18. Cross Roads

by Fern Michaels

  Drenched to the skin, the foursome and Murphy bounded up the steps of the plane, where three hostesses handed out fluffy white towels as they personally apologized for the downpour.

  “You’re to sit in the front; the owners are in conference at the back, and they asked that you do not disturb them,” a pert redhead said as she showed them to their seats. More fresh towels were handed out as a second hostess poured champagne.

  “It’s luxurious, but Annie’s Gulfstream is nicer,” Nikki sniffed as she sat down in a comfortable chair and buckled up.

  “I could get used to this real quick,” Kathryn said as she toweled her wet hair. “Ah, someone turned on some heat. This is heavenly.”

  Bert and Jack just sat looking like old-fashioned cigar store Indians. The women continued to jabber to each other, ignoring both men. Murphy was already asleep at Kathryn’s feet.

  The third hostess approached and said in a musical voice, “We’ll be serving dinner when we reach a cruising altitude. Take a moment to look over the menu and check off what you would like.”

  “Yep, I could get used to this real quick,” Kathryn said a second time.

  “Did Maggie happen to mention the name of the company that owns this plane?” Bert asked.

  “She just said a small group of businessmen. Why, is it important?” Kathryn asked.

  “It could be.”

  “Pretty damn convenient the way this worked out, if you want my opinion,” Jack said. Three blank faces stared at him. “I’m just saying.”

  “What does that mean, Jack?” Nikki said, twirling around in her chair. Her voice was neither friendly nor unfriendly.

  “What it means is, we passed on the other plane because people were on board and yet here we are on this plane, commandeered by Maggie, with people on board. I just find it a little strange, considering our current circumstances, the way this is working out.”

  “We didn’t get on the other plane because Murphy was letting us know something was wrong. If you noticed, he did not alert us on this one and is now sleeping peacefully here at Kathryn’s feet.” Nikki’s voice was decidedly unfriendly.

  The pert redhead approached to take their wineglasses. “Buckle up,” she said.

  Bert wagged a finger. “Miss, who does this plane belong to? Do you know?”

  The hostess in turn wagged a finger at Bert and offered up a gamine grin just as the plane started to taxi down the runway. “But of course I know. I work for the company. The owners are sitting in the back.”

  “And that would be…?” Bert asked, smiling. The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  The redhead giggled. “HLJ Enterprises. We’re based here in London.”

  They were in the air and climbing when Bert opened his briefcase and yanked out what looked like a small business directory. “Son of a bitch!”

  “I knew it!” Jack growled.

  “Knew what?” Kathryn and Nikki asked as one.

  “HLJ stands for Henry Lawrence Jellicoe. HLJ Enterprises is a subsidiary of Global Securities.” There was a bite to Bert’s tone that none of them had ever heard before.

  Kathryn’s eyes were wild as she stared at Bert. Nikki reached out to clutch at Kathryn’s arm. “What exactly does that mean, Bert? You know how I feel about coincidence. There is no such thing.”

  Her eyes blazing, Nikki unbuckled her seat belt and moved forward. She braced herself against a chair, leaned down just as all three hostesses warned her to get back in her seat until the pilot announced they were at cruising altitude. “Yes, yes, but where exactly is this plane going?”

  The three women offered up blank stares. “Don’t you know where you’re going?” the pert redhead asked.

  “Let’s put it this way, I know where I’m supposed to be going, but I’d like some confirmation that I’m right. Where is this plane headed?”

  “Your nation’s capital. Washington, D.C. Dulles Airport, to be exact. We have some good tailwinds, so we might even arrive twenty to thirty minutes early. Please, go back to your seat and fasten your seat belt.” The hostess’s voice was so firm that there was nothing for Nikki to do but retreat.

  Buckled up, she leaned forward. “At least we’re going to Washington—Dulles, to be precise. Unless she was lying. She said we might get in early because of good tailwinds.” Three glum faces stared at her. Nikki shrugged. “There is nothing we can do until we land, so we might as well settle in.”

  Jack and Bert twirled their comfortable chairs around until they were facing each other. They leaned forward, talking softly. Nikki and Kathryn did the same thing.

