Abner, his head down, was already out of the Bentley and running toward the Rover. He was glad now that he’d had the foresight to fill the gas tank before he arrived at Babylon yesterday. Or was it the day before? For some reason, he’d lost track of time. Or maybe it was that suddenly time had no meaning.
Abner waited the requisite five minutes, then peeled out of his parking space, tires burning rubber. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he took the ramp on two wheels.
The sun was about to set, but there was still a golden glow to the day as he kept his eyes on the silver Bentley up ahead. Abner’s thoughts raced as he settled into the heavy traffic. He knew the others back at Babylon were still trying to figure out what he was all about. He also knew they were trying to contact him, because both phones in his pockets kept buzzing. “Screw you all,” he muttered under his breath. Then he remembered Isabelle’s cigarettes. He fished around in the middle console, where he had stashed the pack he found in the glove box, found the package, and fired one up. He coughed and sputtered but kept on puffing. He rolled down the window. If ever there was a time for a cigarette break, this was that time.
Abner had no trouble following the silver Bentley, because RC was a cautious driver and, for obvious reasons, did not want to get pulled over by some overanxious state trooper or local cop.
The drive took ninety minutes before RC turned on his right-turn signal and headed up a long, manicured drive to a security fence. Abner watched as he tapped in a code. The gate opened, and both cars sailed through.
Abner blinked at what he was seeing, a condo complex. It was hard to believe RC would live among a bunch of thirtysomethings. Then again, RC was proving to be a constant surprise.
Both vehicles parked, and everyone got out.
Mary Alice stretched her neck right, then left. “I’m thirsty,” she announced.
Abner stomped his feet to get his circulation moving. “Which one is yours?”
Philonias waved his hands in the air. “All of them. No one lives here. I just come out here from time to time to sort through things. I guess in the back of my mind I thought someday I might need a . . . hidey-hole, as you called it.”
Mary Alice looked around. “Who owns all these cars?”
“I do. I wanted to make it look real. I have bogus names on the deeds to all the condos. Even the one I use has a bogus name. No one comes here but the mailman. I pay all the bills, taxes, and insurance online and a year in advance through a secure server in Bucharest. Very little mail other than occupant stuff comes through here. Last year, for some reason, I changed the mail drop to the post office, so now not even a mailman comes out here. I think I must have had some kind of epiphany. All right, come along, and let’s see what we can do about this current situation.”
Mary Alice rolled her eyes at Abner, who rolled his eyes right back to her. In for a penny, in for a pound, or whatever that saying was that Charles was so fond of using. Charles. Abner clamped his teeth shut. This was no time to think about Charles or any regrets about what he had just done.
Philonias keyed in his code at the door, then opened it. The condo had a beautiful layout, but it smelled musty from being closed up. He quickly turned up the air-conditioning and looked around. “The room at the end of the hall is mine. Pick whichever ones you want. Each has its own bathroom. The room in the center is the computer room. While you’re settling in, I’ll head for the kitchen to see what I can rustle up for dinner. I have a freezer full of food and a pressure cooker. No problems with power out here, but if there is a blackout, I have a generator attached to each unit.”
“Nice hidey-hole, RC,” Abner said. “Do you think this place is safe?”
“I did up until I saw you in the garage. I could have sworn I didn’t screw up cyber wise. How did you find me?”
“By accident. We were leaving, and so were you. They have no clue you live at Babylon. Dixson Kelly thinks you are somehow involved in whatever he thinks is going down. No one believes him, so he’s more or less whistling in the wind. Even Bert Navarro had to set him straight.”
“There was an episode in the garage.”
“My fault. I thought it was you but wasn’t sure. I’m the one who sounded that alarm, and Sparrow, who is the director of the FBI, took it as spot on. Glad you managed to elude him,” Mary Alice said.
“I’ll start dinner and make us some coffee. Go along and do whatever you want to do—shower, freshen up—and then come back here to the kitchen.”
