13. Under the Radar

by Fern Michaels

  The two wheels were closer, almost on top of her. She heard the engine throttle back. Her help. She was almost sure of it. One hundred minutes. To gamble or not to gamble? She got to her knees as she waved her hand crazily. The engine stopped, idled, and she heard a voice that sounded all gravelly and hoarse. An old voice that had seen too much whiskey and way too many cigarettes. Like she cared.

  The blue light came to a stop right behind the motorcycle. Oh, God, Pearl thought, a standoff.

  “Okay, olly, olly out! Come on, Rosa, enough of this bullshit,” the gravelly voice shouted so the officer, if that’s who he was, could hear. “There’s rattlesnakes out here and you know how afraid you are of snakes. Come on, Sweet Cheeks, climb aboard and let’s kiss and make up. Rosa! I’m sorry I looked at that young girl. All I did was look. It’s okay to look, honey, as long as you don’t touch. Hey, there’s a police officer here. Come on, honey, old Jess is just waiting to wrap his arms around you before he decides to run us in for something or other.”

  That was good, the man on the cycle had given up his name. Pearl straightened up and stepped out of the brush. She knew how to play the game. “Swear on the dog you won’t look at another woman, ever again, Jess!” Pearl deliberately avoided looking at the officer in his spiffy uniform. This discussion was between her and her man.

  “Okay, okay, I promise. Now get your skinny-assed butt on back, and let’s go get us a little drink. I’m parched.”

  Pearl was about to swing one leg over the back of the ferocious-looking Harley when the police officer spoke.

  “Not so fast, you two. Show me some ID, and, mister, I clocked you at ninety-seven miles an hour on that bike. That’s a two-hundred-dollar ticket in these parts in case you’re interested.”

  Jess, if that was his name, removed his helmet and lowered his Ray-Bans.

  He stared at the cop for a full minute as he tried to take his measure. Mean little eyes, cocky as sin, Elvis on steroids was his final assessment. Jess knew without a doubt he could take that cop on, and with only one or two moves reduce him to dust, if need be. He slid off the bike in one fluid motion. “I’m going to reach into my hip pocket for my wallet, Officer. Is that okay? I guess maybe I was speeding but I was worried about my woman here. Like I said, she’s afraid of snakes. Hell, she’s afraid of just about everything but me.”

  He laughed to show what he thought of that statement. The patrol officer remained stoney-faced.

  The officer backed up a few steps, his hand on the gun at his hip. “Do it. Nice and slow. Have the woman hand it to me.”

  Jess swiped at the sweat on his forehead before he pulled the wallet from his pocket. He handed it to Pearl who in turn handed it to the cop.

  The officer flipped open the wallet and said, “You’re Jess Dewey, aged sixty-six, and you reside where?”

  “Yuma, Arizona. At times. Other times I’m on the road. I head up biker conventions. Me and Rosa, that’s what we’ve been doing until she got all prickly with me and lit out on her own. Plan is to go on up to Montana and spend some free time before the next event. Something wrong with that, Officer?”

  The policeman ignored Jess. “Ma’am, I need to see some ID.” Pearl dug into the pocket of her cargo pants and came out with a wallet and a cruddy-looking passport that looked too shoddy to be a fake. The stamps showed she went back and forth to Juarez, Mexico, once a month.

  “You two stay put. Give me those keys until I verify this information.”

  Jess tossed the key to the officer and turned away. Pearl followed him.

  “He’s a cop, but he’s also a polygamist,” Jess told her. “I saw his picture in the paper about two weeks ago. He wants to run us in so bad he can taste it. I don’t know about you, but I think our best bet is to cut and run. I can take the guy with no sweat. What do you want me to do, ma’am?” Jess asked.

  “Exactly what you just said, and get me someplace safe. I don’t think either one of us should use a cell phone right now. What do you think?”

  “I have to use mine. I might do freelance work, but I have people I have to account to. If I’m going to take this guy out, those people have to be able to pick up the pieces. Capisci?”