  “So, Kathryn, just out of curiosity, how fit are you these days?”

  “Top form, my friend. All I did for the past year and a half was exercise, swim, and exercise even more. And, of course, I ate right. I found a book on martial arts at one of the bazaars. I taught myself a little and perfected what Yoko and Harry taught us.” Kathryn’s eyes narrowed when she said, “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me? How about you?”

  “I think it’s safe to say I can hold my own…against…let us say, three hostesses, and if appearances are correct, those aging, balding, fat-around-the-middle men in the back. But to answer your question, I’m fit. I think Harry and Yoko both would walk away huffing and puffing if they took me on. I know they’d win, but I’d give them a fight they’d never forget. They’ve been practicing practically from the day they were born, and you and I had to learn the art of self-defense. You know, Kathryn, even though my nerves are twanging, Murphy is sleeping peacefully. He’s not sensing any trouble, for whatever that’s worth.”

  “Let me tell you exactly what that’s worth. I had to tranquilize Murphy. He’s going to sleep all the way across the Atlantic. It was one of the conditions to get him the okay to fly out of the country. I have a ream of paperwork with his name on it.”

  “Damn,” Nikki said.

  Thirty silent minutes went by before the hostesses prepared to serve dinner, a delectable concoction of crab, shrimp, lobster, and filet mignon. One of the hostesses poured wine, another poured coffee, and the third served the actual dinner on fine china.

  “It looks good, smells good, but suddenly I seem to have lost my appetite,” Jack said as he played with his sat phone, a holdover from back in the day when he was in contact with Charles Martin on a daily basis. He had refused to give it up and had charged it during the wait at Heathrow. Nikki had done the same thing as she looked guiltily at him. Then she had turned defensive, and said, “I’m charging this phone because once it’s working, I will truly know I am headed home. Why are you doing it, Jack?” His own tone had been just as defensive when he said, “For the same damn reason you are.” And that had been the end of that. In the blink of an eye, the sat phone was shoved under his thigh. No sense advertising anything until the current situation became a little more clear.

  The moment the hostesses moved to the rear of the plane with their linen-covered serving cart, Nikki whispered, “I don’t think we should eat this food, and don’t drink the coffee, either. I watched the blonde uncork the wine, so I think that’s safe to drink. Or water, anything that’s been sealed.” The others nodded to show they understood. Murphy continued to sleep peacefully at Kathryn’s feet.

  A quarter of the way into their flight time, the hostesses prepared to clear away the dishes and the uneaten food. None of them made a comment about the untouched dinners. Minutes later, they returned with a platter of cheese, crackers, and a mound of grapes of all colors.

  “We have several new movies. Are you interested?” one of the hostesses asked. The foursome shook their heads. The hostess shrugged and moved back to her station behind the dark blue curtain, leaving the foursome to their own devices.

  They were facing each other now, Murphy between them. Jack ground his thigh into the sat phone to reassure himself that it was still there. His head was buzzing like a beehive. He looked over at Bert, who looked as if he was in a trance. Nikki and Kathryn sat stiffly in
their chairs, but Jack just knew that every nerve in their bodies was twanging like an out-of-control banjo at a country and western sing-along. “If anything is going to happen, it’s going to happen real soon.”

  “This might be a good time to share your thoughts, Jack,” Kathryn hissed. “Tell us how you arrived at this prescient conclusion.”

  “How’s this for starters?” Bert said. “The redhead carried six dinners back there. I counted them. But there are only five guys sitting at the table. So, unless one has been in the lavatory all this time—”

  “Or someone wanted two dinners,” Nikki interrupted. When Jack offered her a withering look, Nikki bit down on her lip. She was angry at herself that Bert had picked up on something she’d missed. Kathryn looked angrier than a hornet. Obviously, she had missed the sixth plate, too.

  Jack squirmed in his seat, his hand reaching for the sat phone under his thigh when he felt the air stir and circle the chair where he was sitting. He swiveled around, and said, “I do believe our hosts…are they still our hosts if the Post paid for us…are headed our way.” He swiveled back around and surreptitiously snapped open the phone. He pressed number one for Harry Wong. “C’mon, c’mon, you dumb shit, answer the phone,” he murmured to himself. He listened as the phone continued to ring. Finally, on the seventh ring, Jack heard Harry identify himself. “Harry,” he hissed, “listen up, we’re being hijacked!”

