Charles Martin stared at the love of his life and smiled as he expertly turned over the shrimp fritters in the frying pan. Alexis’s favorite food was shrimp fritters and since they were here to plot out her mission, it was only natural for him to cook her favorite food. On more than one occasion he’d boasted, shyly of course, that he’d personally prepared beef Wellington for the queen. He always followed up that statement by saying, of course, that was in my other life. “We’ll just have to wait and see. Let her tell us. We’ll take it from there.” He hugged her.
“There’s a glow about you today, my dear. You look like spring itself in your flowered dress. And” — he leered — “you smell heavenly!”
Myra patted Charles’s hand. “Thank you, dear. Charles, how can I be so happy when we do…when we…”
“Make things come out right for our friends?” Charles said, finishing her question. “We committed ourselves, Myra, to right old wrongs, to settle old scores and to fight for those who fell through the cracks while the law was looking the other way. Let’s not worry about the dark side today. You’re happy, I’m happy, the girls are happy, and we’re about to embark on our second mission. As they say in the business, ‘I got it covered, lady.’”
Myra burst out laughing as she started to set the table. She looked down at Murphy, who was watching Charles’s every move. “It’s time for lunch, Murphy, fetch the girls.”
Murphy raced to the bottom of the magnificent spiral staircase and barked, then raced back to the kitchen. Myra patted his big head and smiled. “He’s a wonderful animal, isn’t he, Charles?” Not bothering to wait for a response she said, “I feel so much better knowing he’s with Kathryn when she drives that big rig of hers cross-country.”
“Darling, you’re jittery. Calm down. I hear them coming down the steps. For all our sakes, I want you to look and sound positive.”
Myra held her regal gray head even higher. “Whatever you say, Sir Charles!” She smiled, referring to his knighthood. Charles grimaced. He hated discussing anything about his old life.
Charles beamed when the women swooped into the kitchen jabbering a mile a minute.
Myra hugged them one at a time before they all sat down.
“Shrimp fritters! My favorite soul food,” Alexis said.
Yoko reached to the middle of the table and said, “The tulips are real! They are so beautiful! My own at the nursery are just starting to bud.”
Isabelle shaded her eyes with her hand and said solemnly, “I see acres and acres of tulips and they’re all purple…I see…”
Kathryn turned in her seat and swatted Isabelle. “Then, oh mighty seer, you must be in Holland, you jerk!” Everyone laughed at Kathryn’s reference to Isabelle’s clairvoyant capabilities, which were iffy at best.
“Spring is my favorite time of year,” Nikki said as she shook out her linen napkin. “The tulips are gorgeous. Are they the ones Barbara and I planted when we were little?”
Myra squared her shoulders, her eyes bright at the mention of her dead daughter. “No, dear, those are long gone. These are a new variety. Charles and I planted them last year. The colors are remarkable so that means the seed catalog didn’t lie. The golden yellows are my favorite. Barbara loved the shell pink ones and those are just starting to bloom.”
Julia, her eyes as bright as Myra’s, said, “I don’t know about the rest of you but I am so glad to be here. I feel…I feel like I’ve come home. I don’t mean to sound maudlin or anything but I feel like you’re all my family. So, let’s make a toast to the Sisterhood.”
“Hear! Hear!” Charles said, raising an exquisite crystal pitcher of sweet tea. He poured it into matching goblets before he took his seat at the table. As one, the women raised their glasses. Charles did the honors and said, “To all of us. To the Sisterhood and their lone brother!”
Myra was the first to burst out laughing. “That’s my Charles,” she said fondly. “Now, girls, let’s devour this wonderful luncheon Charles has so lovingly prepared so we can get to work and do what we do best: going after the scoundrels who have turned your worlds upside down, so we can give you back your lives.”
