The plane dipped through some turbulence, and Madeleine held her drink aloft so it wouldn't slosh. She hated flying commercial. Not only that, but first class was booked up.

Well, at least the flight would be short.

The recruit she hand-picked in Dallas would be in Section by now. She wondered who would train her. Madeleine suggested several operatives, but Operations would, as always, make the final decision.

Her mind on Section, Madeleine considered Michael and Nikita. As usual these days, the two were linked in her mind ... Michaelandnikita, like one overly long annoying German modifier. Something was not right there. She sent Nikita on vacation after the whole swine flu episode. Because she was unable to trust Nikita, and because Michael had been acting peculiar, she sent him along as well. Two months was a long time for them to both be away, and she was initially pleased when they returned. Nikita hadn't been so snappy and Michael, who was always tense, actually relaxed a bit. He was quiet and still as usual, but he seemed peaceful. The whole thing was very odd, but she hadn't had time to talk with either of them before she left for Texas.

She took two weeks to assess the Dallas recruit. She would be good. She was young, smart and ruthless. Madeleine knew after the second meeting she would recommend the girl join Section; she delayed her reports on purpose so she could spend more time in Texas.

She liked Dallas. It wasn't a pretty city, but it was casual and fairly friendly, and, most of all, familiar. She spent her days in the courtroom, but in the evenings she went down to Deep Ellum, listening to music, eating at small, trendy, grungy restaurants. She happily meandered down the sidewalks between green-haired, body-pierced individuals and perspiring lawyers in three-piece suits. She drove past her old apartment in University Park and went through SMU's campus for old times' sake. She ate enough red meat to keep her anemia at bay for at least a week. Nothing aggravated her, not even the wanna-be cowboys in their flashy boots that had never seen the side of a horse.

And now she had to go to New Orleans. Operations said he had another possible recruit, but Madeleine wondered if he wasn't just on a sadistic streak. Dallas had been warm and sunny, and Madeleine, who was always cold natured, enjoyed the weather. New Orleans in June would be sweltering, without a breath of air stirring.

Madeleine polished off her drink and flagged the attendant down for another. In her experience, it was always best to arrive slightly inebriated.

The plane twitched, and a child wailed. Madeleine looked out the window and saw the ground inching towards her.

It was always this way with her: she was nearly sick with apprehension at approaching New Orleans, then the moment the wheels touched the spongy Louisiana ground, she couldn't wait to get out of the plane and into the city. Not the suburbs, where everything was clean and new, but to the Garden District, where the houses were oppressively substantial, the yards a mixture of manicured lawns and wild tangles of overgrown grass and brush and roses, and where you could still actually catch a street car. She wanted a muffeletta and some beignets and a huge praline and possibly a mint julep, and not necessarily in that order.

The minute she was outside, she filled her lungs with the air that was peculiar to this spot on earth: wet sidewalk, gas fumes, sweaty people, decaying vegetation. She caught a cab and in no time at all she was at the Fairmont. It was still early. She wondered if she could get into Two Sisters or maybe Galatoire's for dinner.

It took Madeleine three years to get rid of her accent. By the time she was on dessert, she was speaking like a native. Midnight found her not in her bed, or hunched over her laptop, but strolling through Jackson Square, keeping in the shadows of tourists for safety.

The next morning when she booted up the file Operations sent her the night before, she was sorry she hadn't looked at it sooner. The bare bones outline showed the subject performed quite well on her tests. Interested, Madeleine advanced the screen to the specifics. A young girl's face stared up at her, hair shiny and dark red, eyes deep cornflower blue. Mimi Moire. Madeleine sat back slowly, her head in her hands. My God, she thought. Except for the eyes, she looks exactly like her mother.

*************

People didn't really walk in New Orleans. It was too hot. They ambled along, moving slowly as if they had all the time in the world. The streets weren't deserted; as she rode the St. Charles streetcar, she counted two sweating au pairs, a dog and a group of tourists.

Madeleine swung off the streetcar at Fourth and immediately headed for the sidewalk, which was shaded with huge trees. It was slightly cooler, but not much. Her sandals flapped on the lichen-layered sidewalk, the curbs crumbling into the street. She walked a block up, to Washington, then made a left over to Prytania. Lafayette Cemetery Number One was on her left, the tombs dazzling in the hot sun, but Madeleine continued on to the next block.

