Jack watched as the fire hydrant peered down at the device in his hand, then frowned as he pressed button after button with no readout forthcoming.
“Knock yourself out,” Jack snarled.
“Trust me, I will. By the way, just for the record, this plane is not being hijacked, as you so erroneously reported to your mystery caller. Actually, my colleagues here and I have gone out of our way to accommodate you and see that you arrive safely back in your homeland. Reporting a hijacking that is not taking place could earn you some serious prison time, Mr. Emery. It’s a federal offense in your country, I understand, to report a hijacking if there is no hijacking going on. That’s assuming you care.” The fire hydrant waved his arms expansively. “As I said, we accommodated you in the short window of time for a tenth of what it would have cost you to fly even privately on another charter or commercially. We served you a fine gourmet meal, champagne, and excellent coffee along with quality after-dinner mints. We have the latest movies on board, the latest newspapers and magazines to make your trip as enjoyable as possible. Why, we even allowed Ms. Lucas’s dog on board. I call that hospitality at its finest.
“I came forward to invite Miss Quinn, oh, excuse me, Mrs. Emery, and Ms. Lucas to join me and the others in the back for a…little chat.”
“Why?” Bert demanded.
“NTK, Mr. Navarro. So, ladies, are you agreeable to joining me and my companions for a little chat? Our hostess has prepared fresh coffee, and we have some excellent hundred-year-old brandy to give it a little kick.”
Nikki looked at Kathryn, who simply shrugged.
“Wait a minute. Why aren’t Bert and I included in your little chat?” Jack demanded.
“Because it isn’t necessary, and we do not require your input. At this time. Let me stress again, you are not being hijacked. In a little less than two hours, this plane will set down at Dulles Airport, you will disembark, go through Customs, and be on your way. Hopefully, you will consider this just a fond memory and thank us for getting you safely to your homeland. If not…oh, well. Oh, one other thing. Don’t do something stupid like trying to insist on joining us.”
The fire hydrant stepped back as Nikki and Kathryn rose to their feet. He waved them forward.
“Is that guy who I think he is?” Jack hissed to Bert.
“If you mean Ari Gold, second-in-command to the Israeli prime minister, then, yeah, you’re right,” Bert said. “You want to make a little bet here, Jack, that we can figure out who those other guys are in the next few minutes?”
“I’m not really up on all that high-profile stuff, and I’ve never met any of those guys the way you have when you were the director of the FBI, but I think the tall, suave, good-looking guy is Pierre something or other from France.”
“Laroux,” Bert said.
“Laroux,” Jack repeated. “The one who looks like he has a broom up his butt is Ambrose Fallon, the stuffy-looking, bookish guy is Mitch Blakely, and the redheaded guy is Fergus Duffy. How am I doing, Bert?”
Bert sucked in his breath. “You got it nailed, Jack. The Sûreté, MI5, Interpol, Scotland Yard, and Mossad. All on the same plane. Now that had to take some doing.” His voice was so full of awe, Jack blinked, but he had to agree. Something BIG was going on here that he and Bert weren’t going to be privy to. He felt insulted.
“A hell of a lot of doing, my friend. Then there is the guy behind the screen, the sixth guy. It’s got to be Hank Jellicoe. I’d bet my life on it,” Jack said.
“But why?” Bert demanded.
“Obviously, it’s not about you and me, that’s for sure. It’s about them,” Jack said, jerking his head in the direction of the round table in the back. “This is just a guess on my part, but I don’t think it’s just about Kathryn and Nikki, either. I think it’s about the vigilantes.”
“Now that we know who our hosts are, why are we whispering? It’s a given this plane is bugged from top to bottom. We’re the dumb-asses here, Jack.”
“Nikki said from the git-go it was about the vigilantes, scattering them to the four corners of the globe. She was right, I see it now, but I have to admit, I was blinded back in the beginning. How naive we were to think it was about us and what we considered our capabilities.”
Bert chewed on his lower lip. “Jack, in the back of this plane are five, six if we’re right, and it is Jellicoe, of the most powerful men in the world. The only person missing is the head of the CIA. Ask yourself why that is. It can’t be because she’s a woman, can it? What in the damn hell is going on? Why isn’t the good old U. S. of A. represented here?”
