Chapter Twenty-Eight

December 30th is, perhaps, the most forlorn, fruitless, and forgotten day of the year. Christmas is fading, and the New Year celebration looms just beyond the horizon. The day is often dark and dreary—not even the shortest day of the year, but clinging desperately in the snowy shadows of the solstice, and in northern climes, there are not many things drearier than a dark, cold wintry day. Even the previous night’s snowstorm had surrendered, lacking the energy to become a blizzard. Jamie looked up from a deep pit of fatigue and pain. His headache threatened to trickle his brains out of his ears in a gray sludge, he felt as if his bones could snap at any moment from exhaustion, and he couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t focus, and couldn’t find the right words when he did find the strength to speak.

Jamie dragged himself out of bed, showered and shaved, and allowed Eileen to drive him to the station, to meet with Sully and Hamilton. While the streets had been plowed, they still resembled a hockey rink in many places. “I’ll be back in an hour. Will that be sufficient?” she asked. Eileen had a meeting at a potential new location for her store.

“Aye,” Jamie replied. “I’ll have to spend the first ten minutes apologizing for being late.”

“Tsk,” she said. “It’s winter in Boston. Take it easy, my love.”

“I will. See you soon.” Jamie shut the door then tapped on the top as he walked away from the SUV. He walked carefully along the slick concrete to the door, his walking stick crunching on the snow and ice with each step. He waved at the receptionist. Even though Jamie was no longer an active officer, everyone still recognized him. As he made his way back to Sully’s office, several uniforms and detectives stopped him and asked him how he was doing. While answering the same questions was tiresome, Jamie preferred answering questions to disapproval and disbelief. Today, Jamie felt only genuine concern and a grudging, if partial, return of his former status. I wonder if that’s sympathy for all the shit that has been happening or if they are actually starting to believe that I’m sick. By the time he reached Sully’s office in the corner, Jamie decided it didn’t matter. Then the door to Sully’s office swing open—Sully was at his desk, with Hamilton seated in a chair, and Frank Griffin opening the door.

“Glad you could join us, Jamie,” Frank said dryly, gesturing for Jamie to sit in the other open chair. As Jamie sat, Frank closed the door behind him.

“Yeah, well, there’s a crapload of auto hockey being played out there today.”

“You drove?” Frank asked. Jamie was surprised by concern in his father’s voice.

Maybe he really is coming around, Jamie thought briefly. “Nah, Eileen drove. She’s got some meeting with a new location for the store. So what’d I miss?”

“We were just discussing Lombardi’s claim that the top guy in the Mazzimah is a cop,” Sully said.

Len Hamilton shifted his bulk in the chair beside Jamie and snorted. “Not very reliable—a former mob lowlife passing along secondhand information from a street snitch.”

Jamie couldn’t stop himself from bristling. “Louie has found out more about the Mazzimah than you have, Lenny, and as far as Peeper, Cal used him several times and his info always panned out.”

Sully held up his hands. “Hey. I know you two don’t like each other, but you’re going to work together or I’m going to knock your heads together.” Jamie and Len grumbled but backed down.

“I gotta say, Jamie,” Frank said curtly. “I’m not wild about this line of investigation.”

“Because it implicates cops?” Jamie asked.

“No, because it implicates cops without any proof,” Frank replied, his scar beginning to flush. “If we go down this road, we have to notify Internal Affairs, and I know how much you guys love IAD.”

“Look, Da,” Jamie replied. “I don’t give a royal rat’s ass about IAD or who we might see scurrying for cover if we start kicking over rocks. You said it yourself—if we’re going to take this bitch down, we have to go after her primary source of muscle and funds, the Mazzimah.”

Frank Griffin sighed and rubbed his face. “I know, but what I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room,” he said, looking around sternly. “IAD already has an active investigation into possible police involvement in the Mazzimah. I’m just trying to keep you and your guys from stepping on the wrong toes.”

“Especially since you’re no longer on the job, Jamie,” Sully added.

Jamie mulled this over for a few seconds, and then nodded. “Okay, I get it, but the best I can offer is that we won’t confront any active duty officers without checking with you first, Sully.”

“Real big of you, Griffin,” Hamilton muttered.

