“Good luck at the Academy Awards,” Myra said.
They were almost to the door when Lyons moved over to the window. Myra looked at Annie. The look said, Stall as long as you can. I think the girls are here.
Chapter 22
Nikki drove the car up the long driveway leading to Michael Lyons’s house. The guard stepped out of his hut the moment Nikki stopped the car. She got out of the car at the same time Yoko stepped out of the back door.
“This is not a turn-around road, Miss. This is private property. You’ll have to leave right now. Pull to the right and turn around.”
“Some other time,” Nikki said, walking around the guard. Yoko stepped forward, her right hand like a claw. She jabbed her fingers into the man’s neck and he crumpled.
“Who has the duct tape?”
Alexis climbed out of the car, ripping off strips as she made her way over to Nikki and Yoko, who were dragging the guard into his little house.
“Homey,” Nikki said, looking around. “It’s heated and cooled. TV, DVD, radio, minifridge, all the comforts of home. Lots of girlie magazines. Maybe when we leave we’ll set fire to the magazines. Look at this,” she said, ripping a sheet of paper from the yellow pad. “Maggie Spritzer’s cell phone number! She’s been here. That’s okay, we’ll deal with her later.”
Alexis and Yoko rolled the guard over to the corner while Nikki confiscated his gun and his cell phone. Then she ripped out the phone lines and turned off the electrical breaker that controlled the electronic gates. “I can open the gates manually.” The last thing Nikki did was close the door to the guardhouse and lock it using the key on the guard’s key ring. She took a moment to look around to see if there was a sign that said, CLOSED or OFF DUTY. There wasn’t any.
Nikki ran ahead and opened the gate. She raced back to the car and drove through, then sprinted back to close the gate. Anyone driving up would assume the power was still on and they were locked out. She sailed up to the main house, her breath coming in hard little puffs.
“Showtime, ladies!” Nikki said as she brought the rental car to a full stop behind the yellow taxi sitting in the driveway. “They’re still here,” she hissed. “Get the bags!”
“Got ’em,” Kathryn said, getting out of the car. The others followed suit.
Nikki took a moment to walk over to Yoko. “Are you ready, Yoko? Are you sure you can handle this?”
Yoko looked serene. “I have waited my whole life for this. I am more than ready. You all promised that I could do it.”
Nikki, their undisputed leader, said, “Quick, fast and as dirty as you can get. I have the guard’s gun. If we have to, we use it. Let’s go! Fifteen minutes and we’re out of here.”
“Michael! Yoo-hoo, you have company! Do you want Myra and I to…to shoo them away? Oh, my dear, you’re looking so ghastly. My goodness, there are five of them and they look so…so determined. They must be fans. Quick, Michael, do you have any pictures of yourself? That’s probably all they want. If you get them, I’ll sign them for you. My goodness, listen to that doorbell. I declare, I think they’re leaning on it,” Annie babbled.
“What the hell! How did they get past the guard? I told him no visitors. Yes, yes, get rid of them. I have pictures but I don’t…I don’t know where they are. Just open the door a crack and speak through the crack. I can’t handle visitors today.”
Myra opened the door a crack and then stepped backward. She looked at Michael and said, “Your fans are so…pushy. How do you stand it?” The door swung wide to allow the cavalry from Pinewood to blaze through. Isabelle locked the door.
“Hello, Daddy!” Yoko said, bowing low.
Michael Lyons thought nothing in the world could faze him but seeing his daughter, a true replica of her mother, stunned him, leaving him speechless. And if the reports he’d gathered were true, she was here to kill him. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t make his tongue work. Then he looked into her eyes and knew this tiny creature would show him no mercy. His shoulders sagged.
“Where are the others?” Nikki asked, brandishing the guard’s gun.
“Either in the dining room or the kitchen,” Myra said. “They’re staying out of sight and haven’t made a sound. Be careful.”
The girls raced off, leaving Yoko, Myra and Annie alone with Michael Lyons.
