Fast Track (The Sisterhood: Rules of the Game, Book 3)

by Fern Michaels

  “What time will the special editions hit the streets?” Yoko asked.

  “I’m guessing around four, five at the latest. That’s just a few hours from now,” Nikki said.

  Alexis was on her feet. Perspiration beaded her brow. “How close are we going to be cutting it, Nikki?” It was obvious to all the Sisters that she was remembering the time she’d spent in prison on a trumped-up charge of securities fraud.

  Nikki could see no sense in lying to Alexis. “Real short. I think with the guys in the parking garage watching our backs we’ll be okay. It’s when we’re out in the open that it will become a problem. That’s why we need your Red Bag. And of course the box. If we leave now and attempt to go back to the farm, the danger increases because we’ll have to turn around and come right back, and for you to do your magic is going to take a while. I’m sure Charles will come up with something,” she said soothingly.

  “Maybe we should call Myra,” Isabelle said.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t,” Kathryn said sourly. “First off, it’s the middle of the night, and I’m sure both Myra and Annie are sleeping. Secondly, there’s a storm out there, and do we really want either one of them trying to get to us? I-don’t-think-so. Tell me what you think of this: As you all know, I was a trucker and drove in all kinds of weather in an eighteen-wheeler. I’ll drive out to the farm, get our stuff, and bring Myra and Annie back with me. We can’t leave without them, and I don’t see any other options. I’m willing to listen to ideas. Remember now, the FBI and Homeland Security are going to be watching this town like hawks.”

  Rena Gold chirped up. “Do you always have so many problems?”

  “Lady, you are part of the problem, so pipe down and let us do what we do best,” Isabelle all but snarled.

  Rena Gold ignored Isabelle. “How is it you manage to elude the authorities and get away with it? You women are every woman’s idol, young and old. I have to tell you, though, I don’t think you’re any match for the FBI and Homeland Security. No offense.”

  Kathryn’s eyes flashed fire. “Maybe you’d like us to recite our résumés to you. Yoko, do the honors.”

  “It will be my pleasure, Kathryn.” She fixed her gaze on Rena Gold and almost in a hypnotic voice regaled the woman with some of their victories. She ended with, “And we took on the acting director of the FBI. Check the archives. The man has never been seen or heard of again. The national security advisor is a vegetable. A group of dentists are eunuchs these days. There’s a man in China who is stark, raving mad because we skinned him alive. It was not pretty. We even gave him a mirror when we sent him on his way. Oh, and before I forget, there was this senator who was married to one of our Sisters. He gave her AIDS—do you believe that? Our Sister died. Her name was Julia, and she was a doctor. Isn’t that sad? She was a doctor and couldn’t save herself. Her husband had the American flag tattooed on his ass. He works in Africa these days for five cents an hour. Not too terribly long ago we were here in this fair city impersonating the G-String Girls and completed our mission. Oh, before I forget, there was my father, who was into white slavery. I’m sure you heard of him, the famous actor, Michael Lyons. We glued him and his sick friends to the floor with industrial- strength glue and when they came to arrest them they had to cut the boards to flatbed them to prison. Our missions are illustrious and dangerous, but we always come out on top.”

  Kathryn eyeballed the ex-showgirl. “So, sweet cheeks, who you putting your money on, the FBI, Homeland Security, or us?”

  Rena turned pasty white, her bottled suntan failing entirely. “I’m sorry. You, of course. I didn’t know…What I mean is, oh, hell, I don’t know what I mean. Listen, don’t forget I donated to your defense fund. I’m not going to squeal on you. It’s just that the ordinary layperson is programmed to believe that law and order will win out.”

  “That’s bullshit!” Kathryn cried. “The law works for the criminal. The good guys fall through the cracks. When I was gang-raped, those dentists got away with it. If it wasn’t for my friends here, they would have really gotten away with it. They’re the eunuchs that Yoko was talking about. We sent them their balls in a Ziploc bag via FedEx.”

  Rena swallowed hard but didn’t say another word.

