High Stakes

by Fern Michaels

  “What made them split up?” Harry asked.

  “My guess would be cold feet on the husband’s part,” Fergus said. “He figures he’s out from under whatever it is that’s going to happen, whatever had Delgado show up in the District, when he is strictly LA and Miami.”

  “He took his share and ran. I’ll bet it has something to do with the Mr. December contest coming up. The one the wife was calling off, according to Toby. I think they both got spooked, the husband more than the wife. She elected to stay, for whatever reason. And the fact that Delgado showed up at the condo this morning can’t be a coincidence,” Jack said. “Maybe she had no other choice, or she was plain old gut scared.”

  “Can Mr. Sanders fly a small plane all the way to the South Pacific?” Dennis asked, his eyes wide as he tried to keep up with the steady flow of information emanating from those who had it.

  “Of course he can. He just has to stop to refuel. Then again, maybe not. He might land somewhere, ditch the plane, and fly commercial. He’s on the run, so there are no rules. When people do what these two were doing, there is no doubt in my mind they went all the way and got new identities. That is not hard to do on the black market if you have the money to pay for it,” Jack Sparrow, who had managed to make it to the early morning meeting, the White House be damned, said thoughtfully.

  “I’ve seen way too many cases like this to even try to figure it out. The guy has a plan, obviously one he thinks is foolproof. And it might well be. So far, he has pulled it off, so what does that tell you?” Sparrow asked.

  “It might tell me my guy is screwed if he can’t keep up with Sanders,” Snowden said irritably.

  “I don’t think so. Sanders doesn’t know he has a tail. The farther away he gets, the less vigilant he’ll be. He might actually be feeling pretty good about now. There is every possibility he might stay a day or so at one of his stops before heading to his final destination. To unwind, so to speak. That’s when your guy will catch up, and remember, he now has the new tail numbers to go by,” Sparrow said.

  “I agree with you, Director,” Maggie said. “Now that we have Mr. Sanders nailed down, let’s move on to Ms. Sanders.”

  “Bert just sent a text saying Ms. Sanders called him a short while ago and thanked him for his offer, but at this time she had to decline. Time-wise, the call was made right after Delgado left her apartment. We need to scratch that whole deal,” Charles said.

  Toby Mason raised his hand, holding his cell phone in the air. “I just got not one but two texts from Pilar Sanders. She said the Mr. December contest is back on but will be held in Miami. She said she turned down the China offer. She wants to talk to me before our first performance tonight. The second text said I should be on my toes tonight because there will be some special people in the audience, watching the performance, people who could really help all the dancers’ careers, especially mine, since I will be Mr. December.”

  “I would assume the special people will be Delgado and his muscle,” Maggie opined. “That means for sure you guys have to be there at a ringside table.”

  Espinosa grinned. “I have everything ready for the transformation. It’s going to take every bit of the rest of the day for me to turn you guys into ladies. I pulled out Alexis’s red bag of tricks before I left home this morning. The special latex is softening up as we speak. I’m excited. I told you all before that Alexis practices on me, so I know exactly what to do and how to do it. I even have your outfits all picked out. Alexis really has good taste. We are going to shine tonight, boys!”

  Harry bolted out of his chair like he was fired from a cannon. “You need to get unexcited right now. You are not practicing on me for anything!” he bellowed.

  The room went silent. Harry never, as in never, raised his voice. He threatened only when he was prepared to follow through on the threat. And right now, he was so agitated, his eyes were virtually round.

  To everyone’s surprise, Espinosa stood up to the number one martial-arts expert in the world and said, “You need to get over yourself, Harry. We’re a team. As a team, we work together, and tonight we have to work together. We are operating under cover this evening, and as such, we have to act and look the part. You are part of this team. So, as part of the team, you are going to be transformed just like the rest of us. So calm down and do not make me go to a higher authority.”

  Everyone in the room knew who the higher authority was—Yoko. They all waited to see Harry’s reaction to Espinosa’s threat.

