3. Vendetta

by Fern Michaels

  “It’s fairly simple. I think it will work and give us a little time to whisk Mr. Chai away from these premises and Julia back to Switzerland. You will meet Jack, at which point you will comment that he looks like he’s coming down with a bug of some sort. The power of suggestion. I’m going to give you a pill to drop in his coffee. How you will do that is entirely up to you.” At Nikki’s look of concern Charles hastened to add, “All it will do, Nikki, is to make him sweat, give him chills and a terrible, terrible headache. He’ll think he’s coming down with the flu. He’ll want to sleep within ten minutes. You will be solicitous and offer to drive him home. Jack will have no other recourse but to accept your offer. However, you won’t take him home, you’ll take him to Marie Lewellen’s house. Isabelle and Alexis, wearing minimal disguise, will go to Jack’s apartment where, once inside, they will render his roommate, Mark Lane, useless and then bring him to Marie Lewellen’s house to join Jack. Any questions so far?”

  Nikki looked around the table. The others were nodding their heads in approval.

  “Kathryn, also in disguise, will play the part of a nurse and will stay with the two of them until it is safe for her to return to Pinewood. They will be so groggy and disoriented they won’t have any clear memories of what transpired when they recover. No harm will come to either man. After Kathryn leaves, they will recover with nothing worse than a hangover for their ordeal.”

  Nikki groaned. She looked doubtful and voiced her concern. “Charles, how do you think I’m going to drop something in Jack’s coffee without him seeing me do it? I know him. He’ll be expecting something like that. I want you all to stop thinking he’s a fool. He isn’t. Right now he’s angry. There are no rules when Jack gets angry. I just want you to know that.”

  “Jack will get a call from Mark. Of course it won’t be Mark. He will have to walk toward the phone. That’s when his back will be to you. That’s when you drop the pill in his coffee. There will be static on the phone when he picks it up. He’ll blame it on the storm. A lot of wires are down all over the area. It’s the easiest and safest scenario I could come up with. I think it will work.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” Nikki said.

  “Plan B, dear. You don’t want to know,” Myra said cheerfully. “If I were you, I’d think about going back upstairs to put on some makeup.”

  “You would, huh? OK, Myra, I can take a hint.”

  The table cleared instantly as Alexis led the other girls to her room to work her magic. Nikki bounded up the back stairway and headed for her room.

  Mark Lane looked at Jack as he shrugged into his down jacket. “You look like shit, Jack. Are you feeling all right?”

  “I feel like shit, too. I think I’m coming down with a cold. My head is all stuffed up and I didn’t sleep at all last night. That coffee I drank didn’t help much either. Did you see my wool hat?”

  “Yeah, Jack, I did see it. It’s hanging out of your pocket. Are you sure it isn’t just a case of the jitters at being up close and personal with Nikki again?”

  “Yeah, that too. A double whammy. Look, I’ll see you when I see you. If you come up with anything on that computer of yours in regard to that little sojourn to China, call me at Mulligan’s. I need all the ammunition I can get to show Nik I’m not just fooling around.”

  “Good luck, Jack.”

  Jack offered up a sickly grin. “Where you been, Mark? Luck’s my middle name.”

  A blast of arctic air slammed against Jack when he opened the lobby door of his apartment building. He did a double take when he saw his car stuck behind a snow bank. “Well, shit!” He stomped his way back upstairs and opened the apartment door. “We never shoveled out our cars, Mark! I’ll have to call a cab.”

  “Oh, yeah, we were going to do that, weren’t we? Sorry, buddy. You need taxi fare?”

  Jack showed him his middle finger as he dialed the cab company. He marched back to the lobby again to wait for the cab. He realized then he felt worse than shit. He felt half-dead. He touched his forehead the way his mother used to do when he was a little boy to see if he had a fever. His brow felt cool to his touch. He barreled out the door when he saw the blue and white taxi glide to the curb. He had to stomp through the piled-up snow to get into the cab. Snow immediately oozed down into his shoes. Shit! Cold wet feet meant he was really going to get sick.

