Chapter 23

"Do you think Ranold's faith in God is odd?" loading the pistol, asked Anastasia.

We were at the shooting range, where she had taught me how to shoot.

I replied through the radio that was inserted into my headphones, "I don't know."

"People should have something to believe in, and as you may know, Ranold does quite a few things for which he should make amends. According to this, he sometimes visits the chapel. And not just the typical chapel. Only there can his soul find peace."

I only learnt what the gun was made of and tried to reload it with solid metal bullets after Anastasia showed me the basics. The shooting range was calm until I overheard my husband's voice. He entered the room wearing his athletic attire as I turned around to face him. Yes, I did forget to mention that he sometimes went to the gym. And he looked really manly with his leggings, shorts, jersey, and T-shirt. Everything was black and striped with neon green. And that was all Nike. His trainers as well. He was also wearing little headphones and holding a plastic bottle. I would never claim such a man could be my husband if I saw him on the street.

"How's it going?" He questioned while getting closer.

"How on earth, Ranold?" Hugging my husband closely, Anastasia exclaimed.

He replied, grinning a little, and then put on the shooting headphones as well. "Just walked by," he added. "Can you hear me?"

I could hear Anastasia's voice over my headphones saying, "I hear you pretty well."

My husband did not respond.

"So, what are you doing now?" He turned to face me while placing his hands on his hips.

I said, "I've only recently learned how to load the gun."

He moved in closer and said, "Okay, let's try to shoot some targets."

I shuddered a little as I felt his body behind me. He got hold of my hands and raised them beside the gun so I could see the barrel in front of my eyes.

"Can you tell me what Anastasia taught you?" He gently brought his palms to my elbows and requested in a low, calm voice, forcing me to straighten my arms.

I stumbled, "She told me," feeling his hot body lean against my back. I swallowed. "She told me... About the stance."

"Good," he said as he covered the gun with his palm and raised it just a little bit. "Just take a deep breath."

How could I relax when the only reason I had goosebumps all over was because he was close by?

I shuddered a little as he put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Look carefully ahead. Keep your movements gentle. Just keep your eyes forward. Toward the goal."

When I felt his other hand travel down my spine and stop on my lower back, I shivered. I had no idea what was wrong with me. When he was close, I couldn't help but get excited. I saw my hands quivering slightly, but I was glad I was clutching a gun.

He shifted my hands a little lower so the barrel was no longer pointing at the target's head as he stated, "Remember," softly and quietly as if he were whispering it right in my ear. "Wound, not kill."

I was about to release the trigger when I abruptly heard some muffled gunshots. Anastasia was firing directly at the point of my aim. She drilled countless holes in the head. She then simply removed her headphones and walked away. I was in a terrible mood. But my husband pressed the trigger with his palm over mine.

Just before the volley I heard "Shoot."

***

"Have you heard about the mafia?" Nilan popped the question.

Together, we were studying at the library. The sky that day was gloomy and gray.

"What?" Torn from my thoughts on Ancient Greece, I inquired.

"The mafia?" With some curiosity, Ethan enquired.

"Yes. Do you know anything?" Nilan said it again.

Yes, I do! I wanted to say it, but how on earth was it even conceivable? What exactly was I to say? Like, "You know, my husband is a mafia leader, and I was almost raped in New York, nearly shot in Chicago, and nearly died there as well, by the way, and whereas almost every day I get a strike directly into my heart every time he touches me." Was that all right? Yeah, I agree that the answer is no. And I remained quiet.

"Wow, tell me more!" Ethan replied with enthusiasm.

"Really?" I inquired while acting surprised.

"Yeah!" Sometimes I felt so relieved that Ethan was so carefree.

Nilan sat down next to us and said, "Well. Did you know that the mafia controls everything in New Orleans?"

Ethan exclaimed, "Wow!"

I muttered, "What a surprise."

That did catch me off guard, to be perfectly honest.

"Yes," Nilan said, "My dad was a cop. One day he started looking into a single murder, and in the end he discovered a vast network of a well-organized labor scheme. However, he was fired just as he was about to find the answer and was never hired again."

I frowned.

"Wow, this is really mysterious," Ethan said. "Tell me more."

"My father didn't say much about it. He received some sort of payment for his job loss, as far as I know. And recently, I started looking into the matter on my own after unintentionally spotting the transmitter on the receipt in his bedroom."

"Did you snoop around your father's room?" I questioned in a daze.

"No, I had a purpose for being there, but I immediately noticed the receipt showing the monthly payment. Whose sign was that, do you want to know?" Nilan asked.

"Definitely, I want to!" Ethan replied right away.

Ranold Hamilton personally signed the receipt, according to Nilan. "I didn't question my father about it, but I believe that man is somehow connected. He is without a doubt the most powerful person in all of New Orleans. But he is also quite cautious. He always travels in vehicles with dark windows, and he rarely encounters someone acting suspiciously. Aside from his office, shops, and other public areas, I haven't seen him anyplace else."

"But how are you so sure it's him?" In complete confusion, I questioned him. "And did you keep an eye on him?"

It became hazardous. I didn't want my pals to become involved in any of that, but I would be interested in learning who the real Ranold Hamilton was. It might help in my escape from my predicament.

"Since the day he was fired, my dad has been getting these receipts. It's definitely him," Nilan drew nearer and started whispering. "I conducted a brief inquiry on my own and learned about swindlers who are peddling drugs and other items. I made an effort to identify the dealers who were pursuing them, but it seemed like they did a good job of concealing it."

"Dear God, Nilan!" Ethan anxiously mumbled. "You weren't caught, were you? You have to admit, that was risky."