  “Huh? Jesus, Jack, is that you?”

  “Harry, listen to me, this is not shits and giggles. We’re being fucking hijacked. You gotta do something, buddy.”

  Back in Washington, Harry’s eyes did their best to widen. “Jack! Where the hell are you?”

  Harry strained to hear whatever Jack was going to say next. But all he heard was a strange voice with a strong accent say, “I’ll take that phone now, Mr. Emery.”

  Chapter 11

  Maggie and Ted Robinson exited one of Washington’s popular watering holes just as Maggie’s phone chirped in her pocket. She pulled it out and said, “What’s up, Harry? You never call me.” She listened, her face turning white. Ted reached out a long arm to catch her as she stumbled. “Slow down, Harry, I can’t understand a thing you’re saying. Okay, okay. Stop jabbering in whatever language that is.” She listened, then said, “Oh, shITTT! Are you sure Jack wasn’t playing a joke on you?”

  Ted started dancing around, waving his arms and mouthing, “What? What?” Maggie just waved her arms the same way. She ignored him, but her color was coming back, which was a good thing.

  “We’re on our way, Harry. Sit tight.”

  Before Ted could ask again, Maggie was hitting her speed dial. “Just listen, and I won’t have to repeat this…. Listen to me, Abner Tookus, I am personally going to hunt you down and castrate you. I might kill you first or not, I haven’t decided. And I’m canceling that check I gave you. Do you hear me, you…you…hacker? What do you mean, what am I talking about? I’m talking about that airplane you got my friends a ride on. It’s being hijacked as we speak. You better say something now, Abner. I paid out good money from the Post for that ride home for my friends. The owner is not going to like this, Abner. What do you mean, why am I blaming you? I’m damn well blaming you because you’re the one who got the plane. It belongs to HLJ Enterprises, that’s why. It’s a subsidiary of Global Securities and belongs to Hank Jellicoe!”

  “And that’s supposed to mean something to me?” Abner screeched.

  “Well, yeah, you dumb cluck…. No, I am not going to the FBI; hell, they can’t find their way in the dark even with a Maglite. You better find out where that damn plane is, get hold of the pilot or someone else aboard, or your ass is grass. I will hunt you down and skin you alive. Now hang up and call me when you have news, and it better be soon. I hate you, Abner Tookus.”

  Ted stopped his furious dancing and threw his hands up in the air. “Shit!”

  Maggie was already at the curb, trying to flag down a taxi. Ted had to run to catch up with her and literally fell into the cab as it was moving away from the curb. Maggie gave the address of Harry’s dojo, then said, “Burn rubber!” Like the Pakistani driver really knew what it meant to burn rubber. The stars were definitely not aligned right today.

  “Jesus, this is unbelievable, Maggie. What can we do?”

  “I don’t know, Ted. I’ve never been involved in a hijacking. I don’t think you or I ever covered anything like that, either. I have never heard Harry so agitated, and I know full well that I barely got a quarter of what he was saying because he was jabbering away in several different languages. I can’t believe this, Ted; they were on their way home. Home!”

  “Shouldn’t we be calling Charles?”

  “Probably, but Harry called me first, so there has to be a reason why he didn’t call Charles. Maybe it has something to do with Charles being friends with Hank Jellicoe. I don’t know, Ted, I’m just talking to hear myself. Where are Espinosa and Alexis?”

  “Probably in the sack, where they spend most of their time. All they think about is sex,” Ted said pointedly.

  “That’s more than I needed to know, Ted. How can you think about sex at a time like this, anyway? Tell them to get on the stick and meet us at Harry’s. I’m going to call Lizzie right now.”

  “I think we need to alert Charles,” Ted said stubbornly.

  “Well, I don’t, and I’m the boss. Where’s Isabelle? Did she get in yet?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to know that, Maggie?” Ted said, his fingers flying over the keys as he fired off a terse text message to Espinosa and one to Alexis.

