Sean Chercover - The Trinity Game

Lucien Drapeau was the most expensive assassin in the western hemisphere. It was said that he’d never botched an assignment.

But William Lamech was not disturbed by either the price or the possibility of failure. He was disturbed—deeply disturbed—by Drapeau’s complete independence. Drapeau was a specter. The law firm’s clients didn’t know where he lived or what he looked like or how he traveled. Terms were simple: half up front, half upon death of the target. No meetings, no details, and no future promises. You could pay him five million to kill a guy, and when the job was done, he was free to take five million from the guy’s widow to come back and kill you. The half-a-mil you paid to the firm each year bought you a place on the client list, but it didn’t buy you Drapeau’s loyalty.

William Lamech didn’t like it, but the men he’d sent were capable professionals, and they were dead.

Now he would use the specter.

When Tim Trinity took off his hat and sunglasses, Priestess Ory immediately recognized him. She sat in stunned silence as he told her of his dream, and how he awoke with the vision of her storefront.

He summed up with, “So I had a vision of you, and you had a vision of Daniel. I think it’s safe to conclude that God has brought us three together. The question is, why?”

“I have no idea,” she said. “I’m still trying to process the thing.”

“Danny? Any ideas?”

Daniel was still stuck on God has brought us three together. She had dreamed of him , not of Trinity. And with that, his place at Trinity’s side was no longer a leap of faith.

He was supposed to be here.

But that didn’t answer the question. Why here? And why her? He looked from Ory to Trinity, shook his head. “Priestess Ory, do you know anyone who goes by Papa Legba?”

“Papa Legba is the guardian of the crossroads.”

“I don’t mean the loa . I mean, a person using it as a nickname.”

“Of course not. It would be very disrespectful, and,” she smiled, “nobody wants to get on Papa Legba’s bad side. Legba can be temperamental, and you’ll get nothing done without him.”

Daniel turned to Trinity. “Well, I’m out of ideas. I don’t know why the hell we’re here.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Priestess Ory said, “Following Tim’s line of thought: The divine brought you here. To me. Maybe the intent is for you to receive what it is that I provide.”

“Somehow I don’t think he brought Tim here for a tarot reading,” said Daniel.

Ory shot him a stern look. “Yes, I sell trinkets to tourists. I fail to see how that’s different than the thousands of plastic-Jesus gift shops in cathedrals around the world.”

“She’s got you there, son,” said Trinity.

“I apologize,” said Daniel. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“Yes you did,” her tone still sharp. “I see how you got the wrong impression, but once you get past the gift shop, this really is a house of worship. We hold weekly services in the courtyard out back, and once a month we have a larger ceremony at my sister’s house. For the record, I take my religion seriously.”

“Priestess Ory, I believe you. Truce, OK? Friends?”

She smiled, regaining her poise. “All right. But my friends call me Mama Anne.”

Trinity said, “Let’s say God does want me to receive what you provide, Mama Anne. What does that look like? You gonna slaughter a chicken over my head or—not judging—I just want to know what I’m lettin’ myself in for…”

Priestess Ory laughed. “I’m a vegetarian. In my ounfo , my congregation, all our sacrifices are mange sec .”

“Dry meal?”

“Yes. It means that our offerings to the loa are without blood.”

Daniel pointed to the altar. “Tell that to the rooster who left his foot over there.” He meant it with good humor, and she didn’t seem to take offense.

“Like all religions, we are not without our little hypocrisies. But I don’t sacrifice animals at our rituals.”

“You said ‘the divine’ brought Tim to you, instead of ‘God.’” Daniel made sure his tone was curious, not challenging. “Why is that?”

“I received my Mambo training and ordination in Haiti, where the Vodou tradition does not include the neo-paganism that you see creeping into a lot of American Voodoo. We believe that God— Bon Dieu Bon —is somewhat distant and perhaps a little busy to deal with our day-to-day problems. So it wouldn’t be God, directly, who brought you here but those spirits we call the invisibles—the loa and orisha— who do have direct influence on our daily lives. And it will be them who will help us understand why. As Catholics pray to various saints for intercession, so we pray to the invisibles. But instead of just lighting a candle, we make offerings of food and drink, incense, music, dance. We invite them to possess our bodies, so they can briefly experience the physical plane. In exchange, they help us on our journey through life. We look after their needs, and they look after ours.”

“Right, but I thought possession rituals were usually reserved for initiates,” said Trinity.

She nodded. “I’ll be the vessel for the possession trance and act as an intermediary on your behalf. You’ll probably feel the presence of the loa , feel them knocking at your door, but they won’t enter uninvited. Don’t worry, it’s not an unpleasant feeling at all. It’s actually comforting to know we’re not alone.” She smiled and put her hand on Trinity’s knee. “You’ll see.”

It was two hours past sunset when Daniel pulled to a stop across the street from Trinity’s old mansion in Lakeview. He’d insisted they at least wait for the cover of darkness. Coming here at all was a significant risk— seriously bad tactics , Pat would’ve said—but Priestess Ory had declared it an essential part of the ritual.

Ory had explained what would happen at the ceremony in general terms and said that in order to know which of the invisibles to call on for assistance, she had to know Trinity’s history.

She served coffee and beignets, and Trinity talked for over two hours. He told her of his childhood, his career as a tent revival Holy Roller and his rise to riches as a prosperity preacher on TV, his experience of Katrina, rebuilding his business in Atlanta, the voices, the tongues, and Daniel’s return with news of prophecies. He told of his failed attempts to warn the oil refinery and his conversion to belief in the aftermath, the attempts on his life, and his sincere desire to understand and do God’s will.

“You have been at war with yourself, and now you are at war with the forces of darkness,” said Priestess Ory. “Shango is the loa most helpful both in matters of personal transformation and in battle. We will summon Shango tonight.” Then she gave them directions to her sister’s house in the Ninth Ward, told them to be there at midnight. And she instructed them to obtain a cup of earth from the property of Trinity’s old mansion in Lakeview.

Daniel scanned the block as they got out of the car. Lights burned behind the windows of some houses, but the street was empty, save for Daniel and Trinity. All the other homes had been restored to their pre-Katrina splendor, but Trinity’s was in a state of mid-renovation, a Dumpster in the driveway and a small tractor parked in the dirt yard. They crossed the street, Trinity carrying a mason jar and Daniel resting his hand on the butt of his pistol, under his shirt.