  Jack leaned back against the cracked leather seat and closed his eyes. He remembered two years ago when he’d gotten sick and Nikki had played nurse. She’d made him hot buttered rum drinks and chicken soup and nursed him around the clock. In the whole of his life he’d never felt so loved, so cared for. Somehow she’d convinced a doctor to make a house call, something unheard of in the District. She’d gone to the drugstore, picked up his prescriptions, set the timer on the stove to remind her to give him his medicine at precisely the right time. She’d even brought him fresh flowers to put on his nightstand. He wondered now if he would have died without her care.

  And now he was preparing to repay that love and devotion by sending her and her friends to jail. There was something wrong with this picture.

  “Hey, buddy, this is Mulligan’s. You awake back there? That’ll be seven fifty.”

  Any other time, Jack would have paid and given the driver a dollar tip. Today, he handed him a ten-dollar bill and said, “Keep the change.” He hopped out of the cab and again had to step over a pile of snow. He slipped and went into the soft snow up to his knees. Cursing under his breath, he did his best to shake off the snow before he entered the steamy café.

  Mulligan’s was a small place with just nine tables with checkered table cloths and captain’s chairs. The bar area was a lot of mahogany and brass with matching bar stools. At night, Mulligan’s rocked, but the breakfast crowd were mostly older business types who were always in a hurry. They did a tremendous take-out business at this time of day. Jack was happy to see Nikki seated at a table across the room. A premium table. Pretty girls always got the best tables. He wished this was a date, but all the wishing in the world wasn’t going to change what was happening.

  “Hi, Nik. How’s it going?”

  “Hello, Jack. It’s going. You know the law, busy, busy, busy. Are you all right? You look…peaked. Actually, Jack, you look sick.”

  He did feel sick. Physically sick and sick at heart. “Is that concern I hear in your voice, Ms. Quinn?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice as he shed his down jacket, wishing he could take off his wet shoes and socks.

  “Believe it or not, Jack, yes, it is concern. Everyone I’ve come in contact with lately seems to have something ’flu-like. You need to take care of yourself. Sitting up in trees in the cold is not conducive to good health. Do you have a fever?”

  “Cut the crap, Nik. Why the sudden interest in my health? So what if I’m coming down with a bug. What’s it to you?”

  “I’m sorry I asked. Let’s cut to the chase here so you can go home and take care of yourself. I think you said you had me and my friends dead to rights or something like that. You’re planning on turning us in to someone for something. How’m I doing so far? You have pictures of guests coming and going at Pinewood. What do you want from me, Jack?”

  “The truth.”

  Jack looked up at the waitress who was holding a Pyrex coffee pot with an orange band around the rim. He shook his head. “I don’t want decaffeinated, I want regular coffee and a bagel with cream cheese.”

  “What truth, Jack? Your truth or my truth?” Nikki steeled herself to try to look relaxed while an army of worms tore at her stomach.

  “Why did you go to China?”

  “What business is that of yours? I can go anywhere I want. The last time I looked, I was of age. That means I do not have to answer to anyone. If you absolutely have to have an answer, I went to an engagement party. If you absolutely need to know the names of the engaged couple, I will be happy to email them to you. I’ll even scan the invitation and send it along, too. Next question?”

  Jack shifted in
his chair. He could feel his feet sloshing inside his shoes. He felt cold and miserable. “Do that. My next question is, who’s the old guy you brought back with you? This guy,” he said, tossing a photo on the table.

  Nikki picked up the photo and looked at it carefully. She handed it back to Jack and said, “I don’t really know who he is. An old friend of Charles. He was sick. How is that any of your business?”

  “Where is he now? I’m making it my business.”

  “I don’t know, Jack. It’s none of my business. But I’m going to take a wild guess here and say he was reunited with family members. For all I know he could be a terrorist intent on blowing us all up. That means I don’t have a clue. Next question.”

  “The chick with the red bag. I know all about her. What does she tote that bag around for? I have a dossier on her.”

  “Then you know Alexis Thorne is a client and she’s off limits. Attorney–client privilege.”

  “C’mon, c’mon, she knows how to change people’s appearances. She went with you to China and somehow you snatched John Chai. She doctored him up and you guys have him at Pinewood. Attorney–client privilege my ass.”

