KNIGHT'S REPORTS: 3 Book Set Page 11
About halfway to the back room, the heat and smoke finally became too much so I got down on all fours and scampered toward Zack’s bedroom doorway, amid the clamor of crashing brass.
Just outside the threshold, I found a tiny and still puppy, its fur shining like golden threads in the blazing fire around us. Hoping it was still alive, but with no time to check, I snatched it up and placed it under my shirt as I scanned for more life.
Nothing.
Then, in the licking flames, I saw Ella Fitzgerald, lying motionless, a puppy in her mouth. A few feet past her were another six or seven pups lying quiet in a dog bed at the foot of Zack’s bunk. I was too late, the fire beginning to engulf them.
I was so mad, tears came to my eyes.
“Zack!” I cried out. “Zack, damn it! Where are you?”
I caught movement next to the bed. The big, gentle man’s arm was extended up to the mattress from where he lay on the floor.
I moved as quickly as I could to him but something suddenly block my way.
A bare-chested black woman with a white mask.
On all fours like me, she reared back on her knees.
She seemed familiar. Then I noticed the fresh scar in the middle of her chest ... and the pink and red handprints tattooed on her bare breasts.
“No. It can’t be —”
She dropped the mask. It was Marie Paris Dumesnil de Glapion.
She blew the dust into my face, this time covering me well, and I inhaled the deadly powder in my surprised gasp.
Within seconds, the world spinning around me, she’d disappeared. Drained of strength and focus, I finally found my way to Zack’s body.
I collapsed on top of him as the ceiling caved in.
In the darkness behind my eyes, I thought I’m going to kill that bitch! Then, before I passed out, I realized that in my drug induced gayety and stupor, I had failed to tell Poodoo about both Legba’s plans of killing her and of his plans to sink the child-filled container ship.
CHAPTER 20
Real Time: in Fur-Lined Handcuffs
Still handcuffed to the bed, my thoughts were coming clearer. With a few holes big enough to steer an M-1 Abrams through, I remembered most of what had happened.
The front door knob rattled from the next room and Black Zack appeared smiling in the bedroom doorway.
“Zack, thank God you’re okay!”
“I’s jus’ fine, E Z boy.”
“Sorry about Ella Fitzgerald and the puppies.”
“They’s jus’ fine, too.”
I was puzzled. “But I thought sure — “
Zack interrupted, “How ‘bout you?”
“Except for being tied to a bed, I’m good. Get me the hell outa here, will you?”
I heard the front door close and Poodoo came in. “That’s coming soon enough. First I gotta make sure they didn’t turn you into a zombie.”
“What?”
“Your memory back?”
“It’s coming. We have to get moving, I know that.”
She came to me, saying, “Sorry I was so rough on you, earlier. I thought if I got you riled up and your mind racing, you might recover the memory of the past few days quicker.” She felt my head and then inspected my eyes. “You know I spent many hours lying naked next to you in this bed, trying to keep your ice-cold body warm. Then you came back from zombie land and had that bad fever last night. You were tossin’ and turnin’ and beating yourself up. I had to put these on you.”
Zack said, “That damn powder they keeps blowin’ in ya face really messed ya up. Stuff’s kilt many o’folks. You’s lucky, E Z boy.”
Poodoo opened a drawer by the bed and took out a key. “You were saying some pretty crazy stuff. None of it made a bit of sense.” She unlocked both hands.
She left the handcuffs dangling from the steel headboard.
“I’ll leave these here as a warning for the next guy who dares enter my boudoir. Nice touch, don’t you think?”
“That and the two-foot-long dildo in the closet ought to do the trick.”
Zack raised his eyebrows. “Poodoo, you’s gots Legba’s big deek in that closet o’yo’s?”
She ignored him. “Your clothes are hanging next to the blindfolds, cock rings and ball gags.”
I rubbed my wrists. “You really get into this shit, don’t you, Dooley?”
