certain that our meeting was no mere coincidence.

“So what do you want?” he asked, resignation surfacing in his voice for the first time.

“We want you to disappear for forty-eight hours. Seventy-two, if you can afford it. Let folks think that maybe you’re incapacitated after what happened on the ferry. If rumors float that you’re dead, even better. Go to Boston with your wife and kid. I’m sure they’d like that. Give us time to work out Mr. Lewis’s outstanding issues with the Mexican cartels. Then you can continue with your trial. And nail the bastard,” I said. I’d saved his life, now had to use him.

“Why should I do this?” he asked, arms folded.

“Because I’m trying to save your life,” I replied, careful with the tense. “Something I just shared with Mrs. Roy before you arrived. Go, Mr. Roy. Go to Boston with your wife and kid. Be a husband ... and a father to them. I’m not asking you to do any more than that. No compromise to your integrity. I promise.”

The DA paced for a moment, digesting my words. Looked at his wife then me. This morning there’d been a bullet with his name on it.

“What’s it going to be, Mr. DA?” I asked.

The Mercedes GLK came to a stop outside a home in Pontchartrain Park, one of the first subdivisions developed by and for middle-class African Americans in the city. Taralynn released the hatch and I rolled out onto my feet, wobbly from overexertion and my ordeal on the ferry. As I straightened my suit, saw the block was over halfway back after the floodwaters of Katrina had inundated the neighborhood. I walked around and joined her inside the SUV.

“Who’s house?” I asked.

“My parents’ ... well, my father’s. Only place Rodney would let me go when I offered to get you out of the house and past the police.”

“Thank you.”

“For what, Truth?” she scoffed. “I don’t know you. I mean ... I
really
don’t know you. Can’t tell what’s a lie and what’s the—
no pun intended
—truth anymore. I ... I thought you were down on your luck, but obviously you’re not. I thought that maybe you had some lingering feelings for me, but obviously you don’t. And the things I ... I did with you. That I wanted to do with you. Now you claim to work for the government ... and it all sounds convincing. Since I’ve been so far in the dark, did you know Sasha was yours before I told you?”

“No. Honestly.”

“So your being surprised was real?”

“Yes. Totally. Still trying to process it. I had no idea. I swear. Wouldn’t have left you in a situation like that,” I replied, wanting to reach out and take her hand. But thinking better of it.

Taralynn sighed then shook her head. Checked her phone as Rodney was expecting her call. “What’s really going on, Truth?” she asked. Disappointment and frustration permeated her every word.

“I owe you that at least. Because of our history. And as the mother of my child,” I mouthed.

“Yes. You do, you asshole.”

I stared at her dashboard for a moment. Then turned my gaze upward, looking out the windshield. Lake Pontchartrain wasn’t too far away. The place where Sasha was conceived over a decade ago. “Someone wants your husband dead,” I began, taking that first dangerous step. “Because of the trial. That someone blackmailed me. I was supposed to have Rodney killed. I didn’t.”

“You ... Were you on the ferry today? With Rodney?” Taralynn inquired, aghast at the idea as the words escaped her mouth. She clenched the steering wheel, her hands trembling.

I simply nodded.

“And the people who blackmailed you? What about them?”

“I’ll deal with it,” I answered. “The less you know the better. Just get your husband out of town like you promised.”

“And you’ll stay away from Sasha like you promised?” she stressed.

“Yes.”

“Truth?”

“Huh?”

“Did you use me?” she asked with her final question, her voice cracking now as she turned away so I wouldn’t see her wipe the tear from her eye.

“Yes, but only as much as you let me,” I voiced. “Nothing more.”

I took her slap as well as I could, the side of my face stinging.

Now she’d hate me.

And that hate would burn brightly through any delusions she had about our past.

“I won’t be responsible for what happens if you ever come around me or my family again,” she said as she started the Benz, Summer gone for good. “I need to call my husband. Let him know I made it okay and that you’re gone. Now get out.”

I complied, realizing that good-byes would’ve been hollow. Just got out and closed the door behind me. As I walked away, hearing Taralynn’s sobs and screams, I left convinced that Sasha not knowing me was for the better.

Sasha had plenty of time to forget the man in the suit who showed up in their house one day, never to be seen again.

Hoped the Roy family’s time in Boston would be a good thing for them.

But my immediate thoughts took me to a place on the opposite coast.

Where long-delayed information was needed immediately.

“Got that cell location you promised me?” I asked without so much as a greeting for the man who was supposed to be tracking Mr. Smith’s original call that time in Portland.

“Yeah, I got it,” he replied. “And I’m sorry it took so long, but you gotta keep my name outta this.”

“Consider it done. You just focus on your daughter’s first day at Stanford. You’re lucky to have that relationship with her. Cherish it,” I said.

“Thank you,” he said as he fumbled with my comments. “So we are done, yes?”

“Yes,” I uttered before hanging up.

We were done.

But I was just beginning with Mr. Smith.