"Shut the hell up, Thomas," Bert said as he struggled to get into the saddle. "You tell this to anyone, and your ass is grass. You hear me?"
"My lip is zipped, boss." The weary agent turned to head across the pavilion that would lead him inside the Hoover Building. He couldn't resist a parting comment. "Happy trails, boss."
Bert offered up a single-digit salute as he tried to adjust to his precarious seat. Delilah waited a moment, then moved off. "C'mon, old girl, you can do better than two miles an hour, can't you? You keep this up, we won't get there till the spring thaw." Delilah ignored him as she headed for the center of the road. "Shit!"
Bert yanked off his leather gloves and pulled out all three of his cell phones. The FBI phone was still vibrating like crazy. He ignored it as he punched in Kathryn's number and waited. A short kitchy-koo conversation followed, with Kathryn ending the conversation with, "We're ready and waiting!" Bert did his best to hunker into his heavy down jacket as the biting winds whipped at him. Delilah snorted happily, plumes of mist sailing upward from her nostrils.
The next call was to Jack Emery. He listened to Jack's tirade and had only one comment. "You guys have been changing shitty diapers? Is that what you're telling me? Damn, sorry I missed all that fun. What? Messy poo poo! That means a shitty diaper, right?" Bert grinned as he listened to Jack's continuing report. He interrupted when he couldn't take any more baby news. "I'll get there whenever this damn horse decides to get me there. She has only one speed, and there's no way to crank her into second gear.
"By the way, I just spoke to Kathryn. She said everything has been taken care of, and they're ready and waiting for us to pick them up for the trip to the White House for that goddamn party no one had the good sense to cancel. I had a run-in a little while ago with Paterno, the head of the White House Secret Service detail, and I hung up on him. The guy is a real prick, so be warned."
Bert listened again and replied, "I thought you knew Charles made it here. He even has the dogs with him. Old Home Week, Jack! Who's there? Who are you talking to?"
"A truckful of people. I mean a truck," replied Jack. "I think they're the real adoptive parents and some nurses that couldn't get here earlier. I gotta go, Bert. I'll see you when you get here."
Bert settled himself deeper in the saddle and let Delilah take her time. Sometimes it simply didn't pay to spin your wheels. "Attagirl, Delilah. As long as you get me there before midnight, I'll be a happy camper." Delilah snorted, and it seemed to Bert she was moving a tad faster. What had he said to create this change? "Ah, attagirl, Delilah. Boy, you can really strut your stuff here on this open road. Attagirl!" Damn, the old girl was actually working herself up to a trot. "Wheeee!" Bert shouted.
While Bert and Delilah made their way to Georgetown, Jack Emery was ushering in a gaggle of people, who immediately stampeded their way to the rows of babies, all of whom were sleeping peacefully.
Harry whistled, and the gaggle came to a dead stop. "Back up, ladies and gentlemen. Now, will the nurses step forward so we can do this trade-off in a nice, orderly manner? There are things you all need to know about these babies, even though they...have been out of your arms and homes for only a little while. Everyone is going to get their baby, so just be patient." He jerked his head in Espinosa's direction to indicate he should start his photography session, but Espinosa was already doing it.
"That sounded real good, Harry," Jack remarked. "All those parents listened to you like you were a doctor explaining a medical condition. I was impressed, and so were they."
Harry looked at his buddy suspiciously to see if Jack was making fun of him. He decided Jack was sincere, so he accepted the flattery he was heaping on him with good grace.
"What time is it?" Ted asked, a worried look on his face. "Maggie said she would personally kill us if we're late to the White House. Are you listening to me, Jack?"
"I am, but I have to pay attention to what's going on here, too. All we need is one baby going someplace it isn't supposed to go, and we might as well head to Siberia. We have to square this away. In case you forgot, these kids are what this is all about. That Christmas party at the White House is just the frosting on the cake."
"So what's the game plan, then, Jack?" asked Ted.
Jack was mesmerized by how Ted could talk, watch what was going on, and still text a message. "The minute each set of parents has its baby and Espinosa takes his picture, then a group shot, we're outta here. Those nurses remind me of my old grade-school teachers, who walked around with a ruler to smack the crap out of you if you moved a muscle. That means they are more than capable."
