Jack took a deep breath and released the safety.
“Three!”
Jack held up the gun and fired as Harry let loose with a bellow of, “There they are, the vigilantes!”
Chapter 25
Backstage at the armory it was a zoo, a circus, a carnival, all rolled into one. Outside law enforcement struggled to control the frantic fans as the rain came down in torrents. Inside, Jack and Harry, drenched to the skin, fought their way through the gantlet of security, their badges held high in one hand, their guns high in their other to show they were the ultimate authority. The crowds stepped aside as music blared throughout the armory. The mind-bending music was merely preliminary enticement for the appearance of the G-String Girls to soothe the impatient crowds.
“Okay, we’re in,” Jack bellowed to be heard over the ear-splitting music. His gaze raked over the girls, who were clustered together in their G-String attire, loose robes covering them until it was time to go onstage. He thought they looked excited. Excited?
Jack and Harry both kept their guns high in the air so everyone would see them. The backstage chatter came to an abrupt halt. Even so, you still couldn’t hear yourself think with the thunder outside the armory.
The cell phone in Jack’s pocket started to vibrate. He’d turned off the ringer earlier, because with all the noise he couldn’t hear it, but he could feel the vibration. “What?” he barked, his eyes staying on the girls and the security surrounding them. He heaved a sigh when he spotted Bert Navarro, who had eyes only for Kathryn.
“The girls are twenty minutes out,” Charles said. “You’re running thirty minutes late. Get those girls onstage before you get blown out of the water.”
Jack didn’t bother to answer. He clicked the phone shut, jammed it in his pocket and yelled, “Showtime!” at the top of his lungs.
As one, the robes dropped to the floor. For one wild moment Jack thought he had swallowed his tongue as the girls did a little shimmy and shake, and then pranced out onto the stage to a drumroll so loud he couldn’t focus his eyeballs. He thought he heard Myra say, “Oh, God, oh, God!” as she strutted past him.
When Jack realized he hadn’t swallowed his tongue he yelled, “Look alive here! Twenty minutes out! No one gets backstage. Shoot anyone who tries and make sure you don’t miss. We clear on that?” he bellowed to security.
Jack turned to Harry and said, “Best-case scenario, after the intro, maybe one number and they’re outta here. That doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. Murphy’s Law! The techs got it going on. Cross your fingers, Harry. You see any Fibbies out there?”
“Like I can see past those klieg lights! Get real! We’re going to be damn lucky if the power doesn’t go out.”
“The techs got it covered. I heard them talking about it earlier. Two of those big trucks out there by the rear entrance are backup generators with a hundred miles of cable. They have enough juice to light up Shea Stadium for two years running. This goddamn concert is going on no matter what.”
Harry leaned closer so he could shout in Jack’s ear. “I’d feel a whole lot better if I knew where Robinson was.”
The sudden silence made Jack look toward the stage. All he could see was delicious-looking latex skin. He gulped, as did Harry. The women onstage were holding up their hands for silence. It was time to perform. Even from where he was standing Jack could see the ripple of excitement on the women’s faces. Annie looked like she was about to explode right out of her latex skin. He knew she was having the time of her life. Hell, all of them looked like they were having the time of their lives. He shuddered at what could happen in the blink of an eye.
Jack continued to watch, his eyes straining to see past the stage as the women separated, brought up their guitars, their fingers poised to hit the first chords. He looked toward the tech guys and saw one of them bring up his hand. Sound, so powerful it almost took the roof off the armory, began. The girls separated, pranced and danced, and then shimmied, every ounce of flesh on their bodies jiggling as they plucked at the strings of their guitars to the shouts of, “Shake it, baby, and bring it on!” The girls obliged with megawatt smiles. The crowd turned wild, some of the more adventuresome fans trying to climb onstage. Within seconds, big burly men appeared and the fans were hauled away. The girls didn’t miss a beat and kept performing, their smiles in place.
Harry bellowed in his ear again. “It’s the bodies, not the music.”
