CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
With no sleep at all between them, the team walked into the offices with the drawing in their hands. Whiskey slapped it down on the table.
“A pipeline. They’re diverting oil from South America into Guyana, and they’re going to withhold the oil by building storage facilities right here in South Louisiana, stockpiling the oil and paralyzing other countries.”
“We need to find out how they’re doing all of this,” said Nine. “We need to find out who is backing them and how we stop it. I don’t care if we have to blow every fucking ship in the Gulf. We’re going to stop this.”
“Nine, as much as I love your enthusiasm,” said Miller, “if it’s full of oil, we’ll create a natural disaster that would affect our great-great-great-grandchildren.”
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“First things first,” said Gaspar. “Figure out where the fuck they plan to build these oil field tanks. That’s not something small. See if we can locate any recently purchased properties and new oil tankers built around here. If they’re coming into New Orleans, it would be between the opening at the Gulf and maybe Baton Rouge.”
“I don’t think they’d go that far north,” said Angel, looking at the drawing. “They’d want to be able to dump and go as quickly as they could. This is showing the pipeline stopping in the water. I think they’re going to divert to a pump on a platform and fill the tankers there. No one would be any wiser. They’d just think it was another rig.”
“I’ve got it,” said Sly. “The tankers haven’t been built yet because the land deal hasn’t gone through.”
“What? What’s holding it up? They have everyone in their pocket. Everyone. What would be preventing them from getting the land they want?”
“Me.”
Everyone turned slowly, staring at the man in the doorway. He was dressed in his usual pair of khaki pants, walking shoes, and button-down denim shirt. His silver hair and whiskey eyes shone with mischief.
“Pops?” called out the Robicheaux brothers.
“Surprise.”
“Pops, how in hell could you have known about this?” asked Jean.
“Oh, I didn’t know what they were going to do. I just knew that they weren’t going to build an inferior tank farm that butted up against our land.” The men all stared at Matthew, their mouths wide open. “See, the piece of land belonged to old Cappi Comeaux. Cappi was a good friend and neighbor but couldn’t keep up the land any longer. He put it up for sale. Just before Jackson and Douglass got their deal signed, I called Cappi and convinced him to sell to me.”
“Pops, you didn’t,” frowned Gaspar. “They’ll come for you.” Matthew laughed, shaking his head.
“Son, are you aware of how many times I’ve heard that exact phrase? In a deal authorized, signed, and notarized this morning, Robicheaux Oil and Gas now owns that land. They will not be building their tank farm in the only spot they needed it. In fact, I was grateful for the purchase as our initial investigation shows natural gas on the land. I promised Cappi forty percent of whatever we find.”
“Unbelievable,” laughed Angel. “Matthew, you never cease to amaze me.”
“I’m glad I can keep you boys on your toes. Now, you’ve got to find this man Leon and figure out his next move. From what I’ve heard, he has ten tankers of oil sitting in the Gulf with nowhere to unload. You can’t sink them,” he said, glaring at his second-oldest son.
“Pops,” he said, raising his hands in the air. Matthew shook his head, smiling.
“Pierre, mon fils, I know how much fun it is. Believe me, I know. But you cannot unless we can unload those tankers.”
“Matthew, they’d still have enough residual oil to be a natural disaster,” said Angel.
“Well, that’s where I think I can help you.”
“I want to know who the fuck these guys are!” yelled Jackson.
“No one knows because no one is left,” said Douglass. “The bouncers are all dead or gone into hiding. The managers are all dead. The merchandise is gone. Someone knew about all of it.”
“Fuck!” he screamed, throwing his precious whiskey against the wall. “First, that fucking old man sells the land to someone else, and now this! Leon is going to be pissed, and he’s going to come for us.”
“He’s not who we have to worry about. You know that. We’ve got to own that oil.”
“What about the woman? Where the hell is she?” asked Jackson.
“No clue. She hasn’t been at the warehouse that we’ve seen, and she hasn’t returned to her home. The men who were with her at her home haven’t been identified either.”
“A woman doesn’t just fucking walk off the face of the planet. All that shit her old man had will bury us all. She may not know it yet. But when she finds it, she’s smart enough to figure it all out.”
“We’ll keep watching the warehouse. The parade is two days away, so she’ll be checking up on her precious floats, and we’ll be there to greet her.”
“Hey?” yelled Jackson as his partner started to leave the office. “If she’s not there. Use whoever is.”