The Blue Heron
Edition 1.0 First Publication 2014
Copyright 2014 Howard Moore©
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, printed and photocopied, copied or distributed without gaining the appropriate consents or without prior written permission.
Book design by Howard Moore
Cover art and design by Howard Moore ©
This is a work of fiction, while, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience, all names, characters, places, businesses, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. No reference to any real persons is intended or should be inferred and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or names, characters, places, businesses, events and incidents are purely coincidental.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.
Table of Contents
Chapter 2 Billy-Bob, Mary-Jo and Cuzn Luke
Chapter 3 Samuel, SJ and Jason Kennedy
Chapter 4 Daydreaming and a visit by Charlotte
Chapter 5 Mr. Gant, Benjamin Carouse and Herbert Mouton.
Chapter 7 Battling the Dark Dread
Chapter 8 Samuel’s New Business and the Start of a Good Friendship
Chapter 9 Concocting Their Story
Chapter 12 Clive Meek and The Anderson Langford Corporation
Chapter 13 Samuel’s Objections
Chapter 14 Summer Rolls Onward
Chapter 15 Cuzn Booee, Treacle, Cuzn Luke and Moonshine
Chapter 18 Arranging the Hunting Trip
Chapter 21 Revenge of a Petty man
Chapter 22 The Blue Heron Totem
Chapter 24 The Progress Report
Chapter 26 Tightening the screw
Chapter 27 Bluster, Lies and Deceit
Chapter 28 The Anonymous E-mail
Chapter 29 The Evidence Builds
Chapter 30 Site Visit and Committee Notification
Chapter 31 The Akendo Team Disbands
Chapter 33 An Interesting Offer
Chapter 39 The Zoning Committee Meeting
Chapter 40 Burning the Midnight Oil
Chapter 43 Drowning their Sorrows
Chapter 44 Kendrick Toup’s Dinner Date
Chapter 47 Extra, Extra Read All About It!
Chapter 50 Dawn Raids and Rebecca’s Introduction to the world
Preface
I have the experience of struggling for over thirty years since my late teens riding the roller coaster of mind numbing depression and the exhilaration of unbelievably insightful and creative energetic highs.
I was only Diagnosed as Bipolar ten years ago but have endured a strange, often chaotic life without knowing why since about the age of eighteen. My family have endured its effects with courage and as much understanding as possible, but ultimately it leaves loved ones lonely, sad and confused.
My background and personal and family struggles with my Bipolar disorder, my insight into the dark sides of the character of some people, working in corporate environments and having an imagination that took me to the sweltering oppressive heat and humidity of the dark and dank swamp lands of central Louisiana qualifies me to write my book. This is from a position of knowledge, experience and a sheer creative outpouring of words that formed within my mind and flowed freely onto the page with little thought or consideration
The primeval richness and natural beauty of the humid untamed landscapes of the central Louisianan swamp lands contrast starkly with its other dark characteristics. These being of perceived menace and disease which are interwoven in local culture and folklore with myths and legends that depict ghosts, spirits and supernatural evil. It is possible that these opposing characteristics of the central Louisianan swamp lands mirror the opposing dark and light elements of my character which are in a continual struggle, one to dominate the other, and as such revealed itself as the backdrop to the story. With my mind having provided the landscape for the characters to inhabit, significant research was undertaken to understand the landscape itself, flora and fauna, recent history and the rich and diverse cultural mix of central Louisiana that makes it a special place.
This book I suppose wrote itself, that is to say that the interwoven storylines, characters and location all formed within my subconscious during an episode of mental retreat. When I was in the process of returning fully to a level of ‘normality’ I sat down in front of my computer one morning and started to type. I didn’t need to think; words just poured out onto the page and kept coming. Over the course of the coming few days I continued to write, there was an inner want to get these words out of the darkness of my mind and onto paper and twenty thousand words later I was still writing.
The story evolved in pretty much the same way from day one over the course of sixteen months until I wrote the last word. I only wrote when there was something swirling around within my subconscious that wanted to get out, nothing was forced or planned, with characters appearing and defining themselves over the course of time. At times the events, outcomes or twists and turns within the story were as much a surprise to me as they were to the characters themselves and will be to readers.