“Beats the shit out of me, unless the four of us are the good old U. S. of A.’s contingent, and I find that hard to believe. I have a headache, Bert. This headache is going to turn into a nightmare any second now. I can feel it, smell it, taste it. Since the head of the CIA isn’t on this plane, maybe it concerns her. Did you give that a thought?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s just another why. But according to Gold, who seems to be the spokesperson for that posse back there, this was a spur-of-the-moment endeavor. These guys can apparently just pick up and go wherever they want, without any opposition. But so can the director of the CIA, I would guess. So, yeah, I think in some way the CIA is involved in this somehow, some way. What the hell are they talking about, anyway?” Bert said, craning his neck in the direction of the round table surrounded by people in the back of the plane. “Looks pretty intense to me, whatever it is.”
“Guess that sixth man is still hiding behind the screen. No movement there? I wish Harry were here. Between us, we could have taken those guys and been drinking champagne while we watched them struggle with whatever we would have tied them up with,” Jack said morosely.
“What? I’m chopped liver? Are you saying the two of us, with the girls’ help, couldn’t take out those guys?”
There was such outrage in Bert’s voice, Jack winced. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. We’re good, Bert, don’t get me wrong, but Harry…Harry is a horse of a whole other color.”
“You’re probably right.” Bert’s outrage was gone, replaced with acceptance of his abilities, which was that he was not a one-man army the way Harry Wong was.
“Whatever it is they’re trying to sell to the girls, it seems to be a hard sell,” Jack said.
Bert snorted. “Kathryn will not bend an inch if she thinks she’s right. I learned that the hard way.”
“Yeah, Nikki is like that, too. Hell, all the girls are like that, even Myra and Annie. Charles told me once he learned never to go up against Myra for the very same reason. I guess that’s why the girls are like sisters. That’s not a bad thing, Bert. At least I don’t think it is.
“Listen, there’s something else,” Jack said, lowering his voice to a whisper and speaking directly into Bert’s ear. “Nikki has a hate on for Hank Jellicoe that has no equal. Before this is all over and done with, whatever the hell this is, the girls are going to pound that guy’s ass so far into the ground, he will never see the light of day again.” Now that he was wound up, Jack continued, “Think about every ugly, hateful, vicious punishment those women have doled out over the years in their time as the vigilantes, then multiply that by about ten, and that’s what that asshole Hank Jellicoe is looking at once they get their collective mitts on him. The best part is, the guy doesn’t even know it’s coming his way.”
He started to laugh and couldn’t stop. When Bert finally digested all that Jack had said, he slapped his knees and doubled over, guffawing out loud.
In the back of the plane, the men seated at the table looked toward the front of the plane, startled expressions on their faces as Bert and Jack continued to laugh and pound each other on the back.
Nikki and Kathryn smiled expansively. The men’s startled expressions turned decidedly uneasy as Scotland Yard’s Fergus Duffy pressed a small button on his watch that would allow Jack’s and Bert’s words, before they were consumed with laughter, to play into their earbuds.
The
expansive smile stayed on Nikki’s face because she was almost certain she knew what Jack and Bert were discussing. “Tell us, gentlemen, what can my friend Kathryn and I do for you? I’d thank you for the accommodations, but we paid for them, so the point is moot. This appears to be your party, so let’s get on with it.”
Kathryn leaned forward. “Not so fast, Nikki. Don’t we want all our hosts seated here at the table for the party? A party isn’t a party unless everyone is seated at the table. Anything less is rude, don’t you think?”
Nikki feigned embarrassment. “You’re right, Kathryn, silly me. Of course we want everyone present so there can be no ‘he said, she said,’ later on.” She eyeballed the man who had introduced himself as Mitchell Blakely. Nikki’s voice turned arctic. “Get him out here now, gentlemen, or this party just fizzled out.”
When nothing happened, Kathryn turned her chair around and stood up. She yawned elaborately, then said, “Party’s over, Nikki.”
The elaborate, decorative screen Annie would have called tacky moved slightly, and a man stepped forward and took his seat close to the table. The others moved slightly to accommodate him.