Yoko advanced a step and then another. “I understand you’ve been looking for me, Daddy. Well, here I am.”
Still speechless, Lyons stood rooted to the floor as he tried to figure out what was going on. He finally found his voice. “What do you want?” He couldn’t believe the strangled-sounding voice was his own. “What?” he screamed.
“I’m here to avenge my mother. My mother was Suki Naoki. You remember my mother, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, I remember your mother. She was very beautiful,” he said, his voice cracking with desperation. He looked around wildly as he finally figured out what was going on. He almost blacked out when he saw the members of his inner circle walking toward him with a gun being pointed at them.
“And you killed her,” Yoko said.
“No. No, that’s not true. She died but I didn’t kill her.”
“You turned her out on to that…that sex circuit. Oh, yes, you killed her.”
The four men looked whipped as they took in the unfolding scene playing out in front of them. It was Josh Tappen, the retired general, who roared a denial and accused Lyons of setting them all up for his own purposes. The women ignored the outburst.
“Yoko, watch the time,” Kathryn said as she unzipped her duffel bag and pulled out a jug full of clear liquid. Alexis did the same thing. Yoko nodded.
“Strip,” Nikki said to the five men, waving the gun around. No one moved. “They’re not listening, Yoko,” Nikki said in a singsong voice. “This might be a good time to tell them we’re all PMSing.”
“I can fix that,” Yoko said in the same kind of singsong voice. She leaped in the air, her legs and arms going in all directions. The four members fell to the floor within seconds. Lyons started to squeal like a stuck pig when she advanced on him.
“The lady told you to strip. That goes for you, too, Daddy. Do it!”
The men hastened to obey the order.
“What…What are you going to do?” Lyons asked.
Yoko pulled on a pair of latex gloves. “Where’s the brush?”
“Right here,” Isabelle trilled as she handed it over.
All the men eyed the two jugs with the clear fluid. One of them was brave enough to ask what it was.
The Ladies of Pinewood smiled.
“Krazy Glue. Industrial strength,” Yoko said. She snapped the gloves into place and picked up the brush. “Who wants to go first?” No one moved.
“Don’t mess with us, we have no patience. Didn’t you hear her when she said we’re all PMSing? Nikki, shoot their dicks off!” Kathryn ordered as she shoved Adam Newhouse forward. They all cowered like beaten dogs.
Yoko dropped to her knees and painted a wide swath on the hardwood floor. Isabelle and Alexis pushed and shoved Newhouse until they had him glued to the floor. It took three minutes to glue all the men to the floor.
“They’re stuck in place. Hurry, Yoko,” Isabelle said.
The brush dipped in the Krazy Glue moved at the speed of light. Ears were glued to their heads, lips were sealed, their hands were glued to one another, legs glued together and to each other.
“You forgot the most important place!” Isabelle said.
“No, I was saving it for last.” The Ladies of Pinewood smiled as the brush moved again. “Are you sure there is no solvent that will unglue all my hard work?” Yoko queried.
“Nope. No solvent. They’re stuck here forever! Oh, my, you have almost a whole jug left. What are you going to do with it?” Kathryn asked.
“Waste not, want not,” Yoko said as she splashed the remaining glue over the five men.
The women clapped and clapped. Annie, whose eyes were big as sauce
rs, started to laugh and couldn’t stop.
“Who has the records?” Alexis asked.
Isabelle opened her duffel bag and dumped the contents on the floor but far enough away so the glue wouldn’t trickle onto them.
“Our work here is done!” Kathryn said dramatically. “Eighteen minutes. Not bad. Come on, we have to get out of here.”
Myra opened the door and then slammed it shut when a sharp, piercing sound whipped through the air. Off in the distance they could see red and blue flashing lights.
“The police are here!” Myra said quietly. “You all know what to do.”