  Nikki burst out laughing. She hoped her laughter didn’t sound as forced as it felt. Damn, when was Jack going to get that phone call? “Next question.”

  “What happened to Julia Webster? She used to be a regular visitor to Pinewood. I think the old lady, this woman,” Jack said, handing a second picture across the table, “is Dr. Julia Webster. I think she was the cowgirl, too.”

  Nikki laughed again. She heard the phone next to the cash register ring. Thank God. A waitress approached the seated area.

  “Is there a Jack Emery here?”

  Jack stood up. “I’m Jack Emery.”

  “Phone call, sir. You can take it by the register.”

  Jack looked at Nikki and shrugged. She shrugged in return. The minute Jack turned his back, she reached across the table for a sugar packet and then dropped the pill in her hand into Jack’s cup. She signaled the waitress for a refill. While the waitress was filling Jack’s cup, Nikki picked up half the bagel and bit down. Jack returned to the table, a frown on his face. “Damn phones aren’t working properly. My cell isn’t working, either. Can I borrow yours?” He slurped at his coffee while Nikki dug around inside her purse for her cellphone and handed it over.

  “I think I forgot to charge it. You might have a minute or so.”

  Jack clicked it on. He looked disgusted. “It’s as dead as mine.” He took another deep swig of coffee.

  “Maybe one of the phone booths out on the street will work. Are we finished here, Jack? Let’s put all your cockamamie notions to rest once and for all. You have to stay out of my life, and Myra’s too. Do you hear me, Jack?”

  “Of course I hear you. I always listen to everything you say. You didn’t answer my question about Julia Webster.”

  “Julia is a client, too. It’s the darnedest thing, Jack. She disappeared without so much as a goodbye. She did pay her bill before she left. If you want my opinion, I think she couldn’t take the embarrassment of her philandering husband so she just packed up and left. I read the papers just like you do, Jack. Are you sure you’re all right?” Nikki asked, leaning across the table to peer closer at Jack. “You don’t look so good.”

  Jack reached for a paper napkin and wiped at his face. The napkin came away drenched. “I guess I am coming down with something. Will you ask the manager if he can call me a cab?”

  “I thought you said the phone wasn’t working. Did you come here by cab?”

  “Yeah, we…we kind of forgot to shovel out our cars.”

  “I can drive you home, Jack. Are you still in the same apartment, or did you move?”

  “I moved in with Mark. Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I felt this bad…It’s like that time you took care of me. You know what, I’ll take that ride if you don’t mind.”

  Nikki put on her jacket and zipped it up. She waited and watched as Jack struggled to fit his arms into his bulky jacket. In the end, she had to help him.

  “Maybe I should take you to the hospital, Jack. I don’t mind, if that’s what you want me to do. It’s your decision.”

  “Damn, I can hardly stand up. You have to help me, Nik. No hospital.”

  Nikki dropped some bills on the table before she put her arm around his shoulders. She felt light-headed. He smelled so good, felt so…comforting. “Hang on to me, Jack. I’m parked right in front.”

  “I feel like a wuss, leaning on you like this.”

  “It’s OK, Jack, you’re sick. When you’re sick, all the rules go out the window.”

  “Do you still love me, Nik?”

  “OK, Jack, here’s the car. Stretch out on the back seat. I’ll have you home in bed before you know it.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Nik.”

  “I know.”

  Eighteen

  Eight blocks away from Mulligan’s Café, Alexis Thorne and Isabelle Flanders approached Mark Lane’s apartment. Walking into the biting wind, they did their best to huddle inside their ratty, threadbare denim jackets. The minute they entered the spartan lobby, Alexis removed her wool cap to reveal a headful of phony dreadlocks. She looked dirty and unkempt, as did Isabelle. They looked like street people. Alexis opened her mouth to reveal a gap between her beautiful white teeth. She now looked snaggletoothed, nothing like her normal self. She’d worked a full twenty minutes to change the shape of her mouth. The others had been more than a little impressed.