  “Oh, shoot, Yoko, you didn’t tell her about when we stuck the dynamite up those guys’ asses and lit the fuses,” Kathryn said.

  “Darn! You’re right. We did do that, Rena. Poof! Gone!” Yoko said, pride ringing in her voice.

  Rena Gold’s eyes rolled back in her head before she slid off the couch.

  “Enough with our accomplishments,” Nikki said. “Kathryn, do you think you can really make it out to McLean and back before it gets light?”

  “I do. I’ll take Bert with me if that’s okay.”

  Nikki grinned. “Go for it. Be careful, okay?”

  “Always,” Kathryn said as she beelined for the door.

  Five minutes later, Rena rejoined the living. She looked around to see if anything new had transpired while she was passed out. Satisfied nothing had, she poured more wine for herself. Suddenly, she squirmed and wiggled as she struggled to remove her vibrating cell phone from the pocket of her slacks. “I must have turned it on when I slid off the couch. It’s Maxwell. Let’s see, he’s called”—she pressed a button and scrolled down the list of incoming calls—“twenty-nine times since noon yesterday. That means he is royally pissed at me. I’m surprised he didn’t come here. I guess the weather had something to do with it. I told you, he’s a health nut about germs and stuff. He runs to the doctor if he stubs his toe. He is so afraid he’ll get prostate cancer, he gets checked every month. He takes forty-two vitamins a day. He constantly sanitizes his hands. He even sanitizes his feet before he puts his socks on.”

  The Sisters stared at Rena. It was Yoko who found her tongue first. “That’s a little more than we needed to know, Rena. And you found this all sexually exciting?”

  Rena snorted. “No way. I faked it. Every time. Look, think what you want about me. I did it for the money and to get out of Vegas before I got all used up. Would I do it again? NO! Everything in life is a learning experience, and I just had the Queen Mother of all learning experiences. Are you going to tell me what you’re going to do to Maxwell?”

  “It’s better you don’t know, Rena. This way you can go back to Vegas and start your life all over again without having to look over your shoulder. What I will tell you is you will never have to set eyes on Maxwell Zenowicz again,” Nikki said.

  Her eyes bigger than saucers, Rena nibbled on one of her acrylic nails. “Okay, I guess I can live with that.”

  “You don’t have a choice, Rena,” Isabelle said.

  Chapter 23

  To Bert’s relief, the driving black rain finally let up ten miles from Myra Rutledge’s McLean estate. Still, Kathryn drove the high-powered van like it was an eighteen-wheeler. Bert hung on to the strap above the passenger-side door for dear life. “You’re one gutsy lady, Kathryn Lucas. But do you think you could slow down just a little?”

  “If I slow down, we’ll never get there. No cops out in this weather. We have to get back to Rena’s, ASAP. This is crunch time. For some reason we always bring it right down to the wire. I…should thank you, Bert, for all you’ve done for us. I also know what a hard decision it must have been for you to swing to our side of the fence.”

  Bert looked over at the capable woman driving the van. His chiseled features softened. He really liked Kathryn Lucas. He rather thought she liked him, too. He couldn’t help but wonder how it would all turn out. He knew she was waiting for an answer of sorts. “I’m for whatever brings justice to the world. The system is flawed. We all know that. Like you and the others, I have lines I will not cross. I’m at peace with my decision just the way Jack and Harry are. Does that help?”

  Kathryn smiled. “You’re my kind of guy, Bert,” she said, the smile in her voice obvious.

  What would Jack Emery say to that comment? Probably something either witty or p
rofound. Well, he wasn’t Jack Emery, so he was going to have to wing it. “I like you, Kathryn. I want to get to know you better. I also want you to know I never felt anything like I felt when I kissed you.” Oh, God, did he just say that? Obviously he had because Kathryn burst out laughing.

  “That kiss was a toe cruncher, that’s for sure. We have to do it again soon.”

  Jesus. Bert felt so befuddled he couldn’t see straight. What would Jack say? “Name the date and the time, and I’m your boy.” Shit, Jack would drum him right out of the good ol’ boys’ club for his witty repartee. Who the hell needed Jack Emery anyway? He was doing okay on his own. At least he thought he was. He could see Kathryn smiling in the darkness. Suddenly he felt good all over.