Jack nodded as Kathryn stepped up to the microphone and began to lip-sync lyrics about a gold digger. The crowd whistled, hooted and stomped their feet. Jack decided Harry was right because whatever the words were about the gold digger were drowned out by the enthusiastic crowd and the blaring music.
Annie had the first inkling that something was wrong when she jiggled to the right and her left leg stayed in place. Oh, God, I’m melting! she thought. She swung her arm wide so that she could touch Myra’s shoulder. Myra reacted to the panic in her eyes and looked down at her legs when she felt the first sensation. She swallowed hard.
“Aw, shit!” Bert exploded. “Look at Isabelle. She’s right under the lights. Her face is starting to melt. It’s the lights, they’re too damn hot! Yoko’s arms are softening up. The tattoos are running together. Look, for Christ’s sake!” Harry and Jack both gasped. “Annie’s ass is starting to droop. Two more minutes and she’s toast. Myra’s knees look like she’s wearing long underwear. We have to do something and we need to do it right now!”
Jack raced back deep into the wings. “Dim the fucking lights! Right now!” The tech looked at him but didn’t move. Jack yanked at his gun. “Now, goddamn it!” The tech yanked at a lever and the stage lights came down. “Now put some blue and red in there!” He waved his gun again, this time wildly. The tech turned white just as the stage was bathed in a rainbow of color. Jack moved over to the music techs. “How much longer for this number?”
“Five minutes!”
“Okay, blast some other kind of crap, I need to get those girls off the stage. Didn’t I see a box of panties somewhere?” The tech pointed to a box.
“You know what to do, Navarro. Signal the girls as soon as the number ends. We can’t patch them up. The lights are just too damn hot. Why the hell didn’t someone think about that?” Knowing he wasn’t going to get an answer, he kept on shouting orders until the music crashed to an ear-splitting finale.
Nikki looked toward the wings where Jack was standing. He did his best to pantomime a problem. She raced toward him, leaving the others standing and talking to the crowd. The moment she realized the problem she grabbed a handful of the panties and raced back, held a whispered conversation with the others who beelined for the box. At best it was a few-minute reprieve.
The crowd went wild as thong panties flew through the air.
Harry slammed Jack on the back when the rear entrance to the armory opened and six cops walked through. The moment the door closed behind the newly arrived cops the real G-String Girls started to rip at the Velcro police uniforms.
Jack gaped. Harry’s jaw dropped. Bert slapped his thigh and reeled backward. This was synchronization down to the last sync.
Nikki looked toward Jack as she pitched the last pair of panties to the crowd. She saw the real G-String Girls at the same time, stripping off their police uniforms. She gave a signal to the others who bounded off the stage. Within seconds the real G-String Girls were center stage and the blinding bright lights were back up.
“What happened?” the women asked as one.
“You’re melting is what’s happening. Look at Isabelle and Yoko!” Jack cried.
“Oh, my God!” Myra groaned as she looked down at her knees.
Annie was trying to see her rear end but had to give up. She yanked at the latex and cursed at the same time.
“That was the best my rear end ever looked. I think I might get a lift if I can find a plastic surgeon willing to take me on. This is too thrilling for words!” she gushed as she looked down at the pasties with th
e swinging tassels. “I feel like Cinderella at the ball!”
“Annie, put a cork in it,” Jack said. “We don’t have time to talk about this. Put those uniforms on and let’s get all of you out of here.”
The girls ripped at the latex covering them as they raced to their dressing room to struggle into the police uniforms they had arrived in.
Jack pointed to his watch as he grabbed Nikki’s arm. “Five minutes!” he roared.
She nodded and blew him a breathless kiss.
Onstage the real G-String Girls gyrated, danced and pranced as they, too, blew kisses to the roaring audience. From time to time they remembered to pluck at the strings of their guitars. The raging crowd didn’t seem to mind one way or the other. The visual was all that was important and the girls were happy to oblige.