“And you would be…?” Nikki said pleasantly.
The voice was gruff, a mixture of molasses and hard whiskey. “Whoever you want me to be. Names aren’t important at thirty thousand feet.”
“As a disguise,” Kathryn said, “yours, Mr. Jellicoe, sucks. You look like a bad white imitation of a Bob Marley. Those dreadlocks are not becoming. And I see you’ve put on a little weight since we last met. What did you use to stain your skin?” Not bothering to wait for a response, she continued. “Probably walnut juice. I want it known right here and now that my partner and I, and of course the other…ah…vigilantes, hate your guts. Now would be a good time to say something before we rejoin our mates up front.
“You look surprised, Mr. Jellicoe, that we recognized you. We’re experts on disguises, even with plastic surgery, or did you forget that? Latex is something else, isn’t it? In the blink of an eye, latex can transform a person to someone totally different. Add in a bushel of deep, dark hatred, and what we have right here, in front of our very own eyes, is…you,” Kathryn said. “I think I can smell your chagrin from where I’m seated. Right now, Mr. Jellicoe, you look like a man who lost his mojo, and that is not a good thing. Oh, and none of us care if you can do the New York Times crossword puzzle in ink or not.”
Nikki watched the others seated at the table out of the corner of her eye. They, too, appeared stunned at Kathryn’s denunciation of Hank Jellicoe. She knew exactly what the men were thinking—these women are as good as their reputation. She felt pleased with the thought. She glanced over at Kathryn, who was smiling from ear to ear. She felt a grin coming on that she couldn’t stifle.
“Is something amusing, ladies?” Ambrose Fallon asked. Kathryn’s smile grew wider at the jittery sound of the man’s question. She almost out and out laughed when she saw a nervous tic in Hank Jellicoe’s left eye.
“Well, yes, now that you ask, but you must allow us ladies our little secrets.” Kathryn’s smile disappeared as did Nikki’s ear-to-ear grin. Her voice returned to steel. “Let’s get on with it. Why are you here, and what do you want from us? The short version will do.”
“We need your help. All of us here have tried for the past year and a half to get to the bottom of a very serious problem, and as much as we hate to admit it, we have…failed. Not only have we failed, we failed miserably,” Ari Gold said. Honesty and humiliation rang in his tortured voice. “In addition, by way of explaining our failure, we listened to Mr. Jellicoe because he said he could control you. By you, I mean the vigilantes. We know now that has not been the case.”
Kathryn and Nikki allowed themselves to chuckle over the man’s humiliating admission.
“Let me get this straight, just so there is no confusion on our part. The Sûreté, MI5, Interpol, Scotland Yard, and Mossad have collectively failed in a united effort of some sort. Ooops, I forgot to mention the most prestigious organization of all, Global Securities, the premier security operation in the entire world, if you believe the man himself.” Nikki sniffed. “Personally, I never believed the man’s press; he’s too damn arrogant for my taste. That makes you all a bunch of fools. Don’t you agree, Kathryn?”
“I absolutely do, Nikki. But then, what do I know? I’m just some dumb woman he wanted to get rid of. How do you feel about that, Nikki?”
“I don’t like it one little bit. Okay, you’re up, Jellicoe. Why are you here, and what is it you want from us? You had better make it good, because you only get one shot at an explanation.” Nikki looked at her watch. “If the pilot is right, we have about one hour of flight time left, so it behooves you to make this quick. If you want to confer among yourselves, Kathryn and I will rejoin our companions and return when you’ve come to a decision.”
Chapter 14
“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Emery. As you so accurately pointed out, time is of the essence,” Ambrose Fallon said in a clipped British accent.
Nikki took pleasure in seeing the sheen of perspiration on the head of MI5’s forehead as the air-conditioning was so cold she was shivering. She watched, as did Kathryn, as the man’s gaze went around the table, finally settling on Fergus Duffy, the head of Scotland Yard. The group’s spokesperson, she decided. She risked a glance at Hank Jellicoe and was more than pleased to see the war going on in his eyes. For all intents and purposes, it appeared that one Hank Jellicoe had been relegated to the number six position on the totem pole.
