18. Cross Roads

by Fern Michaels

  “You!” Jellicoe said.

  “I wish. Nope,” Nikki said. “The little china doll holding you captive won the honors,” she said, pointing to Yoko. Yoko, embarrassed, bowed. Harry smiled.

  “Whenever you’re ready, dear,” Myra said.

  “I’m ready, Myra,” Yoko said. Harry smiled.

  “Well, if Yoko is ready then, girls, wire up Mr. Jellicoe!” Myra said.

  They were on him faster than Typhoon Tillie. Off came his shirt, down went his boxers. Strong hands pinned Jellicoe’s arms behind him. Espinosa clicked away as Ted’s fingers started to blister. Harry smiled.

  “Alexis, dear, the electrodes. I know, I know, it’s flaccid, but do your best. Use the duct tape. Homeland Security recommends it so highly,” Myra said.

  “You aren’t saying anything, Mr. Jellicoe. Why is that? Girls, this man has been way too silent. Other than admitting we’re good, he hasn’t said a word, not even when we took out his two ‘best’ men. I find that classification debatable, but that’s for another time. I want him to talk.”

  “Well, Annie, why didn’t you say so?” Nikki singsonged.

  Jellicoe lifted his leg to kick out at Annie, but Murphy leaped and sank his teeth into the fleshy calf. Jellicoe howled as Murphy hung on, waiting for the command he knew was coming. When it did, he relaxed his hold and went back to what he had been doing as he listened to the praise all around him. He let loose with two sharp barks to show he was grateful for it.

  “Wow, there’s a lot of blood flowing here,” Jack said. “You getting all this, Espinosa?”

  “Every last drop!”

  “Jack him up against the cab and tie his legs. The man, if you believe his press, can tolerate unbelievable amounts of pain,” Nikki said. “But everyone has a breaking point, so let’s get to his so we can report back to the heads of the world’s various intelligence and law-enforcement services, the very people Mr. Jellicoe decided to dupe into helping take a year and a half of our lives away from us. Not to mention foisting Stu Franklin and Fish on two of us. Those same individuals are anxiously awaiting results. Yoko, it’s your call. Do you want to go to work on him or should we give him a chance to talk?”

  Harry smiled. Yoko smiled at her husband, puckered her lips, then blew him a kiss. “He’s not going to talk; he’s stupid. I say you let me fry his ass right now, then if he wants to talk, if he can talk, we’ll listen.”

  Jellicoe slowly and deliberately looked around and said, “You’re all dead. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but my people will take all of you out one by one. Guaranteed.”

  “I don’t think so, Mr. Jellicoe,” Myra said. “It was all a big hoax. I have to give you credit for conning the people who have contracted with us to bring you down. Your people are the ones responsible for the chatter that so wired them up. You couldn’t make it stick here in America, though. You had us jumping through hoops there for a while, but we finally figured it all out. Would you care to expound to our little group here about what got your boxers in a knot nineteen months ago? No, I didn’t think so. Yoko, he’s all yours!”

  “That’s really pretty clever, don’t you think, Bert? Who would have thought wiring some guy’s dick, then shocking him to hell and back would make him turn white like that? I didn’t know that, did you?”

  “Jesus, look at their faces, Jack. They’re enjoying this.”

  “Yeah, they are. I am, too. I think the question is, why aren’t you enjoying this?”

  “Because, you dumb-ass, I can see Kathryn trying this out on me the next time I piss her off. You might want to give that some thought, Mr. Emery.”

  “I prefer not to think about it, Bert. Besides, I’m married, and you aren’t.”

  “So?” Bert shot back.

  “If you do it again, Yoko, I can catch him in midbounce even though he’s tied. Oooh, that’s good!” Espinosa cackled.

  “Maggie said she doesn’t think the Post can print these pictures because it’s a family newspaper.”

  “That’s true, but she can put them out there on the Internet. For the whole world to download!” Annie said. “Honey,” she said, addressing Yoko, “ask him if he’s ready to talk.”

  Instead of doing as Annie asked, Yoko hit the plunger again. Jellicoe bounced in the air.