Houses staked out in large yards loomed over the street. The big purple one was particularly impressive; a popular horror novelist purchased it several years ago, but looking up at it, Madeleine felt suddenly sad. It had been repainted and relandscaped and enlarged, and even from where she stood, she could hear the omnipresent hum of air conditioning. The writer called it renovating, but Madeleine suddenly thought of the fake cowboys she had seen in Dallas, desperately wanting to look the part, but not about to go live on a working ranch.

Madeleine continued down the street, stopping at a house bordered, like the rest, with a tall, wrought iron fence from the mid-1800s. Like the lush gardens, the fences were distinctive in this part of town. On Fourth and Prytania there was a frieze of corn stalks indicative of the family fortune; some were black, rusty lace.

This fence looked plain until you got up close. Then it was clear that instead of spikes, the fence was actually supposed to be pencils. The Moire family name was inscribed on each black spike, their eternally sharpened ends pointing skyward. The grass was too high, but buried in the ground, Madeleine could see the tops of the erasers on the bottom of the pencils. Madeleine wondered if you could still buy Moire Coloured Pastels in the Quarter; she rather thought not, but perhaps later she would try an artists' supply store. At one time, they were the industry leader.

An oak tree grew into the fence in one corner. Madeleine leaned half on the tree and half on the fence, trying to see in the yard, but it was too overgrown to make out details. She could hear though: complete and utter silence, not broken by air conditioning or machinery.

Old Moire always did hate air conditioning, she thought, smiling, and apparently the new owner of the house adhered to the old standards. Refrigerated air, Moire called it. You want cool air, go to Colorado, he'd bellow, and Madeleine almost laughed remembering.

Madeleine followed the fence line to the back of the house, ducking through the shrubbery until she could see the back upper porch. It was screened in now, but the outside staircase still curved down to the bottom level, where uneven, moss-covered bricks lay in a herringbone pattern. She stayed until sweat stuck her shirt to her back, then she ambled on.

__________________

Madeleine strolled into the courtroom the next morning, stomach full of beignets and chicory coffee from Cafe Du Monde and took a seat at the back. She studied the crowd. It was sparse, and as the session began, she made herself comfortable, studying the defendant. She already knew she wouldn't recommend her for Section. The Moires had done Madeleine more harm than good, but even she couldn't hurt one of them this much.

Mimi Moire was arrested after driving into the side of a night club, killing three patrons and an off-duty policeman. She then hopped out of the car, which was totaled, and was (in the words of the prosecutor) on the lam for a week. During her week of freedom, she broke into a residence, disrupted a funeral, frightened a small child and pushed a drug dealer into the path of the Vieux Carre bus on the corner of Dauphine and Iberville. All in all, a very resourceful candidate and someone who thought quickly on her feet. Too bad, Madeleine thought callously.

But half way through the proceedings, a man entered the courtroom. He was middle-aged and still heartbreakingly handsome, and Madeleine felt herself flushing slightly. Feeling her eyes on him, he made a quarter-turn, raised one eyebrow, gave her a devastating smile, and nodded at her. Madeleine inclined her head gently, acknowledging him, then turned her attention back to the prosecutor.

This changed things considerably.

************

When court recessed for the day, Madeleine stood up and caught the eye of one of the women sitting behind the defendant. The woman spoke to Mimi's mother, then quickly approached Madeleine.

"Mary Madeleine, I'm so glad you're here," she smiled, hands outstretched, blonde wavy strands gently escaping her upswept hairdo, hazel eyes bright. She and Madeleine were the same size, but Grace Alice, like her name, was gentle and graceful.

"It's been too long, Grace Alice," Madeleine said, catching the younger woman in an embrace.

She nodded to the older figure, a tall, elegant woman with dark, shiny red hair wearing a cream colored linen suit slowly making her way toward them. "How's Amy holding up?"

"She'll be better, now that you're here. The three musketeers all over again. You still in gov'ment work?"

Madeleine grinned and wagged a finger at her. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you," she joked, and Grace Alice laughed.

Amy was intercepted before she reached them, and Madeleine went suddenly still, her expression blank.

"What is it? You're not going to faint, are you?" Grace Alice asked, looking toward Amy and rummaging in her bag for some hard candy for Madeleine.

"Do you know who that is?" Madeleine asked.

"Denys something. He's trying to help Amy and Mimi. He says he can work some kind of deal for Mimi if she gets life." She came up with a roll of Life Savers, and slapped three of them in Madeleine's hand. "Here. Quick sugar, Sugar."

Denys smiled gravely at her over Amy's head and Madeleine thoughtfully crunched her candy.

