“How’s this for an incentive, Arthur? You make this happen very, very quickly, and I will provide a bonus and make sure you get to keep the life you are accustomed to living when your wife takes you to the cleaners. Oh, she will. I’m a woman, I know how these things work. Before you know it, she’ll have you paying for all kinds of plastic surgery to make herself look young for her boy toy. Then she’s going to want a love nest. The multimillion-dollar kind. And a vacation home for…trysts. She’ll want the yacht you have, and she’ll rechristen it with the boy toy’s name. Then she’ll sock you with her legal bills. That’s the way it works, Arthur. The alimony will be over the moon. You’re fried. See, see, I’m your best bet for a long, happy life. Good night, Arthur, and don’t worry about a thing. You’re going to be so happy your wife left you, you’ll take up rumba lessons.”
“Rumba lessons? Is that what you said?” Myra demanded when Annie powered down her cell phone.
“What was I supposed to say? The poor man is devastated. I was just trying to help. Someday he’ll thank me. He’s not really a good catch, but with a little work, I think I could whip him into shape. You met him, Myra, what do you think of him?”
“He’s a dud.”
“That, too,” Annie said. “Oh, well, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll think of something else. Isn’t it exciting that I’m buying the paper? Do you think we should change the name of it to something else?”
“You should call Fox News and tell them so everyone can get in an uproar all over again,” Myra said as she belatedly caught Annie’s fever.
“I can do that, but who should I say is buying it?”
“Just say seven anonymous investors. Are we going to keep this a secret, or are we going to tell…you know…our side?”
“We’ll work on that, dear,” Annie said as she dialed 411 to get the phone number for Fox News. “I’m going to ask for Geraldo Rivera. I like him. He looks so tidy these days, with his new haircut. I don’t care what anyone says about him, the man has a heart. He runs with things. Why are you looking at me like that, Myra? You said yourself I could afford to buy the paper. It is one way to get rid of Ted Robinson. The only other way is to kill him, and we do not kill people. You said that, too.”
“God help me, I did say that.”
“You know what else, Myra? When this is all over and done with, and we’re free women again, we’ll have a place to go to work. There is nothing better than owning a newspaper with a vast circulation. I’m thinking of all of us and our futures.”
Myra wanted to tell her best friend that their futures were murky at best, but she didn’t have the heart to rain on Annie’s parade.
“Let’s go to bed, Annie.”
“But we didn’t finish the bottle,” Annie said, holding up the bottle of scotch.
“Tomorrow is another day, Annie.”
“You’re right as usual, Myra. Okay, let’s call it a night.”
Chapter 19
Kathryn, aka Delia McDermott, shook the rain from her raincoat and hung it up on a coatrack next to the door. Her bright red umbrella went into a stand with three others, all of which were black. She looked around the piano bar to see who else had braved the elements to come out on such a nasty night. Jack and Harry were seated at the bar, and only two other men were seated at the opposite end. Isabelle, in her dowdy-librarian disguise, was at a table that would hold eight. There was no sign of Rena Gold.
Outside, the wind and torrential rain lashed at the plate glass windows of the bar. Kathryn shuddered. Just the short walk from the curb to the entrance had left her feet soaking wet. She was dressed in a slate-gray power suit with a short skirt that showed off her long legs. The slit up the side was, as Alexis said, absolutely sinful.
I wonder if I could ever get used to dressing like this day after day, she mused.
Kathryn was deep in her own thoughts when she felt someone touch her shoulder. She whirled around, her hands clenched into fists ready to strike as she looked up to see who it was. The owner? Perhaps the manager?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but I wanted to tell you Mr. Lymen won’t be playing this evening. He just called to cancel,” the manager said. “Seems the streets are too flooded. The owner instructed me to close up shop. I’m really sorry. But, I did take the liberty of calling the Georgetown Grill, which is just three doors down, and they’re open, with no plans of closing early, in case you wanted dinner.”
Kathryn nodded as the man walked over to where Jack and Harry were sitting to relay the same message.