  Then he sagged into a crumpled heap. The Sisters looked at one another, worried expressions on their faces. Jack leaned over and cut him loose. “He’s still breathing,” Jack said, happiness ringing in his voice. “I don’t think he’ll ever be the same again, though.”

  “Where’s his computer, Fish?” Nikki asked as she pulled a piece of paper out of her wet suit. I’m going to relieve him of all his funds. As in like now!”

  Curses, words they’d never heard before, rang out in the room as Jellicoe tried to sit up. “You leave my goddamn money alone. I earned that!”

  “Sure you did, and now we’re taking it.” Nikki laughed. “Fish?”

  “Upstairs, middle room. Everything is password-protected.”

  “Wanna bet?” Nikki laughed as Jellicoe attempted to lunge for her legs. Yoko was on him in a nanosecond. She yanked his head backward, her knee in the small of his back. She leaned over, picked up his head, and slammed it on the tile floor. “Don’t worry, he’s not dead,” she trilled.

  Harry beamed with pride. His little lotus blossom had rendered the big bad wolf harmless.

  “This is a real mess,” Jack said. “Are we sure we got all the weapons?”

  “Got pictures of everything, Jack. We need to think about getting out of here and quick. We’ve already been here an hour. It’s full morning; people start moving around. Someone is bound to see all those trucks out there, and this one in particular.”

  Jack looked over at Kathryn. “Are you going to have any trouble backing this rig out of here?”

  “Not one little bit. My guys have me covered, so don’t worry about me. I know the drill. I drive to the drop-off point, and Snowden’s people take care of the rest. Meaning, of course, that all three of them will be loaded on the plane sitting on the tarmac in Fort Lauderdale, which will take them back to where our employers will deal with them in their own way. Our job here is done. Well, almost done.”

  Upstairs in the middle room, Nikki worked the computer. “Okay, Alexis, what do we want to do with all of Hank’s sizable fortune?”

  “Send it to the same place our fifty million went. We can divvy it up later. We need to get out of here. This is some place,” Alexis said, looking around.

  “Yeah, it is. Done! His money is now our money. Billions with a B, baby!” Nikki said, printing out copies of her wire transfers. She unzipped her wet suit and stuck the papers inside.

  “You know what, Alexis, that bastard didn’t lie about one thing.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “He said we were good.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Alexis drawled. The two women high-fived each other before they bolted for the steps. They stood watching as Kathryn started to back the rig out of the house as the other truckers outside guided her movements.

  Back in the kitchen, which was no longer a kitchen, the group stared at one another. “And we still don’t know the why of it all,” Isabelle mumbled.

  “Oh, but we do know, dear,” Myra said as she spread open the six-page fax. “I’ll give you the short version. Later on, we can all read this and talk it to death.”

  “You know?” the Sisters chorused as one.

  “Of course. Just because Annie and I are…up there in years doesn’t mean we can’t hold our own. It’s really quite simple. Nineteen months ago the Pentagon decided not to renew Global’s contracts. They had their reasons; most of them can’t be divulged because of national security. Very valid reasons. His contracts had twenty-two months to go, then he was out in the cold. Oh, he made money from foreign governments and from private corporations, but the billions he earned every year came from the Pentagon. The bottom line was, he was no longer the Golden Boy. He couldn’t and wo
uldn’t accept that.

  “So, he decided to start a campaign to reingratiate himself with the Pentagon. But first he had to make sure the vigilantes couldn’t be used to come after him and expose what he was doing. So he courted Martine Connor, subtly helped to get her to grant our pardons, then convinced our current employers that we needed to be neutralized in order to allow Global to go after the group Jellicoe had made up out of whole cloth.

  “Once they agreed and kicked in money to bribe our guys, he set up the murders, and that is the only word that fits, of twenty-three contractors who the Pentagon and some private corporations had paid Global to protect, starting in February and culminating in the murders, just before Thanksgiving, of the seven contractors that Elias learned about from Calvin Sands.

  “And, I’m sorry to have to say this, but Isabelle and Annie, if you can reconstruct the eight months from that February until last Thanksgiving, I think you will find that Stu Franklin and Fish were gone at precisely the times the contractors Global was supposed to protect were murdered.”