  The cop was walking back toward them, Rosa’s passport and both their wallets in his hand. “I’m going to have to ask you to come along with me back to the station. The chief has a few questions he’d like answered.”

  Jess’s eyes swept the cop. He was smiling, but it did not reach his mean little eyes, and Jess wasn’t about to take any chances. As Jess reached for his wallet, he grabbed the man’s wrist at the same time and bent it backward while his other hand chopped at his throat. The man went down, gagging and gasping for air. “Watch him,” Jess hissed, as he ran to the patrol car. Quicker than a snake he removed the flashing blue light and disabled the two-way radio. He pocketed the cell phone that was on the seat as well as the road map. He rummaged until he found a set of FlexiCuffs. He carried them back to where the cop was still gasping for breath.

  “Listen to me, you child-abusing son of a bitch. I know you’re one of those damn polygamists because I saw your picture in the paper along with those of six or seven other cops. You have eight wives and about twenty kids if I remember correctly. No way were you taking us back to your little jail. You were going to drop us off at that hellhole where your polygamy people live. Well, Mister Law Enforcement, that ain’t gonna happen today.”

  A second later the cop’s gun was in Jess’s hand and he was dragging him back to the unmarked car, where he shoved him inside and hooked him up to the door handle with the FlexiCuffs. He rolled down all the windows and let the engine idle so the AC could operate. He glanced at the gas gauge. A quarter full. The AC would eat that up in fifteen minutes. Oh, well. Then he shot out all four tires, the sound ricocheting across the flats.

  Jess turned to Pearl to see how she was reacting to what was going on. He decided she was okay with everything that was playing out in front of her. The lady had guts, he had to give her that. “The reason I remember this guy so well is, his eight wives are on welfare. The local paper got feisty a few weeks back and did a big spread on the sect; then the paper clammed up, and there was no follow-up. You and me and all the other citizens are paying for all his kids and wives. There’s something wrong with that picture. Look, I’m expecting a new ride any minute now, so I’m going to have to knock this guy out cold before they arrive. Much as I hate to do it, we have to leave this bike behind even though it’s untraceable.”

  Pearl flapped her hands in the air to show she didn’t care one way or the other. All she wanted was to get out of there to someplace safe. She took a few seconds to wonder if she was getting a little too old for this life she’d chosen over finishing out her days on the Supreme Court.

  Jess walked back to the unmarked car, reached in the window, and delivered a bone-crushing slam to the polygamous cop’s face. He felt an unholy satisfaction when he saw blood from a broken nose spurt all over the car. The policeman fell back against the seat. “That,” Jess said, “is for all you damn welfare cheats.”

  Then Jess reached down in his pocket for the key to the Harley and tossed it as far as he could. He dusted his hands dramatically as he made his way back to where the Harley waited.

  Pearl pointed down the road. Off in the distance a motorcycle could be seen traveling fast. Then she saw two more cycles. Jess quickly shot out the tires of his Harley and grabbed the saddlebags with his gear. Putting on a pair of skintight latex gloves, he reached inside the crankcase and did something Pearl couldn’t see, after which he dusted down the Harley’s surfaces.

  The three Harleys ground to a halt. The roar of the idling engines was deafening. Jess motioned for Pearl to climb on the back of the lead bike, while he climbed on the second in the three-vehicle convoy. Engines revved and off they roared, the sound almost more than Pearl could stand, but she hung on for dear life.

  Well, she’d always wanted to feel the wind in her hair and face.
While a convertible would have been more to her liking, she accepted what she was given because she was safe—at least for the moment.

  Chapter 7

  Maggie slid her cell phone into her pocket. She looked from Jack to Harry to Bert. “You all need to get to Utah. Annie’s Gulfstream is being readied as we speak. Things keep changing by the minute, that’s why you need to keep your cells fired up. Ted will be with you. You’ll stop in Vegas to pick up Lizzie.”

  “I’m due in court today,” Jack said, his stomach rumbling at this sudden order. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, if you’d left your damn phone on, you’d know. Everyone under the sun has been trying to reach the three of you.” Maggie quickly gave them a rundown on the current state of affairs.

