Winds of the Storm (11 page)

He saw the tight-jawed disappointment on Barber's face when Domino sent him packing, and for Archer that was well worth the exorbitant price of admission. Barber was a carpetbagger, and now that the Democrats were
redeeming
the South by reinstituting segregation and other antebellum
atrocities, men like him, no matter how successful, were treated with a scorn the Rebs usually reserved for the freedmen. In truth Blacks had no use for his kind, either. Carpetbaggers had looted monies for schools, land, and other federally funded programs designed to aid the freedmen. That the abrasive and condescending Barber was a
Black
carpetbagger ranked him somewhere below Mississippi sludge.

While Domino continued to receive tributes from her minions, Archer climbed the stairs. He saw her eyes slide to his, but he simply nodded and headed to the gambling rooms.

Zahra chastised herself for being disappointed that Archer had not joined the line, but she told herself that the farther she stayed away from him, the better. As the next man stepped up and whispered suggestively and crudely in her ear, she pasted on a smile and wondered why Araminta couldn't have sent her on a more cut-and-dry mission like breaking into someone's home and stealing a military code. In comparison to this madhouse of sex, arousal, and twins performing for all to see, the former was far easier.

 

The air in the gambling rooms was thick with cigar smoke and the smells of stale cologne mixed with liquor. Archer, seated at one of the tables, had been playing poker for just under an hour. As the man across from him, a Republican from out of town, dealt the next hand, the man asked, “Did you see the show?”

”I did.”

“Phenomenal. Don't you think?” asked the third man at the table.

“I was impressed.” Archer looked at his cards.

Their fourth, a politician who said he'd come all the way from Shreveport, asked Archer, “Have you been down the hall yet?”

“What's down the hall?”

“The Voyeur Room.”

Archer stared.

“Ten dollars gets you a seat. The women are
twins!
” he exclaimed.

Archer chuckled. “Every man's fantasy.”

“Oh, most definitely.”

They all laughed and began to play.

After another few hands, Archer pocketed his winnings, gave his seat to a man waiting to play, and made his way through the crowd to the Voyeur Room. He'd seen rooms like it before in France, Cuba, and Haiti, but like most men, he was still curious, so he paid the ten-dollar price to the man taking the money at the door, took a seat, and watched the erotic play of the man and the two beautiful, uninhibited twins on display. The man, his back to the watchers, had wisely donned a domino in order to mask his identity, another common practice. However, mask or no, Archer knew his baby brother with or without his clothes, and the realization that the man on the bed was Philippe made Archer choke on his cognac. Were Raimond in Archer's position, Philippe would be snatched up, thrown his clothes, and escorted out, but Archer was not Raimond. Archer also had no desire to watch his baby brother's technique, so he
excused himself. Seeing Domino standing behind the crowd he made his way over to her.

Zahra had wandered in to get her first look at the twins in action, and the sight of the two young women making love to the well-endowed man—and, shockingly, to each other—had her riveted. She watched lips and hands caress and fondle; saw heads thrown back in a passion reminiscent of the Eve statue, and when the various positions seamlessly melted into a heated eroticism, she found it hard to breathe.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Domino?” came a husky, familiar voice.

She didn't need to turn to see who the caressing voice belonged to. “Are you, Mr. Le Veq?”

“I am.” Aroused by her nearness and by all he'd seen this evening, Archer wondered just how long it might be before he could pleasure Zahra the way Philippe was lustfully pleasuring the twins.

Zahra had seen Le Veq enter the room only moments before. The man on the other side of the glass was now slowly stroking the straddling Salome while the passion-eyed Naomi twined around them both like sensual smoke. Forcing her voice to as normal a tone as she could manage, Zahra said to Archer, “You didn't spend much time in your seat.”

Feeling the warmth of her white-gowned body teasing him, Archer asked quietly, “Are you keeping time on all of your guests, or just me?”

“Just you.” Only then did she turn and meet his eyes.

“I'm flattered.”

“You should be. I'm keeping time on you with the hope that I'd have the opportunity to say thank you for your help. Your chef and his staff have performed admirably.” She had no intention of referencing their prior encounters.

“You're welcome.”

Suddenly, Etienne Barber was at her side. “Ah, Madame Domino, just the lady I was in search of.”

“Hello, Mr. Barber.”

