Deja Vu

by Fern Michaels

  True gentleman that he was, the guard drove like a race-car driver. When they reached the gatehouse, he got out first and helped Myra and Annie step down from the SUV. “Where’s the guard?”

  “Sleeping.” The security man, who’d said his name was Sam, looked at his watch. “He’ll be napping for another two hours. If you notice, we put a temporary sign on the gate saying because of electric problems, the gate will be closed for several hours. Have a safe trip back home, ladies.” Sam tipped an imaginary hat and careened back the way they’d come.

  “Well, that was productive!” Annie said, climbing behind the wheel of the rental car.

  “We’re going to publish Mr. Anders’s book! Annie, I don’t think you should have made such a rash promise to Mr. Anders. What if we can’t find a publisher for it, and what if it isn’t any good? It just might be the ravings of a cranky, justifiably used-to-be reporter bent on vengeance.”

  “We can worry about that when the time comes. One way or another, we will publish it even if it’s in excerpts in the Post. People love stuff that is serialized. That’s when a publisher snaps it up, then the author becomes published. Most of the time it happens like that. Let’s cross our fingers that Mr. Anders is not the exception to that rule,” Annie said.

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you, Annie?”

  “Since I can’t depend on you, I have to come up with my own answers. Look, there’s the van.” Annie pulled the rental car into a parking space at a strip mall. Doors opened and doors closed. The Sisters piled out, all of them jabbering ten miles to the minute.

  When Annie suggested that they stop at a little Greek place in the mall to grab something to eat before heading back to their home base, Nikki said that was not a very good idea and that they needed to get out of the area ASAP.

  When Myra protested, Kathryn told her that Nikki was right and that all would become clear when they found a place to eat. “Please, let’s just get back into the van and make tracks. And by the way, we’re taking a different route back to Pinewood. All will become clear in a few minutes.”

  After twenty minutes of deafening silence, Alexis said, “There’s a little Italian place over there. We should be far enough away now, so let’s grab something to eat.” The women ran across the lot to get out of the blistering heat. The delicious smells along with the arctic coolness inside the little restaurant was a balm to their sweaty faces and thumping hearts. The heady aroma of baking pizza, garlic, basil, and aged cheese was overpowering.

  “I could stay here forever. I just love Italian restaurants. If I had to choose between smelling something like this or the finest French perfume, I’d choose this.” Nikki sighed.

  “The AC in the van wasn’t working, and before you can ask, five women descending on a gym translated to five new memberships, so it was a piece of cake getting in and out of the locker room. And miracle of miracles, down the hall from the main gym was a small, for want of a better word, Internet café for members. They serve sandwiches and soft drinks along with juice and coffee, and they have five computers for members. I copied the files on the flash drives, sent copies to Charles, Jack, and Bert, one to Maggie, and one to Lizzie. I also made a copy just for us. I was in and out in sixteen minutes. Yoko timed me,” Nikki said proudly.

  “Well done, girls,” Myra said, as Kathryn placed an order for three large pizzas with the works. “Two pitchers of root beer,” Alexis added.

  “Okay, girls. What did Nikki just leave out? Clearly something happened, or we would be eating in that Greek place in the strip mall and not riding around on back roads to get home. Out with it. NOW!”

  “As Nikki said,” Yoko began, “she had no problem getting the flash drive and copying it. But while she was doing it, a Fed walked into the gym, and—”

  “Are you absolutely sure it was a Fed?” Annie exclaimed. “What happened to our immunity? It wouldn’t be CIA since they’d be risking a major problem if they were caught operating on U.S. soil. So it had to be FBI.”

  “It was,” Yoko assured her. “I took him out by pretending to try to save him from a black widow spider. How dumb is that. He obviously knew just who I was and still let me get close enough to send him to the floor, unconscious, with no obvious violence.

  “Then we left the gym, shouting for them to call nine-one-one, and pulled his partner from a black FBI sedan. When we left, he had a bloody nose, a cracked rib, and was handcuffed to the door of the car. Oh, and Kathryn has his gun and badge. She thought we might want to send them to President Connor as a present. Or failing that, maybe Director Yantzy would like them.”

