Yantzy said, “Shit happens. I’ve made my own mistakes where Jellicoe’s concerned. Let’s just call a truce here, okay, Span? Let’s put our heads together and come up with a plan before we find ourselves in the unemployment line. I, for one, happen to like my job, and obviously you like yours since you had a pass after your surgery and didn’t take it but elected to return to head up the Agency. I consider Jellicoe your headache, not mine. He comes under your purview. The Bureau will help if need be. Thirty days isn’t very long. Don Frank is not going to be any help at all. He’s too busy covering his own ass to worry about yours or mine.”
Span poked at his salmon burger. He’d only eaten half of it even though it was good. After his surgery he’d made a pact with himself, and that was to never clean his plate and always walk away a little hungry, and it was working for him. His doctors had told him a little more than a month ago that he was in the best physical shape since his midtwenties, and he intended to stay that way. A pity those damn doctors didn’t evaluate his mental state. He looked around, his eyes going to the mirrored wall. His eyes popped so wide Yantzy looked up, then into the mirror to see what he was seeing, which was Elias Cummings offering up a sloppy salute of sorts.
“Fuck!” Span said under his breath, his lips barely moving.
Yantzy pushed his plate of spring rolls to the center of the table. “The Big Five!”
“And all of them are untouchable.”
“What the hell are you talking about, untouchable? How do you figure?”
“It’s your turn to get real here. Emery is married to one of the vigilantes, Nikki Quinn.
“Navarro, my predecessor at the FBI, is keeping company with another one of the vigilantes, Kathryn Lucas. That photographer, Espinosa, is tied to still another vigilante, Alexis Thorne. And Robinson is engaged to the editor in chief of the Post. That guy Wong, Jesus, he’s a one-man fucking army and he trains my agents, yours, too, and all of law enforcement. He’s also married to another of the vigilantes, Yoko Akia. Any further questions, Yantzy?”
Yantzy dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “I imagine by now Cummings has informed the little group all about our informal meeting at the White House. Informal meaning Robinson can relate whatever Cummings is telling him to his girlfriend, who is the editor in chief of the Post, and we’ll be reading about it tomorrow with our morning coffee. I sure as hell would like to know who owns that rag.”
“Scuttlebutt has it Countess de Silva owns it, but like I said, it’s just scuttlebutt. Ownership is buried so deep a proctologist couldn’t find it on his best day. We’re going to look like assholes tomorrow once the paper hits the street. Speaking of that rag… don’t you find it just a little strange that the Post always got there first when it was something about the vigilantes? The Post always got it right, like they had an inside track. Spritzer is a personal friend of Lizzie Fox, that hotshot attorney who represents the vigilantes. Spritzer is engaged to Robinson. Robinson is partners with Espinosa and the two of them are best buds with Emery, Navarro, and Wong. The whole goddamn thing is incestuous. So, in summary, yes, I think there is a good chance the scuttlebutt is true and de Silva now owns the Post. Now do you understand the meaning of untouchable?”
Yantzy flinched and nodded as he plopped down two twenty-dollar bills and shoved back his chair. “If we ever do this again, you’re paying, Span.” Standing, he turned to look at the chattering group and the array of beer bottles lined up like soldiers sitting on the table. All five men waved cheerily as the director of the CIA and the director of the FBI stomped out of the Dog and Duck, but not before Espinosa got his pictures, which were already on their way to Maggie.
“Do you think it was something we did?” Bert cracked.
“We did wave. Maybe there is some kind of Agency rule saying that’s not allowed.” Jack guffawed.
“I got their pictures,” Espinosa said proudly.
“Maggie’s going to love you. Did you upload them to her?” Ted asked.
“I did! And her text says, ‘What else?’ She wants to see us like now.”
“Are any of you interested in their conversation?” Harry asked.
“Now that would be nice. They were like two scalded cats, in my opinion. And they didn’t finish their food. Oh, Jesus, I forgot, you can read lips. What? C’mon, Harry, what’d they say?” Jack almost shouted but caught himself in time and lowered his voice.
All five men leaned into the table. “They said we are untouchable!”