Sully banged a fist on his desk. “One more crack, Lenny, and I’m reassigning this case.”

Hamilton glared at Sully briefly, but kept quiet.

After waiting several seconds, Sully continued. “Okay, Jamie, I’m going to hold you to that promise. If you uncover any solid links to any active duty officers, I’m your first call.”

“You do as Sully instructs you to do,” Frank added.

Jamie spread his hands, palms up, in front of him. “Agreed and agreed. My only condition is this. I’m not going to hamstring my team if they need to act to prevent any further harm from coming to me or my family. They’ve had my back so far, and I’m not about to give that up.”

The three officers looked at their former co-worker, and then Frank nodded. “Agreed,” Sully replied.

“In that vein,” Jamie continued, “is there anything I need to pass along to my team? I honestly will try to keep them out of your way, Sully.” Hamilton glared at Jamie.

“No,” Sully replied. “Lenny’s digging into the Mazzimah and how it might connect to Sedecla.”

“I can tell you that this will catch IAD’s notice soon,” Frank said.

They continued to update each other for the better part of an hour. When they were finished, Jamie stood unsteadily. Frank reached out and took Jamie’s arm to support him. Jamie’s first reaction was a flash of anger and shame. Then he realized that his father was just helping, not passing judgment, so Jamie just nodded. “Sully,” Jamie said, “I’ll check in again tomorrow.”

“Good enough,” Sully said, standing and shaking his hand. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will.” Len pointedly looked the other way as Jamie exited.

“Jamie, give me a minute here, then I’ll walk out with you,” Frank said.

Jamie paused in the doorway. “I thought we weren’t keeping secrets on this case?”

“Not everything we talk about is related to this case,” Frank replied evenly. “Since you’re not on the job, there’s some information you can’t be privy to any longer.”

Jamie nodded, then walked out and ‘shot the shit’ with two uniforms.

“Is Eileen picking you up?” Frank asked as they made their way back to the entrance.

“Yeah, she should be waiting,” Jamie replied.

When they reached the vestibule and saw Eileen sitting outside in the SUV, Frank waved, and then stopped Jamie. “Son, I really do mean what I say when I tell you that I just want to help.”

Jamie looked at his father for several seconds before replying. “Okay, Da. I understand, and I do mean it when I say that I’ll keep Sully in the loop.”

“Fair enough,” Frank said. “Take care of yourself, son.”

They embraced, and Jamie walked to the SUV. As Eileen drove them home, he updated her on the meeting, and she told him about her meeting.

“It’s just down the road from the old shop. Even without all of my insurance money, I can reserve the space, but I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to replace with what we have left.”

Jamie grimaced. If I wasn’t useless, we wouldn’t be in this situation.

Glancing at her husband, Eileen said, “Don’t you be taking this onto yourself, Jamie Griffin. I know you all too well. This isn’t your fault—you didn’t intend to get sick.”

Jamie reached across and put his hand, palm up, on Eileen’s leg. She reached down and squeezed his hand. “I know, love, but it’s easier to say that than to believe it.”

“If you want to kick yourself,” Eileen said, “kick yourself about cutting me out of your ‘club.’”

“We’ve been over this, Eileen,” Jamie growled.

“Don’t you believe for a moment that we won’t keep going over this, boyo. I’m not some china doll that has to be molly-coddled.”

Jamie rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was losing the battle to keep his headache down to a dull roar. “True, but I won’t put both of us into danger. It’s not fair to the girls.”

“No, you’ll just put yourself in harm’s way, even though you’re sick.”

“Aye, but I’m not about to have the others go into this alone. Plus, I’m the former cop. I have to keep things from getting out of hand. Otherwise, Louie or the twins could wind up in trouble.”

They drove in silence for several minutes. Eileen slowly made her way to the North End. Daphné and Darcelle planned to stake out Sedecla’s townhouse, and Jamie had insisted on joining them.

“You should be going home and resting,” Eileen finally said, giving up on the previous argument.

Jamie smiled. “Worry less, my dear. There’s nothing life-threatening about me getting tired.”

“Well, gallivanting about needlessly won’t be helping that any.”

“Maybe not, but if I’m taking a quarter of the reward, I have to put in a quarter of the effort.”