“May I have the honor of a dance? The band has promised to play a waltz.”

Zahra had no intentions of letting Barber monopolize her time. “No, I'm sorry. I was just talking to Mr. Le Veq about a slight misunderstanding we seem to have in the contract drawn up for tonight. We were on our way to discuss the matter.” Then she added, “Once again, Mr. Barber, business before pleasure.”

Archer fielded Barber's angry eyes with an amused smile. He then asked Domino, “If you're ready, madame?”

“I am.”

Zahra placed her hand gently on Archer's extended arm and let him escort her away. When they were out of earshot, she asked, “Is he powerful enough to give me problems?”

“Only if you owe him money.”

“I don't.”

“Then you should be fine.”

Zahra could see the looks of surprise and, in some cases, outrage on the men's faces as she
walked with Le Veq. “You're the envy of everyone here, Mr. Le Veq.”

“Let's just hope you won't have to pull any knives out of my back.”

“No violence of any kind is allowed on the premises. In fact, Alfred is outside explaining just that to a customer who pulled a razor after losing quite a bit at the poker table.”

On the main floor, the girls were holding a lottery. The winners would get to bring in the New Year with one of the girls, and any interest in Domino and Archer was immediately lost.

“Where are we going?” Archer asked.

“To my bedroom.”

Shocked, Archer stared down.

She smiled up. “Isn't that where you've been wanting to take me since the first time we met?”

He looked down into the feather-trimmed eyes and shook his head and smiled upon seeing the mischief sparkling there.

Zahra had come to a decision. Gathering the information the president needed was going to be too difficult if she had to spend the next six months trying to figure out the players. Potential pests like Etienne Barber and the other crude men she'd met tonight made that clear. She needed to know the difference between those she could shove off the pier and those she had to smile at and tolerate as soon as possible. Not knowing her parents' fate made it imperative that she get this job done quickly and efficiently.

Because the door that led to her room was on the far side of the house, few if any of the revelers saw it open, and she and Archer disappear inside.
The sconces on the wall of the narrow staircase softly lit the way. Zahra was very conscious of him climbing the staircase behind her. The vivid performances of Naomi and Salome continued to haunt her.

Zahra ushered him into her bedroom and lit a lamp. She saw him looking around and wondered what he'd think if he saw her real bedroom back home.

“Beautiful room,” he said to her approvingly.

“Thank you.”

She saw him eyeing her bed, but she looked away and walked over to the French doors instead. Opening them let in the cold December night, but after the heat of the twins' performance and humidity everywhere else in the house she relished the chill of the fresh air.

“Feels good,” Archer said, eyeing her lovely presence.

“It does, doesn't it? Besides getting away from Barber, this is the real reason I wanted to come up here.”

“I'm disappointed.”

She met his eyes and smiled even as she felt them stroking her like a hand. “As I said the morning we met, you Frenchmen are legends in your own minds.”

He was propped up against the edge of her mirrored vanity table, arms crossed, watching her in the low, shimmering light. “And here I was thinking I was invited here to be seduced. Instead, you insult me.”

“Thank you for going along with the ruse.”

“You're welcome.”

Silence settled between them, and with it came memories.

Doing her best to maintain her distance, she said to him, “I have a business proposition I'd like you to consider.”

“And it is?”

“I need information on who is who in New Orleans. Take Barber, for example. Although you assured me he is of no importance, what if he had been? If I'm to run a successful house, I need to know the wheat from the chaff.”

“So what are you proposing?”

“That you supply me with that information, at whatever price you deem fair.”

“I see.” Archer studied her, then asked, “Suppose my price is that you share my bed?”

“Then I will find someone else.”

In the undulating light, she looked confident, fearless, and so temptingly beautiful that he found himself wanting her more with each tick of the clock that was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. “Suppose I amend that and just ask for the pleasure of your company?”

The eyes in the bird mask studied him. “I'd prefer a monetary agreement, Mr. Le Veq.”

“And I prefer your company. You're very mysterious, Domino, and I'd like to know you better.”

“To what end?”

“Seduction, of course.”

Her nipples tightened of their own accord. “You're very bold, sir.”

“If you wanted meek, you would be waltzing with Etienne Barber.”

He was formidable, but she'd already known
that. “Have you ever had a woman not succumb?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“I am tempted to agree just to show you that such women do exist.”

