AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I have eight men at my disposal who feel what you're doing is more important than their golf game."
"Emmett gave his blessing?"
"Strictly off the record, he strongly insinuated that if we don't find the Vice President pretty damned quick, he'll put a boot up my ass so far I'll never sit down at the piano again."
"My kind of guy," said Giordino.
"Were you briefed on what we're looking for?" Pitt asked.
Griffin nodded. "A river barge. We've already checked out about two hundred between here and Baton Rouge."
"You searched north. I figure it to be south."
Griffin stared down at the ground doubtfully. "Most all the incoming freighters and tankers unload at the city docks. Then the cargo is transferred north by towboat. Few barges ply the delta waters south except those carrying trash and garbage to be dumped in the ocean."
"All the more reason to look in that direction."
Griffin made an inviting gesture toward the helicopter. "My men are waiting in cars along the river front. We can direct them from the air."
"Delta Oil make a good cover?" Pitt asked.
"Oil company whirlybirds are a common sight around these parts," answered Griffin. "They're heavily used to carry men and supplies to offshore rigs in the gulf and pipe construction throughout the bayous.
Nobody gives them a second glance."
Pitt excused himself and returned inside the NUMA plane, reappearing a minute later with the violin case. Then he entered the helicopter and was introduced to the pilot, a thin blond, dreamy-eyed woman who spoke in a slow, deep drawl. Pitt wouldn't have taken her for an FBI agent, which she was, nor did she fit her name, "Slats" Hogan.
"Y'all play the violin when ya fly?" Hogan asked curiously.
"Soothes my fear of height," Pitt replied, smiling.
"We get all kinds," Hogan muttered.
They fastened their seat belts and Hogan lifted the craft into the air and made a pass over the heart of the City before turning south.
A tiny green streetcar crept along St. Charles Avenue, the tracks glinting as they reflected the sun through the trees. Pitt could easily make out the massive white roof of the Superdome, the largest sports structure of its kind in the world. The tightly packed houses and narrow streets of the French Quarter, the green grass of Jackson Square and the spires of the St. Louis Cathedral slipped past off to their right. And then they broke over the muddy browngreen waters of the Mississippi River.
"There it is," announced Hogan. "Old Man River, too thick to drink and too thin to plow."
"Spend any time on it?" Griffin asked Pitt.
"I conducted a historical survey a few years ago on a pair of Confederate Civil War wrecks about sixty miles further down river in Plaquemines Parish."
"I know this great little restaurant in the parish-"
"So do I. The name is Tom's. Excellent gulf oysters on the halfshell. Be sure and ask for Tom's mama's special chili pepper juice.
Fantastic on the oysters."
"YOU get around."
"I try."
"Got any idea where the barge might be hidden?"
"Keep an eye open for a dock and warehouse that appear rundown and little used, but well protected with heavy security-excessive number of guards, high fencing, perhaps dogs. The barge, rusted and in disrepair, will be stashed nearby. My guess is somewhere between Chalmette and Pilottown."
"You can only reach Pilottown by boat," said Griffin. "The delta highway ends ten miles above at a town called Venice."