  “We don’t know where we screwed up, Annie,” Isabelle said, “but they got on to us somehow. And they must know that we are interested in Virgil Anders. What are we going to do now?”

  Annie gave Myra a signal, and Myra got up, went to the restroom, and called Charles to tell him what had happened and to arrange for Virgil Anders to be moved to a safe location somewhere unknown to either Henry, call me Hank, Jellicoe or possibly soon-to-be-ex-director John Yantzy and his FBI hooligans.

  When Myra returned and gave Annie a thumbs-up, Annie said, “Let’s talk, girls. Myra and I will go first. We think it’s safe to say that, for the moment, at least, we can cross Mr. Anders off our worry list. Mr. Snowden and his men arrived as we were leaving. He’s in good hands and at this very moment is being moved to a safe location. The FBI is not going to be able to take him. And even if he had been left in place, I don’t think there’s any way Jellicoe could have gotten to Mr. Anders even if he’d managed to secure some kind of help by way of perhaps a few old cohorts.

  “Now that we have the book, I think we should let it be known that we have it. Knowing the book is out there swinging in the breeze might force his hand. By the time we put the book into play, Mr. Anders will be buried so deep that no one without authorization from us will be able to get to him. Having said that, I’m open to any and all thoughts.”

  “I read the opening lines of Mr. Anders’s book,” Nikki said. “Would you all like to hear it?”

  “What a foolish question, dear. Of course we want to hear it,” Myra said, speaking for the others.

  “This is how it goes. I heard about the man. I was not impressed. I read the myth attributed to the man. I was not impressed. I met the monster man in person. I was impressed.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Myra gasped.

  “Sounds like a runaway best-seller to me,” Annie quipped. The others agreed.

  While they waited for their pizzas to arrive, the Sisters slipped into their friendship mode and playfully poked and jabbed one another as they laughed and kibitzed about their outing at the gym. Then, one by one, they all got up to hit the restroom to wash their hands.

  Left alone, Myra looked at Annie. “What’s wrong? What’s bothering you?”

  “The girls. You just witnessed all of them together, like I did. Old times, all of them working in unison. Again. Think back to the separation. Now they’re all back in the fold, and all of them have issues with the men in their lives. Even Maggie, although she won’t admit it. I’m worried about all of the girls. I knew they had a strong connection to one another. I’m just now realizing how strong that bond is. What if they can’t go back to having normal lives again? What then, Myra?”

  “Oh, Annie, I don’t know. I have to admit, Charles and I did discuss this very thing a few days ago, and he is as worried as you are. That’s not to say I’m not worried, because I am. I think this is something the girls are going to have to work through on their own. I don’t think we should interfere. A nudge here or there, a few well-chosen words of advice, but that’s it.”

  Annie whipped out a small bottle of hand sanitizer and motioned for Myra to hold out her hands. She squirted liberally. “Here come the girls. Shhhh.”

  “Like you have to tell me that,” Myra murmured under her breath. She managed to work up a bright smile just as the waitress set down three glorious-looking pizzas.


  The Sisters went back to their easy, comfortable banter as they devoured the pizza and swigged down the frosty root beer.

  An hour later, Kathryn leaned back in her chair, and said, “Either I was starved or that was the best pizza I’ve ever eaten.” Alexis took issue with that statement and said the best pizza was from a place in Arlington named Tony’s. The girls were off and running again as each one offered her opinion.

  Annie nudged Myra’s leg to drive her worried point home. Myra nudged back.

  Myra reached for the check, whipped out some bills, and left a more-than-generous tip as the girls gathered up their bags to leave the restaurant.

  The conversation during the ride back to Washington was mostly speculation on what was going to go down once they decided how to handle Virgil Anders’s book.

  “Anders nailed the title,” Isabelle said. “My gut is telling me that Hank Jellicoe is going to go nuclear when he hears that book is out there. We need to figure out how we’re going to safeguard ourselves. The man knows where we all live. He’s been to Pinewood, and Myra’s electronic gate is not going to keep someone like him out.”