I have two prequels to The Blue Heron which are waiting to be written, I can feel them swirling around in my subconscious and every now and then they give me a glimpse of themselves.
The first covers Samuel, SJ and Jason’s first twelve years in Lokchapi (2001-2012). The Second covers Samuel’s early years in Baton Rouge, from mid teens to relocating to Lokchapi with SJ and Jason (1979-2001).
Introduction
The small town of Lokchapiis located in the parish of Evangeline, central Louisiana and was originally settled and named by members of the Native American Muscogee tribe, The Choctaw People.Lokchapi is locally known as ‘Lochap’, by its current inhabitants and those of the countryside for miles around.
The name Lokchapi is derived from the Muskogee Choctaw language, signifying the Red Oak, the word being composed from “lokcha” (acorn) and “api” (stem). Some of the Red Oaks that lent their name to the original village survive today. Not as the large forest that it once was but as a few hundred trees clustered in small groups in and around the town center and the church. In fall the Red Oaks that once completely covered the sandstone outcrop and higher and drier land turn a deep fiery red whilst the Cypress trees needle like leaves of the swamp lands to the north go a coppery-brown color. A flaming crescendo of reds rising up above the coppery-brown, green and dark muddy shades of the swamp lands formed a vivid contrast and must have been both awe-inspiring and breathtaking. Still today the smaller groupings of Red Oaks dotted here and there in and around the town put on their own show, smaller licks of flame as opposed to the roaring fires of earlier times.
It must have been a place of significance for these early settlers of the land, it was high ground surrounding a rocky outcrop, dry, with two fresh water springs that made their way down to the bayou. It had a lake frontage to the west, flooded swamp lands and forests to the north with well drained fertile soil to the south and east.
The height of the outcrop would have made it an ideal defensive position, a place to spot game from and a refuge from the dark, wet swamps and boggy grasslands that were close by.
The town is centered on the large outcrop of sandstone that rises above the surrounding swamps and wet grasslands by some thirty feet. This does not sound much, but the whole parish of Evangeline in which Lokchapi is to be found is relatively flat and low lying, made up of alluvial sands, gravels and clay deposits, being only forty three feet above sea level at Basile in the south, reaching the lofty heights of ninety five feet above sea level at Pine Prairie and St Landry in the northern part of the Parish.
The original village of Lokchapi was the home to approximately two hundred to two hundred and fifty Choctaw people whereas today it has a population of one thousand and eighty two people. It now has a mixed heritage of African and European ancestry and their associated languages and cultures have created a diverse environment in which to live.
Today the people who live in Lokchapi and the surrounding area shine out from this shabby environment, they are not down at heel or oppressed by their surroundings or lack of wealth. They are vibrant, happy people, who love their town, their parish, the countryside, their food, their music and their rich cultural mix of languages and customs; to them all Lokchapi is fondly called Lochap. Currently the town has a general store, a bar called the Red Oak, a small hardware store and an auto repair shop situated in the old blacksmith’s barn which sold gas until the late nineties. The village church is situated at the highest point, with the land sloping gently down to the west to meet the mouth of the Lokchapi bayou and shore of Lake Cavelier and even more gently to the north and north east where the majority of the village has been built and beyond which the dark flooded swampland being in earnest. The land falls abruptly down to the east and south where naked sandstone is clearly visible as a steep wall of yellowish-brown rock.
The only things that seem to effect the local population is hearing news of an impending tropical storm, the forecast of a side swipe from the tail of a dying hurricane spreading its devastation north from the coast, or the long hot humid days and nights of late summer when every movement is an effort that saps the body of it energy and fogs the mind.
Any news of an impending tropical storm sends the town’s folk into a state of anxious readiness which sometimes manifests itself as a frenzy of boarding up windows and doors as the storms grow nearer and nearer and the air calms as the pressure drops, until almost completely still. It also seems to invoke a kind of madness or dread and fear that coils itself in the collective soul of the population only to be released as the torrents of hail and rains lash the town. These rains are often driven on by roaring winds and accompanied by spectacular displays of lightning flashes and deeps crashes and rumbles of thunder as the storms slowly pass overhead while all cower beneath.