“Is that a gauntlet I hear?”

The words mirrored the conversation they'd had in his office. “I believe it is.”

“Then may I suggest we go riding? Maybe a morning later in the week? I can tell you about the city and answer any other questions you may have. We'll let the seduction play out on its own.”

“I don't plan to be seduced, Mr. Le Veq, but people will think I'm your paramour. Are you prepared for that?”

“For that and more.” Again Archer fantasized about removing her mask while kissing her succulent mouth.

“What of your mistress, the lovely Lynette?”

“Lynette is not at issue here.” And in truth she wasn't. He'd broken it off with her.

“I see. Then I will agree to your terms.”

“I'll send my card around to inform you of the date.”

“That is acceptable.”

“Excellent.”

Zahra had no idea what she'd really agreed to, but nevertheless, she was determined not to succumb to his charm or his kisses, no matter how tempted she might be. “We should probably return to the party. Alfred will be looking for me.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Not long,” she said vaguely as she led him to the door.

In the silent hallway that led back to the noise and people, he said, “I'll be taking my leave now.”

“So soon?”

“Yes. You have business to oversee, and I'm not one for being one amongst many.” He bowed. “Until our ride, madame.”

In his eyes she saw a directness that touched her core. “I'm looking forward to it.”

“No more than I.”

“W
e did well,” Zahra declared as she and Alfred went over the previous evening's receipts. She and the rest of the household had only gone to bed when the last of the drunken guests had staggered out around four that morning. They'd slept the day away. “The gaming tables and the bar made up for the girls being allowed to keep most of their takes.”

Alfred was pleased. “Good.”

“The twins brought in a small fortune.”

Alfred dropped his head and shook it dramatically.

“What's the matter?”

“I've just never been around women like them before.”

“They are something, aren't they?”

“That and more.”

Zahra's mind's eye could still see the twins
entwined in the erotic tableau. Any uninitiated persons viewing their performance had received quite an education. Personally, Zahra's limited experience in the bedroom had been greatly expanded as well.

“So where'd you disappear to last night?” Alfred asked. “I couldn't find you after I tossed out the fool with the razor.”

“I was with Le Veq.”

Alfred eyed her skeptically.

“Don't look at me that way. It's part and parcel of having to amend this plan of ours.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to get the information for President Grant as soon as possible so that I can return home and determine what is happening with my parents.”

“I understand that. So?”

“So, the fastest way for me to learn the rules of the game and its players is to use someone who is already at the table. Otherwise we may still be here next year this time.”

“But why him?”

“Why not?” she asked with a shrug. “He's a Republican, his family is prominent, and he's handsome. No one would expect me to be seen with Etienne Barber, for instance.”

“True, but Le Veq worries me.”

“He worries me as well, which is another reason why I'm enlisting his aid.”

“To keep an eye on him.”

“Correct. In fact, he and I will be going riding in a few days.”

“Are you sure he won't find out why we're really here?”

“No, but it's all I have for the moment, so we'll cross our fingers and see what tune comes out of the horn.”

“All right, but watch your step.”

“Advice I have already given myself.”

And she had, reminding herself as she sat in a rocker on the verandah outside of her bedroom later that evening. Bundled up against the cold, she mused on the past few days. Only now would she admit that she'd been dreaming about him; hot, erotic couplings that left her damp and restless when she awakened. Last night, he'd come to her as the statue Adam and she'd been Eve. Even now, Zahra could feel the warm weight of his hand cupping her breast; as if to offer proof, her nipple hardened shamelessly. She also willingly admitted that were she not engaged in this charade for Araminta and the president, a liaison with Le Veq might prove intriguing. He was as tempting as any other man she'd ever met—the kind that could make a woman lose her religion—but Zahra could not let herself be so dazzled by him as to lose sight of her true mission. She'd always prided herself on being strong-minded, and in the days and weeks to come she sensed she was going to need every ounce of it.

 

Unlike Zahra, Archer's thoughts weren't on the present but on an event of the past; Oscar Dunn's official death certificate had finally been published in the local newspapers. According to the
document, Louisiana's first Black lieutenant governor had died of congestion of the brain. That evening, Archer discussed the findings with his brothers as they ate dinner with Juliana.

