Eyes Only

by Fern Michaels

  Ted looked up and said, “We have four seats on the six-thirty flight out of Reagan National in the morning. Time for us to hit the road and pack some bags. Unless you need us for something.”

  “Go ahead,” Myra said. “Check in with us by the end of the day.”

  One by one, the others gathered up their belongings, checked to make sure nothing was left behind. Then they followed the reporters back to the main part of the house.

  The good-byes were affectionate and loud, with kisses and hugs, some backslapping, and then the big old farmhouse was quiet, with only the dogs snorting and yelping.

  “Annie, I’ll take the dogs out. You go down to the cellar and get that bourbon. I’m so ready to sample it, it’s making me crazy.”

  “I just love it when you come up with a plan, Myra.”

  “Me, too, Annie. Especially when we both know this kind of plan means we’re both going to have hangovers in the morning.”

  “You had to say that, didn’t you?”

  Myra giggled as she led the dogs out into the star-filled night.

  Chapter 3

  Myra looked at Annie and laughed out loud. “You look like a punk rocker with your hair standing on end like that. The kids today pay out big bucks to get a hairdo like that. I know, I know. I don’t look any better.” She continued to laugh as she measured coffee into the wire basket.

  “It’s true, Annie. We are getting older. Look at that bourbon bottle. All we could drink was a quarter of it before we fell asleep. I don’t feel all that bad now that I’ve brushed my teeth. How about you?”

  Annie picked up the bourbon bottle and measured it with her fingers before she placed it in the cabinet next to the refrigerator. “We’ll just save this for when we return from Spyder Island. I think we were so wired up yesterday with the kids being here, the party atmosphere, our sighting, and the plans we made that we were just too tired.”

  Myra smoothed down her own unruly hair and stared across the table at her best friend in the whole world. “I’m thinking, Annie, that we should do a little PR for our upcoming trip to Spyder Island. Like some Associated Press gossip. What do you think?”

  Annie grinned. “You mean like Countess Anna de Silva, the second richest woman in the world, is going to take up residency on Spyder Island to write her memoirs? She will be arriving with a party of . . . say, twenty in her private Gulfstream on such and such a date. When this reporter caught up with the reclusive countess, she would neither confirm nor deny. That kind of PR?”

  “Well, there you have it. Maggie and Ted couldn’t have written it better. It might need some tweaking, but I like it just fine. As long as you leave the date of your arrival up in the air. Send the kids a text and tell them to get on it ASAP.”

  While Myra poured coffee, Annie’s fingers flew over the keys. “Done!”

  “Ooh, I forgot something. Make mention that you are the only woman to own property on that prestigious island. Tell them to play up that male-only angle. That should put the Spy-ders’ knickers in a knot.”

  Annie’s fingers again flew over the keys. “I’m getting really good at this. Dennis showed me how to use my thumbs more than my fingers. I really love that kid. Okay, done! Now what?”

  Myra shrugged. “Why do I have to come up with all the ideas? You own the place. You’ve been there. Tell me what you think. As young Dennis would say, ‘This is your gig, Annie. The rest of us are just along for the ride.’ ”

  Annie propped her elbows on the table and stared across it. “I blocked all of that out of my mind, Myra. I’m flying blind here. I know that Angus Spyder III is a son of a bitch. He rules the island with fear and an iron fist, just the way his father and his grandfather did before him. Dominic told me that when he bought into it all. He’s all about being the richest and the most powerful person in the world. According to him. I don’t even know if that’s true or if he was just bragging. I think Abner will be able to tell us if it’s true or not.”

  “Want some toast?”

  Annie shook her head.

  “Where do you think your fortune ranks compared to his? Do you have any idea?”

  Annie shook her head again.

  “Well, can you find out? Can you call that guy you’re always snapping and snarling at on the phone and ask him?”

  “I can.” Annie squinted to see the clock on the Wolf range. “It’s early. I’ll call him and wake him up. I just love doing that.”