Midway through the meal, Murphy reared up next to Kathryn and let out a bloodcurdling howl. The women looked at one another in alarm. Kathryn got up and went to the kitchen door and opened it. Murphy raced outside, the hair on the back of his neck straight up. Nikki got up and followed Kathryn. “Easy girl, easy,” Kathryn said, placing a hand on Nikki’s arm. “It might be a squirrel or a rabbit. It doesn’t have to mean it’s Jack Emery out there spying on us.”
“Yes, it does, Kathryn. He’s been stalking me when I go into the city. I never see him but I know he’s there. He’s on a mission now just the way we are. He’s got himself convinced we all helped to spirit Marie Llewellyn away after she killed the man who murdered her only daughter. He’s never going to give up, that’s why he’s such a good district attorney. I hate to say this but he’s better at tracking than a herd of bloodhounds. He’s out there somewhere watching and waiting. I’d stake my life on it.”
“Then I guess it’s time we did something about Assistant District Attorney Jack Emery,” Kathryn said flatly. “Come back to the table, Nikki, we can’t let Charles’s dessert go to waste.”
Myra’s voice was hushed when she asked Nikki, “Is it…?”
“Jack? Yes, I think so, Myra. I think he’s been stalking me. I also think he’s got some of his people watching the rest of you, too. I don’t know where he’s getting the manpower unless he’s calling in favors from his friends and they’re doing it pro bono. D.A.’s do that all the time. Let’s face it, he’s got us staked out. We have to find a way to work around that or else we have to…do something drastic where he’s concerned.”
Dessert suddenly lost its appeal. Charles cleared the table and the women got up to help him. Kathryn went back outside. They could hear her whistling for Murphy.
Myra’s back stiffened as she walked over to the kitchen door. “I hate it that people are spying on us. I’m going to call the K-9 Kennel in town and have them bring guard dogs out here to patrol the grounds at night. They do that, you know. They bring them late in the afternoon and the dogs patrol all night. Their handlers pick them up in the morning. I read about it in the Sunday section of the paper a while back. A lot of companies are doing that these days because they don’t want to risk their employees getting shot during a robbery. That’s not to mean they don’t care about the dogs, they do. The dogs wear Kevlar vests and it’s very difficult to shoot at a moving target.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Charles said, turning on the dishwasher. “Myra, take the girls to the war room and I’ll make the call. I’ll join you shortly. I’ll have Murphy stand guard when I get ready to join you.”
Myra led the way through the house to the library where she stepped in front of a solid row of bookshelves. She counted down the various carvings on the intricate molding that ran the length of the bookshelves. At the same moment her fingers touched the lowest carving, the wall moved slowly and silently to reveal a large room with wall to wall computers that blinked and flashed as well. A mind-boggling, eye-level, closed-circuit television screen was focused on the security gates. Each wall seemed to be made up of television screens. MSNBC was playing on the south wall, CNN on the north wall and the FOX news channel was playing on the east wall. Fans could be heard whirring softly. There were no windows.
They’d all been here before in the command center and knew that Charles had installed a modern day ventilation system. He had also installed a cutting-edge, solar powered electrical system. If the weather took a turn for the worse, there was enough stored power to last a month.
The women waited for Myra to secure the door before they took their seats at a large round table surrounded by deep comfortable chairs. The only thing on the table was a Keds shoe box and a stack of bright yellow folders at Myra’s place.
When Myra joined them the women made small talk as they wait
ed for Charles to join them. No one, it seemed, was interested in going to the Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington over the weekend. Nor were they interested in inspecting the new drainage and sprinkling system Myra said she had installed last month. They were saved from further mundane conversation when the door slid open and Charles entered the room.
“Six K-9’s will arrive for duty at five this afternoon. All right, ladies, we’re ready to discuss business. If anyone has a question or a problem, aside from the problem of Jack Emery, let’s hear it now before we get down to work.”
Alexis took a deep breath and raised her hand. “I’m not ready,” she said. “I thought I was but I’m not. I’ve done nothing but think about this the whole past month and I can’t come up with a suitable punishment for the people who framed me and sent me to prison. Well, that’s not exactly true, I did come up with something but it’s death. I don’t want any of us to be responsible for a murder. So, I want to give up my mission, for now, to one of you.”