“No shit!” Bert said in awe. “What else did they say?”
Harry told them, enjoying the stupid looks on their faces.
Eyes wide, jaws dropping, the boys listened as they absorbed Harry’s tale.
Jack bowed his head. “Oh, wise one, I will never ever, as in ever, doubt you again. Harry, I am so impressed, I can’t find the words to tell you.”
“Eat shit, Jack. It always comes down to brains and brawn, and I’ve got them both. God must have gone to lunch when it was your turn in that department.”
“You can’t hurt my feelings, Harry, because I know you love me like I was your own brother.” He made a kissing sound with his lips.
Harry reached across the table and tweaked Jack’s ear. Jack went to sleep. “Anyone else want to take on my prowess? Ha! I didn’t think so.”
“How … how long is he going to … you know … sleep?” Espinosa asked uneasily.
“How long do you want him to sleep?” Harry asked.
“Till we’re out of here, and he gets stuck with the bill.” Ted laughed as he leaned as far back in his chair as he could get so Harry couldn’t reach him.
“Okay,” Harry said agreeably. “He might not like it when he finds out it was your suggestion.”
“There is that. Okay, wake him up, and I’ll use my expense account. Maggie will be happy to okay it.” He flagged down the waitress in the yellow boots and handed her his credit card. When she returned, he signed with a flourish and was on his feet a second later. Jack woke up in time to wave good-bye.
“You put me out, didn’t you, you son of a bitch! Just for that, I’m telling Yoko …”
“… Nothing. Don’t you feel wide-eyed and alert, ready to take on the world? In other words, refreshed and your thinking is clear and pure? I just let you take a little power nap.”
“Well, now that you mention it, yeah, I do feel like I could kick your ass all the way to Baltimore and back.”
“In your dreams.” Harry cackled.
“Yeah, in my dreams,” Jack said.
“It’s late, boys. Time for me to head home,” Elias said. “Don’t look at me like that. I only had one glass of beer, and I just had two cups of very strong black coffee. You boys lined up all those soldiers, so I suggest you all take a taxi home. Nellie’s going to be wondering what happened to me.”
“Who you kidding, Elias? She already knows everything that happened, just like the girls already know. If Maggie knows, they know. You’re right about the taxi, though. I can pick up my car in the morning. Harry, you want to go with me, or I can drop you off.”
“I drank tea. Not only are you stupid, you are not observant. You and Bert drank all that beer.”
“Oh, my goodness gracious,” Jack said.
“Damn,” Bert said.
“Good night, boys,” Elias said as he made his way to the door. “This place really hops,” he muttered to himself. “I wonder if Nellie would like to come here sometime.” He scratched that thought immediately. Nellie did not like noise, nor did Nellie like bars and raucous laughter.
Right now he wasn’t even sure if Nellie liked him. Oh, well, tomorrow was another day.
Chapter 8
It was just turning dark when Elias Cummings drove through the electronic gate at Myra’s home. He was here to pick up his new bride. He grinned because that was how he still thought of Nellie—as his new bride even though they’d been married for four years. New because every day he learned something new about her or something n
ew she hadn’t told him or something so new he got heart palpitations.
Charles met him at the kitchen door, a silly look on his face. Elias winced. Charles clapped him on the back and said cheerfully, “The ladies are on the terrace, and they are feeling no pain.”
“You mean they’re drunk?”
“I think they’re feeling… different than when they woke up this morning. But yes, if you want to be succinct, the ladies are drunk. I think they’re celebrating something or other that I am not privy to at the moment. I did hear about your meeting this afternoon. Dare I ask how it all went?”
Elias stared at Charles, a dumbfounded look on his face. “Are you telling me you don’t know? I thought all of Washington knew by now.”
“Sometimes, Elias, the girls think of me as the Evil Stepfather and don’t tell me what I need to know. By the way, I stabled Nellie’s horse. We’ll take her home tomorrow morning if that’s all right with you. How about a drink?”
“Yes, how about one?” Elias quickly rattled off the details of the White House meeting and the aftermath at the Dog and Duck, where Harry read Span and Yantzy’s lips, and Espinosa snapped pictures that would be on the front page of the Post in the morning. “Washington will be buzzing for a week over that one.”
