What Stella Wants

by Bartholomew, Nancy

  I reached out to pat her arm. “That’s great, sweetie. Of course I understand.”

  Spike shook her head. “Let’s get back to this. We can talk about the house later, okay?” She smiled softly at Nina. “We’ve got to get Jake back home so we can really celebrate.”

  We returned to our work, searching through the box and uncovering electronic treasure after treasure. Tiny two-way encrypted radio transmitters, cell-phone jammers, a silent drill, video transmitters. It was amazing. We left for the Proctor estate an hour later, dressed in black fatigues with black greasepaint covering our faces. We wore state-of-the-art bulletproof vests and carried an arsenal of weapons that included Arnold Koslovski’s magical box of equipment.

  I rebriefed Nina and Spike on the drive out into the county, mainly because I was so pumped up with nervous energy I had to talk in order to keep myself calm and focused.

  “All right,” I said. “You two will drop me at the northwest quadrant of the estate and proceed to the southern vector. As soon as you’re parked, send the signal and we’ll make sure you’re reading my transmission.”

  Nina wrinkled up her nose and looked over the front seat at me. “Stella, like, could you just say that in English please? I mean, the northwest quadrant, where is that?”

  I sighed silently. “Drop me at the corner of Connell Road and Freeman Mill.”

  Nina smiled. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  I was actually relieved to get out of the car. They dropped me at the far corner of the estate, amidst a stand of scrawny pine trees and overgrown, ice-glazed brush, and drove on, headlights off, to find a secure place to wait for my hopeful return.

  I pulled out the night-vision goggles, slipped them on and began to slowly survey my surroundings. According to the map and plans, the main house stood close to the middle of the property and the other three homes were at the end of long drives that fanned out from the main house in wheel spokes of gravel. No one had lived on the property in over two years, but a caretaker’s cottage sat out by the main road and the gates to the estate were padlocked.

  Arnold assured us that when he toured the property the electricity was working, as well as the heat and plumbing.

  “It was shabby and needed a lot of work as I recall,” he’d said. “But it wasn’t abandoned.”

  I set off, walking quickly across the frozen ground, trying to avoid the main drive and stick close to the covering shelter of the surrounding woods. Within moments the massive main house came into view and I pulled the tiny remote listening device from my jacket pocket, hoping to hear something that indicated people were inside the darkened house.

  But there was no response on the digital display. I studied the house, not seeing anything but darkness in front of me and was about to move on to search the smaller surrounding houses when I saw the tiniest flicker of light from a second-floor window. Someone was inside.

  I crept closer and closer to the mansion, careful to look around for signs that others had found Bitsy’s hiding place, but the woods were pin-drop silent. When I was within a hundred yards of the house, I saw the faint flicker of light again. I moved closer still and began to plan my entry.

  I closed my eyes, visualizing the layout of the house. The second floor housed eight bedrooms and baths, a small kitchen, two lounges and two staircases, front and back.

  I looked up at the second floor again and noticed this time the thick curtains covering the windows. Blackout curtains? The light flashing from the second-floor window seemed to come in little jerks and twitches. As if someone were rhythmically signaling perhaps?

  I stared up at the window. Indeed the short flashes of light were coming in a pattern of threes. I grinned. Damn that Jake, always thinking! Was he flashing SOS in Morse code? He knew I’d come for him. He was trying to let me know his location. I started toward the house with a surge of determined confidence. I had a plan and it was time to work it.

  I slipped around the side of the house, counted the tiny windows that lined the basement and stopped at the third one. The electrical panel box was located inside this room. I knelt down, quietly taped and broke the glass panes, removed the broken glass and slid through the frame to drop down into the room below.

  “Panel box and main cutoff are to my left,” I whispered softly. Even with the night-vision goggles, it was difficult to make out much in the darkened basement. I edged forward slowly, saw the gray box a few feet away and walked toward it.

  “Lights out, everybody,” I whispered as I opened the box and reached for the main circuit breaker.