"Grace Alice, we need to talk," Madeleine said firmly.

"All right. Where are you staying?"

"Fairmont."

"Goose! Why didn't you call? We'll move you right into the house till the trial is over. And we're feeding you steak," she said flatly. "Lord, honey, you're white as milk. You haven't been taking your iron, have you?"

"It's just the heat," Madeleine muttered. "The anemia is under control."

"Sure it is," Grace Alice said skeptically.

Amy approached, Denys shadowing her politely.

"I wasn't sure if Amy would want me staying with her," Madeleine said, and to try to get a real smile out of Amy, Madeleine switched into dialect. "Hey, Cuz. Where y'at?"

Madeleine was rewarded with a ghost of a smile, almost a mirror image of her own.

"Mary Madeleine," Amy greeted, dark eyes opaque.

"Amy, you still mad at me?" Madeleine asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Eighteen years is an awful long time to stay angry."

"I'm glad to see you," Amy said slowly. "This is Mr. Denys Graves."

"Yes, we've met before," Madeleine said, dropping her casual attitude and extending her hand.

"Hey Denys."

"Hey Madeleine." Denys took her hand, which was slightly sticky from the candy, and gave her another one of his golden smiles. Madeleine's lips twitched.

"How's work?" he asked.

"The same," she responded. "Walter says hello," she added, and was pleased to see Denys pale a bit. "What brings you to N'awlins?"

"Business," he said briefly, then turned to Amy. "Well. Think about what I said, darlin', and I'll see you this afternoon. My offer still stands, naturally." He said his good-byes and jauntily strode out of the courtroom, and Madeleine turned back to her cousins.

"You know," she reflected, "Unless one is Southern, one shouldn't drop one's g's on purpose. And certainly not if one wishes to fit in."

"I quite agree," Grace Alice said decidedly. "Shall we go home, ladies?"

************

Amy put steaks on the grill outside so the kitchen wouldn't heat up, and made a cold salad and plenty of iced tea, and they talked of the past, sitting around the large Belter dining table.

There had always been three of them: at first, it was Amy, Elizabeth Anne and Mary Madeleine, all double-first cousins born within five years of each other. When Elizabeth Anne died, Mary Madeleine, aged eight and scared to death, was sent to Texas to live with Grace Alice's family, who were distant cousins.

Madeleine left in disgrace not because she killed her sister, but for what she had done after. All the old talk about insanity bubbled up. One in every generation, don't you know, remember what her Grandmama did? And what about old Madeleine Alice Moire? She went stark raving mad one night, like to have burned up the house and half of Sixth. Well, they said she was drunk, but who knows?

Too bad about Mary Madeleine, though. They say she's taken to sneaking out to Lafayette Number One at night. Yes, ma'am, a regular nut case.

When her Daddy called her 10 years later, she nearly dropped the phone. Amy's career as a debutante ended when she got pregnant, and someone had to keep the name in the social register. The only person qualified was Madeleine.

"It appears my Mary Madeleine is following in her cousin's footsteps," Amy said. "Mimi's always been wild, I guess."

Madeleine's mouth twitched. "Comes by it naturally, I expect. They're trying her on insanity, I understand. How many people did she run over?"

"Four, counting the cop. Three are dead, one is still on life-support. And that's not counting the drug dealer that was run over."

"Her body count is as high as mine was. Although she was much more efficient," Madeleine said, and Amy's lips twitched in spite of the serious subject matter.

"Don't tease, Mary Madeleine. It's not at all the same, and you know it. When they caught her at the cemetery, her blood alcohol level was .2."

"Pretty high. How long has she been alcoholic?"

"Just like the rest of us, all her life," Amy sighed.

"I told you not to name her for me," Madeleine smiled. "Bad luck. All the Madeleine's end up either crazy or alcoholic, and it looks like people have decided she's both. What does Denys say?"

"He knows a place she can go. Not an institution, more like a school. They'll teach her how to be a productive member of society," Amy said.

"Ummm," Madeleine said noncommittally. "Amy, it would be better for her to go to St. Cat's than with Denys."

"How can you say that? Especially you," Amy rebuked.

"Because I know St. Cat's and I know Denys and the kind of people he works with. Believe me when I tell you, she is safer with the craziest of people than with him." Trying a different tactic, Madeleine quietly asked, "How much is it going to cost you to send her off with Denys?"

"More than drug rehab, less than St. Cat's."