“Louie doesn’t go on stakeouts—he knows his limitations.”

“Louie would go nuts on a stakeout,” Jamie replied. “I’ve been on more than I can count. Plus, Louie’s contributing by getting us information about Sedecla’s operations. Anyway, assuming that nothing happens again today, I’ll have the twins drive me home early this afternoon.”

Eileen shook her head. “I guess that’s the best I can hope for, you stubborn, stubborn man.”

“It is indeed.”

They turned onto Hull Street, and Eileen made her way cautiously down the snow-packed street. There they are,” Jamie pointed to Daphné and Darcelle on the right, about half a block from Sedecla’s house. As they stopped, Jamie leaned over and kissed Eileen. “I’ll take it easy, I promise.”

Eileen harrumphed her disbelief but returned the kiss. “See that you do.” When Jamie opened the door, Eileen made a motion to Darcelle to lower her window. The cold rushed into the car like a tsunami. “You make sure he minds,” Eileen called out, “and bring him home early this afternoon.”

Daphné gave Eileen a thumbs-up. “You got it, Aunt Eileen.”

“God save me from mother hens,” Jamie muttered as he settled into the backseat.

“Hey,” Darcelle said. “Don’t include me in that group. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a big boy.”

“Exactly,” Jamie replied. “Any activity today?”

“Nope. Completely turtle,” Darcelle replied. “Not that I blame them for battening down the hatches and staying inside in this weather.”

Tapping his walking stick thoughtfully against the floorboard, Jamie said, “True, but I can’t believe Sedecla is going to let da Silva’s death go unanswered.”

“She may just be waiting for us to make the first move,” Daphné observed.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about that,” Jamie admitted. “We’ve managed to defuse most of her strikes against us. So her strategy could be to wait for us to move against her and trap us.”

“That’s why I agree with Lombardi,” Darcelle said softly.

“Why?” Jamie demanded. “What’s Louie up to?”

The twins looked at each other, and then Daphné shrugged. “You brought it up, you tell him.”

Darcelle blew out an exasperated breath. “Louie has been quietly talking to some trusted members of his ‘family,’” she said. “He says he ain’t about to walk into a trap without lots of firepower.”

“Jaysus on a feckin’ crutch Christ,” Jamie swore. “I told him to keep his mob friends out of this.”

“Maybe so,” Darcelle observed, “but I don’t disagree with him. You know that witchy bitch is going to have as much muscle as she can inside that place.”

“I’m not going in without serious firepower of our own, but we have to do this the right way.”

“Yeah, we all know the sermon, Unc—‘we have to do this by the book,’ but where in your precious book does it say we have to get ourselves killed?” Darcelle demanded.

“For feck’s sake, I think Louie has been a bad influence on you, young lady,” Jamie replied.

“Maybe.” Darcelle shot back, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have a death wish.”

“And you think I do?”

“No, but I think your desire for revenge may blind you to the dangers involved.”

They glowered at each other for several seconds. Jamie finally blew out a frustrated breath, fogging up the rear window. “Darcelle, I’ve forgotten more about handling these types of situations than you’ll ever know. Even if I’ve got a case of tunnel vision, I’m not going to put us at needless risk.”

“I’ve got no problem with dangerous. It’s foolhardy that worries me. You’re not a cop any longer, Jamie. You’re not even a PI.”

“Bite your tongue,” Jamie replied evenly. “Most private investigators are overpriced and underwhelming. I have years of police experience, and Louie’s not blindly walking into a trap. You can mitigate the danger by knowing exactly what your opponent is up to.”

No one spoke for several minutes. They stared out at the snowy street and the ice-covered trees on Copp’s Hill. Finally Daphné spoke. “Actually, Unc, there has been some activity here.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Well, no one’s come out, but several vehicles have gone in, and then come out a little while later.”

“What kind of vehicles?” Jamie asked.

“The same kind of white panel vans that kidnapped Riona,” Darcelle answered.

After a moment’s thought, Jamie asked, “How many vans have been in and out of there?”

The twins looked at each other. “Probably half a dozen since we’ve been here,” Daphné replied.

“No telling how many more before we got here at dawn,” Darcelle added.

“Or if there were trips out of the building either,” Jamie concluded.

