Lizzie offered up her dazzling smile, and said, “Ask me when I leave here, sweetie. Now, tell me, what can I do for you fine gentlemen and…uh, lady?”
Bert knew immediately what Lizzie was doing. She’d drawn her line in the sand and would not deal with Erin. Lizzie never dealt with women. As in never. She’d decided she would deal with Bert, and that was that.
Erin sensed where it was all going and stepped in front of Bert. “I’m Special Agent Erin Powell. I’m heading up this elite task force on Director Cummings’s orders.”
Lizzie ignored Erin’s outstretched hand, her expression clearly showing what she thought of that order. Erin flushed and withdrew her hand as though she’d been stung by a bee.
“As I was saying, Ms. Fox, we’d like to ask you a few questions, and you can be on your way.”
“Questions about what?”
Lizzie crossed her legs. Erin heard the indrawn breath of her fellow agents. Why did everything have to be about sex?
“About the vigilantes. You were the attorney of record.”
“And it’s all privileged. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
Erin wondered if she looked as desperate as she felt. Probably. “Oh, but you will. I’m in control here. I can hold you for seventy-two hours if I so choose.”
Lizzie stood up. “You can try, but before you do that, I suggest you call Director Cummings to see if that’s really the route you want to take. Since you probably know two of the vigilantes better than I do, why don’t you just make up something and run with it? I was simply their attorney for a few hours. And then, poof, they absconded. End of story. Now, Bert, please show me where my two clients are so I can advise them of their rights. By the way, there are some reporters out front. If you want to pursue push coming to shove, let’s do it, Special Agent Powell. I told them if I wasn’t out in an hour to contact Director Cummings, who has an open-door policy, and inquire as to my whereabouts.”
Erin’s stomach rumbled. She was glad she hadn’t eaten any breakfast. She’d not only just lost the battle, she’d lost the war as well. Still, she needed to go down fighting. She was just about to order her agents to arrest Lizzie Fox, and she’d take the heat, when Director Cummings poked his head in the door. Seeing Lizzie, his face lit up like a hundred-watt bulb.
“Nice to see you, Lizzie.”
Oh, shit, Erin thought. They’re on a first-name basis.
“Nice to see you, too, Director.”
“I understand you’ve been away, out of town. Nice to see that you’re back. Where were you?” he asked in his most folksy manner.
Lizzie laughed, the sound tinkling all over the office. She wagged a playful finger, then held out her left hand where a ring with a diamond as big as a headlight gleamed. “Here and there, Director. A lady never kisses and tells, you know that. Ah, here is my latte. Thank you so much, Agent Landos. Wasn’t that sweet of him? Your agents are such nice, understanding people. I was just explaining to Ms. Emily…Emma…sorry, whatever her name is, that she couldn’t arrest me and hold me for seventy-two hours because then all sorts of problems would come up. Isn’t that right, Director? It goes without saying that I shared everything I could—which is really nothing, since it is all privileged. We both know you can’t hold me. Unless, of course, you’re trying to make a statement of some kind, which will go against you in a court of law.
“I have an idea, Director. Why don’t you walk me down to where my clients are waiting for me.” Without waiting for a response, Lizzie untangled her long legs, stood up, and smoothed down her skimpy skirt. All eyes, even Erin’s, were on her beautiful, long, toned legs.
When the director and Lizzie were out of earshot, Landos leaned forward, and asked Erin, “Guess she showed you, huh?”
Erin walked over to her desk. She sat down, looked at her agents, and said, “Yes, I guess she did,” so softly the men had to strain to hear her words. All but Bert wore baffled expressions as they stared at their boss.
“Charlie and Pete, don’t you have someplace to be? I believe Judge Easter and Deputy District Attorney Emery are waiting for you. Joe, pick up Ted Robinson and haul him in here. From what I’m told, he knows more than anyone else about the vigilantes.”
“He’s a nut job, Erin. No one pays attention to him. He sees vigilantes in his dreams. He’s a joke,” Landos said.
“So bring him in so I can get a good laugh. I need one right now. I thought I told you to bring in Maggie Spritzer.”
Landos looked for a moment like he was going to give Erin an argument but decided against it. “I would if I could find her. No one knows where she is.”
“Just like no one knew where that sexpot was?”
“Meow!” Landos said as he left the office.
