Ted’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Well, this was one hell of a fine mess. He looked over at his three colleagues and saw the same expression on their faces he knew was on his own.
The Brit, his shoulders stiff in his custom suit, walked from the room, angry comments following him. He ignored them all and headed through the newsroom to the elevator.
Ted thought he was going to be sick. He felt even sicker when he saw Navarro and Cummings whispering. Navarro in turn literally ran from the room to follow Summers. Ted looked around and swore later he never in his life saw a more pissed-off group of men standing in the same room and glowering at each other. No winner was going to emerge anytime soon. He wished he had the guts to follow Navarro and the Brit, but until Sullivan dismissed him, he figured he had better remain glued to the floor.
Ten minutes later the door to the conference room opened and a gaggle of lawyers with bulging briefcases entered.
And then it was a free-for-all as the men went at it with legal mumbo jumbo that made Liam Sullivan look like a pussycat. Ted and the other reporters moved their chairs to the far corner of the room. At a signal from Sullivan, Ted stuck his hand in his pocket and clicked on his minirecorder. The others watched him, then did the same thing.
The reporters whispered among themselves as each of them wondered where this meeting was all going and how it was going to end.
“Monroe, you said the guy you bought the rats from couldn’t see, you said his eyes were milky white. You sticking with that story?” Ted whispered.
“Yeah, and…Did you hear the description he gave of me? Said I looked like a Middle Eastern man. What’s that tell you? I bet those cruds just made that up. They have to save their asses for this…Jesus, I don’t know what to call it at this point.”
Ellis leaned forward, and whispered, “I have a good friend at the Fox Network, and she told me some guy called in and said it was all a big hoax. She called me right before my boss did his snatch and grab and brought me here. Actually, he dragged me here. She said they’re going with it on the eleven o’clock news. Whoever took the call recorded it. She said it sounds legit, whatever the hell that means.”
The reporters spent another fifteen minutes kicking around the question of whether the FBI could shut down the papers or not. They finally had to give up on their speculation when they couldn’t come up with an answer. They continued to listen to the squabbling, which was starting to sound mean.
“Oh, shit, look at what’s coming in the door,” Ted said. “Judges!”
The meeting then escalated to such a high pitch, the reporters tried to move farther away, but there was nowhere else to go. Besides, they had their orders. Stay and record.
Chapter 18
Nikki looked at her watch. Then she looked the other Sisters over and nodded approval at their makeover. “Okay, heads up, girls! Same drill as yesterday. We all meet up at the piano bar and take on Miz Rena Gold. Kathryn, you’re the lead on this since you made the original contact. You have a better feel for her than the rest of us. We’ll follow your cues. Everyone okay with that?”
The others nodded.
“You know what, Nikki? I liked her. I think she’s made of some good stuff. I can even understand how she got suckered into this mess with Zenowicz. We’ll play it by ear and hope for the best. I can’t help it, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.”
Annie was fidgeting in the corner. She was annoyed that this was the second time she and Myra were being left behind to hold the fort. There was no action going on at the old farmhouse. After last night’s fiasco with the Kentucky Bourbon, Myra said they had to drink soda pop. She looked over at Myra, who was playing with her pearls. The urge to snatch them right off her friend’s neck was so strong she clenched her fists. Boredom was a terrible thing.
The women all quieted down and jumped to attention when Myra’s cell phone rang. Conversation came to an abrupt halt. The kitchen door opened, and Jack and Harry entered the room, saw Myra on the phone, and stopped in their tracks. They knew as well as the girls that the only person Myra talked to on the special cell was Charles. There was no need for Nikki to put her finger to her lips for silence, but she did it anyway.
Jack jerked his head backward and pointed to his head, which was soaking wet, an indication that it was pouring rain outside. Again. Nikki made a face, then winked at him and mouthed the word “umbrella.” Jack nodded.
Myra whirled around, and announced, “That was Charles. Listen carefully. This is what he said. Less than thirty minutes ago a group of men walked into the Post for a meeting. The men were Dave Wylie from the Centers for Disease Control, Roger Nolan from Homeland Security, Elias Cummings, Navarro and some other senior agent, and Nigel Summers from the British Embassy. Shortly after their arrival, the editors in chief from the Sentinel and the News arrived with their star reporters, Monroe and Ellis. It seems that Ted Robinson and Joe Espinosa were already on the premises. Then a bunch of lawyers arrived, followed by four judges.”
“That’s it? Did Charles say anything else, like what the meeting was all about?” Jack asked.
Myra fingered the pearls at her neck. “It would seem that Mr. Nigel Summers from the British Embassy got a little…uh…pissy and stormed out, saying that he was rescinding British permission for American personnel to enter the embassy as of that moment and moving his people back into the embassy tomorrow. He said the rat situation was taken care of. And, it also seems that some anonymous person, who is deemed credible, called into the Fox News Channel and said the whole rat-plague thing was a gigantic hoax perpetrated by the FBI. They’re going to run the interview on the eleven o’clock news. I imagine it will be a teaser at the top of every hour until then. They’re all still going at it. Director Cummings wants the papers to put a lid on it. Said the orders came from the president himself—and by the way, both the president and the VP have been taken to secure locations. I wonder who called Fox,” Myra said.
