Accession of the Stone Born: The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles (5 page)

Isidore arrived around 7:30 and was surprised when he walked in to see Andrew and me setting up the room. He folded his arms and yawned. “I should’ve slept in.” He cooed with a sly grin and a wink. “I see he’s rooked you into doing the grunt work.”

His attitude was infectious; I felt more at ease and relaxed in his presence. “It feels good to help where I can.”

Isidore sauntered over and ran a hand across my shoulders, looking rather devilish while eying my uncle. “Don’t let the old goat fool you; he’s more capable than he appears.”

It was then I remembered just how good of shape he was in no matter how much Andrew tried to hide it. I noticed the design of his tailored clothes hid the strength of the body beneath them. They were a couple of sizes too big, yet still very stylish. It occurred to me that he’d gone through a lot of trouble to create the illusion, and I had to wonder why.

Andrew padded over with a delighted look on his face. “Is everything all right?”

I felt as if there was something I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Yeah, everything's fine. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

Andrew shook his head. “Nah. You should talk to Isidore and get directions to the Office Depot.”

Nodding, I went to speak with Isidore and before long I was out the door, walking to the store on St. Charles Avenue. After only a couple of hours I returned to the shop with the latest Samsung Galaxy S model and a Surface Pro combination tablet and computer.

Andrew pointed at the clock and beamed. “It’s nearly eleven. Care to go find something to eat nearby?”

The thought of a proper meal made my stomach growl. “Sounds great!”

The bell on the front door rang as a UPS driver stepped through. He looked at the package and announced. “Is there an Andrew Randall available?”

Isidore instantly appeared concerned, moving to between the deliveryman and Andrew. “I’m sorry, but we normally don’t take deliveries this time of day. Can I help you with something?”

The driver eyed Isidore carefully, cradling the package in a strange protective manner. “Are you Mr. Randall?”

Isidore took a tentative step forward, swelling to his full height. “I’m not, but I can sign for it.”

To his credit the driver stood his ground, yet shifted his stance to keep the package out of Isidore’s reach. “I’m going to have to insist on speaking with Mr. Randall. He will need to sign for the package personally.”

Pulling out my ID, I strode past Isidore, who was quickly becoming annoyed. Handing it to the man, I nodded. “I’m Andrew Gavin Randall. Can I help you with something?”

The UPS driver visibly relaxed, handing me the package, allowing me to sign for it. “Thank you, Mr. Randall, and have a wonderful day.”

I waited for the driver to leave the store before putting the package on the nearest table and waving my uncle over. “It’s for you.”

He was behind me in a moment, peering over my shoulder. “Apparently.”

Andrew pulled a small penknife out of his pocket, deftly slicing the package open. He pulled back the cardboard, revealing a large leather bound book atop a stack of papers, and quickly closed the lid. He looked over at me apprehensively. “Is it all right if we order in? I need to tend to something personal.”

He looked almost panicked by what was in the box. It was obviously very personal, and I thought it best to give him some space to handle it. “No problem at all. Want me to go pick something up?”

Andrew’s hand shot out, grabbing my arm hard as he shook his head. His voice was taut and a little higher than normal. “Absolutely not!” Looking down, he realized he was holding my arm, and quickly released it. He regained his composure, forcibly staying calm. “Isidore, would you mind ordering something for us? I need to speak with Gavin alone.”

Isidore’s face was pensive, clearly worried about his boss, but he nodded in much the same way the sergeant had in Captain Gootee’s office. There was a reluctance to leave their liege alone in my company. “Sure thing. Anything in particular?”

Andrew wasn’t really paying attention anymore, and shook his head absently as he stared at the box. “Whatever you pick up is fine.” He pulled out a couple of hundred dollar bills and handed them to Isidore. “Get yourself something as well, and bring it up when it arrives.” Isidore started to walk off when Andrew spoke again. This time anger crept into his voice, creating a hard edge to his tone when he picked up the box. “Keep a watchful eye, and don’t leave without letting me know first.”

Isidore’s face hardened, and he nodded. He somehow seemed to swell…there was something menacing just under the surface. It was then I understood that Isidore was a very dangerous man. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I’d bet everything I had that he was more than capable of putting a man in the ground without thinking twice about it. My uncle’s agitation, fear, and anger spilled over into the younger man. Isidore was clearly loyal to my uncle, and whoever had upset him today better pray they he didn’t find them first. Isidore stalked over to a table and opened the drawer filled to capacity with takeout menus. He started leafing through them and my uncle nudged me.

