“Fuck you,” the agent said as he shambled to the door. He stopped when he heard the hammer slide back on Jack’s gun. “Thank you, Mr. Emery.”
Jack felt the draft from the open door as the three agents made their way into the living room, where he was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, his legs crossed, his gun pointed at all three of them.
They were cranky; Jack could tell that by their surly expressions. They also didn’t like guns being pointed at them. Like he cared. This was payback time.
“Look, tough guy, put away the gun or you’ll wish you had,” one of the three said.
“This gun?” Jack said, placing it on the coffee table next to the first agent’s gun. “Are we gonna dance now? I wish you’d given me a signal. My social skills are sadly lacking.” He whistled. A second later a blur of black invaded the living room.
“This is not pretty,” Mark said.
“Noooo, it isn’t,” Jack drawled as he popped another beer. “They don’t need their spleens,” he shouted to be heard over the Ninjas’ eeyow and aieeee cries. “Let me know when you get tired.”
“You’re really pushing it, Jack. Who the hell are those guys?” Mark asked. Moody and Carmody stood in the kitchen doorway, their jaws slack, their eyes glazed.
“They teach that crap to the cops three times a week. It’s mandatory. They’re all black belts. Kneecaps, boys, kneecaps!” Jack shouted again. “I hate that bastard in the middle. He’s the one who cracked my ribs on the President’s orders. Smash his shoulder. Don’t be gentle, either. How are those spleens coming? I thought you guys were the best of the best. Sheeittt,” Jack chortled. “You’re pussies!”
“Well, that’s one down,” Mark said in awe.
“Two down!” Jack said, clapping his hands.
“Three!” Mark said, getting carried away. He was jumping up and down with excitement. Moody and Carmody were still standing in a trance.
“You get those spleens?”
“Hell yes, and a few other things. You owe us, Emery. Big-time.”
“Yeah. All we have to do now is get them back to Kalorama and dump them in the NSA’s back yard. They won’t die, will they?”
“Do we care?” one of the Ninjas asked.
“Well, I certainly don’t. You brought the van, right?”
“Yep, it’s parked in the alley. Can we go out the door this time instead of the window? I wish I didn’t know you, Emery,” the leader of the black-clad figures said.
“Wait a minute. I have to clean out their junk.” When he was done, Jack had enough hardware to open his own store. “OK, you’re good to go.”
“Aren’t you going to help?”
“Hell no! If I’m ever asked about this little caper, I don’t want to have to lie. Thanks, Harry.”
“For you, Jack, any time.”
Twenty minutes later, Jack Emery was singing in the shower.
All’s well that ends well.
Epilogue
“You smell like wildflowers,” Jack said, nuz-zling his face in Nikki’s neck.
“Hmmm, and you smell earthy. This is nice, isn’t it?”
“The best,” Jack said, nibbling on her ear.
Nikki giggled. “I have to get up, Jack. They’re expecting me at Pinewood. Loose ends and all of that.”
“It’s been a week and not a word has filtered out,” Jack said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Nikki did the same thing. “My ear has been to the ground but nothing is coming through. I don’t know if that’s bad or good.”
“I think it’s good. Somebody would be banging on our doors if they had even half a clue we were responsible for what happened. Wanna take a shower together? I’ll wash your back if you wash mine. No fooling around, though.”
Jack groaned. “You go first. I have to be in court and can’t afford to be late. I’m appearing before Judge Easter this morning. She loves me. Well, sometimes she loves me. No, that’s a lie; she hates me most of the time.”
Nikki turned around. “No, Jack, she doesn’t hate you. She’s going through a bad time. She hasn’t had enough time to grieve over Jenny. She put too many limits on herself. She needs time, that’s all. Myra is her confidante these days. Make some coffee, OK? Maybe some toasted muffins.”