  I pulled the switch down, struggling a little as the ancient handle resisted my attempts, but ultimately succeeding. There was a rewarding hush as the furnace hissed to a halt. I listened but still heard nothing to indicate anyone but me was in the old house.

  “Here I come,” I whispered. “Ready or not!”

  I put my hand in my jacket pocket, pulled out my Glock and froze.

  Bitsy Blankenship’s voice whispered in my ear. “Having fun, Stella?” The cold metal ring of her gun barrel bit into the base of my skull. “I’m wired, so if you try anything, Jake dies before I hit the ground. Now drop your gun, nice and easy.”

  So Bitsy wasn’t working alone. Great. I remembered the blonde from the nursing home, Aida, and wondered if she were Bitsy’s partner in crime.

  “Let’s go upstairs, shall we?” she said, nudging me forward.

  Bitsy reached past me to the panel box, pushed the circuit breaker back up and slammed the metal box door shut.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” she said. “I even let Jake watch you on the monitor while I signaled you. I thought the SOS was a nice touch, didn’t you?”

  I didn’t answer her, I couldn’t. I was too busy thinking about how we were going to overpower her and escape to come up with a snappy comeback.

  Bitsy pulled the night-vision goggles off my head and tossed them onto the floor as we walked. “You won’t need those where you’re going.”

  She pushed me ahead of her, leading me up the sweeping staircase and down a wide hallway, stopping finally outside a bedroom door.

  “Go ahead, open the door,” she said. “Let’s get this party started.”

  I took a deep breath, reached out and pushed the door open. We entered what once must have been a lavish suite but now was just a shabby and quite dirty space filled with broken furniture and shredded wallpaper. Jake sat alone, in a small, antique chair in the middle of the room, eyes closed. His face was streaked with dirt and sweat and he was pale. Was he unconscious? Why hadn’t he moved when he’d had the chance? Where were the others Bitsy said were watching him?

  “Where’s your buddy, Aida?” I asked, hoping I’d guessed correctly, hoping Bitsy wasn’t hiding an entourage of battle-hardened commandos to aid in her escape.

  “Aida?” Bitsy echoed.

  Great. No Aida. So who was working with Bitsy?

  “Who’s with you?” I demanded.

  “Smoke and mirrors,” Jake mumbled.

  Jake sat with one leg straight out in front of him, and when I looked closer I saw dried blood crusted around a small tear in his pants leg. His eyes flickered open. He looked at me, attempted to sit up, but slumped back against the chair’s uncomfortable back with a soft moan.

  “Jake, you’re hurt!” I darted to his side, not caring if Bitsy shot me for moving.

  Jake struggled to open his eyes and reached out to touch me lightly with one light tap of his forefinger.

  “S’nothin’ to it,” he mumbled. “Just a little flesh wound.”

  I whirled around, glaring at Bitsy. “Why? All he did was try to help you. Why did you shoot him?”

  Bitsy rolled her eyes. “Please, spare me the frantic-girl-friend routine, all right? Give me the necklace.”

  I stuck my hand deep inside my jacket pocket and felt the miniature radio transmitter. I pushed the talk button down and held it open while I stuck my free hand in the other jacket pocket and pretende
d to search for the missing jewelry. I was hoping the microphone in the walkie was sensitive enough to transmit at least some of what I was saying to Spike and Nina.

  “Why do you want the necklace, Bitsy?” I asked, stalling. “What’s on the microchip?”

  Bitsy smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she answered.

  “David wasn’t a double agent,” I said. “You were the one, weren’t you? You stole the formula and now you and your partners are going to sell it to the highest bidder, aren’t you?”

  Bitsy frowned. “Oooh, that’s scary sounding, isn’t it?” Bitsy shook her head. “You people watch too much T.V. That formula’s just the beginning. I hold all the cards now!”

  “What do you mean, you hold all the cards?”

  Bitsy smiled coyly. “Thought old Bitsy was just a little dumb blond cheerleader, huh? Guess y’never know, huh? Well, it’s too late now. Just toss me the necklace. I’ve got a bird to catch.”

