Collision

More sirens sounded, patrols responding to calls about the downed plane. The energetic strains of modern worship music rose from the tent that stood pitched near the church. Then the sirens faded again. The buzz of a helicopter replaced the churning whine of the Homeland plane.

“I got a winner,” Pilgrim said, pulling loose a key box from a bumper. “Come on, before the helicopter spots us. They can fly lower and slower, stick to us like glue.”

They pulled away from the revival in a sedate blue Ford sedan.

“I hope this isn’t the preacher’s car,” Ben said. “We’re going to hell.”

“I’m the only one hell-bound. We’ll find you a place to lay low.” They could hear the helicopter widening its circles. Pilgrim wheeled the sedan back into traffic, at normal speed.

“Lay low. Forget it. He killed Emily. I’m not sitting on my ass.”

“Ben. Hector specifically took over the Cellar for this big job. That means I have to fight several people from the Cellar. It’ll be like fighting a whole gang of me. You did your part. You don’t have to take this on…”

“I know I’m not good at shooting and fighting, but I can help you.”

“Not now. I promise you, I will kill him for you. For everyone he’s hurt.” Pilgrim’s mouth became a thin slash. “For Teach, and for your wife. You won’t have a long wait.”

“Good Lord. You know where Hector and the Cellar are at.” Of course he knew, and he wasn’t going to tell Vochek or the authorities until he knew what kind of reception awaited him and Ben in New Orleans.

“I have an idea,” Pilgrim said.

“The Cellar had a safe house here.”

“Good guess.”

“If Hector has them believing you turned against Teach-same as Green and De La Pena did-they’ll kill you,” Ben said.

“Yes, they will. They don’t know me from any other jerk on the streets. Hector has all of Teach’s pass codes, bank information-he’ll seem very legit in their eyes. I will look like the enemy.”

“Then let me fight him from another angle. Barker called someone at the Hotel Marquis de Lafayette. Last person he called before he left that house, to betray you and Teach.”

“Yeah.”

“I want to know who that person is. We know Hector’s working for Vochek’s boss on security. But maybe he’s working for someone else, too.”

“Fine,” Pilgrim said. “You go get phone records, I’ll go shoot people.”

“You better calm down,” Ben said, “or you’re going to make a mistake and get killed.”

Pilgrim pulled the sedan over to the side of the road. “Pardon my anger. I’ve lost my life, same as you. But I’ve done it twice now. First I lost my family, my career; and now I’ve lost Teach and the Cellar. I wanted to retire two days ago. I wanted to leave and be in the real world. He killed my hope.” For a moment he was silent, fingers clenching above the steering wheel. “But there’s no place out here for me now. As long as I could stay in the Cellar, then I could hope it could be different for me… that I could have a real life. But I can’t. Vochek and Homeland, they’d put me in a cell, have me talking for years.”

“You offered to do that for Vochek.”

“I was desperate, Ben. To get here. Because Hector’s not winning. Do you understand me?”

“Yes. I hate the bastard as much as you do. That’s why I want you to let me help you…”

“Call me on my cell if you find anything interesting in the phone records. I’ll call you when I’ve killed Hector.” He pulled the pilot’s stolen cell phone from Ben’s hands, activated the screen, memorized the number.

“Assume we succeed, then what?”

“I walk away. You negotiate an immunity, I’ll feed you plenty to give Homeland that’ll be worth gold to them. It’ll buy you your life back.”

“Buy your own life back. You’ll always be looking over your shoulder.”

“No. I won’t.” Pilgrim drove in silence for several minutes and then turned onto Poydras. On the streets were clumps of tourists, not like in pre-Katrina days, but more than Ben had expected. “Here.” Pilgrim pulled a few hundred dollars, hoarded from his storage unit, slid them to Ben. “You won’t be able to get the records without bribery. Nothing’s cheap. The hotel’s a few blocks down that way. Good luck.”

“You almost hope I get caught.”

“You don’t want to be in the cross fire, Ben.”

Ben offered his hand. Pilgrim shook it. “Sorry. Not good at good-byes.”

“Good-bye, Randall.” Ben stepped out of the car. First and only time to use his real name, the one Vochek mentioned.

“Bye, Ben. I’m sorry. For everything.”

Ben closed the door and the car raced off into the night.

38

The Cellar. They arrived, one at a time, taking rental cars from Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport. The safe house was a two-story family home on the edge of the suburb of Metairie, in a neighborhood spared the Katrina flooding. Hector felt like a magician summoning spirits to do his bidding as each of them arrived, and he greeted each at the door with the pass code that Teach had given him-and with their real name.