The Lucy Ghosts

'Okay, but you can't just walk the streets. Not these streets.'

'So where do I start?'

'Old Number One.' As Frankie spoke, Adam remembered the cemetery where the voodoo ceremony had taken place. 'But you gotta walk in the dark, be as black as the night and as empty as a shadow. I mean it when I say they watching you.'

'I'll start there.'

'Why? They'll be waiting for you.'

'First rule of combat. Fight on territory you know. Second rule. Take the bastards by surprise. It's the only fucking place I know round here, Frankie. See you back at the hotel.'

'Hold it. You better take some help.' Frankie reached over to his glove compartment and pulled out two hand grenades.

'You carry these in the car?' asked an amazed Adam.

'You don't know what else I got on board this Caddie. It's more tank than car. I like being a secret agent. Beats working in the cripple factory. There's no Christmas decorations got my name on it.'

'Thanks,' said Adam, taking the two grenades and putting them in his bag.

'You okay for everything else?'

'I've got all I need now.'

Adam, the brown bag still slung over his shoulder, disappeared into the shadows, out of the cab driver's view as he moved stealthily along the decayed walls of the old buildings that had long since been in need of a face lift. Frankie suddenly understood why Adam was dressed in black. Maybe he stood a chance. Not much, but just a hint of a chance.

Adam's toe throbbed as he moved along, hugging the walls that were his cover. But he didn't let the pain touch him. As he moved, he called to Marcus, called to the other dark half that would watch through this night with him while he set about exacting his revenge.

The voodoo men had seen his death wish; they understood what drove him on. It was his natural advantage, the ability to face death and not fear it. And they would be frightened of it. Because they feared death. He would use that against them.

There was little point in hiding his presence. He knew they were watching him, that he couldn't hide. He also knew that he couldn't see them, and that made a surprise move almost impossible.

‘They made a fool of me, Marcus. They bloody stuffed me and then took Trimmler's life.’

‘Don't let it get to you. Stay cool. Sense the danger. Ride it. Make it work for you.’

‘Made a fucking fool of me. I'm going to ram his bloody blood and piss down his fucking throat.’

‘Think.’

‘I can't. Everything's red.’

‘Think. Why did they kill Trimmler?’

‘God knows. I just…’

‘Why? Why did they kill Trimmler?’

‘I don't know.’

‘Why them?’

‘Because they're part of something bigger.’

‘They could be agents.’

‘Whose?’

‘Anybody's. Russian. Even American.’

‘Someone's setting you up.’

‘Why?’

‘Don't know. Do you really want to get Fruit Juice?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he made an arse of me.’’

‘So what? Why?’

‘Because he made me small in front of the rest.’

‘Who cares? Why?’

‘Because he knows the answers.’

‘Now you're thinking. Let's go.’

Adam knew he must create his own surprise. He could only do that by doing the unexpected. He smiled to himself. That was easy. And it put him on terrain he knew something about.

Straight into the lion's den, Marcus. That's the only way.

* * *

The stillness of Old Number One was as it had been the night before, but it was darker. Thick clouds covered the sky; there was a dampness that signaled rain. Adam hoped it would come soon, the noise and wind that accompanied it would be to his advantage.

He followed the main footpath round the cemetery, at first keeping clear of the tomb where the ceremony had taken place the night before. It didn't take long before he heard the first rustle in the bushes behind him. They were gathering, the enemy was on the move. He kept walking, studying the terrain as he did. He was certain they wouldn't shoot him. Fruit Juice would be intrigued by his visit to Old Number One, and if he was to die, then their instinct would be to couple it with their sense of theatre.

When he had completed a circuit of the cemetery, passed the grand tombs and vaults, he followed the smaller routes that led to the poor graves as well as the middle class tombs.

Twenty minutes later he was making his way to Marie Laveau's tomb. If Fruit Juice was as sure of himself as he believed, he would be waiting there.

'What you got in that bag you carrying?'

Fruit Juice was standing in front of the tomb, dressed as he had been the night before, his hair now reverted to white and short curled. As he spoke it started to rain.

'The rainmaker. Down to you, is it?'

'Everything come from voodoo magic, boy,'

'Where're your friends?'

'They here. I only got to call. What you got in that bag?'

'Magic tricks. My sort.'

Fruit Juice laughed. 'Guns. They no good. Not here. Not in the Magic Kingdom.'

'Don't tell me. You're Walt Disney reincarnated.' He heard the movement in the bushes. The troops were getting into place. He would have to move soon. He was glad the rain was getting heavy, didn't realise that's how it came in Louisiana, fast and furious and in short bursts.

'Different kinda magic, boy. This is for real.' He moved towards Adam. 'How's the toe?'

Adam's instinct told him that they were closing in, that Fruit Juice was spinning it out while they positioned round him.

'Why Trimmler?' he asked.

'Orders.'

'Whose?'

'From those who have the money.'

'Russians?'

'That ain't for us to discuss.'

'Why? You going to let me out of here alive.'

'No chance.'

'Then tell me who gave the orders.'

'Fuck you, boy.'

Adam swung the bag off his shoulder, startling Fruit Juice who stepped back sharply. He reached in and took out one of the hand grenades and popped the safety pin. He crossed over to Fruit Juice, pulled his trouser waist band open with his left hand and slipped his other hand with the grenade down into Fruit Juice's crotch, into the softness of his balls.

'If someone shoots me, then this thing's going to go off. Before you can unzip your flies. Make one hell of a mess.'

'Stay clear!' screamed Fruit Juice. 'Don't nobody do nothing.'

'That's good. So tell me. Who gave the orders?'

'Fuck you, boy.'

'You go on like that and certainly won’t be fucking anyone.' He pushed the grenade harder into Fruit Juice's scrotum.

'You let that thing go and you're a dead man. You know that. Hell, I don't know who gave the orders. We was just paid. Just told to knock out the guy in 1844. And make it messy. After you gave us a hard time in the lobby, shit, I just decided to have us some fun. That was personal.'

'So why cut off his arms? Or was that orders, too.'

'Look, I did like I was told. It's crazy, but I did it just like they paid for.'

'Who paid?'

'Usual channels. Could be anybody, even the Mob. You can't trace these things.'

Adam believed him, he could read it in his eyes.