The Trinity Game

and they wore new coats of paint and pride.
    And as the crowd walked, so did it grow. People came down off porches and out of trailers, children ran from their yards, and by the time the parade passed Fats Domino’s yellow house with thebig star above the door and the gold-tipped iron fence, the crowd was more than two hundred strong.
    Still not enough, but getting better.
    On St. Claude Avenue even more joined their ranks, teenagers from the KFC and women from the Family Dollar parking lot, men from barbershops and bars. Shopkeepers looked out from doorways and people in the crowd called them to join with Reverend Tim, and OPEN signs turned to CLOSED in the doors of their shops, and the crowd grew even stronger.
    As they passed the Gasco, a brass band fell in and started playing “Saints,” and soon as many in the crowd were dancing as walking, many others singing along, the mood rising above festive, on the way to joyful.
    But not for Daniel. He kept about ten feet to his uncle’s left, Pat on the other side, scanning the crowd for the face of an assassin. White folks made up only about a quarter of the crowd, an advantage since he was looking for a white face. His eyes never stopped roaming, scanning the crowd, scanning windows and doorways, occupants of passing cars, cataloging white faces, dismissing black faces, moving on to the next. But the crowd was growing fast, and the task would only get harder as they got closer to the French Quarter.
    They crossed Reynes, the drawbridge ahead, now clearly visible through the heat haze hanging in the air.
    Daniel’s earpiece crackled and Pat said, “OK, approaching the first choke point, and I smell bacon.”
    “Think they’ve had time to find us?”
    “Yup. No cars coming over the bridge, and I don’t think it’s just a lull in traffic. Be ready.”
    A large sign with red letters stood in the neutral ground…

    …but nobody stopped. Daniel glanced at his watch, pressed the talk button. “We’re bang on schedule.”
    Pat said, “Let’s hope everyone is.”
    As Daniel glanced at the cloudless blue sky, two gray sedans came over the bridge side by side and stopped at an angle, blocking both sides of the road. Special Agents Hillborn and Robertson and six other hard-looking feds got out and strode forward. The bells sounded and the bridge began to rise behind them.
    The parade stopped. The brass band fell silent. Then, as the FBI men approached, the crowd coalesced around Trinity. An angry black man with a gray beard and dreadlocks called out to them, “Yeah,
now
you come down to the Lower Nine, where the fuck were you when we needed you?”
    “That’s right,” said a young woman in the crowd. “And why you ain’t investigatin’ them rich folk who made off with the money, what was supposed to be payin’ for the levees, huh? What about that?”
    Shit.
This was not going to help.
    Daniel separated himself from the crowd and walked directly to Hillborn and said, “Hi.”
    “
Hi?
That’s what you’re bringing to the party?” said Hillborn. “
Hi?
You fucking moron, did you really think we were going to let you do this?”
    “You’re not taking him from me,” said Daniel.
    “Actually, we are.”
    Daniel smiled as the sound of rotor blades grew louder and Hillborn glanced skyward. The news chopper had arrived. “CNN. The world is watching, Agent Hillborn.”
    Hillborn glared at Daniel, then shook his head. “Oh, you silly man, you are just determined to make things worse, aren’t you?”
    “With respect, you’re just flat-out wrong here,” said Daniel. “Our elected representatives are on record supporting Trinity’s right to speak. Do you really want to be the government thug-in-a-suit who slaps cuffs on him and shoves him into a car, and then he’s never heard from again? That’s what the secret police do in places like Iran. You really want to be that guy?” He glanced up at the news chopper, adding, “I’m sure it’ll make good television.”
    Daniel stopped talking and watched Hillborn think over his options. After what felt like a week, Hillborn said, “Stay put a minute. I’ll get back to you.” He turned and walked back to his car and sat in it, talking on his radio.
    Daniel’s earpiece crackled again and Pat said, “Hang tight.”
    “Where are you?” said Daniel, scanning the crowd. “I can’t see you.”
    “Just working the room, checking out new arrivals,” said Pat. “Speaking of which, your view is about to