But she must have done something right, Maureen thought, because here he finally was. The man himself, the man that neither the NOPD nor the FBI would touch, had come to face her in the street. He was twenty yards away. Closer to her now than he’d gotten with his golf club.
Those other two cops, Maureen decided, the ones who had died, Mays and Harrigan, they’d been collateral damage, camouflage and distraction for the Watchmen’s real intentions as they came after her and Preacher. In fact, she was pretty sure that Leon Gage had been setting her up for the kill that afternoon. She should have opened fire on that passing van. It had to be the van. Should’ve lit those fuckers up. Gage couldn’t take the shot at her himself, because if he did he couldn’t be sure he’d walk out of the café. Not in a place as popular with city law enforcement as L’il Dizzy’s. Maureen wouldn’t be the only one in there with a gun, which wasn’t something that Gage would know, but Heath would.
Heath gave the orders and Gage had escape plans, Maureen thought, because the so-called leaders never did the dirty work themselves. Gage, like Solomon, passed off the risk and the bloodshed to underlings. The ones who made the speeches never did the dying. Bin Laden didn’t pilot one of the planes. The guy who held the press conference wasn’t the one who climbed aboard the bus wearing the suicide vest, or the one who drove the car up to the embassy entrance. That job always went to the poor schmuck who the fake patriots and false prophets had convinced that dying in a bomb blast or a hail of bullets was the only thing worth living for. Only their death could make their lives worth anything in this world and the next. Solomon Heath and Leon Gage were those salesmen. In that way they were alike.
She’d picked Dizzy’s to irritate Gage, and in defiance of Detillier’s protestations, Maureen thought, and had quite likely saved her own life in the process. Had Solomon come outside to finish the job by himself, she wondered. Had she become worth that much to him? It had been a long time, she figured, since Solomon had done his own dirty work. Here she was, though, standing in the street as living proof that if you wanted something done right …
She watched as Solomon tucked the thermos under his left arm, jamming that hand into the pocket of his vest. He raised his other hand in a salute, telling her with the gesture that he’d come no farther without her permission. Maureen raised her hand and waved him closer. His leather soles scratched on the asphalt as he walked toward her.
Maureen knew that for Solomon, killing her and Preacher was the only way to make New Orleans safe for Caleb’s return. Once she and Preacher were dead, with Quinn dead and a discredited Ruiz fled to another state, there’d be no one left to link Caleb to the Watchmen and the New Orleans drug gangs they worked with to hide and move their guns for their war. She was sure by now that he knew Madison Leary, the one other threat to his son, was dead.
Solomon smiled at Maureen as he got closer, walking with both hands buried deep in his vest pockets. Here was a man, Maureen thought, who had never in his life thought twice about approaching a police officer with his hands in his pockets. And despite everything she thought she knew about him, she’d let him come this far without protest. Were he a twenty-year-old black man, she thought, she’d have asked to see his hands before he crossed the street. And this was a man she knew wanted her dead.
“Am I in danger?” Heath asked.
“Excuse me?”
“I asked, am I in danger?” He continued smiling. He had perfect teeth.
“And why would you think that?” Maureen said.
After a chuckle, Heath said, “Because there is a police officer parked outside my house in the middle of the night.”
“And that means danger to you,” Maureen said, “the presence of the police.”
“Has there been a threat against me?” Heath asked. “You’re out here to protect me from something. I was wondering what that is.”
“If you’re worried for your safety,” Maureen said, “why leave the house?”
Heath nodded. “I’m under surveillance?”
“Not as far as I know. But the bosses don’t tell me everything. I’m just a foot soldier.”
Heath looked over his shoulder. “We can have this conversation in a much warmer place, Officer. You’re welcome to come inside.”
“I’m fine right here,” Maureen said. “Thank you.”
“I saw the events of the day,” Heath said. “The whole city has by now, and the whole country, I’m sure. If not the world. Horrific beyond words. I don’t know what kind of statement those animals thought they were making. My heart goes out to you and your fellow officers. I understand that you and Sergeant Boyd are especially close?”
“He was my training officer,” Maureen said. “It’s probably unprofessional to admit it, but I take what happened to him very, very personally. Above and beyond even the murder of the other cops.”
“Odd that a man out of uniform was targeted,” Heath said, lowering his eyes, “when the other officers were in uniform and seemingly picked at random.”