Andrew motioned for me to follow and we went upstairs. Hurrying after my uncle, I was well past the stage of concern. After years of situations where my handlers had similar looks on their faces, I automatically fell into that cold detached place in my mind. The one that allowed me to observe, listen, and carry out whatever tasks needed to be done without hesitation. Isidore might be dangerous, but I was in an entirely different category.

I’d earned a nickname while I was away, but it of course was shortened like everything dealing with the government, and they called me “The Grim.” My mind relaxed, allowing every detail to soak in. My eyes darted around the room looking for possible threats. My voice was flat, even, and cold. “What’s wrong?”

Andrew stopped and turned. His face registered that something had changed in me, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Shaking his head, he picked up the pace heading up the stairs. He sat the box on the round table and pulled out the book, reverently placing it next to the box, pushing back a few of the papers with one hand while never taking his other off the book. His face sank as he found what he was looking for and pulled a small jeweler's bag out of the box. He held it in the air before shoving two fingers into the opening. Turning the bag over, he dumped the contents. There was a soft hollow thud as metal struck the cover of the book.

His knees buckled and he rocked back, falling into the wing chair behind him. Andrew was unable to take his eyes off the tiny platinum and sapphire ring that now lay atop the book. Tears welled up, yet did not fall, and he struggled to catch his breath.

I recognized the combination of fear and grief instantly. I’d seen it often throughout the last three decades. Someone close to him was either in trouble, dying, or dead. His was the look of a man who knew the truth of something, yet refused to believe it.

Andrew fumbled for the phone, refusing to look at me. Looking into someone else’s eyes would only solidify what he already understood. He couldn’t lie to himself any longer if that happened. No, he must not look up. It was the reason why parents, spouses, and other loved ones wouldn’t look anyone in the eye when something terrible happened. They wanted to hold on to that last few moments of hope, praying that whatever god was out there would make that terrible thing go away. It never worked.

“I need to make a call,” he whispered as he dialed a number. He sat there silently for nearly a minute. I could see the silent prayers emanating from him. I’d seen it before…people not wanting to believe something they knew to be true, praying that they were wrong and whoever they were trying to call wasn’t gone. The silent pleading with the gods above that they’d allow them to speak to a loved one once more. Then it sank in as no one answered. He hung up the phone, dialed another number, and waited. 

“Hello, this is Andrew. Is Martha available?”

I saw the reaction from the unheard words. His body tensed, his face reddened, and his eyes fought back the tears, his spirit crushed as the news washed over him.

“I see. Thank you,” he replied blankly.

Pain etched itself throughout his being and into his soul and his heart broke. I’d grown accustomed to the look over the years in my line of work. It was the look of someone losing the only thing they’d ever cared about; the look of lost and broken love, and of being left behind.

Andrew nodded, his voice barely audible. “I’ll be there. Thank you again.”

He hung up the phone and slumped in the chair, his eyes fixated on the book in front of him. There was nothing I could say or do. I left him alone long enough to go to the kitchen and grab a glass of water, and placed it next to him.

Sitting down, I bowed my head and solemnly spoke. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

His head snapped up, confusion on his face. “How do you know someone died?”

Swallowing, I bit my lip and tried not to let his grief overtake me. “I’ve seen that look a lot over the years. I assume it was someone close.”

He reached out and picked up the ring. “She was my wife, but that was a lifetime ago. We’ve remained friends, but after.... Well, we split a long time ago is all.”

It was clear that he wasn’t accustomed to talking about her, and I felt like a piece of shit. Not only had my uncle been married and divorced, but something traumatic had caused it and I wasn’t there. Goddamn, I had to win the shittiest family member of the year award several times over.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

The words felt hollow, but they were all I had. I was never good with comforting and support. I’d never had to be. I was an orphan and my grandparents were gone long before I was in the picture, so no one ever passed the ability along to me.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked.

Andrew shook his head, his eyes fixated on the book. “No, not right now. Because of her Jewish tradition the funeral is tomorrow morning and we’ll need to attend.” He looked up at me for a long moment, his face solemn. “I’m really glad you’re here, Gavin. You have no idea how much it means to me. Thank you.”

“I’m glad I could be here.” That was the truth. For the first time in a very long while I felt like I was in the right place at the right time.

We sat in silence for the next thirty minutes until Isidore knocked at the door. I got up and found Isidore holding two pizzas and a bag of po-boys. He looked past me with anger in his eyes, clearly tense. “I didn’t know what he wanted so I ordered a little of everything. What’s going on?”