Chapter 23
Maggie was half-dozing behind the wheel of the rental car when she felt Ted poke her elbow. “It’s them! They just whizzed by. A big SUV. Nikki Quinn was driving. The car was going too fast to tell if the others were in there. It looked full, though.”
Maggie licked at her lips. “This is it then! Pulitzer, here we come. How do you want to play this, Ted? We need a plan here. Do we file the story first or call the cops first? Make sure the camera is charged. Just one picture is worth a thousand words. Tell me what you want to do first, Ted.” She sounded so annoyed and yet excited that Ted felt befuddled.
“Unless they’re expected, which I don’t think they are, how are those women going to get past those electronic gates? You met the guard. The one with the gun. He’s not going to open those gates to anyone,” Maggie continued.
“There are five of them. They’re like fucking commandos. You’ve seen them in action, they’re heartless. Trust me, they’ll find a way,” Ted said.
Maggie digested the information. Ted was right. “We’re wasting time. We have to take them by surprise. Let’s check out the guard. If they disabled him, we call the cops. It will take them at least seven or eight minutes to get out here. We’ve already wasted five minutes. Those women aren’t going to stand around patting each other on the back. When they finish whatever it is they’re doing they’re going to split. That’s when we take our pictures. The California cops can nail their asses to the wall. We get the rest of our story, call it in, e-mail the pictures and hop on the next plane to DC and wait for our Pulitzer. Damn, I thought this day would never come.”
Always a thinker, Ted said, “Don’t you think this was all a little too easy?”
“Easy? Easy? Are you crazy? No, I do not think this has been easy. It’s been damn hard. Sometimes you catch a break, like now. That’s how you have to look at it. Get your cell phone ready so you can call the police. The laptop is on. All I have to do is hit SEND to file the story and it’s all over. You ready?”
Ted watched the flowing traffic. He didn’t trust himself to speak so he nodded. Maggie was on the road a minute later. The driver of the car she’d cut off blasted his horn and gave her the finger. Maggie gave it right back.
Maggie slowed just long enough to turn onto Lyons’s driveway. She put the pedal to the metal and screeched to a stop outside the guard hut. “He’s not here! Maybe he escorted them up to the house.” She was out of the car a second later. “The hut is locked. Ted, did you hear me, the hut is locked. Maybe we should break it open.”
“What’s that we stuff? I’m not breaking my shoulder for you or anyone else.”
“Then kick it in, Ted. We have to hurry. I think we should call the police right now. I’m going to do it, Ted, while you kick in the door.”
Ted was about to lift his foot when he heard a hard thumping sound inside. It was all the impetus he needed to lash out at the door. He was stunned when the flimsy door gave way. Both reporters gawked at the duct-taped guard. “His gun is gone,” Ted hissed.
“I see that. Take that tape off him while I call the police but before I call them, take his picture. Better take a couple.”
Ted snapped the pictures from different angles. He winced when he ripped the duct tape from the man’s wrists, ankles and mouth.
The guard got to his feet and charged out of the door. “I’m going to get fired for this. Taken down by a bunch of women! Mr. Lyons is going to be so pissed,” he said as he staggered over to the gates to open them.
“Oh, oh,” Maggie said. “Look who’s here!”
Ted whirled around to see two cars. Jack Emery glared at him through the car window. All he had to do was see the aviator glasses on the man in the other car to know who he was. “Son of a fucking bitch! I told you this was too easy. Hit that SEND button. Now, Maggie!”
Maggie fumbled in her backpack and yanked out her laptop. Her hands were shaking so badly she missed the SEND button twice before she finally made contact.
Jack and Harry Wong leaped out of the car. Jack could see the guard running up the driveway, saw the laptop in Maggie’s hand and the worry in Ted’s eyes all at a glance. He looked over at his new best friend and pointed to the two reporters. “Take care of them. Rip their guts out if you have to. Read them their rights just to be on the safe side.”
“My pleasure,” the man said as he pulled two pair of flexi-cuffs from his pocket.