  Then he almost fainted when he heard Kathryn say, “I like you a lot, Bert. It’s been a long time since…I’m sure Jack told you that my husband died, and I…I’m trying to say something here, Bert, and I don’t know how to say it.”

  Bert reached over and touched her arm gently. Screw Jack Emery and his advice. “That was yesterday, Kathryn, there’s no need for you to tell me anything. In fact, I don’t want to know. This is now, so if it’s okay with you, let’s go on from here and not look back. I do want to say something, though. If the time ever comes when you want to talk about Alan—and, yes, Nikki and the others told me your husband’s name—I’ll listen. If that time never comes, that’s okay, too.”

  Kathryn reached for Bert’s hand and squeezed it. “Okay, that’ll work.”

  It was Bert’s turn to laugh, and he threw his head back, the sound ricocheting inside the huge van. Kathryn thought his laughter was the nicest sound she’d ever heard. She started to tingle all over at the possibilities lying ahead of her.

  “We’re coming up to the gate now. You’ve been here before, haven’t you, Bert?”

  “Yes. I was one of the guys who went through the farmhouse after you all escaped. I want to tell you that putting those leg monitors on the cats was a stroke of genius. We thought you girls were the busiest women in the world. When that got into the paper, the FBI looked like a bad, sad, Mickey Mouse Club. Even back then, I was secretly applauding and rooting for all of you.”

  Kathryn opened the window of the van and punched in the code that would unlock the massive iron gates. She told him about the first time she’d been here and how she had to plow down the gates with her eighteen-wheeler because the power was out. “That was the beginning of it, Bert. That was the first night when we all met one another. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night as long as I live.”

  Bert felt compelled to say something. “You girls have had a great run, and I want to keep it that way, so safe and cautious is the way to go. Agreed?”

  “You got it. At least it’s stopped raining.”

  A floodlight suddenly lit the entire backyard, and the kitchen door opened to reveal Annie and Myra dressed and ready to go. Kathryn raced to both women and hugged them tightly.

  Annie held Kathryn off at a distance and looked into her eyes.

  “Wh…What?” Kathryn asked.

  “You’re in love, aren’t you, dear?”

  Kathryn could feel heat creeping up from her neck to her cheeks. “I think so, Annie, but don’t tell anyone, okay?”

  Annie wanted to tell her the whole world would see it on her face, but she didn’t. “We’re ready to go,” she said, giving Kathryn one last hug.

  Bert stepped inside to pick up the Red Bag, which was stuffed to overflowing. He carried it to the van, then returned to pick up two equally heavy cardboard cartons.

  “A man with muscles. I like that,” Annie said, winking at Kathryn.

  There was an eerie calmness to the night as Kathryn drove back into the District. There was little conversation, each busy with his or her own thoughts.

  It was three minutes till four when Kathryn steered the van down the ramp leading to the underground parking garage. Harry and Jack were waiting for them. Harry raced to the gate and pushed a big red button. Kathryn barreled through and skidded to a stop. Rain dripped from the undercarriage and formed huge puddles. Bert hopped out, holding the door for Annie and Myra, who immediately ran in the direction Kathryn was pointing. Jack opened the door from the other side and motioned the women to follow him to the elevator. The whole operation was synchronization down to the last sync.

  No one was breathing hard when Alexis opened the door to admit the group. She smiled when she saw her Red Bag.

  And then they were all talking at once. Rena Gold pushed herself deep into the pillows of the sofa as she wondered what she’d gotten herself into. When she couldn’t reach a conclusion, she poured herself yet another glass of wine. The empties lining the glass-top table now numbered seven.

  Rena continued to watch as her new best friends worked at the speed of light. First they played with the remote for the plasma TV hanging on her wall, then they moved off to the computer system Zenowicz had had installed for her in the oversized dressing room off the bedroom that she used as an office. What were they doing? And, did she even want to know? She decided she didn’t care one way or the other.

