Annie drew the honor and turned on her TASER. “This is what is going to happen, sir. When I fire this TASER, tendrils of blue electric current will start to crackle between the electrodes. You’ll smell ozone, but don’t let that worry you. When this hits you, you will fall over and be incapacitated. We can keep doing it all morning until you tell us what we want to know. Now,” she said importantly, “you have three choices. The TASERS, the plague serum, or a lobotomy. That’s what those…uh…tools on the table are for. We’re still in the apprentice stage on the lobotomy. If we screw it up, oh, well, you’ll never know anyway. Where’s the goddamn money?”
When Zenowicz remained mute, Annie fired off her TASER and hit him six inches below his belt. He reeled backward from the jolt and fell forward. Eighteen seconds later he groaned and tried to get up. Kathryn’s TASER hit him a second time in the neck. He fell forward again, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Where’s the money?” Alexis asked, standing over him, the TASER in her hand at the ready. “You know, you could have a heart attack if we jolt you seven times. Why are you being such a hard-ass, Mr. Zenowicz?”
“Fuck each and every one of you. I’ll see you all in prison for this. I have the money to do it, too.”
“I sense a little puffery here, ladies. I don’t much care for it.” Alexis’s TASER hit Zenowicz midchest. He fell, rolled over in agony, and cursed in several different languages.
“Enough of this foolishness. Prep his arm and we’ll give him a shot,” Nikki said. “He’ll probably live for maybe three days. Unless we do the lobotomy. Let’s take a vote, girls.”
The final tally was four for the lobotomy and three for the plague.
In the kitchen the three men looked at one another in stupefied amazement. Jack finally decided to break the stunned silence. “Think of it as his coming-out party, boys. The guy was dumb enough to wander off the reservation, so he deserves whatever happens to him.”
Glassy-eyed, his body racked with pain, Zenowicz struggled to a sitting position. Naked fear showed in his eyes. He was shaking from head to toe as he watched the women towering over him.
“Who’s watching the time?” Nikki asked.
“I am, dear,” Annie said. “I think you have just enough time to do the lobotomy if you hurry. Cut as many corners as you feel necessary. What did we decide to use for anesthetic?”
“Well the class-A anesthetic was all gone from the pharmacy, so we’re going to use plain old ether. He’ll feel it, but it can’t be helped. Someone shave his head. Left, right, frontal, what? I can’t remember. I never did this before. Practicing on a stiff isn’t the same as a human. Quick now, shave his head and swab it with alcohol. First it’s an incision, then we have to saw through the bone. Where’s the saw?”
“I have it right here, Nikki,” Annie said, holding up a surgical saw. “Here’s the scalpel. Ooh, I don’t think I can watch this, it’s going to be so gory. Do you all mind if I go for some coffee?”
“No, go ahead,” Nikki said.
“You crazy bitch! Rena, stop them! After all I’ve done for you, how can you let this happen? Stop them; I’ll give you anything you want.”
Rena laughed and laughed.
“The book says the operation takes three hours. We don’t have three hours,” Kathryn said. “What should we do?” she dithered, for Zenowicz’s benefit.
“No problem,” Nikki said, snapping on a fresh set of surgical gloves. “I think I can do it in forty-five minutes. Who’s going to know if I screw it up?”
Zenowicz fainted.
“I’ll zap him awake,” Kathryn said. “If you want to get this over with, plug in the drill. That should make him sit up and take notice.”
“Good point,” Nikki said as she plugged in the drill, turned it on, and grinned.
Kathryn shook the president of the World Bank like a rag doll. Finally, he was able to focus. “Change of plans, Mr. President. We just don’t have the time to do a full-scale operation, so we’re going to drill into your frontal lobe and do it that way. The book says it should work.”
“All right, all right! I’ll tell you what you want to know. If I tell you, will you let me go?”
“Absolutely! And no hard feelings,” Annie said with a straight face.
The women hauled Zenowicz to his feet and dragged him into Rena’s small office. Nikki booted up the laptop that was in his briefcase and waited. She shot him a warning look and advised him not to lie. “Give me your password.”