“You got it.” Jack looked down at the messy bed. It smelled like Nikki. He liked the little blue flowers on the sheets that were crisp and ironed when they’d gone to bed last night. A sigh escaped his lips as he pulled on the bottoms of his pajamas and walked out to the kitchen where he turned on the small TV to catch the early-morning news. As he spooned coffee into the wire basket he half-watched and listened to the anchor going on about private jets and the people who could afford to fly in them.
Jack, his eyes on the TV now, watched as a woman wrapped in some kind of shawl, wearing a huge straw hat and sunglasses, walked carefully down the steps to the tarmac. To the right he could see a small limousine. A reporter, one of many, rushed forward.
“Mrs. Woodley, do you care to comment?”
“Nik!” Jack bellowed at the top of his lungs.
Nikki came running through, wrapped in a cotton-candy-pink towel. She looked at the TV. “It’s the wife!”
“I came as soon as I heard about the home invasion. I was vacationing in the islands when I heard about…it,” the woman on the television said.
“They say it’s touch and go with the National Security Advisor. Has the government told you anything different, Mrs. Woodley?”
Paula Woodley tilted the huge sun hat farther back on her head and removed her sunglasses. She smiled from ear to ear. “Only that what my husband needs now is my loving care, which I intend to give him twenty-four hours a day. My husband’s doctors tell me his recovery will be long and painful. The President has assured me that Karl’s position as National Security Advisor will be there for him when and if he’s able to return to work.”
Another reporter stepped forward. “How do you feel about the lack of arrest in regard to the home invasion?”
“I don’t think I understand the question. I thought when there was a home invasion the people doing the invading robbed you. It’s my understanding that nothing was taken from the house; none of my mother’s antiques, none of my jewelry and none of the electronics. I think someone had a vendetta against my husband. Possibly terrorists. Nothing else makes sense.”
A third reporter shoved a microphone in Paula’s face. “It’s been said that a group of women broke almost every bone in your husband’s body. They say he’s going to be crippled for life. How does that make you feel, Mrs. Woodley?”
Paula Woodley looked straight into the camera. “Numb. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to my husband. He needs me.”
The first reporter leaned forward. “Mrs. Woodley, what’s the first thing you’re going to say to your husband?”
Paula Woodley took a few seconds to digest the question. Then she smiled from ear to ear. “You don’t really want to know, do you?”
Nikki burst out laughing, gasping for breath. “Tell me that isn’t divine justice. Oh, revenge is so sweet!”
“Any regrets, Nik?” Jack asked curiously.
“Mrs. Woodley would have died if Maddie hadn’t gotten to her in time, Jack. If you’re asking me if my conscience bothers me, the answer is no. Oh, yes, we got her safely away. You did notice it was her decision to come back? He deserved what he got. Any man who beats a woman because he’s bigger, stronger, tougher deserves a taste of his own medicine. I won’t lose any sleep over it and Paula Woodley is going to sleep like a baby from here on in. We gave her back her life.”
The muffins in the toaster popped up. Jack spread the butter, Nikki spread the jam.
“What if he had died?”
Nikki bit into the muffin. “He didn’t. Don’t go there, darling Jack.”
“OK!” Jack ripped at the cotton-candy-pink towel. Nikki squealed as she ran from the room, up the stairs, down the hall to her bedroom where she dived
into the bed, her arms held out.
“Come to Mama, you sweet little daredevil!”
Jack was stepping out of the elevator in the courthouse when Ted Robinson appeared out of nowhere. It was four thirty in the afternoon.
“Let’s grab a beer. I want to run something by you before I turn it in to my boss.”
Jack didn’t break his stride. “You buying?”
“Hell, yes, I’m buying. I’ll even spring for a steak.”
“You get a raise or something? I never turn down a freebie. Let’s go.”
Secure in a back booth five blocks from the courthouse, their orders given to the waitress, Ted pulled out two pieces of paper and slid them across the table. “I can’t submit this without a source, Jack. You know the rules. You also know a good reporter — and I’m a damn good reporter — will never divulge his sources. I’ll go to jail first.”
