17. Game Over

by Fern Michaels

  “Oops, one last toast. I heard just this minute that Maggie and Ted are now engaged. Bottoms up, boys and girls!” Charles said as he poured out the last of the champagne.

  Maggie beamed. Ted would have fallen over, but Jack and Harry braced him up.

  The women oohed and cooed at Maggie, while the guys slapped Ted on the back and said things like, “You lucky son of a gun,” “Name your first after me,” and, “Life is just going to get better.”

  All lies, but as Harry said later, it sounded good at the time, and they really had to say what they said for Ted’s own sanity.

  Chapter 15

  It was totally dark outside, but there were stars in the sky when the group left the dining hall, stuffed to the gills, as Jack put it. They chattered among themselves as they walked through the melting snow to the command center.

  Inside, they shed their outerwear and their rubber boots. The men knew the drill and stayed in the main room, while the women followed Charles to the command center to plot strategy.

  “Gather round, boys. A little five-card stud.” Bert whipped out a deck of cards from a drawer in the coffee table.

  Ted removed the candy bowl and a stack of magazines and books. They all sat down cross-legged and watched as Bert shuffled the deck.

  A box of elbow macaroni was plopped in the middle of the table by Espinosa. “Because,” he said virtuously, “gambling is illegal.”

  The others hooted and hollered at this over-the-top declaration.

  Still miffed with his current financial situation, Ted started to grumble. “This is pissing me off, gentlemen. We’re members of the vigilantes, and yet we can’t sit in on the strategy-planning meetings. Why the hell is that?” Not waiting for a reply, he rumbled on. “We do the legwork, put our asses on the line, but we have to sit out here.”

  “Shut up, Robinson. You’re whining,” Harry said. “I think they think we couldn’t handle it. They’re wrong, of course, but then again, they’re women.”

  Jack smacked his friend on the back. “Jesus, Harry, that was profound.”

  “Deal,” Espinosa said as he counted out the elbow macaroni. Each player received ten pieces of pasta.

  Around the corner, in the hallway that led to the command center, Nikki poked her head out. Satisfied the guys were indeed playing cards, she whispered to Kathryn, “None of them have a clue about gambling. And not one of them has a poker face. I bet if we sat down with them, we could clean them out in minutes just by watching their expressions.”

  Kathryn giggled as she watched Bert try to come to terms with his hand.

  “Annie and Myra, excellent poker players that they are, could wipe up the floor with all of them,” Nikki whispered.

  The moment Nikki and Kathryn took their seats at the table, Charles called the meeting to order, and Myra took the floor. “Lizzie is our first order of business. We need to decide right now how we want to handle all of this. Maggie?”

  “Why don’t we set up the webcam and talk to her face-to-face? Let’s let her make the decision for us,” Maggie suggested. “She has got to be sick to her soul that Martine Connor would abuse their friendship after all Lizzie and the rest of us did for her. To play Lizzie like that is unforgivable. But we have to bear in mind that Lizzie is not supposed to know any of this. It is entirely possible that the president has some game plan in mind, and we aren’t reading it right. It’s a slim possibility, but it nonetheless exists.”

  “We can put a plan in place to ensure that Lizzie gets the nomination, if that’s what she wants. Didn’t someone say Cosmo said it was going to be announced the following day, or did I hear that wrong?” Annie asked.

  “No, you heard it right, Annie, but Cricket corrected what he said later on by saying he was in shock and got it all wrong. No announcement was going to be made anytime in the near future. That’s what threw him into such a state of flux,” Charles said. “So far, it’s still all secret, and the reason it’s secret is that it is all bogus.”

  “That’s just another way of saying it’s all a bunch of crap, which is what all of us have been saying since we first heard about it,” the out-spoken Kathryn said.

  “Ah…yes,” Charles responded.