“We’re listening,” Kathryn said coldly.
Fergus Duffy, who looked like he could be the world’s grandfather, cleared his throat. “A while back—eighteen months ago, to be exact—we picked up on some chatter that did not bode well for your current president and her administration. When we as a group, and I am including Mr. Jellicoe in the group, went to your CIA, they professed not to have heard the chatter. As a group, we found that a little hard to believe. To our credit, again as a group, we didn’t sweep it under the rug. We pursued the matter. Mr. Jellicoe, to his credit, agreed to put his life on hold and to go deep, as the saying goes. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. We, the group, met in secret, and it was Mr. Jellicoe who feared that you…ladies…would somehow find out and take matters into your own hands. He said we couldn’t risk that happening.”
“Find out what?” Nikki said.
“Before I answer that question, I want to refresh your memory on a few matters. You do recall that the current administration back in the beginning was plagued with problems. First, it was the vice president, then it was key positions occupied by people who had their own agendas. Every day there was a resignation, a new appointee, until we, as a group, started to get nervous. When we get nervous, the world gets nervous. It got to the point where your own president didn’t know whom she could trust. That’s when she implored your friend Elizabeth Fox to help her, which Ms. Fox did.
“President Connor granted your pardons against all advice, and in doing so made quite a few enemies in her own administration. As you both know, the lady is a woman of her word. So she held out, and today you are free women. I don’t think there’s any need for us to go into the president’s personal relationship with Mr. Jellicoe. It is what it is.”
“Fine, fine, we know all this, so what is your point here?” Kathryn asked irritably.
“The point is…your CIA is denying that there is a problem, which is why the director of that organization is not among those briefing you here, when in actuality there is a very big problem facing your president. Someone is planning to kill her. I can’t be any more explicit than that. Your Department of Homeland Security is following the lead of your CIA, which is remarkable on the face of it, leading us to believe there is a mole in either the CIA or DHS, possibly both. All your alphabet agencies in Washington like to act independently and not tell each other what is going on. Our countries have a good relationship with your new president,
and we’d like to keep it that way. Our organizations, on the other hand, do not have a similar regard for your CIA. If your people continue to ignore what is going on, great harm can and will befall President Connor.”
Nikki grimaced. “Eighteen months have gone by, Mr. Duffy. Nothing has happened to our president. Have you considered the fact that maybe the chatter you heard was just that, someone expounding out of frustration or more likely stirring the pot so you all got your knickers in a knot?”
“Actually, we did consider it, but we all, as individual agencies, came to the same conclusion. The chatter, the source, was legitimate. Mr. Jellicoe went to President Connor and apprised her of what we all thought was going to happen. She in turn raised all kinds of merry hell with the CIA and DHS. All that did was alert them to the fact that we were onto something. Hence the delay or lack of activity. Which translated means they’re lying low. As I said, Mr. Jellicoe, with our approval, decided to take action because we knew President Connor’s next move would be to contact you via Elizabeth Fox.
“None of us had any doubt that you vigilantes would ferret out the mole and take care of him or her, as the case might be, but taking out the mole wasn’t important enough by itself to allow you to do so. We need to neutralize the cell, the organization, and you ladies, according to Mr. Jellicoe, are not equipped to take on a mission of that sort. It goes without saying that we no longer agree with him.”
Nikki looked at Kathryn and burst out laughing.
“Really!” was all Kathryn said. Fergus Duffy and the others had the good grace to look embarrassed, which only made Nikki and Kathryn laugh even more.
When Nikki was finally able to catch her breath, she said, “So here we are, eighteen months later, and you’re right back at your starting point.” She fixed her icy stare on Hank Jellicoe and said, “You decided to play God with our lives. You separated us all, you made it impossible for us to be in touch, you paid outrageous sums of money when all you had to do was talk to us. You robbed us all of eighteen months of our lives, and I, for one, am never, ever going to forget that, Mr. Jellicoe. You are now on my radar screen, and I feel confident enough to speak for my fellow Sisters when I say you are now officially a target for the vigilantes. Normally, we do not issue a warning. We simply act. I want to be clear on that in case any of you have a problem with what I just said.”
18. Cross Roads Page 13