Kathryn tugged at the sleeve of her flannel shirt. “Alexis, are you sure? I felt the same way when my mission was called first. Don’t you want to talk to us about it? Maybe we can come up with something.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I want to be the one to come up with a punishment. I was the one who sat in a federal prison for thirteen months. I haven’t come to terms with it yet. Please, can we pick someone else?”
Myra looked at Charles and then let her gaze sweep around the table. “Raise your hand if you agree to cancel out Alexis and move forward with a new mission.” Seven hands, including Myra’s, shot in the air. Charles raised his hand at the last second.
“It’s unanimous, then. Obviously, these are not needed now,” Myra said, indicating the yellow folders that contained all the information the Sisterhood would need for Alexis’s mission. “We’ll need some additional time to plot out a new mission once we choose a new sister. Can you all return here in, say, three days? You’re welcome to stay if you like. Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s choose a name first,” Myra said.
Everyone watched as Charles scribbled names on small pieces of paper, put them in the shoe box, then shook it vigorously. Isabelle did the honors and picked a slip of paper. She handed it to Myra.
Myra smiled as she read the name. “Julia Webster!”
Julia’s clenched hand shot in the air. “Unlike Alexis, I am soooo ready! However, I wonder if I might request a two part mission. The one has nothing to do with the other but the reason I’m asking for this favor is…when…if I’m no longer here, you might want to consider replacing me with the person I want helped.” Julia bit down on her lip, her eyes filling with tears. “Welcome her to the Sisterhood…”
Kathryn, who was tough as nails and meaner than a snake, slid her chair closer to Julia to put her arms around her. “I’m for whatever you want, Julia, and you’re going to be with us for a long time. Tell us what you want.”
Julia cleared her throat and spoke sharply and clearly. “I want my husband to suffer. I want him disgraced and destroyed for what he did to me. I want his face plastered all over the front pages of the newspapers. I want his colleagues to look at him with disdain and disgust. I want him destitute. I don’t care if he has to live on the street and sleep in a cardboard box.
“The second part of my mission deals with a colleague of mine. She’s an oncologist and has to deal with people who can’t get the medical care they need because their HMO refuses to authorize the proper treatment. There is one HMO in particular that a good majority of her patients belong to, actually three HMOs under one umbrella and owned by the same family. My friend’s name is Sara Lang and we’ve known each other since college. We roomed together. In many ways she’s like a sister. She’s at the end of her rope and talking about giving up on her profession. I just want to tell you about one patient of hers. It was a little nine-year-old girl with leukemia. Sara found a bone marrow donor for…for…Emily. The HMO wouldn’t pay for it. The family, the grandparents, were broke. There was no place left to borrow. No place for them to go for help. Emily died last week. They all die! All her patients who have that crappy HMO die. Do you hear me, they fucking die!
“Now let me tell you about the family that owns the three HMOs. They have billions of dollars. That’s billions with a B. It’s a woman, her husband and her son who run the company. They’re worse than those Enron and WorldCom people who cheated all their employees out of their pensions. They know every politician in Washington on a first name basis and that includes my husband. They throw parties, donate to causes if it gets their name mentioned or their picture in the paper. They are on every party list in town. I want them punished. I want it so bad, but if we can’t do a two-part mission then I want to give up my personal mission with my husband. I’ll just…kill him myself. What do I have to lose?”
Exhausted, Julia fell back in her chair.
The silence in the room was broken only by the whirring of the overhead fan. When Charles cleared his throat the sound was so loud, all the women jumped.
“I personally don’t see a problem if the others agree. However, I’ll need more than three days to pull all that together. Can we meet back here one week from today? If I manage to get everything together sooner, you’ll be notified. Now, who wants to leave and who wants to stay?”