  “I’ve taken the first steps,” Maggie said. “Ted and Espinosa interviewed Mrs. Leonard. I sent them to Vermont to check on whether the antiques she spoke of were indeed there or sold off. When they return with me tomorrow, I’ll have them work around the clock to interview all the other Supreme Court wives and husbands, and we’ll run the article in the Sunday edition. My idea is to run a second article the following Sunday with interviews from the justices themselves. It’s going to be boring as hell, but it gives credibility. Now, if someone wants to really go for the gusto where Justice Leonard is concerned, I’m all for that. Maybe if he sees his future going down the drain, he’ll give it all up. But is that what we want?”

  “Why did he do it in the first place?” Isabelle asked.

  “Probably money. But ask yourself this, if the elected leader of the nation came and asked a favor of you, as well as promising you some untold sum of money, what would you do? Especially if he’s aware of his wife’s…problem,” Nikki said.

  “But from what we’ve read and heard about Justice Leonard, the man is above the fray. He lives for the law, and he lives in a bubble. I’m almost certain the man didn’t think for one nanosecond there would be any blowback. He was just helping the president out,” Yoko said.

  “That sounds suspiciously like you want the man to skate on this,” Annie said testily.

  “Oh, no!” Kathryn exploded. “That was dirty pool. The man called Cosmo Cricket. Who in his right mind would think a husband wouldn’t tell his wife that kind of news? He knew exactly what he was doing when he made that call. I say we go after him and make him pay for leading Lizzie down the garden path.”

  “But, dear, Cosmo is that kind of man. He did not tell his wife. And Lizzie was not supposed to know,” Myra said.

  “Bullshit!” Kathryn shrieked. “Leonard fully expected Cosmo to tell his wife, and so did Martine Connor.”

  “Kathryn’s right,” the others agreed in unison.

  “Why?” Alexis asked.

  “Because, dear, Martine thought Lizzie would be so overwhelmed, so ecstatic that she might be going to the Supreme Court that she would be lax and perhaps even try to talk us into being more patient, buying the president more time with the pardons,” Myra said. “I guess she does not know Lizzie as well as she thinks she does. Lizzie figured it out for herself. If left to her own devices, and we agreed not to intervene, I think Lizzie could still make it happen, some way or somehow.”

  The women agreed with this assessment, too.

  “So, that leaves us exactly where?” Nikki asked.

  “Sweetie, weren’t you listening in the dining room? We’re going to invade the White House. We’re still on for that little caper. All we have to do is figure out who is going to go into the Oval Office and steal the pardons, which are rightfully ours since they’ve been signed. Oh, and we have to figure out if they’re still in the desk drawer or the file cabinet,” Annie said airily.

  “That’s probably life in the federal pen,” Kathryn said sourly.

  “Only if we get caught. I, for one, do not plan on getting caught, dear. I think we just need a foolproof plan. Charles is in charge of that little item. With input from us, of course. You can do this, can’t you, Charles?” Annie’s tone of voice clearly said his response had better be affirmative.

  Charles smiled. “As long as you don’t mind a new member to our little organization. We’re going to need his help to pull this off. I am, of course, speaking of Hank Jellicoe. Decide now, so I can put him on alert.”

  The Sisters looked at one another. The conversation was heated for the first five minutes, then tapered off until it yielded a solid vote of yes. Charles nodded and got up to go to his computer.

  He was back in minutes. “Hank said we have incredibly bad
timing. He is at the White House as we speak. He will be delighted to become an honorary member of the vigilantes and wants to know if he gets a badge or a decoder ring at his initiation.”

  “And you think that’s funny?” Kathryn grumbled. “What’s he doing at the White House at this time of night?”

  Before Charles could reply, Annie said, “I don’t think we want or need to know why he’s there. Or, do we, Charles?”

  “Hank has always been a bit of a rogue, albeit a nice one. That’s not to say he hasn’t been a cad a time or two. Women, for some reason, seem to find him irresistible. He’s the best at what he does.”

  “And that would be…spying, charming the president, joining up with the vigilantes?” Yoko said.

  Charles chuckled. “All of the above, I’d say.”

