LeJeune arrived a few minutes after Jimmy came home, bearing enough Chinese food for ten people.
“Smells perfect. Greasy and full of MSG,” LeJeune said cheerfully.
Vanna took Charlie to their room, came back and made a plate for herself, then went back and closed the door.
Georgia opened the rest of the cartons, and a barrage of aromas hit her: greasy, sweet, sour, and fried. She got out plates, a few pairs of chopsticks, and forks.
LeJeune grinned and rubbed his palms together.
“You look pretty happy for someone who’s been in the middle of a major crisis,” Georgia said.
“That’s because I have good news,” he said. “We tracked your woman to St. Louis.”
“Already? How did your people do that? You sure it was Eden?”
He pulled out his cell. “I knew you were going to ask.” He fumbled around with some screen icons, then said, “Take a look.”
The video image wasn’t as crystal clear as she’d like, but it showed a woman in a ball cap, jeans, and a red jacket studying the train schedule on the huge electronic billboard in the main room of the station. Then the video cut to the same woman at the ticket counter. She turned from the ticket window toward the camera, and the video came into sharp focus. Brown hair escaped from her ball cap, but her face stopped Georgia. An eerie feeling washed over her. She felt like she was looking into a mirror. Eden had the same shaped brows, same eyes, same nose. Only her mouth was slightly smaller, her lips thinner. Georgia stared at the video.
“Unbelievable,” she said softly. “Can you send me that video?” She passed the phone back to LeJeune.
“It’s evidence. Belongs to us.”
She glared at him.
He threw up his hands. “Just this once.” He pushed some buttons on his phone. “Satisfied?”
Georgia picked up her cell and waited. When it popped up, she nodded. The next shot showed Eden heading to Track 9. “What time was this, Nick?” Georgia asked. “When she went to Track 9?”
“I’m told it was around 10 AM. One of my agents called Union Station. The person on the other end said the train on Track 9 at 10 AM was headed to St. Louis.”
“So she’s headed south and west? I hope not to Utah, for heaven’s sake.”
LeJeune shook his head. “It’s only about five hours to St Louis. She got off, walked to the bus station, and got on a bus to New Orleans. She’s on it now.”
“What if she gets off before New Orleans?”
“We were able to get a female agent on the bus with her at the first stop. She’ll babysit her until we pick her up. If it’s N’awlins, I have half a mind to go get her myself.”
“That’s your old ’hood, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am. Wouldn’t mind doing some fishing in the bayou. I could use a break.”
“You deserve it.”
Jimmy cleared his throat. Georgia shot him a smile.
“So…” LeJeune abruptly changed the subject. “Let’s assume everything goes well with her. We’ll bring her back to Chicago but not to Nauvoo.”
“She’ll want to go back to Ms. Kate’s shelter.”
“I think, under the circumstances, we’ll put her in one of our safe houses. After this is over, she can go wherever she wants.”
Jimmy nodded his approval. “Sounds sensible. I don’t want Georgia up there, either.”
“I agree,” LeJeune said quickly. “Hey, pass me some of that beef. Never had it before. What’s it called?”
Georgia snatched the carton away from him. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said irritably. “You’re not gonna wiggle your way out of this. We haven’t come this far for you to kick me off the team.”
“Davis, I’m bringing in a SWAT team.”
“Well, that’s great. I didn’t know you had that much clout. But that has nothing to do with me.”
“In a way, it’s your clout. Chesterton’s so pleased with how Covid turned out, he okayed it. We wanted the HRT folks, but they’re out on another mission.”
“I’ll just ride along with Jimmy, then.”
LeJeune shook his head. “I need men who know the ropes. Who are flexible and can turn on a dime if we need to. It’s not personal.”
“Mongolian Beef.”
“What?”
“The name of the food you’re not getting.” She grasped the carton as if she was holding it for ransom.
“You’re still not coming,” LeJeune said.
“We’ll see.”
“Don’t argue with me. Or try to pull a fast one.”
How did he know that’s exactly what she was thinking? She’d been planning to hang out at the local McDonald’s or a bar until she got word things were okay.
LeJeune scooped up the last of his beef on his plate with chopsticks. “And don’t think about dying your hair brown to impersonate her.”
Jimmy ladled more shrimp with ginger onto his plate. “Listen, you’ve got to remember these guys are half crazy. They’re obsessed with the righteousness of their deeds. Even if it means killing. We could be walking into a nasty ambush.”
“So how do you plan to rescue Mom?”
“Depends on where she is,” LeJeune said. “How much time we have. And how fast we can pin down the ringleader.”
“Porter Christiansen,” Georgia said.
“We’ll start by negotiating with him to get the kids. That’s how we work. You know that.”
“But what about his men?” Georgia asked. “They’re all Mormons. Like Jimmy said, they don’t give a shit about negotiating. And Porter will never give up his kids. They’ll want to fight.”
“If that’s what they want, we’ll give them one.”
“And blow the whole thing up like the Feds did to Warren Jeffs?”
Warren Jeffs was a Fundamentalist Mormon whose “god-like” behavior included raping underage girls and then marrying them off to old men. Including his own daughter. The Feds eventually moved in, arrested him, and dissolved his entire community.
“Hey. Give me a break,” LeJeune said. “There was no violence when we moved in on Jeffs.”
“But if there is here, her three kids and my mother could be collateral damage.”
“Nothing’s ever perfect, Davis.” LeJeune stood up and stretched. “Get some sleep, Saclarides. We go tomorrow at dawn.”