Jack read all the way to the end of the two sheets of paper that would translate to a column and a half in the Post. He could feel his stomach muscles clench into a knot as he raised his eyes to meet Ted’s. “OK, I’m your source.”
“Everything I wrote is true then?”
“Yes.”
“And, you know this…how?”
“I was there. I didn’t personally lift a finger. But I made it happen.”
“Did you really send those fucking shields to the President by special messenger and sign the NSA’s name to the package?”
Jack squirmed in his chair. “Now, I did do that.”
Ted reached into his backpack and withdrew several photographs and another letter. “You sent me these, too?”
“I did that, too. You are a little slow on the up-take sometimes, Ted.”
“I had a friend hack into the hospital records. He couldn’t find anything about those three guys, but then another friend knows one of the surgeons at GW and he said the Secret Service brought in three men who needed emergency surgery. All three needed their spleens removed. They had a bunch of other injuries. How amazing is that?”
“Pretty damn amazing, if you ask me. You just buying one beer or can I order another?”
“You can drink up the whole goddamn bar and I’ll go into hock paying for it. Thanks, Jack.”
“Ah shucks, it was nothing. Hey, I got something for you.” Jack opened his briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope. He handed it over, along with a picture of two gold shields. “The one in the envelope belongs to the guy who ruptured your spleen. I thought you might want that sucker.”
Ted upended the envelope. The gold shield fell out. “Son of a bitch!”
Jack started to laugh and couldn’t stop. When he had finally calmed down, Ted wiped his own eyes. “Since we’re in such a good mood, is it true that a bunch of women took down the NSA?”
Jack sobered instantly. “I’m officially off duty as your source now. Beats me. All I saw was those jocks who thought they could take us on. It’s the truth, Ted. I did not see any women that night. Oh, boy, here’s our steak.”
“You’re a jerk, Jack.”
“Takes one to know one. We should do this more often.”
The November wind howled outside the farmhouse, reminding the residents that winter was on the way. A light snow was falling as the ladies of Pinewood made their way to the war room. Myra carried two bottles of Cristal champagne, and Charles carried the crystal flutes on a magnificent heirloom silver tray. Kathryn carried several bags of Cape Cod white Cheddar popcorn.
Myra took charge of the meeting while Charles went to his workstation to turn on his computers and the large plasma monitors. Within seconds the women were surrounded by Lady Justice. Myra looked around the table. Oh, how she adored these feisty, talented young women. “Was justice served?”
“Yes,” was the resounding response.
“Do we have any loose ends? Is there anything out there that will come back to haunt us?”
“No,” the women answered as one.
“Good. With the holidays fast approaching, I suggest we adjourn until the new year, when we will begin our new mission. It’s time, though, to pick whose mission will be next. I’ll do the honors this time.” Myra reached into the shoe box that was sitting in the center of the table. She unfolded the small piece of paper and read off the name. “Isabelle.”
The others cheered.
“It’s time to celebrate.” Myra yanked at the cork on the champagne bottle and then poured liberally. Charles joined them with a handful of printouts under his arm. He accepted his flute of champagne and held it aloft.
“To Lady Justice and to the ladies of Pinewood!” Charles said.
Now it was time to socialize. Kathryn opened the popcorn bags.
“Any news on the Barringtons, Charles?” Nikki asked.
“No, Nikki, I’m sorry. Maddie tells us Allison Banks is not suing you, your partners or the firm.”
Nikki smiled. “No, she isn’t. We had a…little talk. Actually, she’s relocating. And, in case you don’t know this, Judge Krackhoff is stepping down from the bench. I heard that just yesterday.”
Charles smiled. “That’s going to be a tremendous help in locating the Barringtons. I’ll get right on that. You must be patient, Nikki.”
“I am. We also had two new clients yesterday. Both referrals from Judge Easter. We’ll make our way out of the misery Allison caused us.”
“Charles, have you spoken to Mrs. Woodley since her return?” Yoko asked quietly.
