Night Magic (28 page)

"Be quiet, Quentin. How bad is it, Mr.
Martin?" Claude said, his voice tight with irritation. He continued
to stare ahead.

"If he finds that the plant has been
operating without the proper permits since it opened, the fines
could be enormous. As high as 1.5 billion dollars." Devin consulted
figures in front of him.

"Sweet Jesus." Singleton turned white as a
sheet and began mopping his brow with a large white
handkerchief.

"Is that a real possibility?" Claude still
sat as before. He wore the steely look of a general considering
which battle plan to follow. Clearly he had no intention of
surrendering.

"I think Judge Duplessis will take into
account the jobs involved, and again we could make a case for
confusing regulations, play up the feud that went on between the
state DEQ officials and the feds over the permits. But you still
could be looking at millions."

"Then let's begin to prepare for either
outcome." Pressing a button on the phone at his elbow, he barked
into the intercom. "Elizabeth? Get our accounting firm on the line.
Then put in a call to Clayton in Shreveport. No offense young man,
but I want everything that hugely expensive law firm has to
offer."

"By all means. In fact, he should be
expecting your call since I talked to him this morning." Devin
nodded crisply. He began gathering other notes and typed documents
to be reviewed in preparation for questions from his boss.

"The accountants? Why are you calling them?"
Quentin blinked rapidly.

"Because my dear boy, if hefty fines are
going to be assessed against Batton Chemical we need to know where
that money is coming from and how to minimize the financial impact
on the rest of our interests." Dismissing him, Claude turned his
attention to Singleton. "I'll expect you to work closely with them
to get a full accounting of the every penny."

"But we don't know yet that we'll even have
any fines. We might even appeal and win. Get an injunction to stop
the fines." Quentin's voice rose stridently. "I don't think--"

"No, you generally don't. I have neither the
time nor patience to argue something that is obviously the best
course for us to take now that we are in this position," Claude
said, his tone that of a parent speaking to a trying child.

"But what about putting up a fight? If word
gets out that we are doing that it could start a panic with the
stockholders, key staff could start jumping ship. I really don't
think this is necessary." Quentin's voice cracked.

"Singleton, get in touch with Wilkes in Rio,"
Claude, already making plans for his next steps, did not bother to
answer him.

For twenty minutes, Claude issued orders,
discussed legal strategy once Clayton was put through on a
conference call that included the other senior partners, took
several overseas calls, and gave instructions to the accountants.
Claude even smiled coolly as he plotted to out maneuver his
opponents and use the system to his advantage. With Clayton and the
accountants, a plan to restructure Batton Chemical began to take
shape. Paul fidgeted and looked for an opening to make his exit.
Finally he stood up.

"I'll be going since your business plans
don’t involve me."

"No, wait." Claude waved the others to
silence seeing Paul heading for the door. "I need you here. We may
have some questions about improving operations. Besides, I value
your opinion enough that I'd like you to be in on more than just
that. Please stay."

Paul was amazed at the way Claude began to
marshal his forces. Once again, Claude showed that he was an astute
businessman. He was very much in control of the situation, grasping
wide range implications immediately. But watching him, something
began to bother Paul after a while. With everything moving so fast,
phones ringing, rapid fire conversations, a disturbing new picture
of Claude began to take shape.

"Get Ed Legarde on the phone. He told us that
those permits would hold up under fire. I thought he had taken care
of those state inspectors."

"Remember Taylor resigned unexpectedly last
year as head of the Department of Environmental Quality. The new
guy didn't play ball, I mean appreciate our position fully."
Singleton glanced at Paul uneasily.

"I thought our friend had that under
control." Claude frowned referring to a top state official without
naming him even in a small group behind closed doors.

"The new guy's one of those professors. A
real maverick," Singleton snorted in disgust.

"Dammit, he knows what's at stake here. He
should have laid it on the line for this guy early in the game."
Claude's fist made a loud bang on the desk top.

"I have another appointment. I'm leaving."
Paul got up abruptly to stride from the room. His body language
left no doubt that he would be leaving this time.