"Navarro is here, Jack," Harry hissed. "He's on a horse! Look! His feet almost touch the ground. How silly is that?"
"That's how you're going to look when you get on the horse that is assigned to you, Harry."
"Come on, Espinosa. How many shots you got left?" Ted bellowed.
"Just the group shot," Espinosa bellowed back, loud enough that the babies all started howling in unison.
Harry shook his head in disgust as he made his way to the one he called the bad burper. "Listen, ma'am, you have to put the baby like this, on your shoulder." He gave a quick demonstration, and even though the baby hadn't eaten, it burped. Harry looked so pleased, Jack patted him on the back.
"We're good to go. No one is going to leave with the babies until Snowden's men get here to explain things to these nice people. Everyone understands the rules, so that means we're free to head off into the sunset, but since there is no sunset, we're heading off to the horse barn to attach those four-legged creatures to the sleigh, which in turn will take us to the Post apartment, where we will be picking up...a few others in our quest to make the children of this great metropolis happy and contented."
"I really hate you, Jack," Harry said, slamming his way out the front door. The phalanx of horseflesh that greeted him made him falter.
"Stifle those feelings, Harry. Your trusty steed awaits. You want a boost?"
Jack picked himself up out of the snow to see Harry sitting tall in the saddle. "Eat me, Jack!"
Jack dusted himself off and climbed on his horse, whose name was Scarlet, according to Bert, whose apparent sincerity was matched only by his total ignorance about horses he had just seen for the first time in his life. "Well, Scarlet, it's just you and me in this white wilderness."
"What's my horse's name?" Harry asked with a catch in his voice.
"Cleopatra," Bert said with a straight face. "Ted, your horse's name is Aphrodite, and, Espinosa, your horse is named Delicious. I don't know the names of the other three that Snowden's men are riding. I have to go first because Delilah will travel only in the middle of the road. She's not too good about making lefts and rights, but we managed to get here."
In spite of himself, Jack laughed as he managed to get his horse behind Bert and his steed. "You getting all of this for our memory sampler?" he yelled to Espinosa.
"In living color!" was the response.
Fifteen minutes into their journey even Harry was perturbed. "Can't we go any faster? We're going to be late arriving at the White House if we don't pick up some speed."
Bert huffed and puffed. "You hear that, Delilah. They want speed. Let's give them some speed. Attagirl, attagirl, attagirl!" Delilah galloped down the road, Bert hanging on for dear life.
Jack almost swallowed his tongue as his horse kicked up her feet to follow suit. He took one quick glance at Harry, whose eyes were so glazed, he thought he was going to pass out. "Smile for Yoko, Harry!"
Harry came back to the land of the living with a squawk that could be heard a mile away.
"Hey, Harry," Jack said, peering at Harry's horse, "I think your horse is peeing. And guess what? If that horse's name is Cleopatra, then next year I'm going to volunteer to be a surrogate mother. And Bert's going to be Mother of the Year."
At that moment, Bert, unaware that his cover had been blown, bellowed, "Everybody slow down. We're going to be making a left turn." All the hors
es but Bert's turned left. "She can't back up. We have to turn around."
"And that expert on horse names and gender runs the FBI!" Harry said as he sailed down the street like he was headed to the O.K. Corral, with his six-guns at the ready.
And then they were at the horse barn, the horses snorting in rhythm as the huge doors leading into the barn were rolled open. Snowden's men burst out through the opening like they were shot from cannons. With scarcely any hesitation, they had the horses tethered and hooked to the sleigh. Sleigh bells jingled joyously.
"Which one is the lead horse?" Bert asked anxiously. "It can't be Delilah. She just goes straight. I don't know how she'll do in a group setting."
"And you would be?" one of Snowden's men asked.
"Him! He's the director of the fucking FBI, and the world's leading expert on horses," Harry said, pride ringing in his voice. The stupid look on the man's face was all the reward Harry needed or wanted.
"I'm going to make sure you get audited, you crazy Asian," Bert snarled.