The heat and humidity of high summer brings on a “tropical malaise or madness” that is outwardly displayed as lethargy of action and voice, this is supported in the main by irritability and anger balancing a fine line between containment and explosive release. It was often and still is to this day a time of heavy drinking, arguments and fighting between friends, neighbours and families who explode individually or in a succession of interrelated events over the slightest indiscretion or slight. As the heat and humidity rises, so does the pressure within the community, releasing itself in short bursts, replicating the crashing of thunder or flashes of lightning that often looms overhead. Once passed and the temperature and humidity drop the community soon relaxes and any arguments or fights are soon forgotten.
Lokchapi still retains its quiet peaceful feel, it is some miles off of any major road or highway and so is still not bothered by any passing or through traffic, the faces that are to be seen in and around the town are all towns folk or family or friends of towns folk from the surrounding countryside and all are known faces. ‘Outsiders’, don’t happen upon Lokchapi that often, if they do they are courteously engaged, at the same time being watched with a certain suspicion or air of amusement. To the people of Lokchapi and the surrounding countryside, people from way out of Evangeline, mainly city people or worse still people from out of state seem to be in such a hurry, they speak quickly and seem to have the worries of the world on their shoulders. Life in Lokchapi and the surrounding forests, woods and farmland rolls along at its own insular pace, people just doing their own thing in their own time and for much of the time to their own rules. Basically doing what they want, when they want and with whom they want.
The settlement of Malase is also within the parish of Evangeline and it was originally named Malaise, the French word ford is comfort, uneasiness, or being ‘out of sorts’. The first Europeans to settle this part of the country were French settlers who had moved out of Baton Rouge in 1762 when it was ceded to the British, dispersing north along the Mississippi and out into the wooded swampy areas of the country. And there was the arrival of the French Acadians who were expelled from Nova Scotia by the British in 1755 and they began arriving in Louisiana by 1765, populating Evangeline amongst other regions of Louisiana. It was these early settlers who founded the small settlement of Malase in the dark, dank flooded swamp lands and the majority of current families who live in Malase are their direct descendents
It is situated some four miles north of the small town of Lokchapi and the Lokchapi bayou and it lies along the shoreline of Lake Cavelier, set back from the waters edge by some half a mile and surrounded by thick Moss laden Cypress and Tupelo swamp lands. The settlers built a small group of seventeen shacks on slightly higher ground in amongst the stout buttresses and massive trunks of the towering Cypress trees and the occasional Tupelo tree. Initially the settlement had had no name but after a while it was named because of the effect the surrounding environment had on its inhabitants and anyone who cared to visit.
The land surrounding Malase is almost always flooded and if not it was wet, soft and bog-like, with pockets of quicksand dotted here and there with the lower lying areas spending the majority of the year underwater. The slightly raised areas staying for the main above the water all year round but at times even these flooded to a depth of a foot and a half. The moss laden Cypress trees, with their characteristic Cypress knee root system grow in shallow water or on the slightly raised areas of land alongside the smaller Tupelo trees. To both the south and north is mainly flooded Cypress and Tupelo swamp with water to a depth of eight feet in parts, the land to the east was also Cypress and Tupelo swamp for about a mile and a half but much shallower before it rose up slightly and transformed into open country that was covered with marsh grasses, vines, palmettos and irises. Here the land stays above the flood level but like the swamp it had always been notoriously difficult to navigate because of its bogginess and scattered quicksand’s’ and sucking mud.
Spanish moss is common in the swamp lands and flooded forests that surrounded Malase, it hung in great veils from the branches of the towering trees shading everything below in a world of dark, dank gloom. In days gone by the Spanish moss was dried and used as stuffing for mattresses but today it just hung as drab adornments to the flooded swamp lands.
Access to Malase is by a raised dirt track from the small town of Lokchapi, and runs the four miles from the center of town in Lokchapi twisting and turning all the way into the center of Malase. The track is just high enough to survive the majority of the floods of spring or fall but it was not that unusual for Malase to be completely cut off by flood waters at times, only being accessible by boats with a shallow draft or high sprung four wheel drive wagons.