Isabelle, who was sitting at Kathryn’s table, shrugged, and said, “We have to wait for Rena Gold.”
Kathryn nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack and Harry get up and head toward the door. Just as they reached it, the door blew open with a gust of wind and rain. Rena Gold and Nikki ran into the waiting area and immediately shed their raincoats.
Kathryn popped off her seat and ran to the door to announce relocation plans. They all donned their rain gear and headed out to run to the Georgetown Grill. Jack and Harry hung back so they could wait for Yoko and Alexis.
“This is soooo much fun, isn’t it?” Rena shouted to be heard over the pounding rain. “I used to love to play in the rain when I was a little kid. I don’t like the lightning, though,” she gasped as she flung open the door of the Georgetown Grill.
A waiter was standing at the reservation desk with snow-white towels. The women giggled and jiggled as they struggled to get out of their wet things. In the end, they all removed their shoes and carried them to a long table that could comfortably seat twelve guests. The bar held only a few customers, and only two tables in the far back of the room were occupied.
Just as the women seated themselves, the door opened, and Yoko and Alexis entered, Jack and Harry on their heels. Kathryn watched as the two men toweled off and headed for the bar. Alexis and Yoko joined the chattering girls, who were looking at glossy menus.
Jack nudged Harry’s arm. “Perfect setup, wouldn’t you say? We can see the girls in the bar mirror, and if we lean back, we can hear their conversation. I’m thinking at some point they might even invite us to join them.”
“Ever the optimist, eh, Jack? What are you drinking this fine night?”
“A Corona. I’ve eaten here before with Nik. Seems like a lifetime ago. Hell, I could walk here from her house. They have Kobe beef, but it comes with a high price tag. It cuts like butter. What’s your delight tonight, Harry?”
“I’ll give it a whirl since you’re paying. Twice-baked potato, the cucumber salad, and a whole loaf of that bread with the hard crust.”
Jack couldn’t remember offering to pick up the tab. Sometimes Harry could be tighter than a duck’s ass, and other times he was so generous it boggled the mind. For all his cantankerous ways, Harry Wong was a guy you wanted in your corner. Jack didn’t care one way or the other about picking up the tab, since Charles sent him a check once a month to cover his out-of-pocket expenses. They gave their order to the bartender and stared at the chattering girls, who were ordering their dinner and giggling like schoolkids. Isabelle was pouring wine with gay abandon. The object, Jack knew, was to get Rena Gold drunk as soon as possible, so her tongue would loosen up.
Jack felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He fished it out and looked at the name of the caller. Bert. He powered on, aware that Nikki was watching his back. He could see her clearly in the bar mirror. He moved off the stool and headed toward the men’s room. He knew Nikki would follow shortly.
“Talk to me, big guy. What the hell is going on?”
“Big stuff, Jack. Listen, I only have a few minutes. My boss is watching me like a hawk, so if you suddenly hear me say something stupid or if I laugh, understand. The shit is hitting the fan. Everyone is scrambling. I called Charles a little while ago, but this time you’re going to have to get back to him. I can’t risk another call. I swear to God I cannot believe these assholes are running this country. What that means
is they know this whole rat-plague thing is a hoax, but they’re scrambling now to save their asses, my boss included. The Bureau has so many black eyes lately I lost count, but the guy from HS is a loose cannon. He’s the one who raised the alert level, and he’s the one who caused the panic. It’s as if he has orders from the administration to create as much fear and panic as he can. And he’s not about to give up, either. He’s doing his best to keep fueling this goddamn mess. The guy from the CDC is leaving in the morning and will give an interview to the media before he leaves.
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised to hear that he disappears and never gets on his plane. That’s how whacked out that guy is from HS. My boss is fit to be tied. The press will not comply, and that’s making everyone crazy. I never saw so many spitting, snarling lawyers and judges in one group. It’s a goddamn free-for-all.