  “We need to stay together. One on one, none of us is a match for him. And what about the guys and Maggie?” Alexis asked anxiously.

  “I say we all stay out at the farm until we resolve this,” Nikki said. She turned to call out to Annie. “What is this going to do to your and Myra’s trip to Las Vegas?”

  “A trip is easy to postpone. When we get home, we’ll fall back and regroup. Call everyone to meet us this evening at the farm. We need to come up with a plan,” Myra said.

  “Then we should recruit Jack,” Yoko said. To Annie’s and Myra’s dismay, the girls went off into peals of laughter.

  “They don’t look too worried to me,” Annie said. “Unlike you and me.”

  “Oh, Annie, that’s because they are together. They are so tuned to one another, they are convinced that as a unit they can do anything, and that means capturing Hank Jellicoe. And, before you can ask me, no, I don’t think that’s going to work this time around.”

  “I just love it when you are so cheerful and confident, Myra. Has it escaped your mind that you and I are the brains of this group?”

  Myra laughed. “Don’t ever change, Annie. If you change, I won’t know what to do.”

  “You’ll figure out something. Stop with the pearls, or the girls are going to think you’re worried.”

  “Point taken, dear.”

  Chapter 17

  Director John Yantzy slammed the door of his office, his face purple with rage, the veins in his neck as thick as straws. “I don’t believe this! You’re supposed to be two of my best agents. That’s why I assigned you to this case. A rookie agent wouldn’t have screwed up like you two just did!

  “You, Carpenter! You let a goddamn woman wrestle you out of a Bureau car and handcuff you to the goddamn door! And if that wasn’t bad enough you allowed a second woman to stomp on your nose and break it! You’re a goddamn senior federal agent, for crissakes, and you let this happen. And … they took your gun and your damn badge!

  “As for you, Finn, you let some midget sell you a bill of goods about a black widow spider on your fucking neck! Son of a bitch, how stupid can you be? That Oriental vigilante is every bit as lethal as that bastard Wong. They’re married to each other, for crissakes.

  “I’m putting both of you on unpaid leave for what you allowed to happen. Well, say something!” Yantzy bellowed. “Oh, and the local police filed a report. That’s going to be in the papers in the morning. The only goddamn good thing you did was not use the word vigilante. I’m waiting.”

  Both agents stood at attention, but neither said a word.

  “Okay, let’s pretend that you’re in the fifth grade, and I’m going to ask you questions. Who the fuck is Virgil Anders? Why did the vigilantes go to see a man in a wheelchair?”

  “I don’t know, sir. The guard at the gate told us Mr. Anders was wheelchair bound and has lived there for over thirty years. It was the two older women who went to visit him, Rutledge and de Silva. They told the guard to tell Anders they had papers for him to sign. When he was first called, Anders said that he didn’t want to meet them. That’s when they told him if he didn’t meet with them, he would have to move out tomorrow, so Anders agreed to the meeting. The guard called for the golf cart to transport the two ladies.

  “Visitors have to park their cars outside the security gate and be driven to wherever they’re going. It’s a rule of Cresfield Villas. That was all the guard could remember. The other five women stayed in town and went to the gym. Finn stayed in town when they separated, and I followed Rutledge and de Silva.”

  Yantzy’s face was still a mottled purple. “Get out of here, both of you. I want a report in triplicate on my desk within the hour. I will call you when I want you back here.”

  If they’d had tails, those tails would have been between their respective hind legs as they slunk from the director’s office.

  Yantzy made a fist and socked it into the palm of his left hand, again and again, until the pain in his hand shot all the way up to his elbow. He cursed long and loud as he looked at the calendar on his desk. The minute he’d heard what had gone down, he’d sent out a BOLO (be-on-lookout) far and wide. But the damn vigilantes were, as usual, one step ahead of him, and by the time he sent in a second team to clean up the first team’s mess, Virgil Anders was gone, and the housekeeper, who professed to know nothing, was packing her belongings to move in with her sister in Bowie. And here he was holding a bag of shit with nowhere to dump it.