There are only twelve wooden shacks still inhabited and they are all in reasonable states of repair considering the continual damp and humid conditions. All raised up on stilts some four feet off of the ground with wide porches that run right across their fronts, with wooden railings surrounding them on three sides and access onto them being gained by wooden steps. Every family’s shack is different, having been added to extended and altered over the years of habitation, extending back from their front porches in a jumble of rooms, corridors and outbuildings. Of the remaining five uninhabited shacks two are being used as communal stores and the other three had suffered from the effects of neglect and were all in different states of collapse. They had also suffered from scavenging raids, having had many of their timbers reclaimed to construct extensions, and various outhouses and storerooms by the inhabitants. The Shacks were grouped around a clearing of slightly higher land that was roughly the size of a baseball diamond and here everyone parked their vehicles, the children played and the dogs, pigs and chickens of the settlement roamed freely.
In the rainy season the whole area surrounding Malase would disappear under a foot and a half of water and had been known to reach almost four feet in depth in places, all except, that is for the slightly raised central clearing but this too had flooded to a depth of almost a foot during the worst remembered floods. During the particularly wet years all of the shacks would be standing on their stilts in the floodwater and the track would temporarily disappear. On these occasions the inhabitants would get in their small boats and navigate their small creek down the short distance to Lake Cavelier, turn south, run their engines up full and ride on down toLokchapi. They would tie up at the long wooden landing at the mouth of the Lokchapi bayou and from there it was just a short five minute walk to the center of the town.
There were only two families of British stock that resided in Malase, the remaining ten families were all of French descent, in the local vernacular they were ‘Cajun’ and proud of it, with their own strong dialect, customs and cultural heritage. They often spoke amongst themselves in slightly bastardized French, a sort of Franglish spoken in mostly French with some English thrown in or thought in French and spoken in English.
It was not really ten individual families, rather three extended and intermarried families. There was always a falling out about something or other and when the home stilled “shine” had been flowing freely, then the fists would fly and things got really out of hand, but all was soon forgotten.They were a very tight knit extended family unit and were in and out of each others homes all of the time, being one big interrelated family they were also close friends who formed their own ‘clan’.
Chapter 1 The Plan
The phone rang once before being answered by a gruff, irritated voice,
”Yupp.”
“I’ve got the latest figures in and they ain’t good…., you’re gonna get blown out of the water if things don’t’ change,”
The caller announced in a serious, sure and level tone.
“Go on then let me have it,”
the gruff voice replied as its owner fiddled with his Solitaire Rosé Hommage à W.A. Mozart fountain pen, one of Montblanc’s finest writing instruments, like everything else he owned it was the best money could buy.
The caller’s voice didn’t falter as it continued.
“Listen Bootsie things aren’t good for you at the moment; to be honest you’re fucked.”
The line stayed silent so the caller carried on delivering his message in the same measured voice.
“You know you’ve made some mistakes and things just aren’t as rosy as before.”
“Well what’s the deal then?”
Bootsie asked with annoyance and frustration tingeing his voice, as he sat listening, his cold piercing blue eyes glared out across his office from beneath graying eyebrows; a severe military style crew-cut framed his face which sat on top of a toned and muscular neck. It was another hot day and Bootsie wished his air-conditioning was more effective. He was sitting at his desk, jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled up with his tie loosened and his top button undone.
“He’s just Mr. Popular and never seems to be off of the TV….., he’s a successful good looking family man who speaks well…., and has an impeccable untarnished career…, hell I even had Collins telling me that they had met a couple of times and he seemed like a really good guy!”
“Shit…, shit……, uugh.., OK thanks.., we’ll talk tonight…., bye,”
snapped Bootsie’s granite jaw, he hung up his phone and immediately dialed a number.
“Saucier Security Services, can I help you today?”
A polite well-spoken female voice asked the caller.
“Is he in?”
Bootsie enquired.
“Yes sir, of course sir, I’ll put you through immediately, one moment please……..”
There was a clicking sound on the line then his call was put through.
“Hi Quentin speaking,”
announced a well-manicured sharp suited man who was standing by the floor to ceiling glass that surrounded his office on three sides. As he listened he gazed out across the panoramic views of the city watching the bustle of downtown through a haze of shimmering heat.
“Quentin I am going to need your services…., I think I need some of your very specific skills…. I’ve just found out that things aren’t looking good for me and I need a solution, I need to turn this thing around somehow and fast…., before fall at the latest.”
“Not a problem Bootsie let me make a few calls.”
As he talked Quentin walked back over to his desk and opened up the contacts database on his computer, he typed in a three names, as their details came up on the screen he noted down their phone numbers.