Standing there, numb and at a loss for words, I didn’t know where to start. “I’m not sure if you’re familiar with Martha?”

Isidore’s scowl deepened and he simply nodded. “I’m familiar.”

My heart dropped and my head dipped. “I’m sorry to say that she passed this morning.” I took a deep breath. “The funeral is tomorrow...I’m sure that we’ll be closing up shop if you want to attend.”

Isidore growled…I mean that literally. It was odd.

He nodded. “I’ll be there. Let me know if he needs anything else.”

Fixing my eyes on Isidore I looked for the cheerful man I’d met yesterday, only to find that man missing and replaced by someone far more primal. “Thanks for the food. Don’t forget to let us know when you’re leaving.”

He flexed his jaw and anger threatened to spill out. “Especially now.”

“What’s that mean?” I asked.

He shook his head. “He’ll explain everything in time. I’ve got to go.”

He turned and left and I closed the door. Heading to the kitchen, I set the pizzas on the table, brought the bag of po-boys into the living room, and placed it on the table next to the book. I pulled two fried shrimp and oyster po-boys out of the bag and nodded at my uncle to move the book, which he reluctantly did.

Looking at him, I handed him a wrapped sandwich. “You need to eat.”

Andrew looked up with a blank look on his face and I knew the words barely registered. Slipping the ring onto his pinky, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I suppose I do.” Grabbing the sandwich, he unrolled it and took a bite. “Thanks. You should grab a drink; the french bread is dry from this place.”

I did as I was told. He was right…the bread was dry and flaky, but the sandwich itself was amazing. We ate in silence for several minutes, just eating, drinking, and breathing. It was a ritual I’d seen over and over again. When people grieved they needed to remember the basics…food, drink, breathing, and sleep. Everything else would come as long as they were strong enough to handle whatever was next.

Chapter 3

Friday May 29th

Sleep evaded me, so I spent most of the night hours scouring the Internet for information. Ever since I arrived in New Orleans I’d had a sneaking suspicion that something wasn’t quite right with the city. Even now I wasn’t sure what it was, but after a night of cyber reconnaissance I was starting to think that New Orleans was something of an anomaly. Glancing over at the clock—2:45 a.m.—I decided it was time for me to wind down my evening’s activities and start my day. Creating a hidden partition on the internal drive, I hid my notes, searches that I didn’t want anyone to find, before heading to the bath.

After a hot shower I pulled on a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt and headed to the kitchen. It was thankfully vacant and I set to work making breakfast. I’d barely gotten the ingredients out of the fridge when Andrew stalked in. He didn’t say anything as he pulled the tea pitcher out of the fridge and poured himself a glass before sitting at the table quietly. Changing tactics in an effort to expedite breakfast, I whipped the eggs into a fluffy mixture for ham and cheese omelets. Andrew smiled and thanked me as he mechanically took a fork and ate his meal.

When he finished his food he looked up at me, and I watched as he struggled with his grief. His voice was hollow and flat. “That was surprisingly good. Thank you.” Standing, he clapped me on the shoulder when he passed on his way to the sink and dishwasher. “I need to get dressed, and so do you.”

Getting to my feet, I followed his lead. “I’ll be ready shortly.”

I headed back to my room. There I pulled my black suit out of the closet. With Isidore’s help we’d been able to get the wrinkles out yesterday afternoon, allowing me to look presentable. Due to my height and size, running out to buy a new suit was impossible.

Tying my shoes, I stood up and pulled on the jacket before reaching for the red tie. Flipping up my collar, I pulled the tie around my neck, but as I started to cross the silk noose I froze and pulled it off. If something went wrong, it would only get in the way. Folding the tie, I hung it over the chair next to the bed and headed for the living room.

Andrew was already at his desk looking lost in thought when I entered. I stood there watching him as he fiddled with a small, intricately carved wooden box. Clearing my throat, I fully entered the room and Andrew snapped his head around in my direction, giving me a woeful look.

He had changed his glasses from the old-fashioned gold-rimmed spectacles to more modern rectangular cut bronze half rimmed glasses. His sapphire blue eyes sparkled and shined through the tinted lenses. He sat there silently, unmoving, as if he were seeing me clearly for the first time, taking in every last detail of my person. At that moment he made a decision, scooped the box into one hand, and stood.