“By any chance do you have a toothbrush, RC?” Abner asked.
“Everything you could need is in the bathrooms and closets. I keep sweat suits here, all sizes. Don’t ask me why. Survival training or something I read along the way. Just another one of those instances of you never know what is going to happen or what you will need, so be prepared for any and everything. It took a long time to outfit this complex.”
Both Mary Alice and Abner started down the hall, then splintered off to shower and change into whatever was available.
Thirty minutes later, they joined Philonias in the kitchen. He had cups out, along with frozen cream he’d thawed in the microwave oven. A red light glowed on the stainless-steel pressure cooker. RC noticed them looking at the pressure cooker.
“I actually know how to cook, but today I just dumped a roast with a bunch of frozen vegetables into the pot. I mixed up some dough, and bread is baking in that other machine that has a glowing red dot. We won’t starve, but I don’t guarantee tastiness. Pour your coffee, and let’s sit in the family room, where we can be comfortable and can talk.”
In the blink of an eye, the threesome was settled into soft, buttery leather chairs that were more comfortable than any bed. Abner took the initiative.
“We’re here, RC, so that should tell you we’re on your side. I say we give up on the cyber crap for now and just be three human beings talking to one another. We, PIP and I, know you know everything there is to know about us. We’re actually okay with that, but it would be nice if you’d share a few facts about yourself. I give you my word that you can trust me. PIP?”
“Me, too, RC,” Mary Alice agreed.
“So let’s get started here. From here on in, I’m Abner and PIP is Mary Alice. You are Philonias Needlemeyer. What kind of name is that, anyway?”
Philonias nodded. “I was born Needlemeyer. My mother named me Philonias because she said no one else would ever have that name. She wanted me to be different, special. I guess she didn’t think my size qualified for different or special. I might ask you what kind of name Tookus is.”
Emboldened by Philonias’s easy acceptance, Abner said, “One of my many foster parents gave me that name, but I can’t remember which one. I really don’t know who I am or where I came from. I was dumped at an orphanage when I was born. So, moving right along, we’re going to call you Phil. Growing up, didn’t your friends call you Phil?”
“I didn’t have any friends growing up, Abner.”
“How about when you were a teenager or when you were in college? What did your peers call you?”
“Freak,” Philonias said flatly.
“Well, Phil, Mary Alice and I are not them. We’re flesh-and-blood people, and we are your friends. We live, we breathe, we laugh, and we cry. We can do that because we are real people. Right now, we are not hiding behind our cyber names and tapping our fingers to the bone. We are no longer invisible. Are we all on the same page here?”
Mary Alice nodded.
Phil took a little longer, but he also nodded. “But you both betrayed me. I would never have betrayed you. Never.”
“Yes and no, Phil,” Abner said. “You set up the rules early on. You need to own your part of all of this. Trust goes a long way. Had you not done that, we might not be sitting here having this conversation. And in your heart you know the why of it all. Do not pretend otherwise, or this new friendship is not going to work. We share a hundred percent. Tell me if you agree.”
Phil wagged his index finger in the
air. Mary Alice did the same thing.
Abner went on. “We, Mary Alice, myself, you, and all our brothers and sisters out there who belong to our . . . hacking family, are not leading normal, healthy lives. Actually, the truth is, we have no lives other than the obvious one. Take yourself, for example, Phil. You said you never had friends, still have no friends. That’s not good. I stepped out of the box, got married. Mary Alice has her seed business, but she doesn’t interact with people. Nor do you. I do. I want us all to be normal and help each other. In other words, mingle with the human race and stop hiding behind what we do.
“Having said all that, and I’m sure it didn’t come out right, here’s the bottom line. You have to give the money back, Phil. I know it’s going to be a bitch of a job, but I think you kept records, so maybe it won’t be that hard. If you don’t, they will find you. Not because of Mary Alice or me, but because those people will do what they do. Just like you, Mary Alice, and I do what we do. So, what do you say, Phil?”
