Mr. CEO (40 page)

I hold my hands up, confused. “Okay, I'm now officially lost. What the hell's going on, and Darcy, why are you here?”

Darcy points to Katrina's computer. “I helped her build that thing, and I taught Katrina a lot about how to become a world-class hacker. And I had a tag on it that let me know if the computer was accessed. It was a request from Katrina, since she knew what might happen to her. She told me if she disappeared, I was supposed to come here and unleash everything, including what's in her cloud.”

“She's got a cloud, too?” Andrea asks, and Darcy nods. “Just how big?”

“Only the juiciest stuff. And her gate controls.”

“Her what?”

Darcy smiles. “She had media contacts, network connections, the whole works. The gate controls are that and more. Basically, if we use them, we can shotgun everything we need to take down your father, along with Samuel Grammercy, and a lot of other very bad operators in this town.”

Andrea looks at me, and I realize they're leaving the decision in my hands. But it's not really a decision at all.

“Give me twenty-four hours to hit him as best I can my way,” I say, my hands clenching. “Then... unleash hell.”

T
he converted office
I'm using as a hiding space is unfamiliar, and the computer I'm using is barely better than what I could have gotten if I'd just gone down to an electronics shop, but it was all Darcy had available to give me quickly, and for a laptop, it works okay.

“So he's on board now?” I ask, and on the screen, Darcy nods. In the background, Bo is wagging his tail and setting his chin on her shoulder, she's let him up on the couch.

“He is. He made me promise not to wide band the direct stuff on his father until tomorrow, but Samuel... the Miami-Dade cops and FBI are going to be getting the stuff in about ten minutes.”

I nod, and rub at the back of my head, where the shaved patch on the back of my skull still itches. Darcy laughs, and I have to chuckle, too. “I don't know why it bothers me, it's just hair. It'll grow out.”

“Well, next time you decide to fake getting your brains blown out, maybe remember to fall on the grass and not the sidewalk?” Darcy teases. “Besides, it's been a few weeks. I bet in another month nobody's going to be able to tell the difference, not with as short as you keep your 'do.”

I smile and nod. “You're right. So Jackson is going to talk to Peter?”

“He's not going to do anything stupid, I made sure of that. He knows that Andrea's on his side, and Nathan's going to make sure, too. Remember, Jackson still thinks he needs to walk on eggshells to even get close to Peter, so he won't have a gun or do anything stupid like that. I think he's going to just tell him off, maybe try to hurt him mentally, but I just don’t see that having any effect.”

I nod, reassured. “That's good. And he believes that you just tracked my computer this whole time?”

“Yeah. I hope you decide to tell him the whole truth someday soon.”

“Me too. Okay. I'll confirm his actions with Andrea, he can't let himself get hurt.”

“We'll do what we can. Listen Katrina, I don't want to doubt you, but are you sure this is the right way to go about it? I mean, he seems pretty much on our side.”

I think about it for a second, while meanwhile on her end Bo licks her on the ear, causing Darcy to laugh and push her dog away, sending him off the couch and into the backyard. “I see you like getting ear kisses, too,” I joke.

“Not from him, the big baby,” Darcy laughs, then raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

“You and that dog, both of you never let go of something once you sink your teeth into it,” I grumble, then nod. “I know it hurts, but I had to be sure, Darcy. I had to know we could take them down, even if Jackson backed out. And the plan's too far advanced now to change it.”

“Well, you've broke that boy's heart,” Darcy continues, and I wince. Still, I deserve it. “When Andrea called me up telling me what he's been up to the past few weeks, I nearly broke with the plan early. He was about to put himself in the damn hospital he's so broken up.”

“I know, Darcy. I know. I regret it, but things are moving now. When the dam breaks, and the cops have both Samuel and Peter... I'll talk to him. I've already made arrangements with Nathan.”

“And afterward?” Darcy asks, and I know what she means. Once the information hits the media, in addition to taking down the DeLaCoeur empire, there's going to be a lot of other people looking for blood. New Orleans isn't going to be safe for me anymore, even as a ghost. Too many ghosts get exorcised in New Orleans, and voodoo only works so well.

“Afterward, maybe Katrina Grammercy needs to go away,” I say quietly. “But I'm pretty sure Coup De Grace will still be hanging around online.”

