Chapter 33 –
A very bad night
That night the LNA had a temper tantrum. I thought that if I remembered the man from DeSmet he might remember me, so I had the warehouse buttoned up pretty tight, even putting forklifts in front of every door to block them. But there was nothing I could do about the office, and that is where they hit us. It was almost childish. From the shell casings they found in the morning, the police estimated eight men had gotten out of their cars and stood at the curb firing automatic weapons into the office. They must have gone through two or three clips each, because the casings were piled high. What damage did they do? They shot out all the windows, of course, but beyond that, it was all pointless. Everything in the office was already rubbish. What difference did it make that mud-covered desks now had bullet holes in them? Who cared about the filing cabinets rapidly turning to mold? But they wanted to blow off steam, and they did. The six of us who had stayed the night were all up on the second floor protected behind various pallets. The attack was loud, and it was scary, but after ten minutes and hundreds of bullets, they just drove off into the night. What was the point?
After they got done with us, they started six fires. All five Joubert shoe stores went up in flames. What was their crime? Not knowing they shouldn't ask about the warehouse? Trying to find out why outboard motors were not getting from Fond du Lac to New Orleans? If the LNA thugs had just made a minimal effort to provide a better cover story, none of this would have been necessary. Would it be too much to ask them to take a few outboard motors south while they were doing their gun running?
The target of the sixth fire was pretty obvious. Assuming the contraband had been put on the truck we saw drive off, there was no reason to keep the warehouse around to provide evidence. So it went down that night too. Modest explosions indicated not all the munitions had been removed, but mostly the wreckage consisted of outboard motors. Fishing along the gulf was going to be curtailed a little longer.
The next morning as I stood in the office looking at all the broken glass, and then when I heard about the fires, I can't say I was as angry as I was annoyed. What a waste. I can't claim to like the Jouberts, but all they did was ask questions, not knowing in trying to stand up for some Huguenot businesses, they were getting in the way of some Huguenot thugs. They deserved better.
As for us, we had planned to gut the office anyway. We wanted it cleared before the computer guys showed up to rewire the place. Granted, we hadn't expected to put in new windows, but we had a local company on site that afternoon. By nightfall the glass was in. The next morning the computer guys showed up. They had some questions about the bullet holes in the walls, but they were able to make good progress on the wiring closet. So, to sum up, the bastards didn't do any real damage!
In fact, maybe the good guys came out ahead. Two days later we called a meeting of the warehouse council to provide an update and take suggestions on final steps. We cleared one of the classrooms at the school and set up a presentation, complete with graphics, colored handouts, even pastries. We had food for thirty; over fifty managers showed up. Later we did a little detective work and learned that nearly twenty were Protestant. We had an open discussion of what they needed from the city, people were honest about the state of their businesses, and in general, we had an attitude in the room that said we were going to get things moving again. Was everything perfect? Not hardly. But folks could see improvements all around them, and I think there was both confidence that we would get the job done, and plenty of pride that we had taken a pretty big punch and were still standing. As meetings go, it will be one I remember.
Speaking of meetings, two nights later I was called to join the Huguenot Business League local chapter for dinner. Philippe Joubert introduced me around. It turns out he can speak after all. I was invited to give an update on the warehouse project after the dinner, and I received the first standing ovation of my life. Unfortunately there were no cameras in the room. I know I will never convince my older brothers that it ever happened. But trust me, it did.
Speaking of brothers, the next morning I got a call from Michael. It began with the usual nonsense - "What are you doing helping around the business. I thought professors never did any work." Then he went on to brag about some research he had done. LeGuerre Logistics happened to be owned by a company that was owned by a corporation that was controlled by the Fosters. He said he and his research team had been identifying everything touched by Foster and now had an org chart that covered an entire wall. They were into everything, and there in one corner was LeGuerre. He then went on to gloat that he had contacts within the insurance industry telling him that since munitions were found in the warehouse, the insurance company was refusing to pay for the fire. Later that day I found out who his "inside" contacts were. The story was covered on the third page of the Wall Street Journal. Why are big brothers so annoying?
Also, why is this one so dumb? Sure the Fosters were now out some money, maybe millions if the insurer of all those out board engines came after them. But the surprise for me was the connection of the LNA and Fosters. If they were moving arms north, what was the target? If they were moving arms south, what was the source? And how were Fosters and the LNA linked? In DeSmet the LNA claimed they knew nothing about what Foster was doing out in the Sioux villages. Foster claimed he was afraid of some of the men he had hired, men who now appeared to be working for him, or for the LNA, or both. I had no idea what Canadian ministry would be looking into all this, but I assumed they would research this connection more carefully than my brother had. That LeGuerre Logistics warehouse was giving off an incredible stench. I wondered who was picking up the scent.