Poodoo ignored me as well. She got a cardboard box and gently lifted the tiny golden retriever pup from its sleeping place beside me on the bed. She set it into the box and covered it with another small towel.
“Our little girl oughta be okay for a while in here. I’ll get my neighbor lady to take care of her while we’re out.”
Zack said, “Ya got the runt there, E Z boy. Mama Ella Fitzgerald cain’t nurse her, so Poodoo volunteered.”
I leaned over and looked into the box. She was cute.
Feeling much better than only minutes before, I sat up to untie my feet. But a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over me.
“Easy, tiger!” Poodoo said. “You won’t be 100% for a while — if ever.”
I didn’t like what I was hearing — if ever?
I noticed the lights outside the window. It was getting dark. “What time is it?”
Poodoo said, “About six-thirty.”
“So what happened,” I asked, throwing my legs over the side of the bed, “between you and me, I mean?”
She sat down in a chair beside the bed. “Well, sugar, don’t get me wrong. I don’t normally go to bed with a man I just met the day before. I know what you’re thinking, with that closetful of S&M and bondage stuff. You think I’m a loose woman.”
“Lady, you could be tighter than a bull’s ass at fly time for all I know.”
“Let me finish without you being so damn vulgar, would you?”
I shut up.
“I’m on a job, here. I’ve been deep undercover for over a year now, and we’re getting close. But I know we’ve got to get to those kids before the whole shittin’ mess falls apart. I’ve been doing guys, sometimes three or four a night ...”
“No doubt.”
She slugged me hard in the solar plexus. I hate it when people do that. “That’s two,” I said.
“Screw you,” she said. “Anyway, I was doing them by getting them naked, tying them to the bed and drugging them up with a special truth serum a CIA friend concocted for me. I neither kissed nor felt up a man in that bed for the year I’ve had it, or any other bed for that matter ... until you lay in it.”
“And ...”
“Something about you told me you had a good heart. I’d seen your file, so I was pretty sure you were a good guy. And, although I’d only known you for a few hours before that, I saw how thoughtful you were with Zack. I knew you’d put your own life on the line, not for profit, but to save Billy, a young man you didn’t even know. But when those drugs they gave you took over — well, you started out as cold as death, then you got as hot as fryin’ bacon.”
She clasped both hands between her thighs and leaned forward, speaking low as if to tell a secret in a roomful of people. “I’ll admit to you, when you got so hot and sweaty, and you were floppin’ around in the bed like a wild man, I gave you more than a once over. That spell you were under put an erection on you the size and strength like nothin’ I’d ever seen before.”
Zack had turned away, his back to us now. But I was sure he could hear every word Poodoo was saying.
“What about the big guy in the closet—the anaconda with batteries?”
“Big Bad John’s not, real. The mister in your britches is.” She looked at me coyly, then nodded to the towel. “I finally had to cover up that sugar stick of yours to keep from being tempted.” Her full lips were painted red and glistened. Two points on her chest were starting to protrude from her sundress like pencil erasers. “Not that I’ve seen a lot of male members, understand. But I could have done an upside-down pole dance on the thing, and it was so hard it’d break an eagle’s talons.”
Still not paying a bit of attention to Zack, she grinned wide. She had a beautiful smile, and her big green eyes were the type that always beamed.
She said, “I didn’t think you’d mind — I had to touch it. Well, I had to put my hands around it ... and I have to admit I did give it a tug or two ... or three.” She was blushing. “You must understand, though, I got a little bit of that powder blew into my face, too. It made me go a little crazy, as well. I might’ve kissed on you some ... . I might’ve kissed you in some otherwise inappropriate places, if you know what I mean.” She whispered, “I actually considered riding your love horn into the sunset, before my self-control won out, and I decided that would be too much like takin’ advantage of you.”
“Sweetheart,” I said, “I wouldn’t have minded a bit as long as I could watch the video and be conscious during our sequel.”
