I shake my head and go inside, leaving the door to the garden open. I head back toward the guest bedrooms, when a cough behind me catches my attention.
“Nathan,” I say after I turn. “Didn't think you'd still be dressed in your suit.”
Nathan looks down at his black linen suit and brushes a bit of lint off his lapel. “I didn't think I'd find you... dressed,” he replies. Nathan looks pointedly at the door where I’d just been with the two girls, then shrugs.
“Wasn't feeling it tonight. What can I help you with?”
Nathan reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a slip of paper. “An address. You were looking for it. She lives in a warehouse over on Market Street.”
I look down at the numbers written on the paper. “And you haven't told Pops?”
Nathan shakes his head. “Not until you find your answers. I told you, Jackson, I've got some debts to balance out. Or maybe in my mind I just keep seeing the little girl that Katrina Grammercy was when I first met her. I've done a lot of nasty things in my day, Jackson... but I don't touch kids.”
I nod and fold the paper up, putting it in the pocket of my shorts. “I see. Thank you, Nathan. And sometime... perhaps we can have a cup of tea again.”
Nathan, who's already turned to go back down the hallway, stops and looks back. “I'd like that. Have a good night, Jackson.”
Chapter 7
Kat
I'm inverted, my feet pointing straight in the air as I lower myself on the two steel bars which let my head dip lower until my hands are next to my ears before pushing up, locking out. Seven. Three more and I can kick back down and let my shoulders rest a little bit.
I lower myself, sweat dripping off my nose to soak into the wooden floor below me, and push again. Eight.
I focus on the pain, tasting the metallic tang on my tongue and savoring the electric fire that runs up from my elbows to my spine. Soon enough, I may not feel anything at all except the eternal satisfaction of vengeance before Peter's men tear me apart. Nine.
One more. I can do this. My elbows are shaking, but I can make it. Don't cheat yourself, there's nothing that can bring defeat faster than cheating yourself... now PUSH! I push, and in my mind I see the fire rolling across the concrete ceiling of the parking garage, hungry and reaching for me after it's already taken my parents' lives. It's coming, ten years later now to claim me, but claim me it will...
Ten. I kick over and land on my feet, shaking out my arms. I don't need my pills yet, in fact since the night with Jackson I've only had to take them once. Still, the image of the explosion is hot in my brain, and I have to do something constructive before the anger morphs into depression. I know the pattern, but I'm going to fight it this time.
I grab the sandbag next to my handstand bars and lift it, whipping the forty-five-pound bag up and onto my shoulders. I start crossing the floor of my loft with long, lunging strides. Each one brings me nearly to the floor before I force myself to rise and take the next long step.
I'm on my second trip back across the loft when my computer beeps from the corner. Darcy's little setup on the shipping company she wants me to crack is tougher than I thought it'd be, and I wonder if she's calling me on time. I still have thirty-six hours left on the deadline that she gave me though, even if my tools are still barely chipping away at the firewall, still searching for that elusive crack. I know one has to be there, so it's just a matter of patience, processing power, and tools.
I set my sandbag down and see that I have an IRC chat window up on my screen. Only Darcy and a few others have my IRC handle, although it's not that hard to figure out if you know my hacker name. I mean, CDGrace and Coup De Grace aren't really all that different, after all.
But I don't know this IRC handle at all. Blue Sakura... intriguing. Maybe it's one of Darcy's Japanese contacts?
CDG- Hello.
BS- You're a hard woman to find.
CDG- I prefer my privacy. Who are you?
BS- An ally.
CDG- An ally? In what? I can count my allies on one hand.
BS- An ally who agrees with your vendetta against Peter DeLaCoeur.
I'm tempted to close the window now and reset my router. It'll cost me Darcy's contract, and six thousand dollars because of it, but this person knows who I am. I'm reaching for the power button when Blue Sakura pops up again.
BS- Please don't shut me off. I'm really not trying to expose you or hurt you. I messaged you to warn you.
I pause, my finger hovering over my power button, and go back to my keyboard.
CDG- About?
BS- Nathan Black has found out where you live. He's passed along that information. You need to get out of there.
CDG- If they want to come here, they can. Makes my job easier. Little messier, but a lot easier.
BS- Please watch your back, in any case. You deserve closure.
CDG- What do you know about closure?
BS- You're not the only one who's lost a parent because of Peter DeLaCoeur. Be careful.
The IRC window says that Blue Sakura has left the room, and I consider what just happened. Blue Sakura, huh? Makes sense... Andrea. That you found me at all online tells me that you've got some skills yourself. I run a backtrace on her IP and see that she's also using at least one signal relay, as the address says that Blue Sakura is currently on the Ross Ice Shelf, Antarctica. Doubtful at best.
I could use my tools to continue running the backtrace, but I don't need to. It'd be easier just to get Andrea's phone number if I really want or need to contact her again. I've had access to that particular database for years. Instead, I go back to my workout, not letting myself get distracted. I've still got three hundred pushups to do, and then I'll go into my form training. Without a lot of partners, I have to keep my skills up as best I can, and that means lots and lots of mental imagery while I drill on poor substitutes for real people.
I wonder if Andrea can be a resource? There are so many things I can't verify yet, the things that can really take my campaign against Peter DeLaCoeur from just harassment to putting him behind bars. Not that I want it to stop there, but it's a start. The dirty cops, the mob connections, the bodies dropped off in the swamps or somewhere in the Mississippi... if I can verify those, I can really put the pressure on him. Maybe not enough to get him into a court of law, but certainly enough that his allies would move to distance themselves. Without their support, the walls he's carefully built over the years would surely start to crumble. If I can take down enough of those walls, maybe I can get him out of his fortress.
As I start my first set of fifty pushups, I think about the juiciest case I'd like to connect Peter to. He's no longer in office, but Dutch Landry is from one of the two biggest political families in this city. The Landrys and the Morrels have traded the mayor's office back and forth in five of the last six administrations. His son is currently on the city council and has a good shot of running for mayor himself in three years.
But Dutch... Dutch Landry was the type of mayor loved by the press, and hated by the underclass. Virginia and Darcy showed me the evidence firsthand, but hell, I grew up seeing it often enough in Virginia's foster care. I saw the drugs, the street crime that was only checked when the police rolled through in paramilitary fashion. I saw classmates show up with wounds from both police and gang bullets, and I know that a lot of the guns were bought through Dutch Landry's connections. The drugs for sure came in with his authorization. Of course, someone had to arrange transport for all of that, and wouldn't you know, Peter DeLaCoeur knew some friends among the longshoremen who were willing to look the other way as the shipments flooded the Port of New Orleans.