  The trio looked at her, bug-eyed.

  “Bert, I’m sure there’s something you can do in regard to the FBI. But you have to get there under your own power. We can’t take a chance of you being tied to any of us.”

  Bert nodded. “You bet. The truth is, we’re already involved with the Jeffs case. We have agents in place already. As director, I have every right to go there to check on what’s going on. Don’t worry about me, Maggie.”

  Jack looked dubious. “I feel a root canal coming on. My assistant can handle my motions today. Damn good thing it’s Friday. Is this a quick and dirty, or do you see days of this, whatever the hell this is?”

  “Annie said they’re winging it, but we all know about Murphy’s Law. I’m a little concerned because no one will tell me what’s going on with Myra and Charles other than that the two of them went off to England. How they made that happen is beyond my comprehension.”

  Jack snorted. “Charles has a powerful ally across the pond, that’s how it happened. The question is, what is the problem?”

  “I don’t know, Jack. What I do know is that the others aren’t focused. I want you all to keep that in mind. Harry, you haven’t weighed in. You on board?”

  “Yes, I’m on board. Wheels up. When?”

  Maggie looked at her watch. “Ninety minutes. Look, I have to go. I’m going to try and get a special edition out to pave the way for all of you. Once it hits, Utah is going to be overrun with media, so be prepared. I know you all have questions, save them and call instead. Ted will fill you in on the way.”

  “What about the girls? How are they getting to Utah?” Jack asked.

  “Crop dusters!”

  “Jesus,” was all Jack could think of to say. What he wanted to ask was, “How is that possible?” But he didn’t. With the vigilantes, anything was possible. He looked over at Harry, who appeared to be in a daze.

  “You’re still sitting here!” Maggie barked. “Dulles! Move!”

  The men moved.

  Maggie moved.

  The dojo turned deathly quiet.

  Maggie turned around in time to see Harry flip the window sign. She didn’t have to go back to read it. CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. Harry didn’t believe in giving explanations, and his clientele, mostly law enforcement students, would be only too glad to get a reprieve from the grueling training.

  Maggie walked to the corner and hailed a cab. Her mind raced with what was going down all around her. Her adrenaline kicked in, and she was in high gear within seconds as she text messaged her colleagues. To Annie she wrote:

  “Tonight’s headlines will be a tsunami. N&E flying commercial.”

  Meaning Nellie and Elias.

  “Big Boy flying on company time.”

  Meaning Bert was heading southwest on the FBI’s dime.

  “All others on your flying machine.”

  And the last bit that she couldn’t resist.

  “Be sure to lather up with Vaseline so your skin doesn’t peel off.”

  Back at the Post, Maggie flagged down Ted Robinson and Joe Espinosa. “Look alive here, you two. Ted, you’ll be flying out of Dulles with Jack and Harry. Report in on the hour. Joe, get me everything, and I mean everything, on those polygamy people. I already have all of the pictures I need to run on the front page. Boy, this is going to be Pulitzer fare, I can feel it in my bones. C’mon, c’mon, you’re as bad as Jack and Harry. You’re still standing here. We have a special edition to get out.

  “Move!”

  Joe moved at the speed of light, but Ted stayed rooted to the floor.

  “You know what you’re doing, right?”

  “God, I hope so. The shots Pearl took of those young girls will fill the entire front page. They don’t look any older than twelve or thirteen. What’s that tell you?”

  Ted’s first rule was never to question anything Maggie said. He corrected the thought. She’d let him get away with one question, and that was it. He’d already asked it, so he turned on his heel and started for the door. “I guess I’ll see you when I see you, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Maggie said, her mind a million miles away. Suddenly she looked up, and said, “Hey, Ted!”

  Ted turned around. “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  Ted hopped and skipped all the way to the elevator, a sappy look on his face.

  Maggie shifted her mental gears one more time as she scribbled what she thought was the perfect headline for the special edition. Inch-high, heavy black lettering should do it. She blocked out the numbers on her computer before she pushed back her chair to view her handiwork.