Her blush grew brighter and she turned away. “Now you go on and get dressed. Your undies are on that chair by the closet, and you’ll find your clothes inside all clean and pressed.”
“Hanging next to the whips, paddles and vibrators?”
“I told you, blindfolds, cock rings and ball gags.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Your shoes are over by the chair,” She said and raised an eyebrow, “And I stuck the little doll you had back in your pocket after I got your clothes back from the cleaners. Don’t worry, I won’t even ask about that.”
“You didn’t take out the pins, did you?”
“I didn’t molest your little dolly a bit.”
I tossed the towel to the side and strode to the closet feeling her eyes on me the entire way. I considered what an inconvenience this slave-trading, murdering ring of Voodoo-magic-slinging bastards was to be interfering with my sex life. But I never did get into the BDS&M stuff, anyway.
As I opened the closet, I saw Zack standing patiently near the front door of the apartment. “Where we off ta, E Z boy?”
“The port,” I told him. “We’re going to the Napoleon Avenue Terminal.”
* * *
The little ‘82 Ford Ranger pickup Goofy loaned us was parked at the curb.
As we walked up, I asked, “How’s Goof?”
Poodoo smiled at me. “He’s gonna make it, thanks for askin’.” He’s gotta be fed a liquid diet through a tube in his stomach for a while. But the doc says he’ll be eatin’ steak in about six weeks. I’m gonna buy him the biggest T-bone this side of the Pecos as soon as he’s outa the hospital.”
“Did you ever find out who this Papa Legba is—where to find him?”
“Nope. Didn’t find the dirty lowlife whore that jammed that pig-sticker into Goofy, either. But, we will — you can count on that as sure as my name is Pooh Dorcas Dooley.”
“Dorcas? Does the fun ever stop?”
“It’s from the Bible.”
“So’s Nergalsharezar the Rab-Mag, but nobody curses their child with it.”
Poodoo frowned at me. “For real?”
“Jeremiah, Chapter 39,” I said.
Poodoo smiled, stepping up to the passenger side of the little pick up. “You truly are full of surprises.”
I smiled at her then looked to our big friend. “You drive,” I told Zack.
Poodoo thought I was talking to her. “Stick shifts and I get along about as good as you do with the FBI.”
“I’d say you and I have hit it off pretty good.”
“Yeah, but I’m undercover FBI. When the sheet’s pulled back, I’ll come at you scratching and biting like a she wolf.”
“I can’t wait.”
Zack seemed bored with our verbal foreplay. “Ya g’head, E Z boy. Key’s in y’pocket.”
I checked, and there it was.
Regardless of who drove, Zack was a big man, and I’m not that small. Even though Poodoo’s sexy little body was petite, fitting the three of us on the small pickup’s bench seat would make it a bit cramped.
When I got in, I leaned over and unlocked the passenger side and then started the engine. Poodoo slipped in.
I patted the seat beside me, and said, “You’ll need to sit here as close to me as you can. I don’t —”
Poodoo interrupted, “If you insist.” She was grinning. “But don’t you tell me you don’t bite. I got a hickey on the back of my neck the size of a goose egg that proves different.” She had to straddle the shifter.
“Damn, I wish I could remember,” I said under my breath as Poodoo placed her hand on my thigh. I gently pulled the shifter into first gear about two inches from Poodoo’s sweet spot.
She placed her other hand on mine, seeming to help me shift gears as we accelerated, out to second, then held tight as I clutched and pulled it back into third.
We were speeding along at forty-five toward the highway to the port within seconds. In my mind we were racing at about a hundred and twenty in Poodoo’s bed.
“E Z, hon,” Poodoo said, “I lied to you. We did make love. It was more like sex between two wildcats. That’s where all your scratches came from. It was the drugs, E Z. Still, I enjoyed it immensely — and by the roars coming from you, I think you did as well. First you took me from the back, then the front, on top, on bottom, then over a chair, on the kitchen counter, up against the window, the wall, and finally the front door.”