“MAZ46,” Zenowicz responded.
Nikki typed it in and watched as mundane records appeared on the screen. Ledgers, online banking for household expenses, a small checking account at Wachovia Bank. Small donations to various charities.
Nikki leaned back in the swivel chair and pierced him with a stabbing glare. “Enough of this bullshit. This is not what I’m talking about. Do not, I repeat, do not, tax my patience. Give me the proper password right now.”
He held out until Kathryn ran out to the living room to return with the hypodermic needle and the drill. His torso bare, Zenowicz shriveled into a small heap as he sank to his knees.
“Look, Mr. President, give it up right now. Where you’re going, you will never see a penny of this money. Your life as you know it is over. You can go to your new home with or without a lobotomy. Or, if you want to die quickly, it’s the shot. We do not have the time for you to diddle around with us. Our patience ran out about fifteen minutes ago. I’m going to get up off this chair, and you are going to sit down. And then you are going to show me everything that’s on this laptop. Do it now!” Nikki said.
Moving like a zombie, Zenowicz did as Nikki instructed. The minute she saw what she wanted appear on the screen, she pushed him off the chair and sat down. Her fingers flew over the keys at the speed of light. Within minutes she was able to see his personal wealth, which was staggering, and the money he’d stolen from the World Bank. She grinned when she looked down at the man on the floor, who was watching her.
“You’re a stupid man, Mr. Zenowicz. Swiss banks aren’t the only game in town these days.” Seconds later, Zenowicz’s personal funds were “in flight” to Liechtenstein, Austria, Luxembourg, the Cayman Islands, the Netherlands Antilles, and the Bahamas. The last key Nikki hit transferred three million dollars to Rena Gold’s Merrill Lynch account in Nevada. She pressed PRINT the moment the money hit Rena’s account. She then brought up the World Bank account that Zenowicz was responsible for. Two clicks of her fingers and five seconds later, two billion dollars flew home to its original nest in the World Bank.
Zenowicz sat on the floor and cried like a baby.
Nikki powered down and closed up the laptop. She tossed it to Yoko, who dumped it in the cardboard box.
The women dragged Zenowicz back to the living room. Nikki dumped in a CD and waited a minute. “Look alive here, you son of a bitch! I want you to see where you’re going. This little slice of paradise is where you will live until you die.”
A picture appeared on the screen.
Zenowicz howled his rage. “I’m not going there! You can’t make me go there. I gave you everything you wanted. You promised.”
“I lied,” Nikki said as she packed up the cardboard box. “You’re going to Ethiopia, and you better hope and pray that the new regime at the World Bank is a little more generous than you were. If not, you’ll starve to death.”
“Rena, time for you to go,” Nikki said, handing her the record she’d printed out. Rena looked at it, gasped, then swiped at her eyes, but not before she hugged Nikki.
“You earned it, Rena. You helped us, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say it’s also to buy your silence where the vigilantes are concerned. Just so you know, the money is from Zenowicz’s personal funds and not the World Bank funds. One of Harry’s people is in the garage, and he will drive you to the airport. We chartered a private plane to take you to your destination. Hurry up, it’s waiting for you. Nice knowing you, Rena.”
“You gave that
bitch my money! You chartered a plane for her! Goddamn you!” Zenowicz snarled.
Kathryn backhanded him across the mouth. Blood spurted out. Again. No one cared. She shrugged.
“Dishonesty is not the currency of discretion, Mr. Zenowicz,” Annie said primly. “Take him away,” she said dramatically to Jack and Harry.
They obliged and pushed him along to the front door, where Bert waited. Nikki ran after them. With one quick jab of the needle to Zenowicz’s neck, he folded like an accordion and dropped to the floor. Bert picked him up, slung him over his shoulder, and made his way to the service elevator.
“Okay, girls, we have ten minutes to sanitize this place. Let’s do it!” Yoko shouted.
Annie shouted to be heard over the scurrying that was going on, “Are the security monitors still out on all the floors?”
“Yeah,” Jack shouted back. “But not for long. Charles said the repair people are supposed to be here at nine o’clock. We have to clear the garage before that.”