“True.”

“Do you think someone inside has made you?” Jamie asked after another pause.

Darcelle shrugged. “Yeah, it’s possible. We followed one of them after they left here, but it just took us on a big loop around the North End and came back here without stopping anywhere. This isn’t the first time we’ve been camped out here, so I think we’ve probably been made.”

Jamie tapped his walking stick again for a minute, then he said, “Ladies, let’s take a little drive.”

“Sure,” Darcelle said, starting the car. “Where to?”

“Let’s take a quick trip to Logan.”

“Why?” Daphné asked. “You flying somewhere?”

“No,” Jamie replied, “but Logan’s a great place to rent a car.”

The twins looked at each other for a moment, and then Darcelle chuckled as she pulled out and made her way down the street. “You’re going to have up split up, each in a rental car.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jamie said. “Then park at the next intersection in both directions.”

“If they don’t see us lurking out here, they might step up their activities,” Daphné noted.

“Yeah. Switch places once in a while too. Maybe we’ll lull them into revealing something.”

“Pretty sneaky, Unc,” Darcelle admitted.

“Like I said, Dar-Dar, I’ve danced a few dances in my day.”

Darcelle narrowed her eyes and muttered a Cape Verdean curse beneath her breath. “Good thing you’re my favorite uncle. I’ll let you get away with that this time.”

“Fair enough,” Jamie said with a laugh. “Daphné, since I know you’re going to nag about how long I’m here, I’ll go with you. We can spare Darcelle the argument about when it’s time for my nap.”

“Man, you’re just determined to piss us both off,” Daphné said.

Jamie shrugged. “What can I say? Living in a house full of women, it’s just a talent.”

* * * *

“So, it looks like they’re entrenching themselves,” Jamie said after they followed white vans to separate destinations, where they loaded up men and boxes into the back, and return to Sedecla’s townhouse.

“Yeah, they probably don’t have party favors in those boxes,” Daphné noted, having finally won the argument about it being time for Jamie to go home and rest.

“Probably not.” As they drew near to the exit for Dorchester, Jamie said, “Okay, you and Dar keep an eye on them for the rest of the day, then turn in the rentals and call it a day.”

“Great,” Daphné said. “You know, we do have other obligations, uncle.” She smiled at Jamie. “I mean, this is fun, but we gotta pay the rent. Not to mention expenses like car rental, gas, bullets—”

“I know,” Jamie replied with a grimace, “but I don’t think this is going to drag on much longer, one way or the other.” He looked out at the snow-encrusted streets and houses. As they approached Saint Brendan’s, Jamie said, “Hey, just let me out here.”

Daphné frowned. “I dunno. Aunt Eileen was pretty insistent that I drive you back home when we were done.” Nonetheless, she pulled into the church parking lot. “I think maybe I’ll wait here.”

“I think maybe you’ll have a long wait then,” Jamie shot back. “I don’t need a babysitter. I want to light a candle and say a quick prayer for guidance.”

“I can still wait,” Daphné replied sweetly.

“I’ll sneak out the back,” Jamie said in the same tone. He leaned over and put a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be fine, lass. I’ll tell Eileen that I made you drive off at gunpoint.”

“Yeah, right.”

Jamie laughed, closed the door, and rapped the roof as he walked away, crunching snow and ice underfoot as he made his way into the church. The church wasn’t always open, but Jamie got lucky. Jamie quickly dipped his fingers into the stoup at the door leading into the church and crossed himself. A smile played about his lips as he recalled the old schoolboy rhyme for the directions of the sign of the cross. Spectacles, testicles, watch, wallet.

The tapping of his walking stick sounding thunderous despite his effort to restrain it, Jamie made his way to one of the small alcoves at the rear of the church that contained stands of candles. Jamie put a donation in the box, and then lit a candle. He genuflected, both in front of the candle and at the end of the pew on which he knelt, praying for guidance and safety in the upcoming confrontation. After a minute of silent prayer, Jamie sat back into the pew and closed his eyes. Even with a multitude of thoughts and worries scurrying through his weary mind, he dozed.

