“What are you, like a walking map?” Digger asked.
“Sort of, yeah,” Zane answered.
“The station will be damn near empty right now,” Ty told them. “There are three parades today, plus the Easter services. They’re already out. The safest place is in a crowd, and this is all I got.”
Nick patted him on the shoulder, nodding. “It’ll do.”
“Call the Feds,” Owen said as they all parked themselves near the façade of the restaurant. They looked like wandering vagrants. Their clothes were unkempt, they were carrying bags on their backs, and Ty and Zane were both wearing hats they had taken from Murdoch’s office before leaving.
Ty pulled out his phone and dialed the number for the local Bureau field office.
“Yes, I need to speak with Gregory Pike,” Ty said as soon as the call was answered. He could feel the others forming a sort of barrier around him and Zane as they stood on the periphery of the parade crowd. He ducked his head to avoid being recognized or caught on any security feeds.
“I’m sorry, sir, Special Agent Pike no longer works here.”
“Shit,” Ty hissed. He put the phone to his chest and closed his eyes, trying to think. Pike had been the handler for all UC cases before Katrina hit. He’d been a solid, trustworthy local, one who’d proven impervious to bribes or scandal. His replacement could be anyone, and Ty didn’t trust just anyone. He cleared his throat and brought the phone back up. “I need to speak with his replacement, then.”
“One moment.”
Nick shook his head urgently. “Replacement?”
“I know. I don’t think we can trust him,” Ty whispered.
Zane extended his hand. “How do you know?”
“This is New Orleans, Zane, you don’t trust anyone. But if I hear his name, I might know him.”
“Hang up,” Nick hissed.
Kelly gripped Nick’s shoulder and shook his head. “This is the only avenue that doesn’t end bloody. We’ll go in careful, bug out if he doesn’t feel right.”
Ty glanced around the faces staring at him and noticed one missing. “Where’d Liam go?”
The others searched around, but Liam Bell was nowhere to be found.
“He bailed,” Zane said. He sounded surprised.
Ty gritted his teeth. “We consider him hostile now.”
“Does that mean I get to shoot him?” Nick asked.
“Yes.”
Owen cursed. “We can’t fight a three-front war with a few of Digger’s toys and four guns.”
Zane shook his head. “We can’t fight one front if we don’t get help.”
Saint Louis Cemetery #1 on Basin Street was the oldest cemetery in New Orleans. It wasn’t far from where the parade started. The walk was excruciating for Zane. Ty wouldn’t make eye contact with him, wouldn’t even glance in his general direction. Zane wasn’t sure which of them should be apologizing or if there was even anything left to say after last night. Ty had crossed a line, there was no question of that. But last night, Zane had crossed one too.
He trailed along, silent as Ty told them a little of the history of the cemetery so they’d be familiar with the terrain.
The raised tombs were due in part to the Spanish and French traditions of the original New Orleanians, but also served as a solution to the fact that New Orleans was below sea level. Solid land was at a premium even in the 1700s, and using it to bury the dead was just bad business. So the iconic aboveground cemeteries of New Orleans were pieced together over the centuries. Ty told them they would have lots of cover, but to be careful about taking blind turns, as they might wind up smacking straight into an abandoned vault that had sunk half into the ground.
There were three gated entrances into the cemetery, only one of which stayed open. It was otherwise surrounded by high walls. Not a fortress by any means, but an excellent place for such a meeting. The maze inside would offer cover, and the limited points of egress would make it easy to spot anyone who shouldn’t be there.
As the parade inched down Bourbon, they began to split off. Ty was to double-time it to the north and circle back, heading down Rampart and then cutting through Louis Armstrong Park. He would approach Basin Street Station, a visitor center with a roof terrace that was the perfect place to put a sniper. He’d secure a position up there and remain until it was clear. He carried Liam’s British-made AWS suppressed sniper rifle with folding action in a nondescript violin case he’d stolen from La Fée Verte.
Owen and Digger were to enter the cemetery and loiter on the south side to prevent entry, while Nick and Kelly were to guard the back gate from outside the cemetery.
Zane was left to head straight down St. Louis Street and approach the cemetery at its main entrance.
The ear buds Digger had provided were dependent on small wireless radios, and as long as the radio was within a few yards of the ear bud, they would work. Zane kept his in his pocket. They had a limited range, but Zane could still hear the others after they all went their separate ways. Ty remained silent for several minutes, his harsh breathing as he ran the only evidence that his ear bud worked at all. Then his breathing evened out and he began to whistle a tune. Zane slowed his pace, a feeling of dread coming over him. When Ty whistled, it never boded well.
The street in front of the cemetery’s main entrance was crowded with parked cars and several horse-drawn carriages. Zane hung back, loitering and strolling up and down the street for nearly an hour as he observed the area. The others were doing the same, reporting in occasionally. Ty had made his way to his roost somehow, and since Zane hadn’t heard him trying to charm any employees, his guess was Ty had just snuck up there.
“I got a Fed,” Ty finally whispered in Zane’s ear. “Coming up on Garrett now.”
Zane watched a thin man in a dark suit step out of a black Tahoe that he’d parked illegally along the street, then head straight for the cemetery entrance as he buttoned his suit jacket.
“Got him,” Zane said under his breath. “Anyone following?”
“It’s clear back here,” Nick said.
“Got a vehicle parked on this side,” Owen reported. “Some sort of touring van.”
“Go on your count, Garrett,” Ty murmured.
Zane waited a few more minutes, then crossed the street at an angle, standing in the grassy median and shielding his eyes from the sun. The Basin Street Station building was to his right. It was pale yellow with black iron workings around the top terrace. That was where Ty had set up. It was impossible to see him, though; the sun sat right behind him. Behind the enclosed walls of the cemetery, Zane could see the uneven structures of tombs and tiny chapels. Stone angels wept. Brick faltered to the hands of time and unstable earth.