  There were gasps all around, and Isabelle and Annie looked as if they were ready to faint.

  “According to Charles’s informant, who is now a very rich man, thanks to Annie’s money, for which she will be reimbursed from the funds we just liberated, Jellicoe hoped to ‘expose’ the plot against the murdered contractors, blame the supposed assassination attempt on the same people, and get back in the Pentagon’s good graces. And since all the alleged plotters would be killed in the attempt to apprehend them, no one would be the wiser.”

  “But why,” Jack interrupted, “did he pretend to retire and have Bert and me take over the reins of Global Securities? Didn’t that risk our finding out about what was going on? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Nikki asked. “Think about it. Did you ever hear about the deaths of the first sixteen contractors? Did you? Of course not. We heard only about the seven killed around Thanksgiving when it became front-page news around the world. The only information you got was what Jellicoe wanted you to have. And the same went for Bert, didn’t it?”

  “I guess,” Jack said, looking thoroughly dismayed.

  “There’s one other important thing Charles learned,” Myra continued. “After the murders started, Jellicoe decided that if things went badly, and Global was blamed for the failures to protect the murder victims, he would pin the blame for lax security on Jack and Bert’s cost-cutting efforts. So even if his grand strategy failed to get the intended results, his risk of exposure was basically zero.”

  “Wait a minute,” Bert objected. “I didn’t get involved in any cost-cutting efforts. Did you, Jack?”

  “Not on your life. Hell, all I ever did was read papers my secretary put on my desk. I knew as much about what was really going on as Bush did about New Orleans.”

  “Jack,” Myra asked pointedly, “how much do you want to bet that any investigation of your computers would turn up conclusive evidence that you and Bert were engaged in a sustained program of cutting corners in the area of contractor security?

  “Never mind, you don’t have to answer. Anyway, I think it’s safe to say it was never really about the money with Hank. He believed he was infallible. He or his people had started making mistakes. He tried to cover them up, and things went downhill to the point that he became desperate. That’s when he came up with that wild story about the chatter, the bogus threat, and managed to convince everyone but our own government because they knew. They knew. I think they might even send us a thank-you letter once they find out we took care of business for them,” Myra said.

  Wide-eyed, jaws agape, everyone looked at Myra and Annie in stunned amazement.

  “And you found this out…how?” Nikki demanded.

  “We didn’t find out till just before five o’clock this morning. I did tell Hank that we knew the whole story just before they loaded his sorry ass into the truck. He tried to spit on me, but Annie knocked him out.”

  “Way to go, ladies!” Jack said.

  “Obsolete my ass,” Annie hissed in Myra’s ear. Myra laughed as she led the parade out what was once a back door and down to the dock.

  “Hey, Harry, why don’t you ride with Yoko. One of Snowden’s men is staying behind, and he needs the Jet Ski.”

  Harry’s fist shot in the air as Jack blew him a kiss. Harry winked as he slid onto the ski behind Yoko.

  No one looked back as the Jet Skis shot forward.

  Eleven minutes later, the support beams at 123 Dolphin Drive collapsed, and the house crumpled to the ground. It stayed that way for thirty-six hours until a Coast Guard helicopter spotted the wreckage, by which time the Sisters were on the deck at Pinewood, toasting each other on a job well done.

  Epilogue

  Christmas Eve

  Pinewood, Virginia

  Outside the old farmhouse in McLean, Virginia, there wasn’t an evergreen to be seen that wasn’t festooned with colorful Christmas lights. Inside the house, which was lit from top to bottom, giant twelve-foot balsam firs, resplendent with colored lights and heirloom Christmas decorations, were tucked into every corner of every room. The scent was delightful. Delicious, heavenly aromas wafted from the kitchen, where Charles, wearing a decorative Christmas apron, held court.

  He and the guys had rehashed for the umpteenth time the events of last summer and had moved on to speculating about how Hank Jellicoe had managed to escape from Avery Snowden and his men. All anyone knew was that when Jellicoe was to be turned over to the big shots who had hired the Sisters, he was gone.