“No problem,” Myra said, stripping off her gloves. “We’re done here. Alexis has the trash bag. Harry, take the Red Bag. We still need it. We have one more stop to make before we head home. Chop-chop, girls, we don’t have a moment to waste. Who is going to make the phone call?”
“Nellie!” Annie laughed.
The van rolled out of the underground garage at one minute till nine. By the time Harry turned the corner to swing into the morning traffic, three utility trucks and a white van with red lettering were heading toward Rena’s building.
“We aced that one by the skin of our teeth,” Jack said with a weary sigh. Right now he would kill for just one hour of sleep and some decent food in his stomach. He wanted to turn around and look at what the women were doing, but he knew better. Their laughter and giggles made him more nervous than ever.
“This is not a wise thing you’re doing,” he yelled to be heard over the chatter.
“Wise or not, we’re doing it,” Annie shouted in return.
Jack groaned. Harry stared out the window as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He hated these last-minute, dangerous changes.
“We’re five minutes out, ladies,” Jack said in a strangled-sounding voice.
Harry’s clenched fists showed white knuckles.
“Drive around the block once to make sure there are no…authority types present,” Myra said as she slid a poncho over her head. Jack risked a glance in the rearview mirror. All the girls were decked out in colorful ponchos and sitting primly on the seats, waiting for Jack’s all clear.
“There’s a crowd,” Jack said, his voice jittery. He looked over at Harry and said, “Thank God for tinted windows. All you and I need is our picture on the six o’clock news.”
“Not to worry. If that happens, we took you hostage and held you at gunpoint,” Annie said airily. “Do you see any photographers?”
“I see three cameramen,” Harry shot back.
“Okay, Jack, one more time around the block and we’ll get out when you turn the corner,” Nikki said. “Stay sharp and keep moving. We’ll meet up with you on the opposite corner. We clear on that?”
“Everyone have their TASER in case things get sticky?” Alexis asked.
Six hands shot upward.
“Okay, here we go,” Jack said, taking the corner at fifty miles an hour. He slowed briefly, the back doors of the van opened, and the women leaped out. They walked two abreast around the corner, their eyes going in all directions. They slowed their steps when they approached the gathering crowd. Off in the distance a cacophony of sound could be heard. Sirens. Lots and lots of sirens. All headed toward Rena’s former address.
“Sounds to me like Nellie did her job perfectly,” Annie hissed in Myra’s ear. “No one will be looking for us here in front of the Post.”
In unison the women ripped off their Rena Gold wigs and dental prosthetics. A second later, the ponchos, with their Velcro closures, were removed. A gasp went up from the crowd as the vigilantes stepped forward.
“Make it as corny as you can,” Nikki said as Kathryn stepped to the front of the pack.
Bustier in place, imitation semiautomatic Glock gun in front of her, black patent knee-high boots gleaming in the morning sun, Kathryn whirled around and motioned to the others to stand next to her.
“Yes, we’re back! We came here to right a grievous wrong. We want all the citizens of this town to know we had nothing to do with the rat-and-plague scare. If you want to know who started those rumors, look to the people in the building behind all of us. We took care of our business, ladies and gentlemen. If you want to know what that business is, look to the World Bank. Now,” she said, backing up a step, “let us walk away from here and we’ll let you get on with your business. Please don’t impede our departure.”
The crowd cheered and yelled chants that sounded like, “You go, girls. We’ll stop anyone who gets in your way.”
One elderly lady carrying an umbrella poked it at a young man who looked like he wasn’t taking Kathryn’s words seriously enough. She pushed him against the brick of the building and held him in place. “Go! Hurry!”
The women didn’t need any urging; they were already racing around the corner and out of sight. The cameramen attempted to follow the women, but the crowd surged forward, blocking their path.
“You just had to do that, didn’t you?” Jack shouted as the girls piled into the van. “You had to rub their noses in it, didn’t you?”
“Hell yes, we did,” Kathryn said, almost falling out of the van. Isabelle grabbed her in the nick of time, the door slid shut and Jack burned rubber.