Darcy nods, and I see a tear come to her eye. She wipes it away, and forces a smile. “I can live with that. It'll be good to see you out there. It'll be good to know... to know you do have a future.”

“With luck, we'll all have futures,” I reply. “I love you, Darcy.”

“I love you too, Katrina. Take care, Baby Girl.”

She hangs up, and I can feel in my heart the meaning behind Darcy's farewell. We know the truth, that she won't be able to go with me, and that the next time we see each other may be the last. If there is a next time.

I sit back, waiting the few minutes before turning on the Miami local stations. I'm tapped into the satellite feed each station has with their national desks, and I see that it's the Fox affiliate who gets the feed up first.

“Breaking news from our crime desk. The FBI and Miami-Dade police have found within our city a man who, for the past ten years, everyone thought was dead. Fox's Billie Wagner is on the scene with more.”

The scene cuts from the studio to a news van outside the apartment complex where my parents live. The on-site reporter, a kind of young guy maybe a few years older than me, looks like he's halfway scared out of his mind, probably because until this point he's only done human interest stories, kissed puppies, and played with children for the morning show. Billie just strikes me as that sort of guy.

“Yes guys, I'm outside this apartment just south of the University, where an amazing story has come to light. It seems that this man...” the screen cuts to an ID photo of my father, “who for the past ten years has lived and worked in the Miami area under the name Michael Ball, is in fact not who he seems to be.”

It continues, but I've seen enough. I turn off the feed and pull out my phone. Tapping quickly, I send a text to Nathan.

Has Jackson come home yet?

No, but I think he'll be here soon, maybe within a half hour. I've prepared the way as best I can. Why?

It just went down in Miami. He doesn't have a lot of time before Peter knows something's up.

I understand. I'll inform him, make it seem like I got a call. He'll let the gates open here.

Thanks. Take care of him, Nathan. And deliver my message.

I will. Thank you for your mercy.

You have more accounts to balance than just ours. Consider it a gift if Jackson comes out safe. If he doesn't...

I understand. I'll text you when it's done.

I hang up the messages with Nathan and sit back. There's nothing I can do now, except hope that whatever powers have watched over me the past ten years can watch over Jackson now.

Another idea comes to mind, and I make another call, this one to Andrea.

“Hello?”

“It's me. I know voice communication is dangerous, but I don't have a lot of time. It just went down in Miami, and I have one more idea I just had. This one... this one's for Jackson.”

Andrea sounds suspicious, but hums. “What do you need?”

“I want to get every cent I can from Peter DeLaCoeur. For Jackson. Can you help me?”

Andrea laughs, and I realize she and I have had similar mindsets all along. “You're a little late. I've already been doing it. Give me fifteen minutes and you'll have the number and passcode to a numbered account in the Bahamas. It's one of his smaller ones, but it's all I've been able to verify.”

I smile, thinking about just how generous Andrea's being. “And you?”

“I've got my own plans in place. I don't think we'll be seeing each other again. It was nice to spend some time together, my friend.”

I hum, thinking that I regret not taking the time to get to know her better. She's a remarkable young woman, but she has her own mission to complete. “I hope that someday, maybe after you've found your own completion... I hope we can see each other again.”

“That'd be nice, but we'll see. I'll keep in touch with you electronically at least. Take care, Katrina.”

“You too, Andrea.”

So the die is cast. I just have to wait, and see how it finally falls.

I
t's been
over a month since I've seen the plantation house, and as I walk up the long driveway from the street, I'm surprised at how unfamiliar it feels. I took a taxi and Nathan told me that if I needed, my Audi was at home for me to get away. A nice option, but I'm not sure if I agree with it.

A few of the staff react with surprise when I walk up, but Nathan is the first to greet me, coming down the wooden steps of the porch. “Your father is out back, near the pool, with a young lady as his company,” Nathan says quietly. “And I got a call. The police arrested Sam Grammercy about a half hour ago.”

I nod and pull out my phone. I dial Darcy, who picks up quickly. “Yes?”

“Open the gates,” I tell her in a flat voice, my emotions so roiling that I'm not able to put any sort of inflection in my speech at all. “Open them wide.”

I hang up before she can reply, and go inside to the foyer. I look around, but the place is pretty much deserted already. “My mother?”

“Upstairs, drunk and passed out. Andrea is in the library.”