* * * *

Jamie stood in a dark, dank room, reeking of suffering and death. Straining to see in the Stygian blackness, Jamie slowly perceived a smudge of reddish light coalescing in the distance. The smudge grew into a ragged oval, swirling and spinning about a figure that Jamie couldn’t make out. As the circle grew, he realized the sphere wasn’t far away—it was close and had begun as a tiny dot that was growing to the size of a person. Jamie still couldn’t make out the identity of the person bathed in crimson, but he had a good idea, even as gold and black flecks danced about the form like confetti. When the figure turned toward him, Jamie stood face to face with Sedecla. She was dressed in dark red and brown, a flowing gown of some kind, with a golden belt cinched about her waist.

“Are you prepared to meet your fate, mortal?” Sedecla asked in a soft, sensual voice. Despite the evil that surrounded her, she was attractive. Sedecla gazed at him fiercely. Jamie felt the weight of her gaze upon him, like an iron coverlet, threatening to drag him to his knees.

“The better question is, are you prepared to meet yours, witch?” Jamie kept his voice calm and even, despite the anger and worry roiling within his breast.

Sedecla laughed, which echoed like the sonorous tolling of dark, ponderous bells. “You do not lack courage, little man. I will give you credit for that much.”

“Hey, who you callin’ little?” Jamie demanded. “I’m taller than you.”

Her mouth curling up at one corner, Sedecla chuckled. “You can make your jokes as well, detective. You have had extraordinary luck in eluding my snares, but now you will have to come to me if you wish to stop me. Do you have the courage to confront me in person?”

Jamie smiled and returned her chuckle. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out. You sorry you sent a boy to do a man’s job? Being taken out by two girls, wow—” He shook his head slowly.

Eyes flashing, Sedecla became furious. “Tomás da Silva was twice the man you will ever be.”

“Ooh, touched a nerve there, hunh?” Jamie replied sarcastically. Then he had to steel himself to hold his ground as Sedecla stepped forward to stand inches away.

“Your brats and bitch wife have eluded me so far, but their time is running out, I promise.”

“Here now, none of that,” Jamie replied, still keeping his tone light despite the menace streaming from the witch. “I’m the only one allowed to call my wife a bitch.” Then, with a wry smile, he added, “and I do so only at my own peril, let me tell you—”

“Enough,” Sedecla shouted, throwing her arms out wide, bolts of power crackling from each hand as she leaned in, almost touching noses with Jamie. He knew this was a dream, but Jamie felt her reality, her nearness, and an imminent threat. Her large brown eyes bored into his gray eyes and reached into his mind, seeking a foothold to grasp, to gain control or at the least, to inspire fear.

Jamie had been in the presence of many important and powerful people over the years—bishops and cardinals, even the Pope across a large room once, the chief of police, the mayor, the governor, glimpses of senators, presidents and heads of state that had visited Boston, the iron will that suffused Frank Griffin’s every move and word. This presence, however, was the most commanding, the most intimidating, the most powerful that Jamie had ever encountered. Quelling the doubts and dread bubbling up inside him, Jamie did not flinch, did not blink, and did not look away. “It’s only enough when I say it’s enough, bitch,” he replied in a soft, even voice.

Sedecla whirled away, the power lancing across the room, crackling against rough-cut, stone walls and briefly illuminating the room. It was moderately large, maybe twenty feet square, with a circular wooden platform that took up about half the space. There was some type of design inlaid into the platform, but the burst of illumination was too short-lived for Jamie to discern its identity. The floor of the room consisted of a finely ground powder, but with a smell that reminded Jamie of a grave. Sedecla turned back, one arm held out elegantly, as if posing for a statue. “You may only be here in your dreams, mortal, but I can still inflict pain. I cannot kill you, but I can make you sorry you came here.”

Red radiance, laced with black, lanced out and struck Jamie. It felt like a strong man had taken a sledgehammer and swung it full force to his chest. Jaysus Christ. It feels like she’s breaking my ribs. The force blew Jamie backward, and he felt himself lifted off the platform and hurtling toward the stone wall on the other side of the room. Just before he struck, with Sedecla’s snarling face focused intensely upon his, Jamie felt himself yanked downward, as if he were in a runaway elevator. Then, before impact—

* * * *

Jamie jerked forward in the pew, his eyes wide open. Sweating and his heart racing as if he had just finished a marathon, a monstrous pain rampaged in his head, more terrible than the worst migraine he had ever experienced. He slapped his hands over his face and bowed to rest on the back of the pew in front of him. Nausea swept through him like a flash flood, and only years of ingrained propriety kept him from vomiting in the church. As he regained control of his stomach and tried to push back against the pain, Jamie heard a familiar voice reach his ears. “Jamie? Jamie, lad, are you okay?”