"I know," he replied. "But all I want is justice. My mother abandoned us, and my dad lost his job. Our entire lives had a downward spiral. When my classmates found out that my dad wasn't a police officer anymore, they used to bully me."

"Nilan..." I now understood his motivation for discovering the truth, but it was too early to offer my help.

I still lacked sufficient evidence. Being close to Ranold Hamilton also caused me some problems. My older sister and father's whereabouts remained a mystery to me. The issue was that my husband was fully aware of everything about me. I ought to have complete support to help me deal with that. Sadly, Nilan and Ethan weren't strong enough, but they might be able to connect me with someone who is. Someone with the ability to confront my husband.

Nilan remarked, "But it seems that I have uncovered a clue recently. I went after a man who was acting stoned, and we had a brief conversation about the con man and the street drugs he was supposed to have sold us. He then mentioned a man who had informed him of that con man. I then realized that I had already heard of that name. My group mates noted it whenever there would be a big party at the nightclub or at the large gym in the storage areas. I have heard that he only shows up when the market is profitable. And... what's the upcoming big "thing"?"

Ethan abruptly said, "Halloween."

Nilan agreed with a nod.

"What are you planning, Nilan?" I carefully posed the question.

"My only goal is to track him down and follow. He must know Hamilton in some way."

I suddenly grabbed his arm and said, "Wait. What if something dangerous happens? For example, a sizable crowd of people or men armed with weapons? What if something goes wrong?"

Nilan laid his palm over mine, "Don't worry, Olivier. I am a proficient shooter. And I still possess the gun that belonged to my father. I did a lot of practicing. I won't be alone, of course. I have a police station employee watching out for me in case anything happens. As a result, they may also be able to help. They'll also be there undercover. There is no need to be concerned."

"So, we'll be involved in a significant investigation?" Ethan exclaimed with excitement.

"That's correct. Just let me know if you see anything peculiar, and I'll make good on my word that we'll track down this guy and learn all the secrets," Nilan hoped as he replied.

My life took an unexpected turn. I was Ranold Hamilton's husband and I was helping the police in their investigation of my husband's crimes. If only they were aware of how filthy they were. I wish I could tell them what happened in North Dakota, Chicago, and New York. They would definitely figure something out, but I knew Ranold Hamilton would know about it, so I had to proceed with caution. So far.

***

The days went by, and the evening before Friday, my husband informed me that we were traveling to Alaska. I was both shocked and surprised at the same moment. Not only were we going to travel practically the whole length of the United States, but we were also going to fly into the icy regions in October. I could not explain its significance or why Ranold Hamilton included me in his plans.

He gave me a laptop and said, "Jane is busy," as we were flying. "I'll need your assistance, so please."

He had never before asked me for help. The plane took off in the early morning hours. I was seated across from Ranold Hamilton. He actually never sat next to or close to me; he always took the opposite seat. Later, I'll find out what that was for. But I was still perplexed since I felt uneasy when he looked at me with his gaze.

I replied to him, opening the laptop, "Okay. What should I do?"

"On the home screen, can you see the "bills" folder?" He queried.

I glanced at him and said, "Yes."

"Open it," Ranold Hamilton said, also working on his laptop.

"I did."

"Open the first file inside of it."

"Yes," I said.

He began typing on his laptop and stated, "Now, I will send you the bills. Accept the files, please."

When I hit the "accept" button, the chart started to fill up with a lot of data. I was seeing how each square was being filled with various quantities, ranging from 10 to 100,000. It was like a crazy code made up of several integers. I was really stunned and had no idea what was going on.

After all the numbers had been downloaded, Ranold Hamilton finally said, "Your job is to break all the numbers into different documents."

"What?" I muttered a helpless question.

There were thousands, not just hundreds, of numbers. How on earth was I gonna accomplish that?

"Look, the letter identifier is at the end of each number. You need to look for documents with comparable letter names and combine those numbers with those letters. The documents can be found in the "bills" folder. Just let me know when you're ready, and we'll move on." He took a sip of his coffee and started typing on his computer again.

Do I need to tell how long it took me to complete this? I took several hours to enter all of these numbers into the appropriate document. The charts seemed to be never-ending, and it was pretty difficult! The copy-paste tool was certainly helpful, but I still had to go through everything to make sure I hadn't missed anything and that I had placed everything in the correct page, among other things. Ranold Hamilton was working as well when I was doing this. He brought me some food and drink while he used his laptop and phone. As soon as I was done, nightfall had already fallen. I could see the lit-up night villages below.

He got out of his chair and remarked, "Good job today. We'll resume tomorrow, so change your clothing. It's chilly outside."

I glanced out the window in embarrassment as he started taking his shirt buttons off. There were icy mountain ranges and glowing towns halfway between the mountains or at their base.

I felt the heat on my cheeks as my husband said, "Olivier," and I turned to face him.

He was topless and dressed in sports pants. I first noticed him with the lights on as my eyes slid over his chest. He was really athletic.

He said again, "It's time to change."

"What?" Going back to his eyes, I questioned.

He was holding a sports outfit that included a T-shirt for undergarments and leggings. I seized the clothing and got to my feet as well. I took a small step back after being ashamed of changing clothes in his presence. I started getting dressed. My cheeks felt like they were burning, and I kept turning my head away, but it seemed like my husband was busy with his own matters.

I shivered as I felt his arms around my waist as I tucked the T-shirt into my pants and heard him say, "Tuck in the T-shirt properly or you will get chilly."

"Do not..." While his warm hands were touching me, I muttered in embarrassment.

He spoke softly into my ear, "Thank you for assisting me today," and I flinched as I felt his warm lips touch my neck just below my ear.