Forty-five minutes later, Jack skidded to a stop at Tyson’s Corners. The women leaped out and raced to the cars that were waiting for them. There was no time for good-byes or kisses. No one waved.
Jack and Harry got out of the van and stood watching the convoy of cars speed away. The vigilantes were leaving just the way they’d arrived.
“I feel like shit, Jack. They didn’t even wave. They could have done something.”
Five seconds later both men’s cell phones rang. “Jack! Thanks. I love you and don’t you ever forget it. See you in two weeks.”
Harry’s call was just as short, just as sweet. “Honey, you can watch my back anytime. I love you. See you in two weeks.”
“I don’t know who looks sappier, you or me, Harry,” Jack said.
“Who cares? She loves me. Nikki loves you. All the women love us,” Harry said, pushing his seat back as far as it would go. He propped his legs on the dashboard and stared out the window. “Two weeks isn’t that long, Jack. It’s 14 days, 336 hours, or 20,160 minutes. Too much trouble to figure out the seconds.”
“I feel sorry for Bert. He has to go all the way to Ethiopia to drop off his…uh, package. Then he has to deadhead back.” Both men burst out laughing.
“Let’s have a party for him when he gets back.”
“That’ll work,” Harry said.
“They did good, didn’t they, Harry?”
“Damn right. That took a lot of guts, not to mention the danger, to stand there in front of the Post and strut their stuff. Damn, I can’t wait to see tomorrow’s paper. Five bucks will get you ten the vigilantes are on page forty. All three of those papers are going to look like the schmucks they really are. Fox News, now, that’s a whole different ball game. I saw a lot of pedestrians with their own cameras. They’ll have fresh pictures for days, and Fox will be paying for the privilege. And if they’re too stupid to figure out the business at the World Bank, well, we can help the girls out and start some more rumors. Let’s go get a beer, Jack. I’m buying. I want to toast the vigilantes and our two-week vacation.”
“Now, that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
Epilogue
It was a beautiful day on Big Pine Mountain. The kind of day photographers dreamed of so they could create glossy brochures for the traveling public. Not that the public would ever be privy to anything that went on at Big Pine Mount
ain, much less visit the site.
The women were in the main dining room, just having finished a delicious lunch prepared by Charles. A celebratory lunch for a job well done.
Although none of the women had asked to see the stack of newspapers piled up on the breakfront, they were all aware of them. And adhering to Charles’s rule of no business until a meal was completed didn’t make the waiting any easier.
Until now—eight days since their hurried departure from the Nation’s Capital—the women had to rely on television reports on a television that was working only intermittently due to the storm that had ripped the mountain apart. Today, though, the satellite dish was operational, and the papers along with supplies had arrived at midmorning by helicopter.
Charles could see his chicks, as he sometimes referred to the women, through the open window in the kitchen that led into the dining room. He looked down at his Baked Alaska and took a deep breath. He shouldered the door open and carried the huge tray into the dining room and set it in the middle of the table. Myra did the honors and poured coffee. The women chatted nervously as Charles portioned out the exquisite dessert.
Charles knew they would gobble the dessert and gulp the coffee no matter how hot it was so they could get on with their reviews. He couldn’t say he blamed them, so he smiled indulgently, and said, “All right! This time I’m making an exception. Here are the papers from day one. Bask in your glory, ladies. And may I say, you all made a striking picture. The caricature hardly did you justice. And to think the Post gave you the entire front page. In living color no less! And Harry had you worried you would be relegated to page forty. Well done indeed. In fact, you did so well, your employers wired an extra million into the account. It seems the money Mr. Zenowicz pilfered, that paltry two billion dollars, as he referred to it to our own Bert Navarro, was invested incredibly wisely, and the bank appreciates the lovely return on capital. Not to worry, your bonus did not come out of the bank’s funds.”
“I want to have these framed, Charles,” Annie said as she stared at the monster picture on the front page of the Post and of the other two leading papers. “For posterity,” she quipped.
Fast Track (The Sisterhood: Rules of the Game, Book 3) Page 21