Lowering his hands, Jamie saw Father O’Connor lowering his bulk into the pew in front of him. Sighing, Jamie placed a hand weakly on one of the priest’s beefy shoulders. “Yeah, padre, I’m fine.”

O’Connor placed a large hand upon Jamie’s shoulder. “Seriously, are you okay? Do I need to call Eileen?”

“No,” Jamie replied with more strength than he actually felt. “I just need a few moments.”

Nodding slowly, O’Connor eased back in the pew. “Seeking spiritual counseling, Jamie?”

Sighing, Jamie returned the priest’s nod. “Aye, father, but I can’t discuss it with you.”

“You’re not working again are you?” O’Connor asked.

“Not as a detective, but it’s still a case, and I’m not going to burden you with the story.”

“Burden? That’s what I’m here for, Jamie. To share burdens.”

“No offense, Anthony, but you’ve seemed over-burdened yourself for some time.”

Fear traced itself over the priest’s face. “What do you mean? Has O’Neill spoken with you?”

“Timmy?” Jamie asked. “No. Should he?”

O’Connor let out a ragged breath. “No, but Timothy has helped me deal with a burden of my own.” He looked at Jamie, examining his face for any unspoken meaning.

The two men exchanged glances for several seconds. Finally, Jamie spoke, “Okay, I know better than to try to pry information out of you. Seal of the confessional and all that jazz.”

“Something like that,” O’Connor agreed, trying to keep the worry and shame from his face.

“Let me ask you this, father—do you believe in evil?” Jamie gazed intently at O’Connor. “Physical agents of evil, not just the Sunday School devil the penguins always threatened us with.”

“Séamus Griffin,” O’Connor scolded. “Do not refer to the sisters that way in God’s house.” The priest paused. “I do believe in physical agents of Evil. I don’t think they prowl the world seeking souls as they show in the movies. Nor do I believe in vampires, werewolves, or other such Hollywood devils.”

“What about witches?”

“Ah, well, that’s a different story, lad. Even the Bible refers to witches.”

“I know, the Witch of Endor.”

“Among others.”

After another pause, Jamie continued. “Do you think The Witch of Endor actually existed?”

O’Connor shrugged. “Probably, inasmuch as most Biblical figures existed. Whether or not she was an actual witch is debated, but I don’t doubt the existence of those who serve Evil, any more than I doubt the existence of those who serve Good. Why do you ask?”

“Now I have to plead confidentiality, Father,” Jamie replied. “It’s related to the case.”

“Well, looking at you now, I’d say you need to stop working and start getting some rest.”

Jamie nodded and stood. “Good advice, father, as always.”

O’Connor stood and shook Jamie’s hand. “Are you okay to walk? I can drive you home.”

“Now you sound like one of my womenfolk,” Jamie replied tersely. “I can walk home, man.”

As they made their way to the side door of the church, O’Connor said, “Maybe, maybe not. You look like a strong wind would blow you away.”

Opening the door into the cold, Jamie laughed, with bitterness that matched the temperature outside. “It’ll take more than that to drag me down, Father. I’ll see you Sunday.”

“I’ll count on it, Jamie.”

Jamie felt the gaze of the priest following him. Damned man won’t go back inside until I’m around the corner, Jamie thought with irritation. He increased his pace, and then raised a hand without looking back as he walked out of sight. Jamie heard the church door thump shut, and it sent a vibration into his bones, which were already under siege from the cold, the exploding pain in his head, and the flood of fatigue that swept him like an incoming storm tide.

Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph. If the witch can hurt me in my dreams, what will she be able to do to us if we confront her in her stronghold? This thought added more weight to the tons of worry and fatigue that already threatened to send him to his knees. Jamie walked slowly down the street toward home, to face the music he knew would be waiting from his loving wife.