  Yantzy’s gaze went back to the calendar. “Span is going to have a field day with this tomorrow. Unless …”

  The night was soft and dark, with a balmy breeze. The trees whispered among themselves, a lullaby to the chirping birds who had gone silent for the night. Overhead, a full moon lit up the lush garden, the stars twinkling overhead.

  “This is the perfect ending to a … very interesting day,” Nikki said, sipping from a frosty glass of lemonade.

  “What I find interesting is that no one has showed up to arrest us,” Kathryn said. “We did render two FBI agents helpless. All right, all right, we assaulted them.”

  “Tomorrow is another day,” Alexis quipped.

  “Darling, Director Yantzy stepped over the line. He’s not going to come out here, nor is he going to arrest any of us,” Myra said. “Do you agree, Charles?”

  “I do. For several reasons. One, as you said, he stepped over the line. Two, you girls took them on, made fools of his two agents, and walked away. Three, is or isn’t Director Yantzy going to tell Director Span about that little episode? I think not. His agents certainly did not cooperate with the locals when it came to identifying you, since if they had, you would have already had Virginia police out here. But, girls, we do have a large area of concern. The FBI now knows about Virgil Anders.

  “We were lucky in that we relocated Mr. Anders to safer quarters, thanks to your quick thinking and actions. Mr. Anders is not off-limits to the FBI. I can guarantee the Bureau is on top of that with every available agent at its disposal. Eventually, they will find Margie Evans, Mr. Anders’s former fiancée. We don’t know how much Mr. Anders confided in Miss Evans. I would think he shared everything, as young people do who are in love. My people are searching the entire Baltimore area for her as we speak.

  “We do have an edge in that respect. It might take the Bureau a while to find her, whereas we were on it immediately. And, don’t forget, it’s been over thirty-five years. All trails go cold after so much time. He’s going to have to work fast.”

  “Do you think Hank Jellicoe knows about Margie Evans?” Isabelle asked.

  “Absolutely he knows,” Charles said. “That’s why time is of the essence in locating Miss Evans. I’m certain my people will prevail. The only problem I foresee is the lady balking and not caring about Mr. Anders after so many years. From her point of view, he dumped her and disappeared from her
life. She could be married with children and grandchildren and not want to get involved in Mr. Anders’s problems at this point in time.” Charles smiled at Myra. “However, there are some loves that endure for all time.”

  “Do you think there is even the remotest possibility that Hank Jellicoe would somehow use Mr. Anders? I guess what I’m asking is, would he do something like that not knowing that we know about the book Anders was writing?” Myra asked.

  “Of course. Mr. Anders is the equivalent of a safe house in Hank’s mind. If he wanted to, he could hide out at Cresfield Villas for years, and no one would be the wiser. Remember, he’s the one who set all that up. He’d make it work for him in some way. Just in case. Hedging his bets, so to speak. But once he finds out the book is out, he’ll scratch that location and not go near it,” Charles said.

  “But, Charles, might not he think that what you just said is how we would all think? He wouldn’t go near the place when that’s exactly where he would go?” Annie asked. “Did that make sense?”

  “Yes, I know what you mean. Of course there is always that possibility. It’s the same principle as keep your friends close, your enemies closer. He’d lie low in the beginning, stake out the place for a while, watch and wait for the authorities to back off, then he’d make his move.

  “Having said that, I don’t think he’ll go that route. The reason I say that is Cresfield is not around the corner. All the action will be here and in the District, which he knows like the back of his hand.

  “If there’s nothing else, girls, I’m going to get back to work.”

  The girls waved him off.

  “All of this is not computing for me,” Isabelle grumbled. “Maggie hasn’t called. I almost expected her to come out here to the farm this evening. She’s always full of ideas. I wonder if something is wrong.”

  “I can top that. I haven’t heard from Jack since I sent him the manuscript,” Nikki said. “Someone should have called us by now to comment on the book.”