  “I don’t understand why they would hijack Bert, Jack, and the girls,” Ted grumbled. “Why?”

  “How about maybe because whoever the hijackers are, they want to sweat Bert and Jack to get information? Like I said, I don’t know, Ted, I’m just guessing.”

  “These things never end well,” Ted mumbled.

  “No, they don’t. Shut up now, I have to talk to Lizzie.”

  Maggie quickly outlined the situation to Lizzie the moment she heard the lawyer’s voice. “I don’t know what to do, Lizzie. We’re on our way to Harry’s dojo now. No, we didn’t call the farm. Why? I guess because if Jack could make only one call, he chose to call Harry instead of Charles. To me, that has to mean something. What it means, though, I have no idea. Now that you’re in the loop, see if you can come up with anything. I vaguely recall your saying you could always get in touch with Jellicoe if need be. This might be a good time to put that statement to the test. I’ll get back to you. When we go out to the farm, which I’m sure we will at some point, I’ll call Elias, since he used to be the director of the FBI, and see what he has to say. Isabelle is back! Good. I wasn’t sure. She’s at the farm! Even better. Stay in touch. Yeah, I’m just sick over this, too, Lizzie.”

  Maggie powered down and glared at Ted. “Well?”

  “They’re on their way to Harry’s.” Ted pointed to the taxi driver, his eyes questioning.

  “He’s listening to some kind of Pakistani music, can’t you see his earbuds? Okay, we’re here. Pay the driver, Ted.”

  Ted shoved some bills under the Plexiglas and bailed out of the cab, with Maggie on his heels. They ran around the corner of the building to the back door of the dojo. Maggie didn’t know what to expect but what she saw certainly wasn’t anything near what she could have thought about. Yoko was on her knees next to Harry, her arms around his shoulders, tears rolling down her cheeks. Harry was sitting on one of the practice mats hugging his knees and wailing, a high-pitched sound that sent shivers up Maggie’s arms and down Ted’s spine.

  “Enough histrionics already! They aren’t going to get us anywhere. Up and at ’em, Harry. We need to talk,” Maggie bellowed at the top of her lungs.

  Yoko leaped to her feet. With Ted’s help, Harry was upright a second later. His eyes were glazed, but they slowly started to focus. Ted snapped his fingers a few times until Harry had had enough and knocked his hand out of the way. Espinosa and
Alexis took that moment to arrive, along with six students from the police academy. Ted made short work of them and said they should call to find out when their class was rescheduled. He locked the door and made his way back to the workout room.

  Maggie took the floor. “This is where we pool our knowledge. This is what we know for certain. The flight the gang was supposed to take didn’t sit well with Kathryn’s dog. He balked at getting on the plane, and through the window Bert saw people at the back of the plane. It was a private Gulfstream, and no passengers were supposed to be on the flight other than our guys. They bailed, went back inside the terminal, and called me. Jack seemed to think it was a setup of some kind. I thought he was being overly paranoid, but I called a friend who managed to get another private Gulfstream, but we had to pay to get the guys on board, which we did. The flight originated at Heathrow and was…is supposed to land at Dulles. If my calculations are correct, they’re halfway into the flight. Which means we have another two to two and a half hours till they land. If they land. The plane is registered and owned by HLJ Enterprises, which is a subsidiary of Global Securities. In other words, your previous employer, Hank Jellicoe. Lizzie told me Isabelle is out at the farm, so we’re all present and accounted for except for Bert, Kathryn, Nikki, and Jack. It’s your turn, Harry.”

  Harry shrugged. “The phone rang, I picked it up, and it was Jack. I could tell he was talking softly, almost whispering. He said, ‘Harry, listen up, we’re being hijacked.’ I was so happy to hear his voice. I thought he was playing a joke. Then he said, ‘Harry, listen to me, this is not shits and giggles. We’re being hijacked. You gotta do something, buddy.’ I said, ‘Jack! Where the hell are you?’ He didn’t answer me. The next thing I heard was a voice saying, ‘I’ll take that phone now, Mr. Emery.’ The voice had an accent. I’m not sure what it was or from where, but it was definitely not an English-sounding voice. That’s it.”

  “Was that verbatim?” Ted asked.