Ghost Knights Of New Orleans, page 18
One evening in the apartment, as the wine and Sazerac flowed freely, we discussed how much remained of father’s estate and the mint heist loot. I explained that some of the mint building take had been used toward paying certain K.G.C. operatives, but that enough remained from it and father’s estate to provide an adequate income for the both of us for many years.
“Adequate won’t do, Drouet. Not for us. We will always want and do more than what is considered adequate.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that even though the Yankees succeeded in defeating the Confederacy, they never defeated you and me. We hoodwinked them at every turn and never once did they find us out, at least not in time to do anything about it. We slid through the fingertips of history,”
I nodded that I understood her meaning. The game would always be afoot for her and me in some form or fashion.
Then, she reached into a satchel and extracted three electrotype plates used to counterfeit Yankee notes and bonds during the war, the same type of plates she had described to me before when recounting her exploits as a double agent in the United States Treasury.
“Drouet, I still know certain people who can make these work for you and me. What say you?”
Smiling, I gave her a crisp salute with my hand.
“I hope you know I love you, Drouet Broussard.”
Taking her by the hand, I drew her to me and inhaled her sweet scent.
“Madame, I return you affections ten-fold and will forever be your loving co-conspirator.”
I never could predict that woman.
Finis
David Althouse, Ghost Knights Of New Orleans