  “OK, where’s the damn paper?” she hissed. “Good thing this isn’t a doorman building or we’d never be admitted. It’s hard to believe we look as bad as we do. I’m freezing my butt off here; let’s get this show on the road. They live on the third floor so let’s take the stairs. No sense in inviting trouble by taking the elevator.”

  “Twenty-four C is their apartment,” Isabelle said. “You do your thing, Alexis. I have the syringe. Julia said to shove it through his clothes and just aim for the general area of his ass. I’d like to know how we’re going to get him to turn around. You look so skeevy, the guy isn’t going to take his eyes off you even for a second.”

  “Look, Isabelle, just jab him wherever you can, because you’re right, he’s not going to want to give us the time of day. At best we’ll have just a few minutes, if that. OK, here we are. Stay to the side so he can’t see you through the peephole.”

  Holding a folded sheet of blank paper in her hand, Alexis stepped up to the door and rapped sharply before she leaped backward to do a jittery dance, her head lolling from side to side to some unheard music. She squinted and knew an eyeball was appraising her. She jiggled some more as she waved the folded paper this way and that. When the door opened, the chain intact, she said in her best Jamaican drawl, “Hey, mon, Jack sez to bring this over and you’d give me an Andrew Jackson. You got Jackson, mon? Show me. C’mon, mon, I’m freezing out here. Don’t you rich people believe in heat?” Alexis grinned, her artwork fully displayed.

  “Jack who?” Mark said, eyeing Alexis suspiciously.

  “Jack, thas all he sez, mon. Sez give to you, you give me twenny dollar. Show me Mista Jackson, mon, or I is leavin’ here right now, mon. Sheattt! I knew the mon was puttin’ me on.” Alexis whirled around, the loose sole of one of her sneakers flapping on the tile floor as she headed for the stairs.

  Isabelle heard the sound of the chain sliding back. She flattened herself against the wall as the door opened wider, the syringe in her hand ready to find its mark. “Wait a minute,” Mark called from the doorway. “Where was Jack when he gave you whatever you have in your hand?”

  Alexis kept going but called over her shoulder. “Over by Mulligan’s.”

  “OK, OK, here’s twenty bucks. Hand it over.”

  Alexis stopped and turned around. “You want it, mon, you come and git it. After you give me my twenny dollar.”

  Jack stepped through the doorway and took two steps forward before Isabe
lle jabbed the hypodermic syringe through his sweat pants.

  “Son of a —” Isabelle caught him and, with Alexis’s help, got him back into the apartment.

  “He’s already in la-la land so let’s go through his stuff. We should take his computer and whatever files we can find. If you watch him, I’ll take the stuff to my car. We can make this look like a real burglary if we try. Would you look at this place! These guys are slobs. Chinese cartons, pizza boxes, beer bottles. Don’t guys know how to cook? Never mind. Watch him, Isabelle. If he moves, give him a good swat. That must be his jacket over there by the door. You’ll have to put it on him.”

  Six trips later, Alexis had both Mark’s and Jack’s computers and printers, their DVD player and two televisions locked in the back of Myra’s Lincoln Navigator. She spent another fifteen minutes emptying out drawers, throwing cushions and lamps around to make it look more like a break-in.

  “Take their jewelry if they have any,” Isabelle called out as she huffed and puffed, struggling to fit Mark’s arms into his jacket.

  Alexis raced through the apartment to the two bedrooms. She found two small leather cases with tie pins, cufflinks and watches. She stuck both of them into her baggy pockets. She poked her head into the bathroom, eyed the Water Pik massager and the two electric shavers. She pulled the plastic liner out of the wastebasket and dumped them into it.

  “OK, let’s go. I’m leaving the microwave. Too bulky to carry. He’s not totally out, is he?” she asked, winded from her exertion.

  “I don’t know, Alexis. How are we going to get him down two flights of stairs? Maybe we should take him in the elevator. There doesn’t seem to be much activity in this building. We can pretend he’s drunk. Yeah, let’s do the elevator. Oh, damn, wait a minute. Didn’t this guy have a heart attack or something a while ago? I think Nikki said that. See if he has any medicine. If he does, bring it. I’ll get the elevator.”