  Myra popped two pieces of bread into the toaster and got butter and jam out of the refrigerator. She knew Annie would eat a slice if it was put in front of her. It was all she could do not to laugh out loud as she listened to Annie on the phone. Her eyeballs stood at attention when she heard Annie say, “Well, that better not be true, Conrad. I want you to head to the office right now and send me everything that will back up what you just told me. And. Do. Not. Fudge. The. Numbers.”

  “What?” Myra demanded.

  Annie banged her fist on the table. “Myra, how would you like to lend me some money?”

  Myra threw her hands in the air. “Did I just hear you ask me to lend you some money?”

  “Yes, you did. It appears, Myra, I say ‘appears, ’ that Angus Spyder has more money than I do. Of course, Conrad could be wrong, and I did wake him up. But on the off chance he’s right, I cannot go to Spyder Island unless I’m richer than he is. I know that sounds petty, but we’re playing in the big leagues here. Let’s just say it’s a woman thing. You understand that, right, Myra?”

  “Oh, yes, indeedy, I do. How much?”

  “Half a billion,” Annie said, without batting an eyelash.

  “Okay,” Myra said, also without batting an eyelash.

  “We’ll let Conrad and your guy Henry handle the details, but you will have to call Henry. I think your positions in that oil company and Google will do the job. You okay with that? I’ll pay you a handsome rate of interest. Short term. Ooh, Angus is not going to like this one little bit.”

  “What rate of interest?” Myra asked craftily.

  “Well, with the economy the way it is and the low interest rates . . .”

  “Get off it, Annie. How much?”

  “I was thinking 5 percent.”

  “Wrong. Ten, or it’s no deal.”

  “Myra, you drive a hard bargain. Ten, it is. Shall we shake on it?”

  “Nah, my arthritis in my right hand is kicking up this morning. Your word is good enough for me. Send a text to Henry and pretend to be me. My password is ‘Annie,’ if he asks.”

  “Oh, Myra, that’s so sweet of you to use my name as your password. Okay, I’m doing it,” Annie said happily.

  “I’m going to take a shower now. When you’re done with Henry, call Abner and see what, if anything, he’s come up with. He works through the night.”

  Annie hummed under her breath as she tapped at the keys. She could feel an adrenaline rush coming on. Life on the wild side. She hated to admit it, but she lived for moments like this. This was why she got up in the mornings.

  Knowing she would have to wait a few minutes for incoming texts, Annie looked at the near-empty coffeepot. Ah, caffeine and an adrenaline rush all at the same time. Life could not get any better.

  She rinsed the pot, threw away the grounds, and prepared a new pot. By the time it finished dripping, Myra would be back, and there should be a blizzard of incoming texts. She rubbed her hands in glee as she walked over to the kitchen window to look out at the knoll. There was nothing to be seen except green grass and the last little bit of the early morning fog drifting away. It was fog, wasn’t it? She leaned closer to the window to be sure. Just fog. Her disappointment was so keen, she didn’t notice Myra come up behind her. She did feel her comforting hand on her shoulder, however. She whirled around. “I was hoping . . . It was just the last of the low-lying fog.”

  “I know, Annie. I know. We had yesterday, so we have to be grateful for that. Now,” Myra said, leading Annie back to the table, “what do you have?”

/>   Annie’s eyes scanned the texts. “We are good to go. And you’re making yourself a nice piece of change. Officially, I am now, as of”—she looked at the clock—“this moment, richer than Angus Spyder. Thanks to you, my dear friend.”

  “Should you forward that information to Dennis to relay to the Associated Press?” Myra asked as she tried not to giggle at the expression on Annie’s face.

  “I just did. I am getting sooo good at this, Myra. Reminds me of my safecracking days. I didn’t think I’d ever master that, but I did, didn’t I? Now if I lose my thumbs, I am out of luck.”

  The two old friends cackled in glee at what they’d just accomplished.

  Annie headed for the second floor, leaving Myra alone with her thoughts, her cell phone, and her cup of coffee. Annie was back in thirty minutes, smelling of warm sunshine and fragrant flowers.

  “Now what?”