“Where and when do you want to meet and have you any ideas yet?”
Quentin asked Bootsie.
“Nine tonight, how about we all meet at the club, nice and informal, relaxed, and no I haven’t any ideas yet but I do have a few people that I want to join us.”
“Mmm…… not sure about the club, yes nice and open, informal….., and we could book a private room.., but do we all really want to be seen together?……, wouldn’t Lakeland Drive be better and maybe during working hours?……I provide contracted services for them and the people I’m inviting along visit there on a reasonably regular basis, is that the same for the people you want to join us?”
“Yeah, I suppose they go in an out a few times a year.”
“That’s good…., it won’t arouse suspicions if we’re all in the building at around the same time during normal hours……, you don’t want to let anyone think that you’re spooked.”
Quentin replied, and as usual delivered well considered and accurate advice.
“No……, you’re right Quentin…., as ever good solid and dependable counsel…, ok then how’s two pm today sound?”
“Fine by me, two pm it is then, I’m sure my people will be able to make it, if not I’ll call back…, see you at two,”
Quentin replied before hanging up and calling the first of his three contacts. Two more quick calls later and arrangements had been made to meet at530 Lakeland Driveat two pm that afternoon.
Bootsie hung up his phone and immediately dialed a second number; the phone rang twice before being answered by a well-educated voice with a strong east coast accent.
“Good morning Dilip speaking.”
“Hey Dilip how are you?… Well I hope.”
“Bootsie.., good to hear from you, how can I be of service?..I presume this isn’t a social call?”
“No, sorry my friend it’s business….., I am going to need your services…., I think we need to do some serious strategizing…. I’ve just found out that things aren’t looking good for me at all…., and yes I know you have been telling me this for months. However the long and the short of it is that I need a solution, I need to turn this thing around and I don’t have much time, we’ve got until fall.”
“Ok, so what do you have in mind?”
“Well I’ve just spoken with Quentin Saucier and we have agreed a 2.00 pm meet at530 Lakeland Drive, can you make it? I really need your input.”
“Luckily I was due to fly out to D.C. later this afternoon for a midday meeting tomorrow so I‘ve got no meeting booked for this afternoon, I’ll try and reschedule my flight for early tomorrow morning and see you at 2.00 pm.., If I have any problems rescheduling the flight I call back.”
“Thanks Dilip see you at two hopefully.”
“Not a problem Bootsie see you there.”
Bootsie hung up for the second time and continued calling the other people he wanted to attend the meeting. Luckily for him they were all in state and with a bit of gentle persuasion and verbal arm twisting everyone agreed to be there.
530 Lakeland Driveis a nondescript squat building with a brick façade and two stone casement windows from the ground to the top of its first floor roof either side of its double glass entrance doors. The entrance is shrouded by a cheap looking yellow canvas canopy, an odd addition that seems completely out of place.
The building houses a few local business organizations, a couple of local law firms with seventeen hundred square feet of office space available for lease, all with dedicated parking. The ideal place for the strategy meeting to take place, on a quiet street, not far from downtownBaton Rougeand the regular throughput of lawyers and businessmen a familiar sight.
Between one thirty five and one fifty pm the meeting attendees arrived and parked in either the shaded side car lot or the larger one across the street. They sauntered in, smart, well dressed in sharp suits, but unhurried, making themselves comfortable in the reception area on plush leather sofas. It was late spring, the heat was steadily increasing day by day and was unusually hot for the time of year but mercifully it was still a relatively dry heat. That was in comparison to the ever increasing humidity that would have to be endured between the start of the summer and fall when the first storms swept cooling air in from the North West. Fall was a relief for everyone in the state of Louisiana because the oppressive, suffocating, muggy heat was replaced with cool breezes, refreshing rain and the overall intense heat and humidity dropped markedly.
.
As soon as everyone had arrived and been introduced to each other by either Bootsie or Quentin they moved off as one along a short corridor to the building’s main conference room that Quentin had booked. In attendance were Bootsie, Dilip, Quentin, Claude Lafourche, Lottie Keel, Donald Chadwick, Curtis and Earl Langford and Glenn Anderson. They seated themselves around a large highly polished oval table while Quentin closed and locked the door behind them all.