  To Jack, it seemed like all the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. He felt the need for a breath of cold, fresh air. Jack nudged Cyrus with his foot. A second later, he was up and headed toward the kitchen and the door that would take him and Cyrus out to the alley. Once outside, he leaned against the building, struggling to take deep breaths. “Damn! And damn again!”

  Cyrus whined at his feet, not understanding what was distressing his master.

  “That was a first, Cyrus. Espinosa standing up to Harry. It wasn’t just that he threatened Harry, which he did, but he also threatened with the big gun, meaning Yoko. Harry is totally fearless. We both know he can incapacitate a person with a Q-tip. The only person walking this earth whom Harry fears is Yoko. And I am not even sure it’s fear, more like he doesn’t ever want to disappoint his lotus flower. He’s on board, so that’s all that matters. I have to tell you, big guy, I was a little worried there for a few minutes. Harry can be a wild card sometimes.”

  Jack leaned down and scratched Cyrus in his sweet spot. “You don’t really give a good rat’s ass about this, do you? See, I was worried that you might decide to take matters into your own paws and go and bite his ass. Goddamn, now that’s one hell of a scary thought. The only thing missing right now is Cooper.”

  Cyrus rubbed his snout up and down Jack’s leg in a show of love.

  “I know you live for the day you get to bite someone’s ass. It’s gonna happen, but I don’t want it to be Harry’s ass you bite. We’re good on that, right?”

  Cyrus barked once. He pushed his snout harder against Jack’s leg. Time to go back inside.

  “What would I do without you?” Jack said as he waited for the hydraulics to lock into place. Cyrus headed to the counter, where the treat bowl was. Jack fished out two. “That’s your limit for the day. You hear me?” Cyrus wagged his tail. Translation: Understood. Sort of. Kind of.

  “Can we get on with this meeting? I have to go to the White House again,” Jack Sparrow said through clenched teeth. “POTUS is not letting up. He wants me to have no more contact with Annie and her project. I have to make a decision. It’s no secret that POTUS and I do not see eye to eye on most things. I run a tight operation. I cleaned up the Bureau, and I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished, but I cannot stand by and let our veterans get hung out to dry due to incompetence at the VA and this administration’s unwillingness to tackle the problem head-on.

  “I wasn’t kidding when I asked if there was a paying job with benefits in this organization. I’m prepared to tender my resignation today. And my top aides will walk away with me. Annie called me last night and offered me a job setting up additional clinics. She said I could hire as many people as I want, and the health benefits are sterling. She also said the public has been sending in donations to help. She told me to do whatever it takes to make it all work. I want to do that. Having said that, I don’t want to leave you guys in the lurch. I can’t guarantee who will replace me. With me gone, the FBI won’t have your backs. Help me out here, boys, and Maggie.”

  Maggie was the first to speak. “That’s a no-brainer, Director. You go with the veterans and Annie. We’ll muddle through. We have the Post to watch our backs, and Abner at the CIA to do the same. We’re good, so I think you should do what feels right. Let’s take a vote. Raise your hand if you agree with me.” Every hand shot into the air, even Toby Mason’s.

  Sparrow reached inside his jacket and withdrew a crisp white envelope. “My resignation. I came prepared, hoping yo
u guys would see it my way. I’ll be in touch.”

  A lot of handshaking and backslapping went down before the soon-to-be ex-director headed to the exit. Mindful that there were no more treats forthcoming for the day, Cyrus stayed under the table.

  “I saw that coming,” Ted said.

  The others nodded.

  “I see it as a good thing,” Charles said. “Myra and Annie were discussing the proposal with Fergus and me last night. Annie put it this way. ‘Setting up the clinics is the most rewarding thing Myra and I have ever done.’ End of quote. And who can argue with logic like that? And they plan to keep on doing it. The Post, thanks to Maggie and the gang, is covering it all full bore. Director Sparrow assured me that he has contacts and sources he will put at our disposal if and when they are needed. I see this as a win-win for all concerned.”

  “I need to leave, too,” Avery said. “I have a lot of irons in the fire that need tending.”