  HEAVEN OR HELL?

  Maggie’s fist shot in the air. “That’ll do it! Get that Pulitzer ready!”

  Isabelle Flanders, her shoulders stiff, her body ramrod straight, marched across the compound, her eyes red from crying. She stomped her way into the main building, her red-eyed gaze seeking out Kathryn. “Okay,” she said before she could change her mind, “you were right, it’s a cult and not a religion. They hide behind the Word. I wish you hadn’t made me watch and read that junk. But I did. I’m on board if you still want me. And I apologize for acting like such a…”

  “‘Jackass’ is the word you’re looking for. Apology accepted.” Kathryn took a full minute to observe her Sister to see if Isabelle was putting her on or if she had really come around to their way of thinking. Whatever she saw in Isabelle’s eyes seemed to satisfy her because she said, “Not to worry, we all get a terminal case of the stupids from time to time. We leave in an hour.”

  “What about the dogs?” Isabelle asked.

  “Avery is sending someone to take care of them and the mountain. We have it together, Isabelle.” Kathryn cut to the chase and gave her Sister a quick rundown as to their current plans. “Maggie says we should lather up with Vaseline to protect our faces.”

  “Crop dusters! How long will it take us to get to Utah in a crop duster?”

  “Like forever,” Kathryn said cheerfully. She could afford to be cheerful at the moment because Bert had just sent her a text message that he would see her in Utah.

  Isabelle digested the information and laughed. She could read Kathryn like a book. “Any news come in from Myra or Charles?”

  “Not a word. I don’t expect we’ll hear much, either. At least for some time. Right now we can’t afford to worry about either Myra or Charles. They’re in good hands, whereas we are flying this mission by the seat of our pants.”

  “Pearl’s safe.” While it was a statement, it was still a question.

  “For the moment at least. Maggie is simply going to refer to her as a ‘Good Samaritan’ in the special edition. The pictures she sent are crystal clear. Maggie’s going to spread them all across the front page. I don’t know much about the newspaper business, but I’m thinking this is a Pulitzer for someone at the Post.”

  Kathryn moved off to take the dogs for a run while Isabelle joined Alexis and Yoko. On her way out Kathryn could hear Annie mumbling to herself about Myra and Charles not answering their cell phones.

  If Annie had known what was going on in London, it was possible her thoughts might have been a little more charitable. Then again, maybe they wouldn’t have been. Annie, as they all knew, was mercurial
.

  Across the pond, cranky and out of sorts, Myra Rutledge was the first one down the metal stairs. She waited at the bottom for Charles, her facial features hard and cold. She wore sunglasses even though the day was dark and gloomy. Just the way she felt. It was raining—a cold, wet, steady rain. She felt chilled to the bone.

  She stepped into the waiting car and settled herself as far away from Charles as the seat would allow. She had never been angry with Charles. Never ever. But that had changed. She didn’t bother to try to hide the anger. What was the point?

  “Where are we going?” she asked with frost in her voice.

  “The Renaissance Chancery Court Hotel in Soho,” Charles said wearily. “I’m sure there will be some shops where you can pick up some clothing and essentials. Myra, if you want to go back, I’m sure I can arrange something.”

  “What is the point? I’m here. Why would I go back?”

  “Because you’re so miserable. Right now you hate me, hate sitting next to me. I can’t make any promises to you about anything. I understand if you…What I mean is…Bloody hell, I don’t know what I mean.” Charles turned to look out the window at the pouring rain.

  Myra’s stomach clutched itself into a tight knot. She knew she was being hateful, and she hated herself for acting that way. She tried once again to explain. “Charles, I wasn’t angry over the fact that you have a son all of a sudden that you knew nothing about. What I was angry about, and am still angry about, is that you were going to sneak away like some thief in the dark of night and just leave me a note. A damn note! I think I deserve more than a damn note. I never thought of you as a coward, but I do now. What in the world did you think I was going to do? Turn on you? That would never have happened. Never. I would have understood.”