"All right, but listen." Claude rose and
crossed to him and placed a hand on Paul’s arm. He stood close to
Paul near the door. "We'll be busy for the next few days. If you're
sure you don't want to be here could you at least come back by my
office maybe Thursday. There are some things we need to discuss.
Important things.""Singleton and I are going to be in New Orleans
for the next day or so with Babin. I don't think--" Quentin spoke
loudly through clenched teeth.

"I know that, Quentin. Well, will you come
back?" Claude squeezed Paul's arm slightly.

"Yeah, sure. I, uh, should be free then."
Paul felt Claude's grip on his arm relax. A curious tremor started
in his chest seeing the intense look in Claude's eyes.

"Good, good," Claude said, his face eased
into a smile.

*****

"Oh, Oh. Here it comes." Sam watched Paul
packing boxes, labeling them, arranging them neatly for moving.

"Now are you talking about?" Paul's eyes
swept the trailer for any items that were still to be put away.

In the two weeks since the verdict, Paul had
begun his preparations to leave Beau Chene. Since his lease was
only from month to month, arranging to move when it was convenient
for him was not a problem.

"The old man is going to offer you big money,
a bribe to keep your mouth shut."

"I don't know anything that would be worth
money to him."

"What about that stuff you heard today?"

"Nothing I heard could be used as evidence
that they were doing anything illegal. It was bits and pieces, no
names, no details." Paul lined up boxes along the wall.

"Yeah, but it might be enough to put a sharp
investigative reporter or prosecutor on the trail to finding the
evidence they'd need." Sam picked through a basket of fresh fruit
then selected a large orange.

"No, I didn't get the impression that it was
anything like that. Besides, if he had been worried about me
hearing too much he could have let me leave when I wanted to
earlier."

"Well, just be real careful you don't let him
drag you into his shady deals. Say, you stripped this place clean."
Sam gestured to the bare walls and table tops.

"Might as well. No reason to stay any longer.
I'd have gone back to Lafayette two weeks ago except for some loose
ends with that last bit of work for the university." Paul shifted
the boxes again.

"Get serious. The only work you were doing
for the university was that report on Big River, and it was
finished well before the trial," Sam said.

"They asked me to review some of the research
Simmons presented at the trial. They want to study this kiln
process to evaluate the usefulness of it. In fact, they want to do
a longitudinal study of the aggregate and compare it to health
statistics in areas where it's currently being used."

"Uh-huh, so hanging around has nothing to do
with hoping Savannah might call?" Sam raised an eyebrow at him
skeptically.

"Damn right." The muscles in Paul's neck went
rigid. "She made it clear where she was coming from, too
clear."

"Maybe you shouldn't have assumed her seeing
Devin meant that she still has a thing for him." Sam went to the
kitchen sink to wash orange juice from his hands.

"I can't believe this. You were the one who
said she was using me. You were the one who said not to trust
her."

"I didn't know her back then. Look, all I'm
saying is from what I could see, she isn't that type at all.
Savannah said she might see the guy to find out anything she could,
she told you that."

"She told me sure. But she knew I wasn't
crazy about the idea. Waiting until I was out of town tells me she
had something to hide." Paul shoved a couple a boxes so hard there
was a loud rattle from inside one of them.

"You didn't bother to ask her for an
explanation before you jumped her case about."

"From the way they were looking at each other
in court that day I testified, I could tell there was more between
them than she led me to believe."

"Now come on--"

"I should have listened to you back then and
gone home. Just as well that we have a chance to get in on the work
being done on the chemical and oil spill in Kuwait with waste
eating microbes. I've wasted enough of my time here."

"You just going to hop on a plane to fly
thousands of miles away without at least giving her one more
call?"

"You bet. Say, since when did you get so
romantic? What happened to `Man, just move on to the next one'?”
Paul crossed his arms on his chest.

"Maybe there are times it's worth the effort.
The easy way ain't always the best way." Sam stared down as he
rubbed his hands together.