  “So where does all this leave us? What’s our plan of attack? Shouldn’t we be alerting the police, someone in authority, about Delgado’s appearance?” Abner asked, his fingers at rest over the laptop keyboard.

  “He hasn’t done anything wrong that we can prove. He has every bit as much right to visit the nation’s capital as any other tourist, and that’s exactly what he would say if the police paid him a visit. You can’t accuse unless you have proof. He went to visit Pilar Sanders. So what? He can say he was visiting a friend, and if she backs up his story, you have nothing. People from out of town visit other people all the time,” Charles said.

  “What about Pilar Sanders herself? How about one of us trying to talk to her? Like maybe tonight at the supper club or maybe even this afternoon, if she stays in. I’ll gladly volunteer for the job,” Maggie said. “If I tell her we know all about her husband and what he’s doing, she might break down, and then we would really have something to go on.”

  “Won’t work,” Harry said. “We need to catch them in the act. We all need to wonder how he’s going to get his product from California to Miami. Plus, that’s a good six weeks away. It’s not even the end of October, even though it feels like the middle of January.”

  “I have two of my people standing by, ready to spring into action the minute the Sanders woman leaves her condo. They’ll plant bugs in every room. We already have a GPS tracker on her car. I can have a bug installed under her dashboard in ten minutes, so if she talks or makes calls on her cell while in the car, we can pick it up in an instant. Get in touch if you need me,” Snowden said from his position in the open doorway.

  Once again, mindful that his treat intake was all used up, Cyrus barked his good-bye but didn’t bother escorting Snowden to the door.

  “Any other loose ends before we head out with Espinosa?” Jack asked.

  “What do you want us to do in regard to Zack, my colleague, who got into town last night?” Ted asked.

  “I’d say give him free rein to do whatever he thinks he can do. He knows where Delgado is. Just hope he doesn’t get in Snowden’s way or interfere with his operatives. Avery can get a little pissy when you step on his turf,” Jack said as he gathered up his files and papers to stuff into his briefcase.

  “Do we want him to show up tonight at the supper club?” Dennis asked.

  “Why not? Another set of eyes certainly can’t hurt,” Jack said.

  “What about me?” Abner asked as he, too, closed his computer and stuffed it into his rucksack. “Do you want me at the supper club tonight as I am, a guy? Or do you want me to continue to track the finances for more hidden monies? I have a text from Philonias, asking me to call him. I told him to try to track Delgado and the drug monies. He’ll find out who the money managers are one way or the other. Finding laundered money is the guy’s specialty. I’m thinking we’re going to want to confiscate those funds to pay off that plane Snowden’s friend bought, with maybe a little bit left over.”

  That brought a laugh from everyone in the room.

  “Meet us at the supper club around seven thirty. We have a reserved table, thanks to Toby. Mia will be front and center, but on her own. We’ll all be there, so don’t act surprised. Just find us and join us for dinner. Snowden’s people will be watching Pilar and Delgado and his people,” Jack said. “And, Ted, I don’t think I’d tip off your colleague Zack just yet. If he shows up, it’s just one more set of eyes. Let’s just hope none of us give off bad vibes and spook them.”

  Espinosa led the parade out to the exit door. He called over his shoulder to Jack and Harry, who would be the last to leave after they locked things down tight. “You all know where Alexis and I live. Let’s not dawdle, boys. This is not a Mickey Mouse operation I’m going to be conducting, but works of art on all of you.”

  Jack thought Harry paled under his tawny skin at Espinosa’s words, and grinned.

  “What about me? Where do you want me to go?” Toby asked.

  “How about you and I go out to lunch?” Maggie said. “Then you can go back to your house and take a nap while I check in at the paper to make sure I still have a job.”

  “Works for me,” Jack said as he turned off the kitchen light.

  “Ah, Jack,” Harry whispered in his ear. “Do you really think I’ll turn out looking . . . you know . . . okay?”

  Jack had to struggle not to laugh out loud. Somehow, he managed to lock his eyes on Harry and, with a straight face, said, “I think you will end up looking gorgeous. Take that to the bank.”

  Cyrus barked.

  “See? Even Cyrus agrees.”