"Take your best shot, Mr. Director. Lizzie made sure I'm clean as a whistle. Get your ass in this sleigh. We're running late."
"You getting all this, Espinosa?"
"Like I said, in living color."
It was 11:20 when the sleigh, driven by Bert Navarro, slid to a stop in front of the Post apartment building. Sleigh bells jangled merrily as the occupants of the sleigh climbed out and un-hooked the first four horses, allowing the remaining four to pull the sleigh with Santa, his elves, and Ted Robinson.
Everyone stood pop-eyed as Charles Martin, aka Santa Claus, climbed into the sleigh. He looked more like Santa than Santa himself. Next to him was Myra Rutledge, aka Mrs. Santa Claus. Six elves dressed in red and green costumes climbed in alongside the two most important guests. As the sleigh bells jangled, the women and Santa kept up a running conversation that consisted of Bert was in charge, they were cleared to enter the White House grounds nearest the West Wing, where the sleigh would drive across the lawn as the children clustered around for a few merry ho-ho-ho's before the party departed the sleigh for the party room, where treats and presents would be handed out.
"That's the plan," Nikki said. "The White House and the Secret Service think Baron Bell is the Santa and Mrs. Santa is his office secretary. That was the last thing we had Bell do before we left the apartment. Annie held a gun to his head, and he did it without a peep. We should be good to go. Everyone cross their fingers that we pull this off. How'd it go with the babies?" she yelled to Ted.
"Just fine," Ted yelled back. "How long ago did Maggie leave?"
"About ten minutes before we did. Espinosa is uploading the pictures as we speak, and Maggie is going to do her best to get out a special edition for early morning tomorrow."
"What about Bell and his friends?" Ted shouted as the horses galloped down the middle of the road.
"Snowden's people were waiting in the lobby when we left. They'll use the city sanitation truck Bert had his people leave at the curb. They're history. Don't give them another thought," Yoko said, her eyes on her beloved, who she thought belonged on a horse.
She had such a dreamy look on her face, Isabelle gave her a swat.
"He looks like John Wayne," Yoko gushed.
Isabelle rolled her eyes, then burst out laughing. "Don't ever lose your imagination, honey."
Up ahead, Espinosa looked over at Bert. "Shouldn't you get there before us? We're supposed to be crowd control. What are you supposed to be?"
"The guy who shoves his foot up Paterno's ass when we get there. He's the guy in charge of the Secret Service at the White House, and we hate each other's guts. He's going to want to do an inspection of the sleigh, card everyone, so to speak, then talk into his sleeve for an hour before he pronounces us fit to enter the sacred grounds of the White House."
"We're doomed then," Espinosa said.
"Nah, we got the good guys on our side. I called Lizzie, who called the president, and Connor will be waiting for us. Once in a while I get it right, Espinosa."
Espinosa nodded sagely. "Hey, you want me to take a picture of that horse, the one that can't do rights and lefts?"
"Yeah. Frame it and give it to me for Christmas." Bert guffawed.
"The White House is coming up!" Jack shouted. "Right turn, Ted! Whoa. I said right turn. Oh, shit, Delilah is leading. Right turn, Ted!"
"I'm trying!" Ted yelled. "Okay, got it. Attagirl, Delilah!"
Delilah, hearing her favorite words, picked up her feet and galloped down the driveway, past the cordon of Secret Service agents, her partners joining in the jaunt and the sleigh careening to the right, then the left, the sleigh bells jangling at full throttle.
The agents, guns drawn, assumed a firing position until Bert bellowed, "Stand down, gentlemen! I SAID, stand down!" In the stillness the only sound to be heard was that of the hammers being drawn back.
"Do what the director is telling you, Agent Paterno. STAND down! If you don't, I'll shoot you myself. Do you understand?" Martine Connor said loud enough to be heard a block away.
"Go away, Agent Paterno, get out of my sight. And take your men with you. I don't want to see your face the rest of the afternoon. If I do, you'll be patrolling the Tidal Basin.
"Welcome to the White House, gentlemen. Thank you so much for all your help today. I want to personally apologize to all of you. We simply could not cancel the party and disappoint the children. Follow me, please, so we can get the festivities under way."