Kathryn elected to leave to do a run to New Jersey with a load of Florida oranges and grapefruits, promising to keep her cell phone on the entire time. Julia said she would go home, gather all pertinent papers and return, assuring everyone her husband wouldn’t even know she was gone. Yoko had a husband and couldn’t stay. That left Isabelle, Nikki, and Alexis who would stay and help Charles.
Outside in the bright spring afternoon, Myra gathered Julia in her arms. She felt so thin, so fragile. “We’ll make it all come out right, dear. I wish I had known, I would have helped.”
“Those bastard companies have to be made to pay. Maybe it will make the other HMOs sit up and take notice. I don’t want to see Sara give up her career. She’s one of those rare doctors who cares about her patients. She uses all her own money to help. She lives in a hovel if you can believe that. She’s just too tired to fight anymore, Myra.”
“It’s now our problem, Julia. We’ll take care of it. Hurry back but drive carefully.”
“Myra?”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t deserve to live. But I don’t know if I really have the guts to kill him.”
“Shhh. We’ll take care of Senator Webster.” Myra bent down and picked a bright red tulip from the border along the walkway. She handed it to Julia who smiled.
Myra waved as the women climbed into their vehicles and drove away. Murphy barked from the passenger seat as Kathryn’s big rig sailed through the gates.
Myra stood where she was for a long time, her eyes scanning the dense foliage that surrounded the house. Somewhere out there, Jack Emery was watching her. She could sense it, feel it. She shivered, not with cold but with fear.
Three
It was a balmy sixty-nine degrees outside; the women had been chattering about sunning themselves later if time permitted. Charles held up his hand for everyone to quiet down. He found the instant silence gratifying.
Today, a stack of green folders sat in front of Myra. “I think we can dispense with the formalities and get right to business,” Myra said as she handed out the folders with Julia’s case outlined in detail.
“What you have in front of you is the life history of Senator Mitchell Webster as we know it. Unfortunately, there really isn’t all that much information so I’m hoping Julia can fill in the blank spots. Julia?”
Julia quickly scanned the loose sheets of paper and appeared stunned at what she was reading. “I don’t see anything here about Mitch’s childhood.” Julia laughed bitterly at her own words. “His childhood, his background, was created by the very high-powered marketing firm, Johnson and Powell. You do stuff like that in the political game. I guess it’s more glamoro
us.”
“That particular firm certainly falls into the big league. I’ve heard of them,” Charles said. “Julia, you need to explain exactly what the firm created in regard to your husband. Tell us everything you know even if it doesn’t seem important.”
“You mean besides creating a monster?” Julia shook her head. “I don’t know where to start. It was so long ago. I was just starting medical school in New York when I first met Mitch. He could’ve sold me the moon and stars I was so awe-struck by him. I was twenty-two. He was thirty-four, an older man. I was flattered that he even talked to me, even more flattered when he asked me out for coffee. The rest, as they say, is history.”
“He was a junior senator. What was he doing on a Manhattan college campus?” Nikki asked.
“He was giving a speech. I was just one of hundreds who skipped class that day to listen to him. Being a junior senator, he felt the need to distinguish himself from all the other junior senators as well as the senior senators. He liked to be noticed. He needed a cause, something that would get him singled out by the media, his peers, it didn’t matter who or what it was, just as long as he got noticed.
“In the mid-eighties, the hot topic was abortion. That was Mitchell’s ticket. Women’s rights and abortion. He couldn’t have picked better causes. Both were hot button issues. He was young, incredibly handsome. Women gravitated toward him. I was one of those liberated, pro-choice flunkies who hung on to every word he said. When he was in the paper, I read about it. Hell, I even clipped the articles and started keeping a scrapbook. When I learned he was giving a speech at Columbia, I was ecstatic.”
Charles looked at Julia, a frown building on his face. “What was so horrible about his past that made him feel he had to reinvent himself? Was he afraid of something? Or maybe someone?”
“It’s a long story,” Julia said.
“We’re not going anywhere, dear. We’ve got all the time in the world,” Myra said in a soothing voice.
2. Payback Page 2