Harry Wong raised his hand. “That would be me, Myra. There are a lot of things I will do for all of you, then there are some things I will not do, and contributing to mass hysteria is one of those things.”
Yoko beamed at him and blew him a kiss. “Good for you, honey,” she said.
Harry turned crimson but stood his ground.
“Harry, we had nothing to do with the rat-and-plague situation, you know that,” Myra said. “The story the FBI is going public with is that someone, some man of Middle Eastern descent, purchased three dozen rats and injected them with the plague. Supposedly those rats are running all over the city, and they multiply at the speed of light. Incidentally, that information has not been made public. Our cover story to get us back into the District just got out of hand. I don’t think any of us fault Harry for calling in to the station.”
The others agreed. Yoko blew Harry a second kiss.
“So, what are we supposed to do now?” Alexis asked. “Are we still on for this evening with Rena Gold?”
“Yes,” Myra said. “Charles wants us to work quickly. He’s afraid that Zenowicz might panic and take off for safer climes. He indicated that the creep is some kind of health nut.”
“Then we need to stake him out,” Annie said. “Myra and I can do that, can’t we, dear?”
Myra bristled. “No, dear, we can’t do that. Charles wants Harry or Jack to put someone on that. We’re to remain here at our base to take calls.”
“That just plain sucks, Myra. We’re missing everything.”
“Coordination is everything, Annie. Besides, it’s raining very hard, and you know how your hair frizzes up in the rain. We can watch the soaps.”
“What’s going to happen now?” Kathryn asked.
Jack shrugged. “This is just my opinion, but I think those guys at the Post are trying to come up with some kind of story that will cover their asses so the public won’t go after them when they learn this is all a big hoax. They’re all going to look like a bunch of fools, the entire administratio
n right down to the president and the VP. We can’t worry about any of them. They created their own mess. It’s a given they’ll all self-destruct. We have to do what we came here to do, and the sooner we do it, the better off we’ll all be. What I can do is jerk Ted Robinson’s chain to see if I get anywhere.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Harry said as he watched Yoko blowing him more kisses. He groaned, to her delight. To further torment him, she reached into her pocket and tossed him a fortune cookie. He caught it deftly, snapped it in two, and read the message:
Someone who is near loves you very much.
In spite of himself, he grinned from ear to ear as he crunched down on the crisp cookie. Little did he know Yoko kept a supply of fortune cookies close at hand, all with the same message. She giggled at Harry’s expression.
Outside, a streak of lightning zipped across the sky, lighting up the grounds outside the farmhouse, followed by a vicious clap of thunder that sounded like it was directly overhead. Rain gushed down from the sky and slammed against the kitchen windows.
“And you want to stake out that…that person in this weather,” Myra said, directing her comment to Annie, who looked chagrined.
“I was looking more along the lines of starting tomorrow, Myra,” she said defensively, as another streak lit up the sky. A second bolt of thunder literally rocked the old house. She shivered as she moved over to the cabinet that held liquor bottles. She waited until the little group donned their rain gear and headed out into the summer storm before she reached inside and brought out a bottle of scotch. “Screw the soaps, Myra. We need a refill on our false courage.”
“I see that, dear. I’ll take mine straight up if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all. Do we really want to mess with glasses, or should we do what we did last night, slug it right from the bottle?”
“I never did like washing dishes, and all those buttons on the dishwasher confuse me.”
“I guess that means we’re slugging from the bottle. I think it’s a sin that the others don’t want us with them. It’s our age, Myra, and don’t lie to me and say it isn’t.”
Myra patted Annie’s hand. “I won’t lie to you, dear. I really don’t like watching the soaps, Annie.”
“I don’t like them, either. It was just something to say. We can sit and talk of other things. And drink. I was never much of a drinker, Myra.”
Myra pretended to be shocked. “Well, you certainly fooled me last night, Annie.”
“Guess what? I fooled myself. Tonight we’ll sip instead of gulping.”
“What would you like to talk about, Annie?” Myra asked, settling herself in her favorite lounging chair. “The stock market, your possible purchase of the Post, Charles’s problems on the mountain, the girls, or your astronomical wealth?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a sex chat. And how someone my age goes about finding the man of her dreams.”
Myra took a generous hit from the bottle, forgetting that she was supposed to sip. “I don’t think we should go there, dear.”
“I knew you were going to say that, Myra. I just knew it. Just because there’s snow on the roof doesn’t mean there isn’t a fire in the furnace. Look at you and Charles. You two are the living proof. I want what you have. It’s not that I don’t love you and the girls and Harry and Jack. I do. I just want someone of my own. And don’t you dare tell me to get some goldfish.”
Myra threw a pillow at Annie, then leaned back and closed her eyes. She opened them almost immediately. Sometimes it was hard to tell when Annie was serious or just saying words.
“Annie, if it’s meant to be, it will be. I wish I knew someone who could…fill your needs, but under our present circumstances, it’s not doable. At least at the moment. Nice, available gentlemen in our age group are more scarce than a hen’s teeth. But I promise you I’m going to work on it.”