  “So by tomorrow we should know if our pardons are still in the desk drawer or the file cabinet? He should be able to furnish us with a floor plan of the White House, not that we couldn’t get that on our own, and details for the upcoming patriotic party, which is set for a few weeks from now, plus a real-life copy of the invitation and perhaps the guest list. Am I safe in assuming all of the above?” Annie said, a sour tone to her voice.

  This time Charles laughed outright. “Assuming he has no other plans for the evening, which I doubt.”

  Kathryn looked genuinely confused. “How does that work when you’re boffing the president? Does someone escort you in? And then what do you do? Ring a bell or something when you’re ready to leave? Isn’t the president worried about her image being besmirched? Don’t they gossip at the White House? Does he stay over for breakfast, or does he leave before it gets light out? Another thing. How long has she, the president, known this guy? She hasn’t been in office that long. Or are you telling me our first lady president is a loosey-goosey?” Kathryn said all in one breath.

  The Sisters were stunned when Myra said spiritedly, “Yes, Charles, I’d like to know the answers to Kathryn’s questions myself.”

  Charles looked acutely uncomfortable. “I’m sorry to say I do not know the answers, but if you like, I can call Hank back and ask him.”

  “Do that, Charles,” Maggie said.

  The others picked up the gauntlet.

  “Yes, we need to know the answers before we agree to induct him into our little circle,” Annie said.

  Charles rose to the challenge regretfully and stomped his way to the computer station, where he picked up his satellite phone and pressed a number. He turned his back to the Sisters and spoke in a hushed tone.

  When Charles returned to the table, he had a slip of paper in hand, which he read from. “Mr. Jellicoe has carte blanche at the White House, which carries over from past administrations. Boffing the president has nothing to do with his entrance to and exit from Sixteen Hundred Pennsylvania Avenue. No one escorts him. He simply calls ahead. The president is not worried about her image being besmirched. Yes, people do gossip at the White House. Then they get fired and write tell-all books. Sometimes he stays for breakfast. He has known this president for a little over seven months. There was an instant attraction between the two of them, and she made the first move, not that you asked that question, but he volunteered the information.

  “No, the president is not a loosey-goosey, but she is uptight, because she carries the weight of this nation on her creamy white shoulders. And he volunteered something else you didn’t ask for. He…uh…he said to tell you all the sex is spectacular even when she’s uptight. He also said pillow talk will give him all the answers he needs, and he will relay them to us tomorrow. Then he said, ‘Do not call me again this evening.’ I hope, ladies, that answers all your questions.”

  Speechless with Charles’s disclosure, the Sisters gaped at him.

  Kathryn looked absolutely flabbergasted. “Just like that, she’s going to spill her guts to her lover. Our president has loose lips! Oh, my God! Now I’m sorry I asked.”

  “Don’t be, dear. It’s better to know…certain things now rather than later,” Myra said, tongue in cheek.

  Annie was doing her best not to laugh, not at Charles’s disclosure but at Myra, who was trying her best not to appear naive.

  “Do any of you have any idea what I could do with all that information?” Maggie grinned.

  “Save it, dear. We might be telling you in a few weeks to run with it,” Annie said. “Do you have it committed to memory?”

  “I do. And I know all the right adjectives to use to bounce it up a little, too,” said Maggie.

  “Ladies, can we now get back to the matters at hand?” Charles asked. “I believe we were trying to decide what to do about Justice Leonard. We also need to talk about Lizzie and set up a meeting to decide what she wants us to do.”

  Fifteen minutes of very heated dialogue later, it was decided that Maggie would go to Justice Leonard’s home, ostensibly to interview him after Ted’s initial interview, and break the news to him that on a date to be decided, he would be announcing his decision to leave public service and work in the private sector when the term ended in June.

  “Most likely,” Maggie said, “the announcement will come the day after the patriotic party. That will give him time to get his affairs in order, so to speak.”

  “What if he kicks up a fuss? What if he refuses to resign?” Alexis asked.

  “Trust me, he’ll resign,” said Maggie. “He won’t like it, but he’ll do it. Just let me worry about Justice Leonard.”

  The Sisters nodded. Maggie always came through for them.