Phil didn’t bother to argue. He had known all along that someday it might come to this. And he was prepared. What he hadn’t prepared for was having two helpers.
“Okay. It’s a lot of money, Abner.”
“I know. They were saying almost a billion. That’s with a b.”
Phil laughed. “True.”
“What did you do with it?” Mary Alice asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“I gave it all away. I didn’t keep one penny. In my own defense, I made a lot of people happy. What makes me so different from you, Abner?”
“What? You’re actually asking me a question like that! You’re an outright thief, Phil. You ripped off all these casinos. Why?”
“Why? Because I could. You and Mary Alice do the same thing. What makes me so different?”
“We’re not the same. I’m going to speak only for myself, and you already know what I am going to say. I deal with bad guys. Bad guys who are doing bad things to good, kind, decent people. I keep a finder’s fee, in case a job comes in where there is no money involved, just information. Evening the odds a bit. Justice is blind sometimes. We take off the blindfold and do the best we can. I have never gotten caught. Not even close, because I am aware of that invisible line I cannot cross. You stepped on it, then crossed over it, just because you could. Now you have to give it back. Mary Alice?”
“I couldn’t have said it any better. Abner is right. I operate the same way.”
Phil burst out laughing. “So what we have here is the teacher now becomes the pupil. Somehow I think this is very fitting. I don’t know why. I knew when I picked the two of you, I was on the money.
“I guess it’s okay to tell you this now. I almost didn’t pick you, Mary Alice. It was a tie between you and LB-Nine. Cyber name Lady Bug Nine. She was your match in every way, but there was something in her eyes that didn’t sit well with me. I can’t explain it any better than that. Your eyes, Mary Alice, were full of wonder and excitement. I couldn’t see anything in hers. Just so you know, I never regretted choosing you.”
“What happened to her?” Abner asked.
Phil waved his arm. “She’s about. I check on her from time to time,” he said vaguely. “First thing tomorrow morning, we’ll get to that. Tonight is for talking. Three friends talking, getting to know each other,” Phil added.
Abner felt light-headed. This was way too easy. But at the same time, he wasn’t picking up on anything negative. “You said you gave it all away and didn’t keep a penny, right?”
“Right.”
“Do you have enough money to pay it back?”
Phil laughed again. “Kids, I have so much money, I could repay that debt ten times over. Now that you’re putting me on the straight and narrow, I think you could probably convince me to pay interest.”
“You would do that?” Mary Alice asked, her eyes popping wide.
“If we’re going to do it, then we need to do it right. How about a nice chilled glass of wine?”
“That would be . . . lovely,” Mary Alice said.
“Yes, lovely,” Abner said, echoing her words.
Five minutes later, Phil was pouring wine into exquisite cut-glass wine flutes. “What should we drink to?” he asked.
“I think we should drink to tomorrow,” Abner said.
And that was what they did.
With gusto.
Chapter 14
Maggie nibbled on her thumbnail as she gazed out the window of the taxi that was taking her to Kitty Passion’s ranch. She admitted to herself that she was a tad nervous. Why, she didn’t know. She was a pro. She could handle herself in any situation and always managed to come out on top. This, though, was different. Here she was, working on a lie of her own making. Not that she couldn’t carry off the lie . . . She could. It was the twenty-five or so women who supposedly had lived the truth of her lie.
As she continued to chew on her cuticle, she let her thoughts take her back to the lunch at the Cat & Cradle. She’d formed a snap opinion right out of the gate, which was unlike her. Why had she done that? Was it because she had felt inferior, given that the women were all beautiful showgirls and she was a dowdy plain Jane? Compared to them, she was a mutt at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show as she tried to compete. No, it was more than that.