Jack felt the phone in his pocket start to vibrate. He plucked it out and clicked it on. “They’re almost out of here. Two minutes and counting. What? I don’t want to hear any bad news, Charles.” He listened, the color draining from his face. He clicked off.
“That was Charles. Ted Robinson is at the back door with the feds. They’re getting ready to bust it down. Bert, do you outrank them? Stall them until the girls get out!” Not bothering to wait for a response, he said, “They’re interested in the girls onstage, not female cops. Harry, go to the dressing room, alert the girls. Maybe we can work around this. You’re both still standing here! Go!”
Bert raced to the door. He called over his shoulder, “How come I always get the shit detail?”
“Because you have one of the special gold shields! Just do it, Bert. I promise you a date, a real date with Kathryn, with wine, flowers and a good-night kiss if you pull this off. C’mon, c’mon, make it look real!”
Jack forced himself to look as nonchalant as possible by leaning against a wall and tapping his foot to the sound of the mind-numbing music. His heart pounded in his chest at what was to come.
The back door opened. A crowd of people and a flood of rain poured into the narrow area. “Guess Bert doesn’t outrank the director of the FBI,” he mumbled under his breath.
His back stiff, his face a mask of worry, Bert led the small group to where Jack was standing. Introductions were made. Jack held out his hand. The director shook it. Ted Robinson smirked.
“You gonna let the girls finish their set? If you don’t, the fans will stampede the stage and someone is going to get hurt. They have one more number to this set before they take a break.”
Elias Cummings looked at Jack and then at the girls on the stage. He dispersed two of his men to the far end of the left wing. Two agents remained at his side along with Robinson and Espinosa.
“You’re under arrest, Mr. Emery. I’m going to read you your rights.” He Mirandized Jack and then asked, “Do you understand these rights as I’ve read them to you?”
“I do,” Jack replied.
“Since you’re an officer of the court, I’m not going to cuff you. I want your word as an officer of the court that you won’t hinder this arrest.”
“Well, yeah, but what arrest is that?” Jack drawled, his eyes on Ted and Espinosa.
The director jerked his head toward the stage. “The vigilantes. Aiding and abetting.”
Jack offered up a great belly laugh. “That guy,” he said, tilting his head in Ted’s direction, “is obsessed with the vigilantes. I’m telling you, those women on the stage are not the vigilantes. Therefore, I have not aided and abetted them.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw two figures in police uniforms walking slowly down the dim hallway. Both of them were swinging their nightsticks. Five seconds later, two more cops walked toward one of the EXIT signs.
Jack decided it was in his best interest to pretend outrage. “I’m gonna get you for this, Robinson. You’ve been a pimple on my ass from the minute I got this assignment. I can’t wait to see the egg on your face when those women walk off the stage.” He was pleased to see the sudden worry in the reporter’s eyes. Two more cops walked toward the EXIT sign. Jack thought he would black out with relief when the emergency door closed behind the last two cops. Almost home free. The key word being, “almost.”
Onstage the real G-String Girls continued with their wild antics. The crowd was loving them. Jack looked toward the stage aware that all eyes backstage were on him. It would always be a mystery to him as to how the real G-String Girls could stay onstage for hours under the bright lights and not tire out. They all looked fresh as daisies. Maybe it had something to do with the adoration from the screaming crowd. He was getting tired just watching them perform.
Where the hell was Harry? No sooner had the thought popped into his mind when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“We’re under arrest,” Jack told him.
“No shit! Can I ask why? Does our arrest have something to do with that crud Robinson?”
Jack shrugged. “It surely does, my friend. Just ask him,” he said, pointing to Director Cummings. “Or him,” he said, pointing to Ted Robinson. “In case you don’t know it, Director, he’s fucking nuts, okay? I’m going to be filing law suits out the kazoo, but before I do that, I’m going on Fox 5 and telling them all about this whack job.” He pointed to Ted again and jabbed his finger right between his eyes. “I’m going to tell them loud and clear how you at the Bureau are wasting taxpayer dollars, mine in particular, so that asshole can get a byline. I’m naming names, too.” At the end of Jack’s tirade, the director was the one who looked wary.