  “It’s like the Army, Annie. Hurry up and wait. Sooner or later, the kids will get back to us. I’m all for stirring up some trouble, but I can’t come up with anything. You got any ideas?”

  No sooner were the words out of Myra’s mouth than Annie’s cell chirped to life. She clicked it on, identified herself, then waited for the person on the other end to speak. She wiggled her eyebrows at Myra, a wicked grin stretching across her face. “Well, what can I do for you this early in the morning, Mr. Carlisle of the Associated Press?”

  Myra clapped her hand to her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh. Young Dennis worked fast. Still and all, any news on Countess de Silva was important.

  “You want me to confirm my upcoming trip to Spyder Island. My goodness, however did you come by that information? I do so try to keep a low profile.

  “Yes, after all these years, I am considering taking up residency there. At least for a little while.” Annie listened again and responded to whatever it was that she heard. “I do seem to recall hearing that no females owned homes on the island. Whoever it was who said that obviously didn’t check the records, since I’ve owned the property for over twenty years, and I can assure you that at no point during that time have I been of the male persuasion. No, of course it doesn’t bother me to live in a man’s world. I plan to change all that with my trip to the island. We women do have our place in the world now, don’t we? An island makes no difference. An island, no matter how prestigious, is still part of the world.

  “No, I don’t have a definite arrival date as yet. A woman in my position has many affairs to be taken care of before she can . . . let’s say, even make a trip to the hairdresser. Oh, yes, I travel with a full staff. I think it’s safe to say there will be more than twenty of us and, of course, my personal security detail.”

  Annie went silent as she rolled her eyes, which meant another question was in the offing. “Mr. Carlisle, I never discuss my personal finances, especially on the phone. I personally do not know anything about Angus Spyder. We . . . ah . . . do not travel in the same social circles. I know nothing of his holdings.”

  Annie winked at Myra and said in a lilting voice, “Oh, I absolutely do think my net worth exceeds that of Mr. Spyder. That’s as much as I’m willing to say. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Carlisle, I have a meeting that I must attend. It was nice speaking with you.”

  Annie broke the connection, then banged her fist on the old, scarred oak table. “How’d I do, Myra?”

  “That was just perfect. You did good. I think that will hit the financial networks at the speed of light, which tells me that Mr. Angus Spyder is probably right now checking whatever he can where you are concerned. You need to give young Dennis another raise. Oh, I forgot. It’s not like he needs one. Did he ever accept the last one?”

  Annie shook her head. “Now what do we do?”

  “Play on the computer, make plans for when we get to Spyder Island. Unless you want to go over to Nellie’s to see how she’s doing. We can take the golf cart. Or we could go into town and have a nice lunch. All the wheels are in motion, so we just have to wait it out.”

  “I just took a shower, so gardening is out. I’m not hungry, so that leaves Nellie. Let’s do it. I’m driving.”

  Maggie swiped at her forehead. “I didn’t expect it to be so hot here in Miami at this time of year. Nice campus. Bet it’s great going to school here in the winter, with all the sunshine and these gorgeous palm trees.”

  Ted parked the rental car in visitor parking, and the foursome got out.

  “This is where we separate,” Maggie said. “Dennis, you head for administration. Get what you can on Gretchen Spyder. Ted, you and Espinosa ferret out her guidance counselors and a few of her professors, and I’ll take on some of the professors myself. It’s eleven o’clock. Let’s meet back here at the car at two thirty and compare notes. We might hit it lucky first shot out of the gate and be able to take a late flight back to Washington tonight. If not, we’ll have to find a hotel and go at it again tomorrow. Any questions, advice, whatever? No! Okay, see ya later. Oh, Espinosa, take pictures of everything and everyone.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Espinosa drawled.

  Dennis sauntered off with no game plan in mind. He let his mind go back to his days in college. It seemed like a hundred years ago. He looked around, stopped a student in shorts and flip-flops with a backpack, and asked for directions. He listened intently and set off. The kid had given precise instructions. Maggie was right. It was hot as hell, and he was wearing long pants and a long-sleeved shirt.