  The color came back into Harry’s face, and he actually grinned. “Espinosa is going to take pictures, isn’t he?”

  This time Jack did laugh out loud. “Count on it!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Pilar Sanders sat in the breakfast nook, her eyes on the wilted flowers. She felt like she was carved in stone and cemented to the tile floor. She heard Zuma Delgado say, “Don’t get up. I can find my way out.” She nodded, because she couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. She blinked when she noticed him appear back in the doorway. “Make sure your husband is at the club this evening, Senora Sanders. There are some things I want to discuss with him.”

  This time, Pilar didn’t acknowledge the words in any way. Just go. Just get out of my house. Go outside and get yourself killed in traffic. Just get out of my house, and don’t ever come back.

  Pilar had no idea how long she sat at the table. She’d heard the door close. Thank God it was self-locking and Delgado couldn’t get back in. Oh, Gabe, you were so right. Why didn’t I listen to you? Where are you? Please call me. Please.

  She thought her prayers were answered a moment later, when her cell phone chirped. She looked down to see who the caller was—Carlie Fisher, her business manager. Her disappointment was so raw, she started to cry. She needed to get it through her head that Gabe was not coming back. Wings sprouted on her feet at the realization. She ran to the wall safe and removed the picture that covered it. What was the combination? She couldn’t remember. Gabe was always the one who opened the safe. He’d said he wrote it down somewhere, but where? Damn it. Where was it? Then she remembered he’d used a permanent marker and scribbled the numbers on the ice machine in the refrigerator, saying, “See? It looks like a serial number.”

  Pilar ran back to the kitchen and opened the freezer of the Sub-Zero machine, and there it was, just like Gabe had said: eighty-six, forty-four, nineteen. Four right, three left, and two right, and the door should open. She ran back to the safe, but it took her three tries before the mechanism clicked and the heavy door unlocked. She stared into the depths, at the packet that had her name on it. She bit down on her lower lip. Take it out. And do what? Leave it in. And then what happens? If she took it out, got dressed like she did every day, and carried an extra-big purse so the packet wouldn’t be visible, she could head to the airport and take the next flight that she could get a seat on.

  But what if she was followed? What if she was stopped, and they,
whoever they were, took the packet? What if they killed her? Gabe would never know. They’d throw her body in the Potomac, and when they found her, no one would be able to recognize her bloated body. She’d never been fingerprinted, so unless they knew which dentist she went to, she’d go down as a Jane Doe. She shuddered at the thought. More tears flooded her eyes. She gritted her teeth as her arm shot forward, only to be withdrawn a moment later. Who was she kidding? She stared at the inside of the safe for a full minute before she slammed the heavy door shut. She replaced the painting, careful to make sure it was straight and not listing to the side, because the frame was so heavy. She walked into the bedroom.

  No way out. Good-bye, conveyor belt. Good-bye, Gabe. Hello, federal prison!

  Like hell! There was a solution to everything. You simply had to search for it. Well, she was good at that. One way or another, she’d find a way out of the mess she had gotten herself into. If Lady Luck was on her side, she just might be able to find a way to join her husband. But right now, she needed to get grounded, to focus, to make a plan. And she needed to toughen up. From this point on, she needed to stop showing fear where Delgado was concerned. She needed to stand up to him, to make her own threats. He needed her. More than she needed him.

  One of Gabe’s favorite sayings was, “You can’t fix stupid.” “Well, we’ll just see about that!” Pilar shouted to the empty bedroom.

  Thirty minutes later, Pilar was back in the kitchen. It struck her as funny that in the past few days she’d spent more time in the kitchen than she had in all the years she’d lived in this condo. The first thing she did was toss out the wilted flowers, vase and all. Then she made fresh coffee. The next thing she did was to open her laptop to her business program. She sent off a detailed e-mail to Carlie Fisher, outlining everything she needed done by the close of business today. She then e-mailed all the vendors she’d dealt with over the years in Los Angeles, explaining that due to circumstances beyond her control, she would not be holding the Mr. December contest in LA this year but in Miami instead.