“Untouchable! I can’t wait to read tomorrow’s paper. How very interesting. I think you just answered my question as to what the ladies are celebrating out there on the terrace. From their point of view, I’m thinking they think… Oh, I don’t know what I’m thinking. A very heady experience for them, to be sure. I can hear Myra now—‘untouchable’ is such a lovely word.”
Elias laughed as he reached for the drink Charles handed him. “This looks like lemonade,” he said suspiciously. “I thought you said a drink.”
“It is lemonade, and you’re driving Nellie home. A drink is a drink. It’s tart and yet sweet and tangy. I make good lemonade, if I do say so myself.”
Elias ignored the light banter. “What do you think this all means as far as the girls go, Charles? Does it mean they can go back to doing what they used to do and get away with it? That’s what ‘untouchable’ means to me. Who in the damn hell has Mitch Riley’s dossiers?”
Charles swirled the ice cubes in his glass. He liked the tinkling sound they made, for some reason. “Elias, think about what you just asked me. Do you really want to know where those dossiers are for certain, or would you just rather … speculate? What you don’t know can’t hurt you. Did Span and Yantzy say you were untouchable?”
“Now that you mention it, Charles, no, they didn’t. Pretend I never asked the question. Well, thanks for the drink. I guess I better gather up my bride and take her home. Thanks for taking care of the horse.”
Fifteen minutes of long good-byes left the ladies on the terrace by themselves. Charles walked out, carrying a fresh pot of coffee on a tray.
“Oh, no, Charles, it’s too late for coffee. I’ll be up all night peeing,” Annie said.
“That’s so … unthoughtful of you, Charles. Is that a word? You need to take Annie’s needs into consideration,” Myra singsonged.
“I made it, you drink it, then you go to bed,” Charles said, authority ringing in his voice.
“Well, if you insist, pour away, Charles,” Annie sniffed.
“Yes, dear, pour us coffee. It was nice of you to think of us at this hour. Why aren’t you inside working?”
“I was wondering if you’d care to tell me what it was that you ladies were celebrating before Elias came to pick up Nellie.”
“Oh, pish and posh. Did I say that right, Myra? You already know, so don’t pretend you don’t,” Annie grumbled.
“I think so, dear. People don’t say that anymore, though. I think they’re a little more explosive, like Kathryn is when she tells us to get out of her face or to get over it, something like that. So what did you think? Do think … whatever,” Myra said.
Charles sat down and looked at the two women. “Elias asked me where Mitchell Riley’s files are. It seems Director Span and Director Yantzy would like to have a look at them.”
Annie and Myra both bolted upright at the same moment. “What … what did you tell him?” both women asked simultaneously.
“I told him what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. We all agreed that those files are never to see the light of day again. They’re safe. He was okay with that.”
“Are you sure, Charles?” Myra asked, her hands clutching the pearls at her neck.
“Is there a file on Hank Jellicoe?” Annie asked. “How is it we never thought of that or missed it, Myra?”
“I don’t know, dear. Sloppiness on our part, I guess. That isn’t saying much for either one of us.”
“I don’t think it was apparent to the girls, either, so don’t go putting all the blame on the two of us. Charles, did you think about it?” Annie demanded.
“No, I didn’t. You’re off the hook. But you better believe I will be looking into it rather quickly.”
“Do you think there might be something in his file that will be a clue as to where he is right now?”
“Myra, I don’t know. What I do know is Riley was every bit as good as Hoover at gathering information. My personal opinion is that Hank Jellicoe is close, very close. Everyone thinks he’s skipped the country, and he could very well have done that; he’s got contacts all over the world, safe houses, identity documents, all fake of course, stashes of money. He could be anywhere in the world. But I think he’s right here in this country, and that takes him away from the CIA.
“If he’s here, he belongs to the FBI. He’d get a perverse kind of pleasure being somewhere so close we’d never think to look here. He could be living on Dupont Circle or in Georgetown for all we know. The man is a chameleon. He knows how to blend in, assume a new identity, then live that identity.”