Power washed off him as he stood there palming the box with a determined look painted across his features. The tailored black two-buttoned suit fit his athletic form well without being tight. A thousand tiny details had transformed him from my elderly uncle into someone who could be mistaken for my older brother. What struck me the most was the sense of regal authority that cascaded through the room. I was reminded of some of the men I’d had the opportunity to meet during my career abroad…men who actually ran the governments of the world. Not the politicians or generals, but the scary shadow people who pulled the strings of those around them.

Over the years I had prided myself on being highly observant and normally the smartest person in the room, but I’d missed this by design. That simple fact scared the fuck out of me. I’d survived more lethal encounters than I’d care to count due to my ability to see who people really were. The patterns I saw all around me allowed me to control and manipulate almost every situation…until now. I had no idea who this man standing before me was, and I was frightened for the first time in over twenty years.

Andrew never took his eyes off me while he gave me time to fully process the situation.  Then he spoke in a reverent tone. “We have much to discuss, but most of it will have to wait until after the funeral.” Looking down at his hand, an old hurt crossed his face before he held the box out for me to take. “This belonged to your father; he would’ve wanted you to have it.”

Forcing my mind back into gear, I stepped forward, taking the box out of his hand before sitting in the chair in front of the desk. “What’s this?”

He collapsed into his chair and he let out a long breath. “This would’ve been so much easier after your parents’ deaths, but you disappeared.” Something about the man suddenly looked frail as his eyes met mine. “Where did you go?”

Shame and guilt forced me to stare at the floor; nervously I fondled the box in one hand. My voice shook and was barely above a whisper. “After my parents died, I needed to get away.”

Andrew straightened up and the frailty I’d seen vanished. His hard blue eyes seemed to soften when he spoke. “Twenty-eight years is a long time to be away.”

Shame rushed over me once more, coupled with a tinge of fear that caused me to shiver. “I’m sorry....”

Andrew’s voice was soft and tears threatened to fall. “Where did you go that kept you away for so long?”

I couldn’t look him in the eye so I focused on the painting just over his shoulder. “I started off on Parris Island.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “You were in the marines?”

I didn’t know why, but tears came to my eyes even as I fought to maintain control. “Not exactly. The Department of Defense looked at my tests and offered me a job.”

Andrew folded his hands, placing them on his chest, and leaned back. “And what did you do for them?”

Memories of explosions, fires, the dying, and the dead flooded my mind and I forced them back into the locked room where they lived. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to tell him what I’d done or where I’d been. All I could do was lie. “I solved problems, paperwork mostly.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed, focusing on me as if trying to divine the information. “Open the box.”

I’d forgotten about the small wooden box in my sweaty hands. “What’s in it?”

Andrew shook his head and his features remained steadfast. “Open it and find out.”

Pushing the box top aside, memories of my father swam through my mind and the tears came. There at the bottom of the box was one of his rings. It was an intricately carved platinum band with a ruby on one side and an emerald on the other. Running my finger along the edge of it, I felt a strange tingling sensation throughout my body. I didn’t need encouragement to slip it onto the ring finger of my right hand. Sitting there looking at it, goose flesh erupted and I felt somehow more whole. The feeling subsided and a peace came over me as the world came back into focus. Everything seemed brighter, colors were richer, and I had to blink a few times because the light from the windows illuminated my uncle in a brilliant golden glow that hurt my eyes.

Andrew didn’t say a word; he watched, and waited for me to process my emotions.

“I hadn’t realized that I missed him so much. Thank you,” I said quietly.

Andrew’s eyes narrowed and the solemn look never left his face. “I have a few other odds and ends for you as well, but it’ll take some digging to find them.”

Something about his words didn’t sound right. A voice in the back of my head whispered that he was hiding something. I put those thoughts out of my mind immediately, blaming them on the emotional upheaval of receiving something I never thought I’d see again. “I’ve got plenty of time. Maybe we’ll find them on that tour you promised.”

Andrew pushed himself forward and leaned his elbows against the desk. “About that....”

I waved him off and took a deep breath. I hadn’t meant to make him feel guilty. “I’m joking. The tour will come in time I’m sure, and I’ll finally discover what you’ve got hidden over there.”

Andrew visibly relaxed and looked down at his watch. Shaking his head, he stood. “It’s after eight…we should get going, services will be starting soon.” He paused for a moment and looked conflicted. “I know you probably want to get behind the wheel of your new vehicle, but seeing how you don’t know the way, would you mind if I drove?”

Pulling the keys out of my pocket, I tossed them over and he deftly caught them. “I’ve got no objections.”