“I talked with Coroner Creagh over at his office this afternoon, and, according to him, the poisoning rumors were so rife he went to the Dunn house the day of the death and told the family that because of all the rumors, the law demanded an inquest and autopsy.

“But what I didn't know was that Doctor Avilla, the chief police physician, wasn't allowed to see the body either.”

“The police were kept away too?” Drake asked.

“Yes.”

Beau remarked, “This is beginning to smell, Archer.”

“I agree.”

The conversation turned as Juliana announced she'd gotten word from Raimond. He, Sable, and the children would be returning later in the week, but the silent Archer continued to muse on the mysterious circumstances surrounding the death of Oscar Dunn.

Drake said, “Mother, I—”

But his words were drowned out by a cacophony of noise flooding in from the streets. Curious and confused, they all left the table and headed to the door, where they were alarmed by the sight of a large crowd of men marching by. Archer estimated there were at least two hundred in the noisy throng. In their hands were banners, lit torches, and signs proclaiming supremacy held aloft on pieces of wood. They were also carrying clubs,
guns, and lengths of pipe; On their faces were masks and bandanas to hide their identities. The power of their voices and marching feet shook the ground as they chanted in unison, “Redemption! Redemption!”

The brothers shared an angry glance. Their neighbors came out to investigate.

One of the marchers looked towards the Le Veqs and yelled, “You Sambo Republicans better leave town or you'll wish you had!”

His comrades roared agreement. A shot rang out, then another, shattering the window behind Juliana and making the Le Veqs scramble to shield their mother. Archer drew a pistol, and Juliana screamed, “No! They're trying to provoke a riot! Don't shoot back!”

She was right, of course; provoking a fight and then murdering the victims had become one of the supremacists' most hated tactics, but Archer was so furious that he felt capable of killing them all with his bare hands.

The marchers laughed, then journeyed on, shouting their hated chant.

As the men faded into the distance, the brothers drew in angry breaths and saw that all of them had drawn their pistols. Philippe helped Juliana to her feet.

They all crowded around to make certain she hadn't been hit by the lead.

Archer asked, “Are you hurt?”

Her eyes blazed. “Just my pride. Having no recourse but to watch those mongrels go by is the most humiliating, I believe.” Then she added a declaration. “Gentlemen, if the government doesn't
put a stop to this madness, I will leave this godforsaken country and live out the rest of my days in Haiti.”

That said, she went inside.

The still seething brothers cast malevolent eyes at the shattered window behind them. Archer said, “She could have been killed.”

The enormity of that was not lost on any of them.

Archer eyed his brothers. “Some veterans are proposing arming themselves and fighting fire with fire. I believe they just got four new recruits.”

“Five,” Philippe contradicted. “When Raimond comes home and finds out those sheet-wearing cowards shot at his Lovely Juliana, all hell is going to break loose.”

 

The next afternoon, Archer was eating his lunch at his desk and reading the local newspapers when a report on a fire at the home of one of the city's most vitriolic Democratic officials caught his attention. It seemed a band of mounted hood-wearing men swarmed over the estate in the middle of the night tossing torches into the house and into the estate's cane fields. The terrified family swore the bandits were men of color. The mansion was totally destroyed.

 

The morning of Zahra's scheduled ride with Archer finally arrived. The part of herself that had been a successful dispatch was confident and assured, but the female self that was admittedly attracted to him was somewhat nervous, mainly
because there was no guarantee that he'd be as malleable as she needed him to be. As a dispatch she'd never been attracted to a player in the ruse before, but she hoped admitting that fact would make her proceed with caution.

She adjusted the green domino that matched her bustled green gown, then viewed herself in the mirror. Satisfied with her reflection, she picked up her cape and handbag, and left her bedroom.

Downstairs, the girls were sitting around in their morning clothes, enjoying coffee and beignets.

As Zahra descended the staircase, Adair asked, “Where are you off to so early?”

“Riding with Archer Le Veq,” she responded, pulling on her signature net gloves.

“Oh, my,” an impressed-sounding Matilda said with a smile.

“May we go along?” the twins asked, grinning.

“No,” Zahra said with mock ferocity. “He's mine, at least for the morning.”

They sighed, “We'd love to get him in the room.”

“He's here, Domino,” Lovey called out from her position at the window, then added appreciatively, “Lord, that man is easy on the eyes.”

The women laughed.