"As much as a million dollars?" Madeleine asked, genuinely interested. Glass Curtain either bought operatives from distressed family members or allowed individuals dissatisfied with society to join for free. Prices must have gone up since she was sold to Glass Curtain; surely their entrance fees rose with the cost of living.

"Not quite that much," Amy admitted.

The phone rang, and Grace Alice rose to answer it. She turned back to the other women, and frowned. "Mary Madeleine, it's for you, honey."

Madeleine took the phone and pulled the extension into the hall. "Hello, dear," she said quietly.

Operations let out an annoyed grunt. "How did you know it was me?"

"A good guess," Madeleine said, knowing the hotel gave him her number. "What do you want?"

"Where are you?"

"With the Moires, gathering information," Madeleine said briefly. "What is wrong?"

He growled, "When can you wrap this up? Those two are driving me crazy, as usual. I don't know which one is more trouble."

Amused, Madeleine answered, "If they're that much trouble, cancel them both."

"Not an option, and you know it. Their performance is exemplary. They just annoy me to no end. What about the girl? Moire?"

Madeleine bit her lower lip. "Denys is here. She apparently has certain admirable qualities, as he would say."

"Have you spoken to him?"

"Briefly. He is trying to cut a deal with the family. Did you know the entrance fees for Glass Curtain have risen considerably?"

"I'm not surprised. It's the price they pay for not being sanctioned and supported by the government. So, what do you think so far?"

Madeleine frowned and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm not sure, yet," she said slowly. "I have to think about it. I'll call you in a few days. Next time, use the cell phone, Marcus."

Operations expelled an impatient breath. "Hurry it up, will you? Everything's more difficult with you away."

Madeleine smiled. "Chin up. I'll be back as soon as I can. Believe me, New Orleans in June is not pleasant."

She went back into the dining room. They had only one light lit so the room wouldn't heat up too much; the long windows were open to the heavy night air, the ceiling shielded in shadow, and even standing still, Madeleine sweated.

"It'll take you a few days to remember how to be without air conditioning," Grace Alice smiled.

"Took me nearly a week, but I'm fine now. If Amy weren't so stubborn ..."

"Uncle always did say refrigerated air was the work of the devil," Amy reminded them.

"Yeah, well, it feels like the devil's armpit in here," Grace Alice said inelegantly. She laughed and rose. "I guess I ought to be grateful that Amy unbent enough to install a window unit in the kitchen. She couldn't get anyone in to help her with the cooking otherwise."

"After all the old ones died off, the new cooks just want air conditioning and dishwashers," Amy grumbled.

"Imagine that," Madeleine deadpanned, helping clear the table.

Later that night, Madeleine lay on her old Army cot in one of Grace Alice's cotton nightgowns on the back upstairs sleeping porch. To her left, Grace Alice murmured in her sleep, and beyond Grace Alice, Amy snored gently.

Unused to the heat and preoccupied with Denys, Madeleine couldn't sleep. She quietly got up and stood by the railing, looking down on the brick pavement. A lazy puff of wind stirred her nightgown, and she held her arms away from her body to catch the most of the breeze. Finally, she sat down on the topmost step of the circular stair that led to the ground.

No matter how many times she stood on this porch, it was Elizabeth Anne's startled face, her terrified cry and the way her flailing arms tried to grasp onto the stair railing that Madeleine remembered.

***********

Since Madeleine hadn't slept well the night before, she was unnaturally cross the next morning.

She sat quietly with her cousins in the courtroom, feeling an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Not too many years ago she sat at the defendant's table, with her cousins behind her and Denys somewhere in the audience.

The case wasn't going well. Madeleine twisted around in her seat to see if Denys was present and received a sharp elbow in her ribs from Amy, who gave her a dirty look. Ladies don't look behind them in church or in court, and subdued,

Madeleine faced forward. Denys sat in the back. It was a source of pride to Glass Curtain that they allowed operatives to decide whether to join. Section merely picked the material, abducted it and trained it.

"At least we give people a choice," Denys argued with her once.

"An uninformed one," Madeleine snapped. "My God, Denys, if I had known what I was getting into ... Glass Curtain is a terrorist organization. People join up with you because you tell them there are educational opportunities to be enjoyed, or because you tell them you're against authority, not that you run around killing people."

"And Section doesn't? When you're dead, you're dead, no matter what the reason."

"It's not what I would have chosen," Madeleine admitted slowly. "But their capturing me was probably the best thing that could have happened."