  Despite their disappointment, the intelligence and law-enforcement chiefs had been sufficiently relieved to learn that all the chatter about assassination plots was nothing more than a con job by Jellicoe that they had agreed to take care of Stu Franklin and Fish. From what the Sisters had later heard, the two murderers were now permanently, as in for eternity, located near a place with one of those funny-sounding names in the deserts of the Middle East. Nothing further had been heard from Jellicoe, though no one took the threats he had made against the Sisters lightly.

  All the persons near and dear to Myra’s heart were there for the Christmas festivities. They’d all arrived three days before Christmas to help with the extensive decorating Myra, Charles, and Annie insisted on. Garlands were strung, mistletoe hung, and fragrant balsam wreaths hung from each window and door. As Nikki put it, and the others agreed, “We need to make up for not being here last year.” And make up for it, they did.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my whole life,” Myra said as she looked around at her little family, which wasn’t so little anymore. Everyone was present and accounted for except Lizzie, Cosmo, and Little Jack, who were on their way from the airport via a horse-drawn sleigh that Jack and Bert had arranged for. Their ETA was any minute now, depending on the horse’s gait.

  The seven dogs, wearing antlers and red collars with bells on them, pranced and danced around, enjoying all the activity. Even the pups, who were no longer little. They were still named One, Two, Three, and Four, and as Myra said, “I don’t see me changing their names anytime soon.”

  The dining-room table was set for twenty. A high chair that had more bells and whistles than a top-of-the-line sports car sat in the middle of the row and did not seem out of place. The table was set with the finest china and crystal, and silver that Myra and Annie had washed and polished for days. The tablecloth was more than a hundred years old, threadbare in some spots but carefully mended along with the napkins, which were equally worn and soft to the touch. In the center of the table, flanked by red candles, sat a gorgeous evergreen centerpiece on which Annie and Myra had worked for hours. Red berries and scarlet poinsettias added all the color that was needed to the magnificent table arrangement.

  A finely crafted serving tray sat on the buffet, another of Myra’s heirlooms, filled with crystal wine flutes and several bottles of Cristal champagne.

  Outside, a fine snow was falling, perfect weath
er for this exceptional Christmas Eve.

  In the living room, in the center of the floor, sat the most exquisite Christmas tree that Myra’s farm had to offer. Underneath mounds of presents, all gaily wrapped, waited for Little Jack’s busy fingers to unwrap.

  The dogs heard the sleigh bells first, then they all ran to the kitchen. “Lizzie’s here! Lizzie’s here!” Myra opened the door, and they all rushed outside to see the sleigh driven by a man decked out in a red suit, a curly white beard, a stocking hat with a big white fur ball on the end, and shiny black boots. A.K.A. Avery Snowden. Next to him was a huge red velvet bag full of surprises.

  Cosmo Cricket hopped down from the sleigh and reached for his son, whom he handed off to the man in the red suit. He held out his hand for Lizzie, who was dressed in something that looked like white ermine, and probably was.

  Snowden let loose with a few “ho ho ho’s” for Little Jack’s benefit before driving the sleigh to the barn, all seven dogs hot on his trail. Fifteen minutes later, sans costume, he was in the kitchen with the other guys, having his usual “friendly” colloquy with Harry.

  The dogs took one look at Little Jack, who was no longer in his bulky snowsuit, and nosed him forward. They barked happily as they led the way into the living room to where the giant Christmas tree waited for the little one. The dogs circled him, tugging at his pant leg. The toddler looked around, his eyes bigger than saucers as he squatted, then sat down. The dogs were on him in a second, rolling around and tussling with one another, as he squealed happily.

  Charles whistled. The dogs immediately came to attention, even the pups. Little Jack got up and wobbled over to his mother. Lizzie picked up her son, and said, “Everyone, I want you to meet my and Cosmo’s son. We call him Little Jack. If you all stand back, kind of in a line, I’m going to put him down so he can go to you when I call your name. He knows all of you because…because you’re our family. While we aren’t here on a daily basis to see you all in person, Cosmo and I have shown him videos and pictures.”