I nod. “Inform her what I just did, and then tell any staff who don't want to deal with the cops to get the hell outta here. I'm going to go have a chat with Peter.”

Nathan nods, but doesn't move. “What?”

He looks like he's about to say something, but instead pats me on the shoulder. “
De Oppresso Liber.
Free the oppressed. For too long, I betrayed that motto,” he says instead. “Thank you for reminding me what right and wrong are.” I nod and pat him in return.

“Thank you, Nathan. Now let's go do what we need to do.”

I leave the foyer and cut through the dining room out to the pool area, where I see Peter sitting in a lounge chair next to a picnic table, his gut hanging out over the waistband of his ridiculous Speedos. It’s definitely swimwear that might look appropriate on me, but not on a man over fifty and carrying the extra weight he is.

In the pool, a young woman is swimming, most likely his newest girlfriend judging by the thong string bikini and long blonde hair streaming behind her as she kicks under the water. He’s so absorbed by the sight of her ass flexing that he doesn't hear me until I'm nearly on top of him. When he does, he has the balls to just give me a cocky smile. “Ah, so you finally got over your little temper tantrum. Good to have you back, Jackson.”

“Little temper tantrum,” I repeat softly, musing. I go around and sit in the other chair at the table, surprised I'm not in a total rage, but instead icy calm and focused. I've changed so much since that night in the limo with Katrina. “After all that you've done, including having the woman I love killed in front of me, you have the stupidity to call the past three weeks a temper tantrum?”

“Well, hasn't it been?” he asks, smirking. “I mean, the bitch hurt our family. Nathan told me what happened, and I'm glad that you've finally come home. Now, how about you wait here, and you, me, and Kendra can have a nice dinner together.”

“Bringing your girlfriends into the home now even,” I say, shaking my head. “Well, enjoy it for another hour or two. It'll be the last.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asks, suspicious. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, not much. I just took all of Katrina's evidence, and there was a fuck-ton of it, and sent it to the cops, feds as well as the local news, and the blogosphere. I bet if you look right now, you'll find pictures of you with women, with gangsters, or maybe with a former governor of this state. Best of all, I've got the e-mails and files that you sent to coordinate the faking of Sam Grammercy's death. Did I mention he was arrested in Miami thirty minutes ago?”

Peter goes pale, and about that time Kendra comes up from another lap, and notices me for the first time. “Oh, hi! You must be Jackson!”

“Leave,” I reply, not taking my eyes off Peter. “We have some family business to discuss. Go home, and don't come back.”

Kendra stops, looking to Peter, who is staring back at me, and I'm not taking my eyes off him for a second. Kendra huffs, then gets out of the pool. In my periphery, her toned backside is the last thing I see of her as she disappears into the house.

“I don't think she'll be back.”

“You inconsiderate little shit,” Peter rasps, his voice quaking in fury. “I gave you a house, raised you, let you do what you wanted, and all I asked for was your loyalty. And you couldn't even do that.”

“No, what you did was give me money, nothing else. You never loved me, you never raised me, and the only example you gave me was how not to be a man. You wanted me to just spend your money and stay out of your way while you acted like a pig. Well, I found something more important than money, and you took it from me. So now I've got nothing to lose, and for the first time in my life, I'm doing the right thing. So fuck your money, and fuck you. I should kill you, but I won't. Enjoy prison.”

It's cathartic, saying what has been burning in my heart for years, and I feel strong as I stand up, walking past him. He stands up, and tries to grab my arm, but I turn and kick, my foot planting directly in his stomach and sending him stumbling backward onto the lawn, where he lies, groaning and holding his belly. “You broke my ribs, you little shit!”

“For twenty-two years, you broke my heart. I guess that makes us even,” I say calmly before I go to the door. Inside, I hear chaos breaking out as the remaining staff passes along Nathan's warning. I can hear the sirens in the distance, and I know we've only got a few minutes, five or six at most.

I see motion off to my right, near Peter's office, and I go over, finding Andrea inside. “What are you doing?”

“What should be done,” she says, opening the combination safe that has rested behind a painting on the wall for years. I didn't know she had the combination, but I'm not surprised. Andrea's known so much for so long.

Inside the safe, I see that there's two guns, a white baggie that is most likely coke, and four stacks of cash, along with a black bag. Andrea looks at me, and gestures in invitation. “What do you want?”