“Phones please ladies and gentlemen,”
he asked in an assertive but pleasant voice before walking around the table collecting everyone’s cell phone. He checked one by one that they were off and put them in a box which he then placed down at one end of the table. He then proceeded to point out a tray of cookies and doughnuts, a bowl of fresh fruit, a large canteen of coffee and a couple of jugs of iced fruit juices on a side table for everyone’s refreshment, he then took his seat at the table.
Bootsie stood up and thanked everyone for attending before inviting Dilip to speak. As Bootsie sat back down Dilip Jhadav stood up to address the meeting attendees.
Dilip was an immaculately dressed, well groomed and well-spoken second generation Indian, his family had moved from Uttar Pradesh inIndiato set up a small Indian delicatessen in centralNew Orleans. They had all worked long hours in the shop and within seven years of arriving in this new land the family had three successful stores and could afford a good education for their three children, Dilip, Ranjit and Naina.
Dilip was tall dark and handsome with a shock of styled black hair and penetrating crystal blue eyes. The clothes he wore were generally well cut fashionable business suits worn over silk shirts finished off with colorful ties. His shoes were always highly polished Italian black leather over socks that matched his tie, all in all an immaculately groomed and well-dressed man.
He was educated at Harvard and attained an honors degree in Politics and International Studies and a Masters in Political Science from Oxford University,Oxford,England. His brother Ranjit was educated at Yale and received an honors degree in law and Naina their younger sister had received honors in Fashion from Parsons New York, and a Masters’ in Fashion from Central St Martins,London,England. She was beautiful, with a radiant smile, smoldering dark eyes and had shunned several attempts by top model agencies in both London and New York to lure her onto the catwalk, opting instead to start her own fashion label. They were all brilliant, driven, high achievers and the pick of the bunch was Dilip, he was a highly intelligent pragmatist who was also diplomatic and radiated an alluring charm. He divided his time equally between Baton Rouge and Washington DC, regularly working an eighty hour week, which didn’t take into account travel time.
Dilip was not a man to mince his words when he spoke and laid it on the line to all present, he told everyone that as far as he was concerned Bootsie was up shit creek, he then went on to detail exactly why he had reached such a conclusion. He identified their opponent’s strong points then weaknesses, spending an equal amount of time discussing both then without wavering identified where they themselves were weak. Unfortunately they currently didn’t have many strong points that he could establish and for the moment there didn’t seem to be a way forward.
A couple of people fidgeted uneasily upon hearing such an un-spun, plain, fact based delivery of Bootsie’s current situation. The room fell silent for a moment as Dilip sat back down and waited for a response from someone, silence endured for a few uncomfortable seconds before Quentin rose to his feet.
“Ladies, Gentlemen, this is not a time for silence, or is it a time to be timid, between us we need to figure out what is to be done between now and the fall, so that gives us barely four months to turn this thing around. We need to decide it here, today…, then we can all do our best, working together to change this situation.”
Quentin was at ease talking to an audience, motivating, coaching, encouraging.
“Now, what I propose we do is simply go round the table one by one….., just say it as you see it, no holds barred,”
he continued, still standing he surveyed the faces of everyone present, trying to gauge their thoughts or responses. Everyone nodded in agreement with his proposal, it seemed to all a practical and logical way to proceed and as they came to that collective decision the unease in the air lifted.
“I’ll go first,”
Bootsie said speaking from the head of the table in his usual gruff voice. Quentin sat back down and together they all listened intently as one by one they aired their views. They were all candid in what they said voicing both personal and professional opinions. Some identified why they thought Bootsie was in the situation he found himself in and who they thought was at fault and others suggested what they could do to help, identifying possible solutions or strategies that could be adopted. There were many differing, views, opinion, impressions, conclusions and ideas that were introduced for discussion, but to Dilip they all seemed predictable responses that would have little if any noticeable effect in time to be of any real value. Some were purely defensive maneuversand others just bland negative and obvious reactions that would do little to change the situation significantly, if at all. It was also asked by more than one of the attendees whether it was too late to act. Everyone was having their say and trying to help identify a strategy that would change the situation before the fall, but so far not much progress was being made, there was much to be lost if they were not successful.