I glanced at Zack, puzzled at Poodoo’s continual frankness in front of the old jazz player. I knew they were friends, but she obviously had not inhibition one. Zack seemed frozen, eyes forward, a thin smile on his lips. I knew he wanted to let go his patented Walter Brennan.
Poodoo continued, “The neighbors across the hall didn’t seem to enjoy it much, though. They came knocking on my door while you were banging me up against it on the other side. That’s when you dropped me upside down on the living room sofa, and swung the front door open. You chased after that old couple, naked and with a hard on, like a screaming, sex-craved banshee.”
God I wished I could remember that!
“Afterwards, when you came back, that’s when you started getting carried away. I was still giggling, upside down on the sofa, and you came back and, wow! You took me around the world, and —”
I glanced at her. Zack raised his eyebrows, his smile getting bigger. He was about to bust loose like a bull getting his nuts cut.
I said, “Carried away, after that?”
“Yeah, you know the wild sex was great, but when you began flailing on yourself something awful, I finally had to get you cuffed. I think somebody musta been doing some Voodoo on you besides all those drugs. You finally passed out after that. But you stayed stiff for another half hour, and ... well. I couldn’t let it go to waste.”
Black Zack’s shrill Walter Brennan chuckle filled the truck cab.
I sighed. “What’s the quickest way to Napoleon Avenue?”
CHAPTER 21
Harbor of Fears & Wings of Hope
Poodoo’s FBI ID got us through the gate at the Napoleon Avenue Terminal, but we found both of their two berths empty.
As we pulled up, I stared out at the vacant pier. “Damn it! This must be the wrong place. Is there more than one Napoleon Avenue Terminal — like a Terminal 2?”
“This is the only one.”
“I don’t get it. Legba and DePue said it would be close to midnight before they could get the ship loaded and underway.” I looked at my watch, “It’s eight, now. That was no more than sixteen hours ago.”
“E Z, hon’,” Poodoo asked, “when did you hear the sheriff say that? According to what you and Zack told me after we pulled you two from the swamp, DePue’s been dead for over forty-eight hours.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “How long was I out? This is Tuesday, right?
“Chéri, you was as cold as ice for nearly twenty-four hours. You had the fever for another
night and day. This is Thursday. You were in my bed for two days.
At first shocking, now it made sense. “It’s gone! They’ve already sailed!” I beat the steering wheel. “Have either of you heard of any ships being sunk, specifically in the Sigsbee Deep area?”
“Either of us? E Z, you’re talking very strange. I think those drugs are still clouding your mind, some. We better go to the hospital.”
“No, I’m fine. “What about it — any ships being sunk?”
Zack answered, “I ain’t.”
Poodoo said, “No chéri, but I don't know where this place is.”
“It’s off the continental shelf—deep water, over two miles deep. Legba said he’d have the container ship sunk there if he thought they were going to be found out.
Poodoo pointed. “There’s a light on in the terminal office over there.”
I drove to a small office building nearby and parked. The sign above the door read Ports of the Greater Americas, LLC, New Orleans Office.
We rushed inside and found an elderly man wearing a knit watch cap. He greeted us cordially. “Hi, folks. Can I help you?”
Poodoo showed him her FBI badge. The old man seemed mildly impressed.
I asked, “Was the Chinese container ship Mazu docked here?”
“Yep,” the old sailor said. “Shoved off four hours ago. Guess somebody vandalized the old iron tub. Put a couple bags of sand in the fuel tank. Sat here nearly two days while they worked on her and got the tank and fuel lines and filter cleaned up. They finally got her fixed up, and she headed for South America — Colombia, I believe.”
“Sigsbee Deep ...,” I asked him, “...you know where that is?”
“Yes, sir,” the old man said and moved to a nautical chart table in the center of the room. We followed.
“Here,” he said, his finger on the map. “About 150 miles out.”
“When’s the soonest a ship like the Mazu could make it to that point?”