“We didn’t do anything. Why are you arresting us? We freed that man. Those women had him trussed up like a Christmas turkey. Look for yourself, there’s the duct tape they used. His DNA is on it. What’s the charge?” Maggie shouted.
“I haven’t decided yet but something will come to me. Now shut up and let me do my job.”
“I don’t have to shut up. This is a free country or it was the last time I looked. Well, guess what, buddy, we filed our story and there’s nothing you can do about it. And, we called the police, too. What do you have to say to that?” Maggie blustered before the special agent picked up one of the strips of duct tape and plastered it against her mouth.
“What I think, lady, is this. You just made the most serious mistake of your life.”
“Fuck!” Ted said.
“You want the tape, too?”
“No, sir, I don’t.”
They all heard the sirens before they saw the flashing blue and red lights.
There were three police cars. Two raced through the open gates, the third one stopped behind the special agent’s car.
Special Agent Bert Navaro had his credentials in his hand when both LA cops sauntered over to where he was standing. He held them out. “These two our my prisoners,” was all he said. The two LA cops whispered to one another before they handed Navaro’s creds back to him. They nodded respectfully and got into their car and headed to the main house.
“Okay, you two, into the car.” Navaro pulled out a second set of flexi-cuffs and handcuffed the two reporters to the doors before he climbed behind the wheel to head up to the main house. He could hear the brouhaha going on inside even before he got out of the car. He didn’t bother to knock or ring the bell. He opened the door and stepped inside. He stepped around the LA officers who were arguing with Jack Emery. It wasn’t time for him to intervene. He walked over to the area in question and looked down at the men glued to the floor. Then he looked around at the seven women who glared at him defiantly. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked of no one in particular.
“Krazy Glue,” Kathryn said. “Industrial strength.”
“That would mean the floor has to be sawed away. Then some very strong men will have to carry the slab holding the men to a tow truck of some sort so they can be transported…to somewhere. I don’t see any other alternative.” He sounded like he was discussing a flat tire.
“That’s pretty much how I see it,” Kathryn said.
Special Agent Navaro allowed himself a small smile that Kathryn returned. Then she winked at him.
Special Agent Navaro stared at the attractive woman from behind his sunglasses. Now, here was someone he’d like to get to know better. She’d winked at him. Considering the circumstances, he thought the wink was pretty damn bold. He fought the urge to laugh.
A verbal war seemed to be going on by the front door. The LA cops were claiming jurisdiction while Jack Emery was shouting to be heard over the melee. “This is my collar.
I’ve been tracking these women for years. I have all the paperwork to transport all seven women back to Virginia. You can argue until the cows come home but nothing is going to change. The women go with me. You get to keep the floor and the guys stuck to it. Give me any shit and you’ll be walking a beat someplace in the desert.”
Suddenly a new voice was heard. “Tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing!”
One of the LA cops cursed loudly. “Who the hell let that reporter in here? Get him out of here! Christ Almighty, this is going to be splashed all over the front pages by morning. Kaminsky, didn’t you hear me? Kick his ass out of here!”
Jack Emery looked at Harry Wong, who was busy making moon eyes at Yoko, who couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the man on the floor. Her father.
“The shit’s going to hit the fan on this one. Someone has to call this guy’s studio. You do it, Carpenter. If the mayor shows up, don’t let him in here until we figure out what the hell is going on. Who did this?” the cop in charge asked, wincing as he looked down at the floor.
The room grew quiet. It was obvious the men on the floor couldn’t respond, so the cop who appeared to be in charge and who had asked the question looked at the women, who just stared at him, their expressions blank. He turned to Jack, who wiggled his eyebrows. “We have a plane to catch. My paperwork is in order. Having said that, Harry, cuff the ladies.”
Harry fixed the flexi-cuffs on all seven women. Jack herded the women toward the door. He held his breath, hoping no one was going to look too closely at his paperwork and let them go. The women moved quickly.
7. Free Fall Page 19