“As a matter of fact, I did, last night when she returned home after spending some time at the hospital. She asked me to convey her thanks for all you did. She told me her husband started to scream when she walked into his hospital room. No mean feat, you understand, since his jaw is wired shut. She said she spent an hour with him, telling him how it was going to be when he returned home from the hospital. The lady was in quite good spirits.”
“I’ll drink to that!” Kathryn said. The others raised their glasses. Myra refilled them from a second bottle of Cristal.
Charles took that moment to hand out copies of an article written by Ted Robinson that had appeared in the morning Post. The women read the article, their eyes full of questions.
“Is this true?” Alexis asked.
“The Post is not known for printing falsehoods. Obviously the reporter had a very reliable source. It will be interesting to see how the White House responds to the article. What I find incredibly interesting is that the three agents found in the National Security Advisor’s backyard had to have their spleens removed. The reporter who wrote this story had his spleen removed many weeks ago. Before any of you can ask, the man has an airtight alibi; he was in a movie theater where hundreds of people saw him. Actually, I think he was on a…ah…date.”
Kathryn pointed a finger at a line in the article where it said only two of the special shields had been returned to the White House. “Where’s the third one?”
“Excellent question. We’ll probably never know, nor do I think we want to know,” Charles said, walking back to his position behind his bank of computers.
The women made small talk as Myra gathered up the glasses and the champagne bottles.
“What are you all going to be doing for the next few weeks, aside from your jobs?” Alexis asked.
“I’m taking a vacation,” Kathryn said. “The first one since Alan died. I…I have to go somewhere.”
The others agreed they all had somewhere they’d like to go, too.
“Perhaps this will help you all make up your minds,” Charles said as he stepped down from his perch above them. “Don’t think you’re fooling me for a moment. Here!” he said, handing out five airline tickets to Switzerland. “You’ll be going alone. Myra and I will go over in the spring. You’d better get busy, your flight leaves in five hours. A car service will pick you up. I wrote the time on the folder. Myra and I will happily dog-sit. Have a good trip, ladies. You’ve earned it.”
The women scattered to make their phone calls and to pack.
Kathryn was the last to leave the kitchen. She walked over to the windowsill to look at Julia’s plant. It was thriving, the leaves emerald green and glossy despite everything it had been through. She carried it over to the back door and set it down on the floor so she wouldn’t forget it.
It didn’t look like a hospital or even a private clinic. It looked like a high-end Swiss chalet in a fancy resort. It looked cozy, warm and inviting. The women trooped through the massive front door into a lobby that was colorful and comfortable with a fireplace massive enough for a dozen people to stand in. A fire of bonfire proportions blazed.
A man in a white coat approached, his arms extended. “I’ve been expecting you. Come, come, I’ll show you around. I’m Dr. Stuben. Please, call me Henry. Julia did.”
Kathryn took the lead, the plant in a little canvas book bag.
He was tall and fatherly-looking, with gray hair, rosy cheeks and a gentle manner. “First, I’d like to show you where Julia spent her time while she was here. She loved her little suite. Ah, here we are. None of her things are here because we needed the room. I personally packed up all of her possessions. She said you would come here but she wasn’t sure when that would be. She loved you all very much. Even on her bad days she would talk about you all. She said you were the sisters she never had. Is that the plant she talked about so much?”
Kathryn didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded and handed over the little canvas bag.
“We have a wonderful atrium here. I would like to personally plant it myself, if that’s all right with you. All of our plants have names with little markers. We’ll call this one “the Julia.” She said you would be bringing it and even picked out the spot in the atrium. She asked me to ask you all not to be sad and not to cry. She said you all need to get on with it. I’m going to leave you alone for now. When you’re ready, meet me back in the lobby and I’ll give you a tour of the facility. Julia was happy here. That’s what I want you to remember.”
When the door closed behind the doctor, the women started to cry.
4. The Jury Page 20