Bert Navarro hung back, the last in line. He looked over at Paterno and gave him his middle finger. "Hey, Mister Secret Service Man, never be impressed with yourself, because there's always someone out there ready to cut you down to size. Today it's me. Lucky you!"
Whatever Paterno was about to say, he changed his mind, a murderous look on his face.
"Espinosa, tell me you got a picture of that!" Bert shouted.
"In living color, like all the others," Espinosa assured him.
Bert laughed.
Ninety minutes later, the party nearing its end, the president walked around the huge room, admiring the mountain of torn gift wrap and the happy smiles on the faces of the children, their presents under their arms as their parents herded them together for a group shot, which would make the evening news around the world.
Connor knew there was something off-kilter about the whole afternoon, but she couldn't quite put her finger on exactly what it was. She discounted the confrontational meeting earlier between the head of her Secret Service detail and the director of the FBI. No, it was something else. She moved off to the side to stand next to her secretary, who was beaming happily.
"It was a wonderful party, wasn't it, Madam President? There's nothing like Santa Claus and his helpers to make a child's eyes go wide. I remember so well how it was when I was a little girl."
"Hmm." Santa Claus and his helpers. Connor let her gaze travel across the room to where Santa and his wife were getting up from their thrones. She watched as Santa threw his empty sack over his shoulder and belted out a few ho-ho-ho's to the children's delight. Mrs. Claus, while meaty, wasn't exactly round where it counted. The last time she'd seen Baron Bell, he didn't appear to be more than five-nine, maybe five-ten at the most. This Santa looked to be six foot two or so. Hmm. And those elves. Wigs, a little latex, some greasepaint, a costume, and you have...
The president's cell vibrated in her pocket. She turned away when she clicked it on and spoke. "You cheated, Lizzie. You had me give them clearance."
Lizzie laughed, that tinkling sound Martine loved to hear even when it meant Lizzie won the round. "They would have gotten in with or without your help, Marti. We both know that."
"I do know that. The big question now is, do I let them know I know, or should I play stupid?"
Lizzie laughed again before the connection was broken.
The White House photographer appeared at the president's elbow. "I'd like to take a group shot of you, Santa, and the others outside if you're u
p to it, Madam President."
Martine Connor smiled. "Absolutely, but only if the sleigh is facing out to the road and Santa and his helpers are in the sleigh, ready to drive off." The photographer frowned but nodded as he watched the president don a scarlet cape trimmed in faux ermine. The last thing she did was plop a bright red Santa hat on her head. "I'm ready," she trilled.
Outside, Bert Navarro was astride Delilah and had her pointing straight out. "This is not good, boys. Here comes the president and the photographer. We should have been out of here twenty minutes ago. Make damn sure those gates go down, and, Espinosa, you ready to turn the power off?"
"Yep," said Espinosa.
The horses pawed the ground as they snorted and bellowed. The sleigh bells jangled, the sound crystal clear as Martine walked up to the sleigh, her hand extended in greeting or thanks. No one was quite sure. Behind her, the Secret Service agents were lined up, watching what was happening.
"Merry Christmas, ladies. You, too, Mr. Martin," she said. "Shhh, no one knows but me. Now, let's all smile pretty for the cameras. By the way, I could have taken you, just so you know."
"Sorry, Madam President, not on your best day," Annie said.
The president smiled. "You're probably right. I do have my pride. Merry Christmas!"
Annie leaned over the side of the sleigh. She was close enough to whisper, "We'll be back if you don't keep your promise."
"I know, Annie. I'm working on it. The papers are actually on my desk."
"Attagirl, Madam President. We don't have a lot of patience."
The magic words galvanized Delilah, who took off at a full gallop. Annie fell back into the sleigh as the horses rumbled down the road to the gate that somehow magically closed the minute the sleigh went through.
Martine stood in the snow and laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks.
"You get all that, Espinosa?" Jack bellowed.
"In living color, Jack!"
Back at the gate Mark Paterno was bellowing for someone to call a goddamn electrician.
16. Deadly Deals Page 19