After one and a half hours of talking they broke for a quarter of an hour refreshment break, even with the air-conditioned air in the room was getting stuffy, as they sauntered out they collected their own phones from the box to catch up on missed calls and voice mail.
All of the comments, observations and suggestions that came up in the discussion had been taken in the manner they were intended, as constructive criticism or possible solutions but the reality was that they were not making any concrete progress. As Dilip was walking out of the conference room Quentin called him over.
“Dilip, do you have a moment? I have an idea and want to sound you out on it.”
Both Dilip and Quentin stood in deep conversation for the entire refreshment break, Quentin explained that earlier in the day he had made a few discreet calls to some acquaintances regarding the situation and asked for their suggestions, a couple of them were in attendance at the meeting but Quentin kept that to himself. Quentin told Dilip that in the strictest confidence he had described Bootsie’s situation and asked them to look at the problem from various angles and make some suggestions. The third call bore fruit, this contact and an old friend of both Bootsie and Quentin knew of one formal complaint that had been held on file in Baton Rouge. It had been made against the CEO of their collective adversaries’ corporation, it was over ten years old but it might be the chink they needed, an opening, something that they could exploit.
“My research team could dig around and see where this golden vein takes us, it might come to nothing but it’s the only officially recorded stain on an otherwise impeccable career that I have ever heard of and it’s an opportunity we shouldn’t pass up,”
Quentin said in a whispered voice.
“I agree…, who knows where it might lead?… It could be our only chance,”
Dilip whispered in reply.
Dilip’s senses, razor sharp and ruthless underpinned by an astute mind detected a possible solution that could exploit the opportunity. Dilip and Quentin formulated the bare bones of a plan as they stood together talking in hushed tones. It was a strategic approach to reversing the current situation that was neither predictable nor straight forward; and it would need the support of the entire assembled group and others if it was to stand any chance of success. Both calculating minds came to the same conclusion, it was their only hope. As the rest of their group gathered back in the conference room, they finished their conversation and returned to join them. Once again Quentin locked the door and collected all the cell phones; he took his seat and looked over to Dilip.
Dilip stood up and delivered their hastily concocted plan with a precise use of language that focused all of the minds present, they listened intently, nodding in agreement with the delivery of each carefully considered point, after five minutes of talking Dilip paused, he looked around the table at the faces of all the assembled group before asking.
“Well what do you think?…. , that’s the bare bones of it but I am certain it is our only course of action….. ,now all we need to do is fill in the detail, you know put some meat on its bones…, that is if everyone is in agreement?”
For the second time that afternoon an uneasy air descended on the room as everyone sat silently contemplating their responses. Dilip sat back down and looked over to Quentin.
“Well done Dilip, I for one support the plan,”
Quentin said.
“So do I,”
Bootsie said with a sly grin.
One by one everyone present aired their thoughts and concerns then stated their position, some were uncomfortable with the proposal, but after another twenty five minutes of discussion they unanimously supported the idea. The next hour was spent deliberating over the practicalities of the plan; everyone contributed with enthusiasm to fleshing it out, ironing out any inconsistencies and assigning roles and responsibilities. As they worked an air of confidence grew and they started to bond as a team.
So it was agreed Curtis and Earl Langford and Glenn Anderson would initiate the plan due to the current unavailability of Donald Chadwick. As soon as he was available in or just after mid-summer then Curtis, Earl and Glenn Anderson would withdraw into the background and let Donald take over. It was their only way forward because they had to get their plan up and running quickly and currently Curtis, Earl Glenn were the only people with the resources and clout to get things moving. If they waited then there wouldn’t be enough time for their plan to be a success as Bootsie required by fall. It was a risky strategy however because their opponent did not see eye to eye with Curtis and Earl Langford or Glenn Anderson and any mention of them could blow the whole plan apart.
By six twenty five pm just as the sun started to dip and the purple- mauve skies of night raced in from the east the last car drove out of the car lot of530 Lakeland Driveinto the sultry early evening.
Everyone knew what their role was, what they would be responsible for and when they needed to act, as of the next morning the plan would be put into action.
As Bootsie drove the short distance home through the light evening traffic of Baton Rouge he considered the events of that afternoons’ meeting, carefully scrutinizing what had been discussed and agreed. It was clear to him that the strategy that they as a team had adopted was a huge risk but he was confident that the team he had assembled could pull it off, or at least that was the hope that he clung to.