It took us about twenty minutes to cut through the broken, battered streets of New Orleans. All things considered, the ride to Jacob Schoen & Son Funeral home was smoother than it should’ve been given the dated suspension of the Tucker. Another oddity was the fact that it was already thick, clammy, and wet outside, but I never once felt uncomfortable in the car with the windows rolled up. It was not like the thing had air conditioning.

Needless to say, Andrew wasn’t exactly in a talkative mood so we made the trip in silence. When we pulled into the gated parking lot I found it curious that it was full of everything from pickup trucks to high end BMWs, Mercedes, and more than two dozen NOPD police cruisers, not to mention the other dozen or so unmarked vehicles. The list of odd/ interesting things that had taken place since I arrived at my uncle’s house was growing exponentially.

Andrew pulled into a space at the furthest end of the lot. He sat there for a moment, as if he were trying to work up the nerve to walk inside. I kept my head on a constant swivel, counting more than two dozen police officers in dress blues with a black band across their badges. Andrew finally worked up the nerve and pulled the key out of the ignition, and in one fluid motion stepped out of the vehicle and shut the door quickly. It was as if he were afraid if the door stayed open too long he might chicken out and drive us home.

Following his lead, I closed the door and looked over at my uncle. “What’s with the massive police presence?”

The question pulled Andrew out of whatever memory he’d been walking through. He glanced around the parking lot before nodding at me. “Oh, that. Martha was a
vigiles
for the Archive.” He saw the confusion on my face and shook his head. “She was a sort of civilian overseer for the Uncommon Crimes Division.”

I wasn’t sure what a
vigiles
or an Archive were in this context, so I filed it away as something I’d have to discover later. Furrowing my forehead, I looked back at the police officers, trying to discern if the officers wore something that would tell me more about what they did, but found nothing. “Uncommon Crimes? Aren’t all crimes uncommon?”

Andrew cut his eyes at me and shook his head. “Not in this city. But this isn’t the time or the place to discuss her work.”

Guilt ran through me, with that I closed my mouth and let my want for information fall to the side. “You’re right, sorry.”

Andrew stepped up beside me and clapped me on the shoulder, then guided me towards the front door. “Nothing to be sorry about. You’ve always been smart and very curious. Nothing wrong with either of those, but right now I need to focus on laying my wife and friend to rest.”

I felt bad that I’d completely forgotten about Martha when the first new shiny piece of information that cropped up piqued my curiosity.

“Of course,” I said.

I caught sight of Isidore’s back before the funeral home door swung closed. Andrew steered us in the direction of the main entrance that was guarded by a middle aged, medium height, very fit black female NOPD officer. She barely glanced up at Andrew before waving him through. She scanned the clipboard in front of her and crossed something off a list. I was following close behind, but obviously not close enough as she reached up and placed a hand on my chest. Her deep nut-brown eyes were bloodshot, and a thin dangerous smile crossed her lips.

Her voice was soft if a bit husky, but it carried a clear authority that she was accustomed to wielding. “Name?”

Even though she’d only spoken the one word, it was clear to me that if I wasn’t on the list and I tried to bypass her I’d be fortunate to wind up in a cell instead of a body bag. I’d seen this a lot over the years. She was the kind of officer that relished in the violence that her job afforded her. She’d bait someone and use her position as an excuse to justify whatever came next.

Choosing my tone carefully so I wouldn’t challenge her any more than I already had by towering over her a good twelve inches, I replied simply, “Gavin Randall.”

The officer huffed, her eyes darted over the paperwork, apparently praying that my name wasn’t there, and those prayers were answered. She took a half step back, all pretense of pleasantness gone now. Puffing out her chest, she put a hand on the hilt of her weapon, with a curt nod that told me to return from whence I’d come. A tinge of excitement colored her voice as adrenaline pumped through her veins; she hoped I’d cause a ruckus. “This is a closed event and you’re not on the list.” With a nudge from her thumb she unsnapped the nylon strap on her holster. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

She’d positioned herself well enough for the average size man. But I was not exactly average size. I thought about snapping her neck, but I did the smart thing and held my hands up as I took a step back. “I’m sorry for interrupting. I’ll wait for Andrew by the car if that’s all right.”

Her face contorted, her hopes for a fight being dashed. “You’ll need to stand outside the gate.”

By this point Andrew had swung around, and stood there watching the encounter with great interest. Now that things were quickly fading into a non-event, he stepped in. “Officer Trahan, I’m sorry I didn’t mention it earlier, but Gavin is with me.”