The twins ran playfully to the big front door, pushing each other out of the way in an attempt to reach it first. Once again, Zahra shook her head at their antics. In the end, they opened the door together, and as he entered, they bowed dramatically. Zahra noted that his answering grin seemed to light up the room.

“
Bonjour,
ladies,” he said in greeting to them all.

When his eyes met Zahra's, his intense gaze warmed her blood, as if they were the only people in the room. “
Bonjour,
Domino.”

“Good morning, Mr. Le Veq.”

“How are you?”

“Well,” she responded, wondering why the room seemed to be so warm all of a sudden. “And you?”

“I'm well.” For a second or two, silence reigned, then he asked in that same dulcet tone, “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Finally breaking free from his spell, she turned to the girls and said, “Be good while I'm gone.”

“You, too,” Stella tossed back knowingly.

Heat seared Zahra's cheeks. Ignoring the female giggles behind her, she took hold of Le Veq's properly extended arm and let him escort her outside.

As they moved down the walk to his waiting black-and-brown barouche, there stood Alfred. With a scowl on his face, he opened the carriage's passenger side door. Zahra gracefully lifted her skirts and stepped in. Once she was seated beneath the half moon roof and Archer had taken his spot behind the reins, Alfred warned, “Treat her nice, or you'll have to answer to me, Le Veq.”

A displeased Zahra turned to speak, only to have Archer say first, “I plan to.”

Making a mental note to remind Alfred that although she appreciated his concern, she already had a father, Zahra and Le Veq drove away from
the brooding giant, who was left standing at the curb.

The January day was bright but cold. Zahra was glad she'd worn her heavy cape and even more grateful for the heated bricks he'd provided for her feet, in addition to a thick blanket that warmed her from waist to toes.

“Warm enough?” he asked, looking her way.

“Yes.”

“Good. I wouldn't want you to catch a chill.”

“Neither would I.”

It was small talk, a natural occurrence on first dates, because neither was sure how or where to begin again.

Archer didn't have to wonder why she attracted him the way she did. The mystery surrounding her identity was only enhanced by the beauty he sensed lurking beneath the green satin rhinestone mask. He found her so fascinating that he was willing to put up with the whirlwind sure to begin once he was seen with her this morning. Never a slave to public opinion, he planned to enjoy her company for as long as she extended him the privilege. More than a few male noses were going to be put out of joint by her largesse, but that didn't bother him either. “Shall I show you the city?” he asked.

“I'd like that.”

“This is the famous
Place de Negroe,
” he said to her as they stopped near a large open field near Ramparts Saint. “When the French and Spanish ruled New Orleans, free Blacks and slaves were allowed to come here on Sundays to market their
wares, meet their neighbors and families, and generally have a good time. There was music, drums, and dancing. In the old days, this was a gathering place for the native tribes. Over the years though, the name changed to Congo Plain but is now called Congo Square. We celebrated the Emancipation Proclamation here, and gathered here to mourn when Lincoln died. Crowds still gather on Sundays for the festivities. People come from all over the world to see the dancers and hear the singers. I'll have to bring you here one Sunday afternoon so you can see it for yourself.”

“Sounds like fun.”

He nodded, then signaled the two horses so they could move on. He showed her the Ursuline convent, the beautiful opera houses, and the building housing Straight University.

“It was charted for the race's higher education by the state legislature in '69,” Archer explained.

“So it's new?”

“Very.”

Looking at the impressive structure filled Zahra with pride as she thought about the bright young minds gathered inside honing their intellectual gifts.

“The school's named for a man named Seymour Straight,” Archer said, admiring her even more than the celebrated university. “He donated the land, and the Freedman's Bureau donated twenty thousand dollars.”

Zahra was even more impressed.

Leaving the school, he drove them to a less prosperous section of the city—the Mississippi
shoreline, where squatters had set up tents and wooden lean-tos, and where the smells from cooking fires floated on the air. Most of the residents were destitute, homeless freedmen. Zahra saw no beauty or brightness there, only mothers and children wrapped in newspapers, sleeping on the ground; men with vacant eyes who'd spent the night sleeping beneath wagons. In spite of the gains made by the race in the years immediately following the war, the big cities of the South were awash with shantytowns just like this, filled with residents with no hope in sight. “So, where does the race stand here?” she asked as they headed back to the main area of the city.