Chapter 25

Rubbing his eyes, Bowman forced himself awake as the phone rang for a second time. He pushed himself up from the bed with both hands and staggered to the living room. He stretched across the side of the couch and grabbed for the telephone, fearful that the other party would click off. As he answered, he yawned. "I woke you up, didn't I?” Flint asked in his characteristic guttural voice. "Yeah, but I'm glad you did. I've been thinking we ought to hold back on sharin' information with the feds about Womack.” Bowman ran his hands through his hair and adjusted the elastic waistband of his undershorts. "You can ask them about intelligence on the Minutemen, but let's be coy about him. We don't want them to screw up our game plan until we're through with him. If he calls, set up a meet between Womack and me as soon as you can. Make it for late afternoon at the sidewalk cafe on Gentilly Boulevard, across from the Fairgrounds Racetrack.” "Do you think he'll call this soon?" Flint asked.

"Sure, why not, and I want to be sure we're on the same page. Just go ahead and set up a meet to avoid missin' the opportunity. If he doesn't call by tomorrow afternoon, I don't want to give him the weekend. You can go ahead then and open your investigation full scale. I don't think we should wait any longer than that. I don't know what your plans are, but if you want to begin surveillance of him over the weekend, have at it."

"You're just goin' to give up on him?" Flint asked, his brow furrowed.

"No, not at all. I just don't want things to float too long. We have no way of knowin' his reaction to the interview. No sense in allowin' him to go underground."

After hanging up with Flint, he shaved and dressed in jeans, sneakers and a short sleeve white cotton shirt. He strolled to the living room and opened all the blinds. The traffic below was slow and the trees were motionless. The sun beamed and he knew the temperature would be sweltering. God I hate hurry up and wait, he thought. He was itchy for action. This was the hard part for him, always was.

Until he heard the light knock on the door, it had not occurred to him that Yvonne Arceneaux had neither called nor dropped by the previous afternoon, despite her insistence that she was going to do so.

It was Yvonne, but it was an entirely different Yvonne. Bowman's mouth dropped open despite his best efforts at control. Her shiny hair was freshly washed. It was brushed straight back except for a small clump that hung over her right forehand. The rest flowed unrestrained over her shoulders and back to her shoulder blades. She wore heavy make up. The eyeliner brought his attention to her eyes, which were either extremely dark brown or black. He'd never noticed her eyes before. She was unquestionably a fully developed woman, but she had the innocent look of a child in her eyes. Her lipstick was deep red, which contrasted sharply with her white even teeth. He'd never noticed how perfect her teeth were, either. She wore large dangling brass ear ornaments -- no necklace or bracelets. Her white v-neck blouse was adorned with a row of small buttons, all unbuttoned. Her black slacks were close fitting, but not tight. They accentuated her long shapely legs. She wore white canvas lace up shoes. Bowman could've probably been successful in blunting his reaction had it not been for her bra selection. He spotted the outline of shoulder straps, but the bra did not blunt the impression of her erect nipples showing through her blouse, as did the ridges of the aureole. Yvonne was a very busty woman. There was no sag to her breasts. Bowman looked too long. Her full smile suggested that she was pleased. He attempted to run for cover by blurting: "You look great, Yvonne," and quickly stepped aside to let her through the door. He followed with a distancing statement. "You look rested from that marathon writing session the other night."

"Yes, I'm rarin' to go. Ready to hit the books again. I don't have it typed because I haven't exhausted the research, but I thought I'd share with you some of the things I learned about the swastika. I got this part from Compton's Encyclopedia."

Bowman reached for a note pad.

"You don't have to take notes. You can have these. I made photocopies for myself."

Bowman stepped to her side to see the page. The notes were handwritten in a large and legible script.

"Why don't we sit down and you read it to me then."

Yvonne sat in the middle of the couch. Bowman moved away and sat in a chair directly across the coffee table from her.

Starting again, Yvonne said: "This is from Compton's Encyclopedia. I don't know if I took it down word for word, but it's close: 'An ancient symbol of unknown origin employed thousands of years as a religious sign and decorative emblem,... appeared in Ancient China, India and Egypt - on greek coins, pre-christian Celtic and Scandinavian artifacts, in catacombs of early Christian's Roman Byzantine buildings. Widely used by American Indians. It represented the sun and infinity."

She squirmed and crossed her legs. "I also found something in a book titled: Dictionary of the Occult. 'Universal Mythic Symbol consisting of an equal-armed cross with four 'arms' which appeared to rotate in the same direction. Regarded by many as a type of 'sunwheel'; the swastika represents eternal movement and spiritual renewal. The counter clockwise swastika adopted by the Nazis is regarded as symbolizing movement away from the 'God head' and has become the contemporary motif of evil; while the clockwise swastika represents movement toward God and suggests a cosmic rhythm in tune with the universe."

She glanced up at his eyes and slowly switched the cross of her legs. She caught Bowman's eye and rubbed the side of her nose. "As an aside, the figure on the page you gave me was clockwise, which is the opposite of the Nazi one. Theirs was rotated on its axis. This one was flat." Yvonne explained.

"I've found one more book called The Encyclopedia of Witches and Witchcraft. The Navaho use it in the healing ceremonies of sand painting. Its division into quadrants has been interpreted as symbolic of the four directions of the compass and the four corners of the earth. The center of the cross is sometimes viewed as symbolic of the center of the cosmos. There are two kinds of swastikas; right handed and left handed which represent the autumnal sun... The swastika does not appear in neo-Pagan witchcraft symbolism."

She dropped the papers on the cocktail table and looked over at him. "Well missy, I'll say you put in a pretty full week. I think you should take off the rest of the day and start an early weekend. Then Monday you can type up a report and give a copy of it to Captain Aubrian. Yvonne, this is very helpful."

"What are you goin' to do this weekend?" she asked oddly.

He could not tell if her question was personal or professional. "I don't know yet," Bowman partially lied. "I have somethin' workin', that may come to a head today or tomorrow. If nothin' comes of it, I've been considerin' flying to Baltimore for the weekend."

"What's in Baltimore?" Arceneaux asked.

"A friend," Bowman answered, wondering where these questions were going and if her NEW look had anything to do with her NEW interest in his life.

"A male friend or a female friend?"

"Most definitely and absolutely a female friend."

Arceneaux did not show offense or disappointment, but merely cocked her head a little to the right and studied Bowman with the corners of her eyes.

Bowman thought to himself, This isn't goin' to be as easy as I thought.

Arceneaux stared into his eyes as she rose to leave. "I'll put in a full day today and drop by this afternoon. I may cut out a little early tomorrow. Let me know if you decide to go to Baltimore and I'll give you a ride to the airport."

Bowman answered only with a nod and a smile. He realized that Womack had taught him a thing or two.