“But that’s not really why I’m calling. Robinson, that old friend of yours, is spouting off about the vigilantes—saying this is the kind of scenario/diversion they create when they’re ready to pull a fast one. Mind you, he did not volunteer this information. His boss called on him to wax poetic. He was only too happy to do so. My boss was all ears, I can tell you that. Nolan from HS pooh-poohed it all away, saying the women were too smart to mess around with something as serious as the plague. I swear to God, Jack, that’s what he said. So, there you have it in a nutshell. I think the president and the VP are on their way back from wherever they were stashed. Now, I don’t know that for a fact, but I more or less heard my boss talking to the national security advisor.
“Another thing, Robinson almost had me convinced. They’re paying attention to him, Jack, and that scares me. Where are you and what’s going on?”
Jack told him.
“Mom, I really have to go. I’ll call you in the morning. Mom, just tell Dad to take his medicine on time, and he’ll be fine. Timing is so important. You know what the doctor said. Sometimes time is crucial. Mom, Dad is not going to die from restless leg syndrome. Two days is pushing it, but he’ll be fine. Remember, I spoke to the doctor myself. I really have to go, Mom. Yes, I love you, too.”
“Shit!” Jack muttered as he clicked off. He whirled around and saw Nikki. He wanted to kiss her so bad his teeth started to chatter. Instead, he relayed what Bert had just said.
“Does that mean we only have two days?” Nikki asked anxiously.
“Call me stupid, but, yeah, that’s what I think it means. How’s it going out there?”
“She’s drinking and she’s chatty but nothing earth-shattering yet. Damn, I wish this weather would let up. I don’t know if it’s important or not, but her cell phone is turned off. She said she has to do that from time to time to save her sanity. I like her, Jack. We all do.”
Jack nodded. “Let me go back first. Wait a few minutes before you return to your table. I love you, Nik.”
“Yeah, me, too. It’s all going to work out, Jack.”
“Yeah, right. You didn’t hear Bert, I did.”
Nikki laughed. “Who you gonna believe, Bert or me?”
Jack groaned as he made his way back to the bar. The moment he was settled on his stool, he hunkered over and clued Harry in on Bert’s phone call.
“See what happens when you don’t listen to me, Jack? I said we should take out that jerk, but you said no. Right now, this very minute, Robinson could be resting in the hospital done up in splints. So, eat shit, Jack. Your chickens are coming home to roost. I don’t like that two-day thing. Does today count? Did you even ask that? Or is it two days from tomorrow? Call Charles and ask him.”
“He won’t know. I’m supposed to relay Bert’s message to him. Well, we can do that after we eat. Our food is here. You eat first, I’ll watch the girls, and when you’re done, I’ll eat.”
“Will you eat, for Christ’s sake? Nothing is going to happen while you chew and swallow. Sometimes I hate you, Jack.”
Jack didn’t rise to the bait the way he normally did. He did eat, but his eyes were on the mirror the whole time in case Nikki or one of the other girls gave him a signal. To do what, he had no clue.
Across the room, the wine continued to flow.
Kathryn squirmed in her chair. “I hope we can all get home tonight,” she said.
Rena waved an arm. “My gosh, Delia, it’s just rain. We can always take a taxi or I can call my limo. I wish I had done that to get me here, but I didn’t want the driver reporting my whereabouts to you know who.” She giggled to show what she thought of that.
“Who is who?” Alexis asked in a sing-song voice.
Rena waved her fork in the air. “Who is someone I’m not allowed to talk about. You know what, I don’t care. I’m leaving tomorrow anyway. Well, maybe I’m leaving, if I can figure out how to get my suitcases to the airport.”
The girls as one sat up straighter. Kathryn was the first to speak. “What do you mean you’re leaving? We just met each other. Where are you going?” she asked fretfully.
The others jumped in, saying things like, “Soon as you meet someone you can have fun with in this damn city, what do they do but up and leave.” And on and on it went until Rena had tears in her eyes.
“I know, I know, but I have to get out of here. If I don’t, I’m going to get caught up in a real…in a real mess. If I tell you all where I’m going, you can come and visit me, but you can’t tell anyone where I am, okay?”