The set finished and the G-String Girls scampered off the stage. They were immediately surrounded by the director and the four special agents. Jack and Harry inched their way backward, their eyes never leaving Ted, who suddenly looked like the Devil was coming after him.
One of the girls snapped her fingers and one of her handlers was front and center. “Fetch our passports, Simon. There seems to be a question as to who we are.”
Minutes later the director was perusing the passports, one after the other. He nodded and apologized profusely to the young women, who returned to the stage and the clamoring audience awaiting them.
“You’ll be coming with us, Mr. Robinson. We also desire your company, Mr. Espinosa.”
Jack let loose with an evil smile.
The director turned toward Jack and addressed him quietly. “There is the allegation that you and Wong here have joined forces with the vigilantes. I’m going to need to speak with you both also. The minute this concert is over, make your way to the Hoover Building, gentlemen. Don’t make me send someone for you.”
Jack simply shrugged but he did nod to show he understood.
Jack turned to Bert. “I thought that gold shield gave you carte blanche.”
Bert rolled his eyes. “It does. I was told to cooperate and there wouldn’t be any fallout. I just do what I’m told. Are they okay?”
“Are they, Harry?”
“They got away clean. That storm is still going on. I don’t know if they got off the ground or not. I haven’t heard a thing in that regard.”
Jack yanked out his phone and hit speed dial. Charles’s voice came through, sweet and clear. “They’re taxiing down the runway as we speak. They’ll be airborne in five more seconds.” Five seconds later, his voice boomed over optic cables. “And we have liftoff!”
Music drummed in Jack’s ears. He felt like he was floating in space as he sagged against the wall. Harry reached out to grab one arm, Bert took the other. “They’re airborne. We did it!” He closed his eyes and came back to Earth. “I’m getting way too old for this shit, boys.”
Bert leaned back against the wall on Jack’s left. Harry took up his position on the right. “Let’s enjoy the concert, gentlemen. You want my opinion, the first group had it going on. These girls are slugs compared to the first crew.”
The three of them high-fived each other as they roared with laughter.
The cell phone in Jack’s pocket vibrated. He walked farther into the wings to take the call. Maggie Spritzer. “Yeah,” he shout
ed.
“Jack…I…”
“What?”
“Jack…Jack…”
Jack’s blood ran cold. Once before he’d had a phone call like this one. Only that time it had been Nikki, when she was going through her own personal meltdown.
“Yes, it’s me, Jack. Where are you, Maggie?”
“Jack…I…”
“Maggie, where are you? Talk to me. I can make it right. Just tell me where you are.”
“I’m…sitting on the side of the bathtub. I am so…Jack…”
“Are you at the Post apartment? Is that where you are, Maggie? C’mon, c’mon, tell me where you are.”
“I…Yes. Oh, Jack, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Maggie. I’m coming to get you. Will you stay there till I get there?”
All Jack could hear on the other end of the phone were Maggie’s sobs. “Keep the line open. I’m coming for you now. Just stay put.”
Jack raced back to where Bert and Harry were standing. He shouted as loud as he could to be heard over the thunderous music. “Bert, you have to hold the fort. Harry and I have to get Maggie. I think she’s in some serious trouble. You okay with that?”
“As long as you keep that promise you made to me.”
“You got it.”
Outside in the pouring rain, Jack explained Maggie’s call. “It happened to Nikki when things got out of hand. We have to get to her before Ted and the Fibbies do.”
Both men slid onto the motorcycle and roared their way past the drenched crowd.
“C’mon, is this as fast as you can go? Give it some juice, Harry!”
“Is she going to be okay?” Harry bellowed over his shoulder.
Jack thought about Nikki’s ninety-day recovery. “Yeah, I think so. But you know Murphy’s Law! What can go wrong, will go wrong. Goose this thing already, Harry. Don’t forget we have an appointment with the Fibbies before this night is over.”
9. Hokus Pokus Page 21