  Inside the building, Dennis looked at the different signs and followed the directions to the place he wanted. To his surprise, no one was standing in line to be waited on, and there were two students behind the counter, one tapping on a computer and the other one copying a pile of papers. The girl doing the copying stopped and walked up to the counter.

  “How can I help you?” she asked.

  Dennis went into the spiel that he’d come up with on the fly from the moment the backpacking student had given him directions until he walked through the doors. He lowered his voice and said, “Gee, I sure hope you can help me. My cousin attended college here five years ago, and she . . . she disappeared. My aunt and uncle asked me to come here to see if the university could help us in any way. I know five years is a long time, but they’ve exhausted every other avenue. You’re our last resort. Her name is Gretchen Spyder. She was an honor student.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “We think white slavers snatched her.”

  “Oh, my goodness. I’d like to help, but you know the privacy laws and all. I can’t. Did you try the dean?”

  “They don’t care. All they care about is money. My cousin was just a name with a tuition bill. Are you here on a scholarship?”

  The young student smiled. “I wish. I have some aid, and I work two jobs. My parents help a little, but basically, I’m on my own.”

  “Do you get a break?”

  “I do,” the girl said, looking up at the clock. “And believe it or not, it starts right now. Why do you ask?”

  “Walk outside with me. I want to tell you something, but I don’t want anyone else to hear, okay?”

  “Sure. Hey, Sara. I’m taking my break now.”

  The girl at the computer waved her hand to show she’d heard.

  Outside, with students going every which way, Dennis led the girl to a bench and sat down. “Listen, I’m going to lay my cards on the table, because I don’t like to lie, and I know you’re not the type to fall for a lie. I’ll give you ten thousand dollars cash if you can get me Gretchen Spyder’s records. I need them, like, instantly. No one will ever know you gave them to me. I know you can lose your job, but if that were to happen, all you have to do is call me, and I’ll take care of it for you. I can’t be any more blunt than that. Will you help me?”

  The girl looked at him with wide blue eyes. “That wasn’t true what you said about the white slavers, was it?”

  “No. It was a lie. I can’t tell you the reason, but it’s very important. I know you don’t know me, and that’s a good thing. Some
times you have to take people on trust. Do I look trustworthy to you?” Dennis almost choked when she nodded.

  “Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. So is ten years in jail.” The girl, whose name tag said she was BETSY AMES, let her mind race. He did look trustworthy. Ten grand. A fortune. She could buy some new shorts, a few new tops, eat something besides mac and cheese or peanut butter and jelly for a change. Maybe get a manicure and a pedicure, just to see what it felt like. Maybe even get a haircut and maybe have some highlights put in. But then that would eat into the ten grand. “Make it twelve, and you have a deal. But . . . but I want your assurances that nothing bad is going to happen to Gretchen whatever you said her last name is.”

  Dennis made the sign of the cross and nodded solemnly. “You have my word, Miss Ames. How long will it take you to get all that?”

  “A few hours, depending on how busy it is. This time of the year, things are really slow, so I think by two I should have it all. Meet me at the Keg. Ask anyone, and they can tell you where it is. Find the bookstore and buy a black school backpack. Put the money in it, and I’ll put the files in mine. We meet up, have a coffee, and then you take my pack, and I take yours. Deal?”

  “You sound like you’ve done this before,” Dennis huffed.

  “No. I just watch a lot of TV because I don’t have the money to hang out at night with the girls. That’s how they do it on TV. You okay with that? By the way, what’s your name?”

  “Do you really want to know, Miss Ames?”

  “Actually, Mr. No Name, I don’t. I’ll see you at the Keg at two. If I’m not there, that means I got caught.”

  Dennis felt guilty for all of a minute. He knew if that happened, he’d man up and take the blame. “Make sure that doesn’t happen,” he snapped. “Hey, where’s the nearest bank? And the bookstore?”

  “Right off campus. You can walk to both of them from here.” Betsy Ames started rattling off the turns he needed to take before she sprinted for the door.