Isabelle, in her dowdy-librarian disguise, tittered. “How can we tell anyone when we don’t know where you’re going? I’m going to miss you. You’re such fun.”
“Oh, Margie,” Rena said, using Isabelle’s pseudonym, “thank you for that nice compliment.” She leaned across the table, and whispered, “I’m going back to Las Vegas. Believe it or not, I can get lost there.”
Isabelle played stupid. “Why do you want to get lost? How can you give up that wonderful job you have with that astronomical salary?”
Rena made a very unladylike sound. “That salary is just on paper. I make 58K. My…that guy I got tangled up with takes the rest. I have to pay taxes on the 58K. I can’t live here without the perks. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I don’t want to be with him anymore.”
“Who is him?” Nikki asked softly. “Is he someone important? Are you afraid he’ll harm you?”
Rena took a great big gulp of wine, and said, “Him is indeed a very important man, and I don’t know if he would harm me or not. He’s threatened to if I ever mentioned his name or did anything to bring him notoriety. He keeps a tight rein on me. Even the doorman at the building I live in spies for him. That’s why I have to find someone to take my bags to the airport. If the doorman sees me leaving, he’ll call and report to…him.”
“That’s terrible,” Yoko said gently. “How can you live like that?”
“That’s just it, I can’t. I’ve been trying to get up the nerve for a while now, but I could never…you know…pull it together. Then, when I met Delia last night and talked to her, it just seemed that now was the time to do it. I need a nest egg. I have a little money but not enough. I’m going to hawk the jewelry he gave me, but something tells me it’s not real, just very good paste. He’s stingy but likes to make a big show.” Rena drained the wine in her glass and held it out for a refill. Kathryn obliged.
“Let me get this straight, Rena,” Nikki said. “You’re leaving even though you’re afraid. You don’t have enough money to do that, but you’re going to leave anyway and sell off what you can. You need someone to move your suitcases. How am I doing so far?”
“You’re doing good.”
“How are you so sure he won’t find you when you get to Vegas?” Nikki asked.
“I have friends there. The kind that aren’t front and center like him. They could make him disappear like that,” she said, snapping her fingers. “You know, a while back I tried every way I could to get in touch with those women, you know, the vigilantes. I even went to a reporter at the Post and asked him to help me, but he refused when he wanted me to
tell him details and I wouldn’t. You know how reporters are. I contributed to their defense fund, so I thought they might help me. Well, that didn’t happen. This wine is really good.”
“Yes, it is good,” Nikki said, pretending to sip at her own glass. “What did you want them to do for you, Rena?”
Rena looked around, her eyes glazed. “For me, nothing. I wanted them to…you know, take care of him. I was prepared to…I don’t know, maybe cripple him or make him resign and go away, far away. My problem is I know…stuff. Then I got afraid.” She leaned into the table as did the others. “I had a friend visit from Vegas, and he built a safe in the floor of my closet. What do you think of that?” she asked triumphantly, wine sloshing out of her glass.
Yoko hastened to refill it and mop up the excess at the same time.
“Wow!” Kathryn said. “What do you keep in it? Your jewels?”
“The stuff. I knew the day would come when I’d need…just stuff,” Rena said vaguely as she twirled the wine in her glass. She swallowed the rest in one long gulp. “If this town knew half of what I know, that bastard would go up in flames. So, do you girls know anyone who can take my suitcases to the airport?”
“Actually, I do,” Nikki said. “When do you want to do that?”
“Do you really? Would you really do that for me? I’ll be more than glad to pay them for doing it.”
“Well, sure. One good favor deserves another. Just tell us that prick’s name, so we never get involved with him.”
Rena Gold looked around the table. All she saw were sympathetic faces. Tears glistened in her eyes. “The president of the World Bank, Maxwell Zenowicz.” The moment she said the words aloud, she clapped her hands over her mouth. Her glassy eyes filled with fear at her outburst.
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