“I don’t want some nice old fart, Myra. I want someone with some dash and zip. I want someone who will make my toes curl up. I absolutely do not want someone my own age. Men our age will have forgotten everything they ever learned in the bedroom department by now. And all they’re looking for is someone to take care of them. I have no desire to play Florence Nightingale. Get me some boy toy who has some gusto.”
“Oh, dear God!” Myra gulped from the bottle until her eyes watered.
Jack drove all the way into the District with his heart slamming against his chest. He couldn’t ever remember being on the road during such a storm. The one upside was there was so little traffic going into the District that he had the highway virtually to himself.
The minute he parked his car in the lot behind the piano bar, he heaved a sigh of relief and reached for his cell phone. He looked at Harry in the dim light coming off the dashboard as he scrolled down and dialed Ted Robinson’s cell phone number. He admitted later he didn’t think Robinson would pick up, but he did.
Jack took the lead the moment he knew the connection was made. “Hey, jerk-off, what are you guys doing down there at the Post? That’s a hell of a headline you got going for yourself tomorrow morning. All those big wheels trying to tell you guys how to run the paper? Guess Summers told you all where to get off, huh? Aren’t you all going to look silly tomorrow when the world finds out the Brits are moving back into their embassy? Just so you know, I spread the word via the court pipeline. Those judges you’re diddling around with there in the office are going to look just as silly. Take a bow, Robinson.”
Ted gasped as he looked around frantically. Did Emery have an informer here in the offices? Who? Where the hell was he? How the hell did he know what was going on, and, more to the point, who was his snitch? He grappled for a suitable comeback, but nothing came to mind.
“Aw, gee whiz, Teddy, cat got your tongue? Guess what else? I heard, mind you, I just heard, that the guy who sold the rats is recanting. Actually, he had to recant because the poor guy is half-blind with cataracts. He said he made up that whole story because he was afraid he’d get in trouble. I think your dick just got tied into a knot, Teddy boy.”
When there was still no comment from Robinson, Jack went at it again. “I get it. You’re telling all those assholes in there that the vigilantes did it all. Ya know what? This time you’re on the money, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. See ya around. Well, maybe I won’t be seeing you, since you’ll be out there pounding the pavement looking for suitable employment. Hey, asshole, are you ever going to say anything? Well, shit, if that’s the way you feel about it, I’m sorry I wasted all these minutes talking to you. Bye-bye.”
Harry looked at Jack and shook his head. “And you did this…because?”
Jack guffawed. “Because I could. The son of a bitch didn’t say a word. He’s between a rock and a hard place right now. He’s not sure if there’s a spy in the group or if I planted a camera or a listening device inside. His stomach is in a knot for sure.”
Harry shook his head again. “And it was wise to mention the vigilantes…why?”
“Just to jerk his chain, to make him spin his wheels. No one is going to believe him if he starts spouting off about them again. Right now five will get you ten he’s remembering the night backstage when the G-String Girls were performing and I told him the vigilantes walked right past him. It’s a game, Harry. I play to win. Trust me. If you’d ever played poker with Ted, you’d know what I’m talking about. He doesn’t have a clue.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so. I think Miz Gold just arrived. By taxi. Didn’t someone say she was going to be using her limousine this evening?” Jack asked.
“Who cares? She’s here. Bet there aren’t going to be too many patrons tonight with everything that’s going on. Wanna bet?”
“Not with you I don’t. How much longer are we going to sit out here?” Harry demanded.
“At least another half hour. We don’t want anything looking contrived. Settle down and think about sweet nothings. What did that fortune coo
kie say?” Jack asked.
“None of your damn business,” Harry snapped.
“What do you think Myra and Annie are doing, Harry?”
“How the hell should I know? Making cookies, maybe.”
Jack frowned. “Do ya think? I’m not sure if either one of them can cook.”
“Well, then, maybe they’re watching some game show on television. Why do you care?”
Jack frowned again. “It’s not that I care. Well, I do, but I like to know where everyone is and what they’re doing when a mission is going down. Annie is a wild card. She can get Myra to do things she normally wouldn’t do. Sometimes she scares me.”
It was Harry’s turn to frown. “You know something, Jack, for once we’re on the same page. Annie scares me, too.”
If either Jack or Harry had known what the precocious Annie was doing at that precise moment, they would have been stunned.
Myra knew she had a pleasant buzz on, and she didn’t care. When Annie motioned her to turn down the volume on the television, she pressed the MUTE button. “Who are you calling at this time of night, Annie?”
“An important person. Shhh.”
Myra clamped her lips shut but leaned closer to hear the conversation.
“Arthur, you know who this is, right? Good, good. Never mention names, so nothing comes back to haunt you. How is the family? Really? I am so sorry to hear that. You were married a long time. Your wife found a younger man who makes her feel young. You make her feel old? That is so sad. I believe persons of that ilk are called boy toys. Well, you need to forge ahead and fight to keep your money so the boy toy doesn’t squander it. I called you for a reason, Arthur. I want to buy the Post.”
Fast Track (The Sisterhood: Rules of the Game, Book 3) Page 15