If the plan was not successful then he would find himself in the same situation that he was currently in, struggling to maintain his position. It was clear to him that as things stood the struggle to survive would be an almost impossible feat to achieve. If the plan failed he was finished and his opponent would almost certainly prevail. His current position was one that he had worked extremely hard to achieve and maintain and it was a natural stepping stone to his ultimate goal in life. If however the plan was successful then he would maintain his position of prominence and power and then if everything went right of him he would progress to fulfill his dreams.
The nightmare that he tried to avoid thinking about but couldn’t prevent from entering his thoughts was of having their plan exposed; if that were to happen the consequences were too horrific for him to contemplate. All he knew was that if that was the situation that prevailed then not only would he loose his hard fought for position, but also his family, friends, social standing and more than likely his liberty. He was however unsure of this final consequence of ending up in jail because he was not sure how far the rule of law would be stretched, bent or possibly broken by some of his team members in pursuit of successfully implementing their plan, and if he was honest with himself those were aspect’s of the plan that he didn’t want to know about.
With this last though circulating around inside his head he drove in though his elegant wrought iron gates, up the sweeping drive and pulled up outside his home. As he got out of his car he stood momentarily captivated by the beauty of the orange sparkling waters of the lake to the west as the sinking sun bathed the landscape in its fiery orange and red rays seemingly turning the lakes’ waters into a rippling sea of molten lava.
As Dilip drove home he relished the new challenge, it would require very careful and detailed planning that needed to be both meticulous in its management and execution if they were to succeed. He also realized that they needed a certain amount of luck , however he concluded that in spite of all the risks and challenges that lay ahead he was confident of success.
Quentin was less confident; he understood more than anyone else the challenges they faced and knew only to well from experience how such a risky plan could unravel. He was re-energized though both professionally and personally, this situation presented a new challenge where he could employ all of his corporations’ specialism to maximum effect. Lately he had been supplying close security teams for a number of pop and rock bands that had been touring the south eastern states, close security for a number of national and state businessmen and the run of the mill surveillance and intelligence gathering operations for private and corporate clients. This plan that he had helped Dilip construct was in a whole different league and he would have to call on all of his own expertise, knowledge and skills and also those of a handful of close business contacts to help ensure its success.
Lottie smiled almost continually as she drove home into the setting evening sun humming away to herself as she drove. Her mind was already filling in the detail of what she was required to achieve and how she would accomplish it. She was in her element, for her the summer would be busy and exciting in equal measure and she knew just the person who she hoped that she could convince to help deliver thecoup degrâce.By the time she had driven the eighty or so miles from Baton Rouge back to her home it was just before 8.00 pm, the night sky was dark, bejeweled with the stunning beauty of the Milky Way as it arced overhead. She pulled up onto her driveway and got out of the air-conditioned cool of her car into the wall of heat and humidity that hung over central Louisiana.
Curtis and Earl Langford and Glenn Anderson drove the short distance south together, it was only six blocks and with the light evening traffic took them not time at all. While Earl drove them back to their offices he voiced a few concerns about the initial set up of the plan. He was a little ill at ease having the three of them and their corporation play such a key role initially, even if they were to take a back seat in proceedings as soon as Donald Chadwick became fully available to take over. Glenn was also slightly concerned but agreed with Curtis who simply said.
“Earl, Glenn we’ve had all afternoon to air our concerns, I didn’t hear you speak up earlier……. Anyway the plan seems a good one to me and don’t forget we all gave Bootsie or word we’d help him out and that’s just what we’ll do.”
They had an important evening meeting at 8.00pm at their headquarters in the central business district, a meeting that they had rescheduled from 3.00pm to be able to attend Bootsie’s meeting onLakeland Drive. They owned the building that housed their corporate headquarters, a twenty storey office block on Florida Street and their corporation had use of the top fourteen floors. Their executive offices on the very top floor commanded stunning views across the city, in particular across theMississippiwhich was only three blocks to the west, a view that Curtis loved. He could spend hours watching.
I hope you enjoy your reading. It is available on Kindle and a free copy can be borrowed for download at https://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Blue-Heron-Howard-Moore-ebook/dp/B00KK6BWLK..
Howard Moore
