The Lucy Ghosts

Momentarily distracted by the sudden movement, Frankie swung his gun off Goat Face, and it was at that instant that Goat Face brought his gun up and shot Frankie in the leg.

Adam pushed aside the man nearest him and crossed to Goat Face, swinging his Browning down across his head. 'Don't shoot!' he screamed. 'I've got him.' Before Goat Face, now confused by being attacked on both sides, could fire at Adam, the Englishman had smacked him across the forehead and dropped him to the pavement.

As he lay there, his gun sent sprawling by the force of the impact, as Adam turned to stop the other man escaping, as the policeman ran on down Canal Street waving his gun, as the shoppers screamed and took cover, Billie saw Frankie, still standing there as though nothing had happened, calmly raise his gun and shoot Goat Face in the head.

The blood spattered the pavement and Billie turned away in horror.

The policeman started shooting at them, panicking as he ran. Adam turned and pushed her down.

Frankie stood there, still on his crutch, then threw down the gun as the policeman approached.

'Hold it!' shouted Frankie, waving his arm at the policeman. 'We're government men. Hold your fire.'

The policeman stopped firing and approached cautiously.

' CIA,' re-affirmed Frankie as he got closer. 'Get some help. For fuck's sake, get some help.'

The policeman, his gun still held in front of him, used his other hand to summon help on his radio.

Adam helped Billie to her feet, his gun still in his hand.

'Fucking shit shot me in my bad leg,' she heard Frankie say, heard his unbelieving laughter as he stood there on his crutch. 'He shot me in my dud leg. How about that. Can't feel a fucking thing. In my bad fucking leg. No respect for a cripple.'

Adam let go of her arm and turned on Frankie. 'I told you not to shoot,' he said. 'We wanted him alive.'

'Didn't hear you. Thought the bastard was going to…'

'Half the street heard me.'

'Put that gun down. Now!' the policeman ordered Adam, pointing the barrel straight at him. Adam nodded, and lowered the Browning to the pavement. 'Now stand back and clasp your hands round the back of your neck.'

As Adam complied he heard the sirens approaching.

Things had got out of hand. He sighed.

Shit, Marcus. It's getting tougher by the minute.

* * *

Carter had ordered Adam straight to his room as soon as he returned from Canal Street. 'I'll talk to you when I've got this fucking mess sorted out!' he snapped, red faced and furious. 'You must've been crazy, getting out of that car in broad daylight and starting a shoot up. A fucking meathead.'

Adam didn't react. He wasn't going to get into a shouting match with junior management and explain that he hadn't started anything, had only meant to bring in Goat Face for questioning.

As soon as Adam was on his own he started to pack. He'd already decided on his plan of action. Trouble was brewing and he needed to distance himself from this place. He remembered Coy's words. 'You're on your own,' he'd said.

'Where're you going?' asked Billie, when he let her in.

'Not for you to know.'

'Why?'

'What you don't know, you can't tell.'

'I'm not a kid.'

'No.'

'I know what Carter's got planned for you.'

'That's blackmail.'

'That's trust.'

'So tell me.'

'And what if you don't keep your end of the bargain?'

'That's trust.'

'Funny. He thinks you're more involved than you say you are. Even said the British government could be in this.'

'That's daft.'

'It's as good as any other scenario in this crazy mess. I mean, they could blame the Pope and somebody'd believe it. Anyway, he wants you packed off to Washington for interrogation.'

'Which is why I'm leaving. I want to resolve this thing, Billie. I won't do it stuck in Washington. And all the leads here are cold.' He smiled at his own unwitting joke. 'Cold and buried.'

'So where're you going?'

'After Goodenache. To a place called Nordhausen. Could be a dead end, but it's all there is. And no-one else realises it.'

'Let me come with you?' She was surprised by her own question. It wasn't what she had opened her mouth to stay.

He looked up, startled, from his packing.

'I mean it,' she continued. 'I've nothing here.'

'You're a CIA operative.'

'I'm a clerk. A disseminator of information. Yes, and I'm over forty years old, pal. You don't have to remind me. I'm also about to lose my job.'

'Since when?'

'Since I get back. That's when. Come on, I've got nothing to lose. Always talked about it, never did much. I've got nothing here, no-one to go home to, except a battery of lawyers and bad memories.'

'You're risking everything. For nothing.'

'It's as good a reason as yours. And don't give me that loyalty shit next.'

'You'll lose your pension.'

'Very funny. I think we should go now.''

'And if I say no?'

'I'll just make sure you don't get out of here.'

'I'd have to shoot you.'

'Too noisy.'

'Then I'd cut your throat. And put my hand down and pull out your vocal chords and…' Adam paused.

'And what?'

'If you come, you do exactly as I tell you.' The wisecracking had stopped. 'Your life could depend on it.'

'Okay.'

'I mean it. I don't want to be worried about you when somebody's having a go at me.'

'I understand that.'

'I hope so. Now go and pack. Just your necessaries. We can buy stuff on the way. Be ready in five minutes.'

'How're we going to get to Germany?'

'We'll worry about that when we get out of the hotel.' He suddenly saw a way out. 'Have you got your passport?'

'Yes. Agency regulations. Always be prepared. Hey, tough guy,' she said softly. He looked up at her quizzically. 'What if I was with you just to keep an eye on you? For the Agency.'

He grinned. 'It'd be interesting, wouldn't it?'

'What I said to you, about my reason for coming. Do you understand that?'

'Some people, when they approach the amber light, they put their foot on the brake. Others take a chance and slam down on the pedal. Which are you, Billie? Are you ready to jump the lights?'

* * *

Getting out of the hotel unheeded presented no real problem. The CIA men, unused to having their orders ignored in their world of grey suits and corporate ladder climbing, weren't expecting Adam to leave the building, let alone New Orleans.

He knew that was how they would react. They were Head Office men, not honed by the death force of the field. They were out-of-touch men fighting for the glory of the top floor washroom key.

He still took precautions. Bu descending the eighteen floors down the emergency stairs, he led Billie down to the rear exit, out on River Walk and the Mississippi. She kept up with him and he remembered she was an exercise freak.

They walked along the north bank, the river barges towing their long cargo busily along the Mississippi, blaring their warnings as they passed each other, their horns the will of pre historic monsters. There were no pedestrians and they turned north past the Riverfront Aquarium and up Spanish Place towards Tchoupitoulas Street.

'Heya. Where you going?' asked Frankie as he pulled up at the kerb, having spotted them as he returned to the hotel after dropping a fare on St Charles Street. 'Looks like you guys need a cab.'

Showing no surprise whatsoever, Adam opened the back door for Billie and ushered her in. He took her case from her, walked round to the boot and opened it, dropped their bags in the back. Then he joined her in the rear, his brown bag on his lap.

'Where to?' asked Frankie.