| |
Later that same day, we gathered at my house to begin Operation Daigle Takedown.
Over the course of a week, Gertie had gained a wealth of information. She hadn’t mentioned it because she wanted to gather the intelligence in a more organic way. If Ida Belle and I had known about her early morning meets, we would’ve blown her cover.
That was her story and she was sticking to it.
By not telling us, we were none the wiser to the inside position she’d secured on her own. It made practical sense, really, but I couldn’t help but wonder if something more might have been in play.
For an older man, Jax was attractive. His snow-white hair and beard were neatly trimmed and he was fit and charming. He looked like an attorney, not a mobster.
It was the façade that worried me.
For now, we’d focus on what Gertie somehow managed to scrounge up. I helped Ida Belle and Gertie carry boxes upstairs. I hated to admit it, but the haul looked significant.
The pair agreed to set everything up while I showered. When I entered the small space a half-hour later, I gasped.
“Impressed, huh?” Gertie looked around the room with a gleam of pride in her eyes.
I understood why. I wasn’t in Marge’s attic anymore. I was standing in the middle of a war room.
“What’s the matter?” Ida Belle asked, acting as if the attic remained unchanged.
Gertie waved her small hands in front of a large dry-erase board. As if she were trying to give her best Wheel of Fortune imitation, she casually flipped the board and fanned her hand in front of a mob pyramid.
“We took the liberty to prepare these right after you left Gertie’s this morning,” Ida Belle said, pointing to a color-coded chart on the wall.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” I asked.
“There will be plenty of time for that when the coroner comes for me,” Gertie said.
“Where did you get all this information?” I asked, carefully studying some black and white mugshots pinned to a bulletin board.
“Gertie did a great job gathering intel,” Ida Belle said, beaming.
“She must’ve done really well.” I shuddered, realizing how it all sounded, but then another thought occurred to me. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with the enemy.”
“If she had, it would’ve been for the greater good,” Ida Belle said, acting as if it wouldn’t have been the first time.
I didn’t doubt much, but that I didn’t quite believe. These two would go to rather steep extremes, except when it meant one of them might get hurt.
“Don’t worry, Fortune. I wouldn’t have risked my virtue for this intelligence. Besides, as long as Jax Daigle thinks he’s getting this?” She waved her arm in front of her body then rolled her eyes as if the mere suggestion cracked her up. “The information he provides will fill the coffers.”
Ida Belle sighed. “Whatever it takes.”
“As long as you aren’t compromised in any way.” I studied a pyramid drawing. There were three empty black boxes with Jax’s name and a question mark. “Wait. Is this what I think it is? You’re not sure if he was an underboss, captain, or consigliere?”
Those question marks left us open to a lot of what-ifs. More importantly, it left Gertie open to danger that she perhaps couldn’t handle herself.
“I don’t like this,” I said.
“Save the argument.” Ida Belle threw up her hands. “I’ve already said my peace. If he’s this high up? Gertie can’t be with him alone.”
“The consiglieres that I’ve known in the past were always the guys others took for granted,” I said.
“And they’re typically well-protected. I know all this. We spoke to Harrison.” Gertie made the statement somewhat timidly as if she believed it might bother me that I wasn’t included in the conversation.
She waited. I remained unmoved.
Ida Belle said, “Harrison mentioned that there’s been a rise of French men infiltrating mob-related business, especially among the Sicilian Italian-American mafia. In Paris they’re referred to as...”
“...les beaux voyous.” I said, stopping her before she explained the structure. “More commonly known as the Milieu.”
“You’ve had dealings with them?” Ida Belle asked.
“Indirectly, perhaps, but Harrison also casually mentioned the organization after we were dragged into Daigle’s world.”
“Of course he would’ve mentioned it to you first,” Gertie said, wringing her hands, but seemingly relieved.
I rested my hand over hers. “It would’ve been fine if Harrison had taken you into his confidences first.”
She brightened. “I don’t want to overstep, dear.”
“You’re not.” I gave her a warm smile and returned to the larger dry-erase board, hoping to commit some of it to memory. “So Jax Daigle’s son is Brigham Cable and he’s an underboss?”
“Supposedly, which is surprising, right?” Ida Belle looked perplexed, perhaps unsure if the graphs and photos told the accurate tale. “Gertie and I think that Jax is the main connect between his son and the boss, so possibly the consigliere.”
I read the criminal names of each person listed on their charts. “Elle mentioned her dad and how that the mob had destroyed him. I took that to mean that he was deceased.”
Gertie said, “Jax mentioned his son several times, always in the present tense.”
“Think he’s trying to get a reaction from you, questions maybe?” I didn’t know Jax, but had known plenty of men like him.
“Maybe,” Gertie deadpanned.
“What about Elle’s mom?” I asked.