  Rena almost jumped out of her skin when Yoko tapped her on the shoulder. “You should take a shower now and dress in your traveling clothes. We will have coffee ready for you when you are ready. You will be leaving soon after Zenowicz arrives. You understand that, right?”

  Did she? She shrugged. “Are you saying you won’t need me?”

  “That’s what I’m saying. We have your cell phone number and will call you when we are finished here. Tell me you understand everything I just said.”

  Rena nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She got up and wobbled to the master bathroom. She knew she was drunk and had to sober up. In order to do that she would have to shower under cold water first. She wondered if the shock would kill her.

  She was literally blue with cold, goose bumps all over her body, when she stepped out of the shower. It took another thirty minutes to dress and apply her makeup. When she was done she felt stone-cold sober and in need of some strong black coffee. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. It was a smile that promised trouble. For Maxwell Zenowicz.

  Back in the living room, she watched in amazement as Alexis rummaged in the huge Red Bag, working in a frenzy. She thought of Santa Claus and his big green burlap bag. This was like that. She remembered how as a child she stood in awe when the jolly old guy came to the church basement and fished around in his bag as he looked for that special present with each child’s name on it. It didn’t matter if you were a boy or a girl, your present was wrapped in silver paper and tied with a big red satin bow. She remembered how thrilled that big red bow made her feel.

  Without anyone telling her, Rena knew she wasn’t supposed to know what was in the Red Bag, and she also knew she was in the way, so she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. There was a lot to be said for a good surprise. A lot. She crossed her fingers and hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed.

  The coffee was good. She poured a second cup. Then she debated making toast, but with all the wine she’d consumed, she decided to leave well enough alone. Her eyes on the clock, she did a mental countdown to when she was to call Maxwell Zenowicz. Thirty more minutes. She crossed her fingers again, hoping she could pull off what the vigilantes required of her. If she wanted that new life she dreamed of, she’d have to pull it off, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Thirty minutes. Her eyes glued to the clock on the range, she started to count. “This is your lucky day, Maxwell.”

  The front door opened, and Harry entered the foyer. He called out, “Look alive, people, this building is starting to come awake. The elevators are humming, and cars are going in and out of the garage. The cameras are still dark, which is a good thing. What’s our countdown?”

  Someone called out from the living room. He thought it was Isabelle. “Rena is going to call at five thirty, twenty-five minutes from now. We don’t know how long it will take Zenowicz
to get here, but we’ll be ready for him. See if you can find a morning edition of one of the papers.”

  “If I go out of the garage, I can’t get back in. Hey, Jack, spot me, okay?” Jack obliged him, and they both left the penthouse.

  In the kitchen, Rena continued to stare at the clock on the range.

  In the sunken living room, Kathryn, Isabelle, Nikki, and Yoko now looked like Rena Gold right down to the pouty lips and false eyelashes. Myra and Annie were resplendent in haughty dowager gear, while Alexis had made herself look like a tight-ass female banker with a bun in her hair and tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses.

  “Now what?” Yoko asked.

  “Now we wait,” Nikki said.

  Chapter 24

  Rena Gold had her hand on her house phone ready to make the call to Maxwell Zenowicz when Harry, Jack, and Bert burst into the apartment, their arms loaded with fresh-off-the-press copies of the Post, the Sentinel, and the News. Their faces were grim. Myra’s hands were shaking when she reached out to take a copy. She gasped, as did the others.

  “This is not good,” Jack said, his eyes on Nikki as she scanned the front page of the Post.

  “Well, the photographer captured our true likeness,” Annie quipped as she pointed to the half-page picture, above the fold, on all three newspapers. The picture had been taken when they’d been arraigned and stood before Judge Cornelia Easter. The huge black headline, usually reserved for a declaration of war, read, “VIGILANTES BACK!” Below the fold, which took up the bottom half of all three papers, was a picture in caricature. The vigilantes wearing knee-high boots with six-inch heels, clad in bustiers, long hair flowing wildly, each with a smoking gun in her hand. One word, as big as the headline above the caricature, read, “GOTCHA!”