  In the distance I could hear the faint whir of a helicopter. Bitsy was going to take whatever she had hidden inside Baby’s necklace, kill us and disappear if I didn’t stop her.

  I pulled out Baby’s necklace and dangled it from my left hand. Bitsy was so proud of herself, so pleased to have pulled the wool over our eyes.

  “This can’t be too important,” I said, giving the piece a very skeptical appraisal. “I bet you stole some designer’s fall fashion line. I mean, what could little, blond you possibly stumble on that would be that valuable? And why leave it with an old lady for safekeeping?”

  “You stupid bitch!” Bitsy snapped. “I left it with her because no one would look twice at her. Besides, what choice did I have? They were on my ass—I couldn’t risk them finding me and taking it. I wouldn’t have any bargaining chips—no pun intended. Besides, you and Jake put me off for hours or I would’ve left it with Jake.”

  The sting of guilt bit into my gut. Because of my foolish insecurities, Baby had become an innocent victim. I swallowed hard, pushing the bitter emotion down to be dealt with later, after Jake and I were safe.

  “So who was after you, Bits, a couple of puny agents from a tiny third world country? You couldn’t handle them?”

  Bitsy’s face reddened but she didn’t take the bait. “Toss the necklace over here or I’ll shoot his other leg,” she snapped.

  “Oh, let’s not play make-believe, Bits. You’re going to do a lot more than shoot Jake in the leg. You’re going to kill us both and then you’re going to fly away. Then what’re you gonna do, Bitsy, follow in your old man’s footsteps? Fade away into the sunset and leave your mom and grandmother to face everybody when they learn you’re a thief and a traitor?”

  I swung the necklace back and forth, like I was considering whether or not to toss it. I looked back up at her, saw the barely contained rage ready to spill over and pushed the last button harder.

  “Way to go, Bitsy! The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? Tell me something, Bits. Did you kill David and the two Ukrainian agents who followed you to the nursing home so people would know you were a bigger criminal than your old man? Or were their deaths just more of the stupid mistakes made by Bitsy, the wannabe super-agent?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Bitsy spat. “David was a liability. And the others?” Bitsy shrugged. “Insects. Flies in the ointment. I couldn’t risk letting them lead the others to my hiding place.”

  “So you killed them. Tell me, Bits, are you even human?”

  She lunged for me then, crossing the space between us with lightning-fast precision, the gun held level with my face as her finger slowly squeezed the trigger. She wanted to be right up close when she blew my head off, and that’s what I’d been counting on her to do.

  I tossed the necklace, ducked down and came up under and inside her two-handed gun stance, butting her hard in the solar plexus with my head. Bitsy grunted as the air rushed out of her lungs and she staggered backward. The gun fired, the bullet going wild and shattering the window behind us.

  Bitsy had lost her mind. She was fighting as hard as she could, working to bring the gun back close enough to connect with my body, and she fought with a Herculean intensity. I hit her wrist, numbing the radial nerve with the flat side of my hand and loosening her grip on the weapon. The gun skittered across the floor, stopping almost at Jake’s feet, but Bitsy didn’t seem to notice. She was more intent on killing me with her bare hands.

  She flipped me, tossing me onto my back and straddling me. She wrapped her hands around my throat and squeezed. “You stupid bitch!” she cried. “I’m going to have more money than God tomorrow and you’ll be dead!”

  The room spun as Bitsy’s hands squeezed tighter but I brought my arms up, snaking between hers to catch her under her chin and knock her off me. Somewhere above us the helicopter hovered, probably waiting for an all-clear signal.

  Bitsy rolled and came at me again, knocking the side of my head with the heel of her hand and momentarily stunning me. I heard the crackle of a radio but I was having trouble getting my body to respond to the signals my brain was sending. Bitsy took advantage of my sluggish responses to jump up onto her feet and kick me hard in the side.

  I gasped, retching reflexively as my body coiled into a defense posture. Bitsy pulled a hand-held radio from her pocket, keyed it and spoke. “I’m clear. Set down on the lawn behind the house.”