“Fairly sure she’s deceased,” Gertie said. “For similar reasons. Jax speaks of her in the past tense.”
Ida Belle and I swapped glances. She looked worried and I could only imagine the level of concern. She and Gertie were lifelong friends. Gertie wasn’t just playing with fire, she was jumping into the middle of it.
Ida Belle sighed. “You can’t get too attached.”
“I’m not,” Gertie promised. “Any man who would leave his granddaughter in the hands of a bodyguard just so he can sneak out and see a woman is no man at all in my book.”
“She was probably in good hands,” I said. “Harrison mentioned Daigle had already hired ex-military servicemen. She’s probably guarded better when they’re responsible for her wellbeing.”
Gertie shook her head in disagreement. “Elle will always be the kid who finds new ways to get in trouble. I’ve spent time with her. You both have also. She can outwit anyone, including those who are paid to keep her safe.”
I couldn’t argue there.
“Is this everything?” I asked.
“As if we need anything more?” Ida Belle scoffed. “She’s pulled together a lot of valuable insight.”
Ida Belle’s pride in Gertie was evident. “Whenever Gertie meets with Daigle—Jax—from here forward, she’ll make notes then bring everything to Marie. She’ll plug in the information so we stay abreast of any new developments. With Marie handling the case here, we’re free to focus on Jax and Elle.”
“Where’s Marie? I was supposed to keep Bones for her while she went shopping with an old neighbor.” Bones was a gentle hound that once belonged to the real Sandy-Sue Morrow’s aunt. It seemed like perfect order to give the hound a good home with someone he recognized.
“We asked her to postpone her trip for a few days. This can’t wait,” Ida Belle said.
“And it never occurred to you that I might be able to keep the charts updated?” I asked, suspecting there may have been another reason for Marie’s involvement.
“No,” they said together. “Elle enjoys spending time with you. Whenever Gertie gets any incomplete information from Jax, you’ll be responsible for questioning Elle.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I hate to use a child to gain intelligence about the mob.”
“Even if it means saving her life?” Ida Belle asked.
“Good point,” I said, unable to elaborate further after my phone buzzed with a new text.
Hadley, a CIA executive assistant, had sent the message from a burner phone. The text looked like a sales ad for new shoes, which seemed very fitting since she loved stylish shoes.
It took a minute to translate.
“Well?” Gertie asked, peering over my shoulder. “Is it spam or a message?”
“I think we may have a problem.” I translated the text which was a mix of Pictionary-type photos, random letters, partial sentences, and wasted space. Hadley couldn’t have been a better executive assistant, but she lacked experience in field assignments, not that texting qualified as such an assignment.
“We have a problem. Feds are relocating their first family to Wasteland later this week.”
Ida Belle frowned. “Any questions we have about Jax’s motive for being here and starting a community for those in witness protection will quickly be put to rest.”
Gertie looked torn. “You probably won’t believe this, but I don’t think he wants to harm anyone.”
“Where’d you get that idea?” Ida Belle scoffed. “The man may be handsome, but never forget how he acted when we started cleaning up his death mess.”
Gertie thought for a minute. “If he acted a certain way, nothing set off alarms. He didn’t say very much at all.”
“Exactly,” Ida Belle said. “Who remains unmoved when death surrounds them?”
Something struck me as peculiar also. “Elle didn’t react like a normal person either.”
“Bingo,” Ida Belle said. “They were unmoved because they weren’t surprised. And all that bull about Elle going behind her granddad’s back? The more time we spend with Elle, the less I buy that. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s been groomed for the mob.”
“I’m afraid you’re right.” It was rare when the mob involved their children, but when they did, those kids knew as much as the adults. It was heartbreaking and robbed them of any chance at a normal childhood.
We needed to find her a safe place to live if Jax had ulterior motives for his protective custody dream town. Unfortunately, the CIA and the Feds had their handprints all over this case. Any suggestions we might make would be shot down by one or both.
“Didn’t Harrison tell us that no one could keep her safer than Jax right now?” Gertie asked.
“Right,” I said, studying Cable Daigle’s name on the pyramid. What if we had this wrong? “Elle used the word ‘destroy’ when she spoke about her father. I keep going back to that, but it was the way that she said it. What if the one person who can keep Elle safe is also the one person who can destroy her?”
“I’m with you,” Ida Belle said. “And I agree.”
Gertie looked solemn, but nodded all the same. “We need to work quickly. A child’s life is at stake.”
“Make that five children,” I said, slowly scrolling through Hadley’s text again. “Looks like there are six new styles set to hit the racks this week, four of which are classified as petite.”
A family of six was on the way to the Louisiana bayou. Given the efforts Jax had taken, their arrival in Wasteland wouldn’t come as a surprise.