I reach in and take the guns, tucking them in the waistband of my pants. “I'll keep you safe as you're getting out. You're ready, I hope?”

She points, and I see the backpack already sitting on the desk. “I've been packed for a while, figuring you'd be moving quick.”

I nod and step back. “Leave the drugs.”

Andrea chuckles in agreement and reaches in, taking out the cash and the black bag, opening it. Inside are dozens, maybe hundreds of diamonds and other gems. Andrea pokes around a little, then reaches in and takes out a diamond and a sapphire, which I note is the same color as Katrina's eyes. She puts them in my hand, and folds my hand over them. “I hope you can give them to someone special someday.”

“Will I ever see you after today, Andrea?” I ask, and she gives me a mysterious smile.

“If fate smiles on us, I hope so. I had so much fun getting to know you better the past few weeks. I'd like to someday see that you've made it the rest of the way.”

Andrea puts the stacks of hundred dollar bills in her bag, and then tucks the bag of gems away. “I know some places this can be turned into cash,” she says, giving me a smile. “You ready?”

The sirens are getting closer, and I nod. “I love you, Andrea.”

“I love you too,
oniichan
.”

We leave the library, and in the foyer I see Nathan waiting for us. “The police are at the front of the driveway, waiting on the search warrant. I closed the gate to slow them down, but it won't stop them for long. I'd recommend not taking the streets to get out. There's some ATVs in the stable area, that'd be better.”

“Lead on,” I instruct, and Nathan's moving, his pistol out just in case, taking us out the side entrance, the three of us running over to the two quad runners and jumping on. We fire them up, Andrea hanging onto me as we haul ass out the back and up the fire road that leads deeper into the woods. “Where's Maverick?”

“A safe place,” Nathan yells back, the wind tearing the words from his mouth almost before I can hear them, pointing to the right as we reach a fork in the trail. We take it, roaring at top speed as the sun rises. We're approaching noon, but here, on the edge of the swamps, the mists are still rising from the ground and the visibility is diminishing.

Nathan holds up his hand, slowing his ATV as we reach another split in the trail. “Here's where we split up. The cops shouldn't be looking for us, but still... better safe than sorry.”

“Where are we?” I ask, and Nathan points to our right. “What's that way?”

“Two miles that direction is the Jean Lafitte Golf Course. I'd suggest walking in order to avoid attention. My path goes the other way.”

I look at the trail he's going to go, wondering where life is going to take him, and give him an appreciative look. “Thank you, Nathan. For everything.”

Nathan nods, and offers Andrea his hand, and they shake.

Andrea nods, and they share an unspoken appreciation. Nathan starts his ATV again, twists the throttle, then stops before he can put the vehicle in motion. Reaching into his suit pocket, he takes out a small envelope, like the kind you'd find a kid's Valentine's card in. “I promised someone that I'd give this to you after you spoke with Peter. I hope it brings you happiness, Jackson.”

I take the envelope, and see that inside there's a slip of paper. “Where will you go, Nathan?”

He considers for a moment, then gives me a half-smile that's slightly sad. “To go see Aisha. I've got some more debts to balance before then though. Take care of yourself, Jackson DeLaCoeur.”

He offers his hand and we shake, and I'm left wondering as the old warrior puts his ATV in gear and rides off toward the bayou. Andrea and I watch him for a minute, then I turn to her, and I see she's already pulled her backpack onto her shoulders. “You ready?”

“Just a minute,” I say, tearing open the envelope and looking inside. There's a single piece of paper, an address in Federal City written on it. “Federal City. What's there?”

“Only way to find out is to go,” Andrea says, cinching the straps on her backpack tight. I put the paper back in the envelope and tuck the whole thing in my pocket. “Come on. Walk with me one more time?”

I take her hand, and we start down the trail. I've got a hundred dollars in my wallet, and as we walk, I toss one of the handguns into a nearby pond, where it barely makes a plop as it sinks below the murky, greenish water. So as the golf course comes into view, I've got a hundred dollars, one handgun, and the clothes on my back. The rest of it is useless junk, now probably frozen or soon to be frozen credit cards, a driver's license, and other assorted crap, but I've never felt freer, or richer, in my entire life.

Katrina was right. Without the money, or I guess the strings that come with the DeLaCoeur money, I've got a lot more freedom. It's more valuable than anything else.