  She turned, bending to pick up Baby’s necklace and searching for her gun. I marshaled what little strength I had left, pushed up onto my feet and launched myself at her. She went down, hard, with me riding her back. When she hit the floor, I grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulled her head back up and slammed her again, face-first into the floor. Bitsy’s body went limp beneath me. Finally.

  I got off her and reached down to pry the necklace out of her hand, then looked for the gun.

  “Got it,” Jake gasped. “It’s under my chair.”

  I turned and looked. Jake had managed to snag the gun with his foot and push it back out of sight behind his injured leg. The fact that he hadn’t been able to bend down and pick it up told me volumes about his condition. He was badly hurt.

  “Nice work,” I said, stooping to retrieve the semiautomatic. “I’m going to make sure she’s not going anywhere, and then we can blow this pop stand.”

  Jake grunted. When I looked up at him, his eyes were closed and he appeared to be unconscious.

  I bent down over Bitsy, pulled her arms back behind her back and grabbed a filthy curtain cord to tie her hands together. Outside, the chopper had landed on the back lawn. I hit the light switch by the door, plunging us into darkness and crossed the room to look out at the yard below.

  An ugly black helicopter sat on the ground, its rotors spinning. Great. Now who was in that and how was I supposed to get Jake out of the house without the copter’s occupants stopping us? Were they Ukrainians, Bitsy’s coconspirators at the CIA or higher bidders from yet another country looking to buy what Bitsy was selling?

  I pulled my radio out of my pocket and depressed the talk button. “Nina, can you hear me?”

  The radio crackled. The sound of the helicopter’s engine seemed magnified in the cavernous room, and Spike’s voice answered me.

  “We’re in the woods just outside the house. We’ve sent for help but I don’t know how long it’ll take to get here.”

  I looked back at Bitsy lying on the ground and an idea came to me. I ran over to her, felt through her pockets and withdrew her walkie.

  “Spike,” I said, keying my own radio. “Here’s what I want you to do. When I give you guys the signal, shoot the ground around the helicopter.”

  “What?”

  “Just trust me!”

  I picked up Bitsy’s radio and spoke into it. “They’ve got us surrounded,” I said, trying to sound as much like Bitsy as possible. “They want you to turn off the engine and stay where you are,” I said.

  I waited a moment and then picked up my radio. “Shoot now!” I said. “If anyone attem
pts to leave the copter, kill them.”

  A second later a small barrage of bullets ate the ground in front of the helicopter. A few moments later the rotors and engine went quiet.

  “Good, okay, that’s a start,” I whispered. “Now what?”

  I looked over at Jake. Could I carry him out alone?

  “Stella?” Nina’s voice called softly. “Spike’s got ’em covered from the front. Do you need help?”

  Five minutes later Nina and I had Jake and were almost out the door when a sea of black-garbed commandos suddenly materialized outside. My walkie went off, and Spike’s voice reassured us.

  “Those are our people coming out of the woods,” she said. “Stay inside.”

  As Nina and I watched, the helicopter was surrounded. Black vehicles, Jeeps and Hummers rocketed through the estate entrance and flooded the lawn around the Proctor mansion.

  “Damn!” Nina breathed. “Look at that!”

  “Nina, who did you guys call?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Aunt Lucy.”

  “Stella?” A familiar figure in black strode across the lawn and up the steps. Shelia Martin stepped out of the darkness, carrying an assault rifle. “Where’s Bitsy?”

  “Upstairs, all wrapped up and topped with a bow,” I answered.

  “Good work,” she said. And then she saw Jake. “Medic!” she shouted.

  She looked at me and in that one exchanged glance we reached an understanding. I was the one who’d brought Jake out alive, not her. I was the one on top and she would have to defer to me…for now at least.

  “How badly hurt is he?” she asked.

  “He’ll be all right.”

  “Good.” She smiled and I realized she was issuing a challenge. She was attempting to put me on notice. Let Jake heal and then we’ll see who comes out on top. You won this round, but I’ll be back to try again.

  I nodded and managed a tight smile. Bring it on, bitch. I’ll be waiting.