On the surface, the women were all smiles, friendly, but . . . maybe that was it. It was a surface thing, a facade they were presenting to the world, when in reality they were anything but who they were pretending to be. That was it! It was all an act. She remembered a glimpse, a spark, a hastily spoken word they had hoped went unnoticed. They were a group of bitter, hateful women bent on destroying the man who had . . . what? Trifled with their affections? Lied to them? Broke promises? Led them down the primrose path, where they found nothing at the end? Certainly enough to make one angry, but not to the point of... whatever they were planning.
She wished she knew what it was that was going to go down that would put an end to Dixson Kelly. When something was over, you simply moved on. What was it about these women that had forced them to band together to wreak vengeance on Kelly? The sheer number of them that he’d trifled with? Anger at themselves for not being smart enough to see through his promises and lies? The loss of the fairy tale, at the end of which they all lived happily ever after?
Maggie made a snorting sound. If you truly wanted happily ever after, you got a dog or a cat who would love you unconditionally while you waited for Mr. Perfect to show up at your door. And if he was a no-show, at least you had the dog or cat to keep you company.
She leaned forward to speak to the taxi driver. “How much farther?”
“According to the GPS, two more miles. I’ve never had a fare out this way, so I can’t be sure. Are you running late?”
Maggie didn’t know if she was running late or not. She was simply showing up, and whatever happened, happened.
She leaned back against the seat. She hated events like this, where she was winging it, as opposed to going in with a plan. A plan was always good, even when things went awry. And she had no backup out here in nowhere land, with no place to go if she had to beat a hasty retreat. Then there were the odds she’d have to combat. Twenty-five or so women against her. Her thoughts started to run wild. The first thing she should do when she got to the ranch was find out where the ten thousand chickens were that Kitty Passion had said she had. Find out where they were so she could run to their roosts and let them loose. Then what? Chicken poop everywhere. People slipping and sliding all over the place, herself included. As far as plans went, it was the best she could come up with. Then a horrible thought hit her. She didn’t know much about chickens, but she did know they roosted at night. Now, where had she heard that? Well, if things got dicey, she’d just have to wake them up and hope for the best.
“We’re here, lady!” the cabdriver said.
Maggie looked out the window. Nice place, she thought. Low-slung ranch-style house that looked like it was built out of natural fieldst
one. Large chimneys sprouted from the sides and roof. She counted four. Fireplaces. Fireplaces were cozy. Homey. Pruned shrubbery, green lawn out here in the desert. Underground sprinkler system of some kind. Rows and rows of one-story buildings, all painted white. Modern chicken coops. The air smelled like chickens. She swallowed hard. She hated the smell.
Maggie paid the driver, adding a generous tip, grabbed her backpack, and got out of the taxi. She could hear voices and laughter as she walked up the flagstone walkway, which was bordered with spring flowers. The voices and laughter were coming from the back of the low, sprawling ranch house. She detoured and headed in that direction, where she was welcomed with open arms as the women swirled around her.
The mood was jovial, the laughter high-pitched. Almost, Maggie thought, verging on hysterical.
She counted seven open bottles of wine on the long picnic table, along with a dozen or so beer bottles. Obviously, the others had gotten here much earlier than she had. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was on purpose.
“Wine or beer?” Kitty asked.
Maggie stared at her host. She liked her, liked the way she’d come to her aid at the Cat & Cradle. She wore no makeup because she didn’t need it. Her skin was tanned and flawless; her lashes were long, natural, and curled upward; her lips a natural pink. She herself was drinking ginger ale. She wore cutoff blue jeans and a well-worn T-shirt that said PEACE on the front and the back. Ten-dollar Walmart sneakers graced her feet. She smiled, hugged Maggie, and popped a Bud Light for her.
“I’m not much of a drinker,” Maggie said.
“Me either. I’m diabetic.”
Maggie wasn’t sure what, if anything, she should say to that confession, so she just nodded in understanding. “Are all those low buildings where you keep the chickens?” she asked after she remembered her quasi plan.
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