"You're not just talking about me now. What's
up?"

"Nah, I'm trying to help you out. I don't
want to see you miserable."

"Don't even try it. Some sweet honey has
turned your head clean around. Danielle? Umm, I don't think..."
Seeing Sam squirm, Paul blinked once then slapped his forehead.
"Charice? You got a thing going for Charice! I gotta sit down on
this one."

"What's wrong with Charice?" Sam's squinted
angrily.

"Nothing, she's a great
person. An attractive woman. A wonderful
mother of two fine children
. You
know, what you've always described as little short people who drain
bank accounts, tie you down, and get in the way?"

Since their days together in college, Sam had
been the classic stereotype of a man studiously avoiding romantic
commitments. He quickly ditched any woman who showed signs of
wanting more than a relaxed dating arrangement. Having grown up in
a poor family of twelve children, he swore to never be trapped with
such a burden. Paul marveled at his abrupt about face.

"Okay so I've been a little wary of taking on
responsibility. But this thing snuck up on me. Before I knew it, I
was dating her and bouncing them on my knee."

"Then that's it. If you’re playing with the
kids and liking it, ooo-wee you are hooked." Paul smirked.

"Why are you enjoying this so much?" Sam
demanded.

"Because of all your bragging about how no
woman was enough to hold your attention for more than six months.
How the only thing a woman with children could do for you is step
aside so you could get to the woman without any. Ho, this is too
good!"

"All right, have fun. But you never know how
lonely you can be until you meet somebody special and then lose
her." Sam leaned forward putting a hand on Paul's shoulder.

"Forget that. She put on a good act, I admit,
but she finally showed her true self. And I'm glad to get the hell
away from here." Scowling, Paul got up and began lining up his
belongings for easy removal. "And if I hadn't told Trosclair that
I'd meet him, I'd be on the highway heading home for good right
now."

*****

A procession of five cars snaked through the
inky night. They drove on an isolated blacktop road that wound its
way deep into bayou country. A road so poorly maintained it forced
the cars to move slowly, frequently bouncing over cavernous
potholes. Dense vegetation crowded toward them on either side. The
hot night air dense with humidity. Crickets and cicadas sang, their
chirping as thick as the foliage that hid them. The smell of wet
leaves, damp earth was so strong it seemed almost palpable in the
atmosphere. No sound came from the occupants of the cars as they
looked straight ahead solemnly as if seeing their destination. The
lead vehicle, a small truck, turned off onto a dirt path that
seemed to have been hacked out of the tangle of palmettos, swamp
maple, and oak trees. When the small truck stopped at a large
clearing, the cars drove around it forming a circle as they parked.
A very tall woman stepped forward and lit a torch. After setting a
pile of wood in the center of the clearing ablaze, she proceeded to
light tall black candles that were set at the four corners of it.
One by one, headlights winked out. A crowd of about twenty-five men
and women began to moan softly, some to sway. The light from the
fire illuminated dark faces, some with wide eyes as if startled at
some fantastic vision before them. Others with eyes half closed,
but all with a glazed glassy stare.

A hole had been dug to one side of the
miniature bonfire. With shuffling steps, the group began to spread
out just inside the lines drawn in the dirt connecting the candles.
Suddenly a hooded figure, dressed in a purple satin robe bordered
in red with a red sash belt at the waist, drifted from the woods.
The figure passed among them with out stretched arms. The purple
robe shimmered even in the feeble firelight as the figure began to
undulate in time to the moans. At a sharp chopping motion of the
arms, all voices fell silent. In the hush that followed, the
slap-slap of water could be heard nearby. With a whispered chant,
twigs were gathered and formed into a broom. A short stout woman
brought forward pine straw. Another soft chant and she handed it to
the robed figure. A crate was dragged into the clearing. They pried
it open and a goat was led forward to the hole. It stood dazedly in
the center of the group. The voices began again in a low chant of
bizarre syllables. The figure began to chant more loudly than the
others, the female voice rising until all others were drowned out.
Soon hers was the only voice heard.