  “Time to call Lizzie,” Nikki said. “Is the webcam set up, Charles?”

  “We’re ready to go,” Charles said.

  “It’s her voice mail,” Nikki whispered. “I’ll leave a message for her to call us back.”

  Annie looked at the clock and said, “With the time difference, Lizzie is probably talking to her husband, the way she does every evening. She allows nothing to interfere with her calls, and that’s the way it should be. The Capitol could burn down, and she wouldn’t pay attention. We’ll try again in another hour.”

  Outside the command center, the poker game was in high gear. Harry had a mountain of elbow macaroni in front of him, clearly winning.

  “I thought you said Wong didn’t know how to play poker?” Ted snarled at Jack.

  “I didn’t say he didn’t know how to play. I said he never plays. There is a difference, Ted,” Jack replied.

  “Since I’ve cleaned you all out, pay up,” Harry said cheerfully.

  Bert slid fifty bucks across the table. Ted signed an IOU for seventy dollars, explaining that he and Espinosa had left all their ready cash back on the table in Vermont.

  Harry looked pointedly at Espinosa, who signed his own IOU for eighty-five bucks. Jack was the last to pony up, with forty-eight dollars.

  Bert looked at his watch. “Looks like they’re going to be in there for a little longer,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the command center. “Let’s head over to the dining room and guzzle a few beers.”

  No one needed any urging as they beat a path to the door.

  “I have a great idea. We can plan Ted’s bachelor party while we toast him,” Jack said. “I think we should do it in Vegas, because you know what they say about Vegas. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and we’re definitely going to want whatever we plan to stay there. What do you say, Ted? Vegas?”

  Ted nodded. “Why the hell not.”

  “Once you put that ring on Maggie’s finger, she’s going to like the way it looks, and then she’s going to start having second thoughts, and I betcha that inside of a month she’s picking a wedding date,” Espinosa said.

  “Who died and appointed you Mr. Bridal Consultant with all the answers?” Ted snarled.

  “I have a lot of sisters, and that’s the way it works. So, okay, don’t believe me. See if I care,” Espinosa returned.

  Ted wanted to cry all over again.

  Chapter 16

  It wasn’t that there was
no activity at the White House; there was. Behind the scenes, people still moved about, seeing to things. The Secret Service moved a little slower, possibly a little quieter, because it was the middle of the night. Phones still rang; computers and printers were being utilized by a skeleton staff. The kitchen wasn’t exactly a beehive of activity, but chefs were moving about, seeing that things were ready the moment the president woke.

  No matter how hard the kitchen staff worked to anticipate this new president’s culinary desires, they failed. One day the president wanted dry toast with elderberry jam, and the next day, peach-and-honey yogurt. On still another day she requested a grilled cheese sandwich on sourdough bread, for breakfast no less. Taking her requests as personal affronts, the head chef had scoured the District for elderberry jam, and now the pantry had a whole case of it, but the president had never asked for it again. The peach-and-honey yogurt expired before she could request it a second time. The sourdough bread grew healthy mold before she ever asked for it again.

  The absolute bottom line for the head chef and all his staff was that coffee was to be ready at all times, even in the middle of the night. Freshly brewed when the request came in and five minutes to get it to her. The beans had to be freshly ground, and the president wanted only recycled filters used to filter the strong coffee. Under no circumstances was she ever, as in ever, to be served anything other than 100 percent Colombian coffee. The pantry held six burlap bags of the fragrant beans.

  The president had been what the kitchen staff called uptight for the past week. She’d found fault with everything they prepared for her. Even the coffee. She’d made a special trip to the kitchen to ask the chef and his staff what their problem was. Then she had raided the pantry and the larder right under their noses and had had one of the staff carry everything up to her own personal kitchen, where she said she would cook for herself since they couldn’t get it right.

  There was turmoil among the Secret Service agents, who grumbled to their superiors, who told them just to do their jobs, and they knew that women were difficult to deal with at certain times of the month. They would try to share the burden fairly among those assigned to the president’s personal detail.