“Are you going to share that file with all of us? Seven sets of eyes might pick up something you aren’t seeing,” Annie asked.
“Of course. I welcome all the help I can get. Thirty days to bring him in is not a big window of time. Even for the CIA and the FBI using all the manpower they have. It isn’t going to work.”
“Then what will happen?”
“If the president stays true to her word and follows through, she will nominate new directors; it’s that simple. If I were to take a wild guess, I’d say she’ll go with Karen Star, the woman who was acting director while Span was recovering from heart surgery. As to Yantzy, if it turns out Jellicoe is here in the States hiding out, he’d probably also be replaced by a woman, and I think it would be Olivia Malone. First female director of the FBI. President Connor is weeding out yet once again. Before you know it, all of them will be gone. Yantzy should have been very careful about turning the clock back to the good old days before Elias, then Bert, took over. The president pretty much had him shoved down her throat after Bert left, and now is her time to get rid of him and put in someone she wants. If she can make it all work for her, the next election is guaranteed.”
Annie looked over at Myra and smiled. “When Charles explains it like that, it really does make sense. Maybe this has been her game plan all along. Think about it. I like your thinking, Charles. I’m going to call Maggie in the morning and have her write some kind of column and mention all of this. If nothing else, it will be like a burr inside Span’s and Yantzy’s undies, spurring them on and at the same time letting them know eyes are watching. But what about Donald Frank?”
“He’s already halfway out the door, according to the press. Frank is another of those nominations she had to make, according to her early advisors, virtually all of whom were more interested in protecting their own positions in the party than helping the first woman president to put together an administration that would successfully push her agenda. I’m sure that Connor can find some capable woman who can run that monstrosity of a department and be confirmed by the Senate. If that happens, we won’t have to wait till the Fourth of July for a fireworks display.”
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br /> “Then that has to mean she doesn’t give two hoots about Jellicoe getting caught. She wants all three out, so she can put people whom she trusts in.”
“Well, yes, in my opinion, but you’re wrong about her not caring about Jellicoe; she does care. Having said that, she gave the trio an impossible timetable for accomplishing the goal. I would almost bet the rent that she’s already in talks with Karen Star and Olivia Malone.”
“And at the end of the thirty days, when they can’t produce Hank Jellicoe, she just announces the resignations and has the new appointments ready to go?” Myra said, her mind racing.
“And … that is when she makes contact with the vigilantes,” Charles said. “Don’t you ladies get it? Connor is not dumb. She gave all of you full immunity; she’s got new people in place, people loyal to her, then you girls bring in Hank Jellicoe, and the next four years are guaranteed. Win-win for Martine Connor.”
“Oh, my God!” Annie said.
“Absolutely brilliant,” Myra said.
“I think so,” Charles drawled.
“The president must think very highly of the vigilantes’ capabilities,” Annie said thoughtfully. “We’re as much in the dark right now as those three men. I wonder why she thinks we can do what they can’t.”
“Maybe because we’re women, and we take no prisoners?” Myra smiled. “If you had to put your money on them or us, whom would you bet on?”
“Well, us, of course,” Annie said. “I just had another thought. I think we need to have Maggie get in touch with her friend Emma Doty again. She might remember something else she hasn’t told us. Charles, why didn’t Jellicoe ever get married?”
Charles blinked. “He was married once. It didn’t work out. Lord, it seems like a hundred years ago. His wife was very young at the time; they had a little girl, as I recall. She didn’t like his lifestyle. When I went to see him at his compound last year in Pennsylvania, I tried asking him about her, but he chopped me off at the knees. I did hear once, years and years ago, that she was put into the Witness Protection Program. It was a rumor. I don’t know how she could have arranged for something like that for herself and her daughter, because it wasn’t like Hank was involved in something illegal. It was a marital dispute, but she was afraid of him. I do know that from that point on, Hank never spoke about his wife or daughter; it’s like they never existed. He’s good at doing things like that. Hank didn’t like that she left him, and it got nasty. Other than being dumped by the Pentagon, that was the only time I know of that Hank Jellicoe came up on the short end of the stick.”
Deja Vu Page 7