"And if it came down to it, will you kill me, Mary Madeleine? After all I've done for you?" He smiled gently, calculatingly.

Madeleine thought of all he'd done for her, and something of what she was thinking must have shown in her eyes, because Denys flushed slightly and pulled away from her.

"Perhaps I made a poor gamble on you, dear heart," he said sadly. "But it's not too late. Come back with me. We'll retrain you and you'll be more effective than ever. What kind of future do you have here, anyway? Come back. We can be together forever, if you want. Please," he said, holding out an encouraging hand.

"As you say, it was a poor gamble," Madeleine shrugged. "Better luck next time."

Well, now it was next time, she thought. Denys would take Mimi and exploit her and when she was completely useless, he would allow her to be sold or captured, much as Madeleine had been.

Any number of organizations would be interested in her, not the least of which was Section. Madeleine sighed. She hated having her options narrowed for her. She found it particularly distasteful that Denys was, once again, manipulating her.

***********

When the telephone rang late that night, Madeleine, who hadn't been asleep, answered. She immediately called Amy and pushed her into a chair, then dressed.

"They need someone to identify the body," Amy said in a monotone. Grace Alice had an arm around her, gently patting her back.

"I'll go," Madeleine said. She gave Amy a quick kiss on the top of her head, and motioned for Grace Alice to follow her onto the porch.

"Give her two of these," Madeleine instructed, picking two pills out of a bottle in her purse. "But only if she gets hysterical. Otherwise, give her some tea and I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Oh, Mary Madeleine," Grace Alice said, a little shakily, "I'm so glad you're here. What would we do without you? Poor Mimi. Poor little girl."

Madeleine swallowed, smiled stiffly, and carefully wound her way down the circular stair.

___________________

The funeral was quick and closed-casket, and they put her in the family crypt in Lafayette Cemetery Number One, where Madeleine had spent so much time as a child. She found it only slightly disturbing that there would be a stranger mingling with the rest of her relatives, but not disturbing enough to protest.

She left as soon as she could, but not before Denys found her.

"Another bad gamble," he said, good-natured. "Madeleine, you can still surprise me, dear heart."

Madeleine smiled. "Life wouldn't be worth living without a surprise every now and then."

"True," he agreed. "Good luck with your new operative. If you ever want to make a trade, just let me know."

Madeleine's stomach contracted. "I'll do that, Denys."

__________________________

When she walked into Section, frigid air slammed into her, and by the time she got to her office, her teeth were actually chattering. She immediately turned on the gas fireplace and grabbed a long fur coat from the rack of clothes in the loft.

She didn't hear Operations come in and she jumped when his arms went around her. "I have good news and bad news," he announced.

"Good first," she said, leaning against him.

"The Dallas recruit was an excellent choice. Everyone is pleased, from George on down the line. Her initial scores are well above average."

"I knew she'd be good. What's the bad news?"

"The Moire girl."

"What about her?"

"Someone got careless and gave her drawstring pants to wear. She disabled the camera in her room and strangled herself last night. We found her this morning."

Madeleine stood very still, letting the information sink into her numb brain. "Well," she said finally. "I made a bad gamble, I guess."

"Can't win them all," Operations agreed. He turned her around to face him, and searched her face. "You look a little tired, my dear. Why don't we have a nice steak dinner and you can get a good night's rest?"

"No, thanks. I don't feel like going out tonight." She stepped away from him and sat on the couch, studying the fire. "I'm tired. The heat wore me out."

Unconsciously, her voice slipped back into a Southern drawl, and Operations laughed.

"At least let me drive you home and make sure you eat," he said, attempting an accent and failing miserably. "Let's get some iron in that blood of yours. You'll feel better when you have some energy."

Because she knew she wasn't going to get rid of him, Madeleine finally said, "Why don't you give me half an hour to unwind?"

He briefly touched her hair, and she leaned into his hand. "Half an hour," he said.

It was quiet when he left. The fire silently burned, and Madeleine gazed into the flames.

She thought of the house in the Garden District. Grace Alice agreed to stay with Amy for another week or so before she returned to Houston. Right about now, Amy and Grace Alice would be preparing for bed, and the air would be hot and heavy and smelling of wet mold and magnolias.

If there was a breeze, the Spanish moss that hung like hair from the huge oak trees in the back yard would sway like seaweed. The sky would be clear and purple, and deep as the ocean.

Madeleine sighed and leaned her head back, the flames flickering on the underside of her eyelids.

-End-

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