Erin spun her chair around so that she was facing Bert. “You want to tell me about last night?”
“No, actually I don’t. When I’m off duty, my time is my own. More to the point, do you want to tell me why you were following me?”
“Actually, I don’t, Bert.”
“Then I guess we should get to the business at hand. What do you want me to do?”
What she really wanted was to cry on his shoulder. Anyone’s shoulder. She schooled her face to impassiveness when she spoke. “It’s getting to the point that no one is going to talk to us even if we sweat them. And you were right, Bert. Powerful people are behind those vigilantes. When they bring in Robinson, I’m going to do the interrogation. I’ll decide if he’s a crackpot or not. Give me your professional opinion of Lizzie Fox, Bert. Aside from the obvious.”
“She’s not shy. She’s flamboyant and has the goods to pull it off. She doesn’t lie when she says she is the best of the best. Bottom line, she is. As the young people say today, the lady has it going on. She’s got enough favors due her in this town to keep her going till hell freezes over. All she has to do is call them in, and you’re out in the cold, Erin. Right now she’s going to play with you. She’s going to bait you, then she’ll strike with that dazzling killer smile of hers. You won’t know what hit you. I’ve seen her in action.”
Erin shivered inside her suit jacket. She was stung to the quick by Bert’s assessment. “You must think I’m a total dud. Why is that?”
“You let her get to you. You played right into her hands. I don’t think you’re a dud. I think you’re out of your league here, is what I think. For starters, you had no clue who or what Lizzie Fox is. Always know your adversary, Interrogation 101. Instead of wasting your time following me around, use your time more constructively. This is a thankless job, and you aren’t going to get those women. Accept it.”
Erin digested the information, not liking it. “There’s a mole here somewhere.”
“Maybe so. Find him or her and sweat them. Now, what do you want me to do?”
“Finish going through the boxes. Finish up the boards so that everything reads chronologically. Somewhere there’s a clue that everyone’s missed. Find it. I mean it, Bert, find it, or my thinking where you’re concerned is not going to be pretty. I’m going to be all over you if you zero out again. I’m going out. Call me on my cell if you need me.”
“Okay, boss.”
Bert looked around. He knew the room was bugged, so he didn’t bother to check it out. He felt a small shiver of apprehension knowing Erin Powell thought he was the mole. Like all women, she was going to be like a dog with a bone where he was concerned.
As he got down to his thankless job, he wondered how Jack and Nellie were faring. Who the hell was doing the questioning? The director? If it was Charlie and Pete, it would be a disaster. Both men had the finesse of a bull in a china shop. And where was Erin going so early in the morning? Talk about a cluster fuck. This was right up there with the best of them.
Three doors down on the right, Director Cummings was thinking along the same lines. Obviously, this little meeting was a mistake, and he had to save face some way. He waved off Agents Akers and Mangello, who were about to storm the room.
>
“I’m sorry about this. Please, allow me to apologize. This task force is just starting up, and some of my agents got a little overzealous. You’re all free to go, but I’d like it if you’d agree to come in and talk when we get a little more organized. An informal Q&A.”
“Elias, this is nonsense,” Nellie said. “I have nothing to say that I haven’t told you several times already. You need to move to higher ground, get some fresh ideas. We’re the old guard, been there, done that. Speaking strictly for myself, I have had no contact with the women you call the vigilantes. I heard the case in court. That’s the sum total of my involvement. Aside from what I told your predecessor, who tried to do me in with that dossier he compiled, there is nothing I can tell you. Can’t we please leave it at that so I can get on with my retirement?”
“Of course, Nellie,” the director said agreeably. “To show there are no hard feelings, allow me to take you to breakfast. I insist, Nellie.”
“Well, since you put it that way, I guess I am hungry.”
“Wonderful.”
The director looked at Jack and Lizzie and extended the invitation. Both declined.
“You taking this all down, Lizzie?” he asked, his folksy voice ringing in the large empty room.
Lizzie pointed to her head to indicate she had it all stored in her brain. She made a production of standing up then and almost blew the director’s socks off when she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Jack, cell phone in hand, clicked once, then twice, and the picture was stored. Nellie, seeing the little byplay, almost laughed out loud.
“Shall we?” the director asked, standing aside so his guests could exit the door.
“I’ll just be a minute, Nellie. I want to get my jacket.”
“Take your time, Elias. I’m retired and have all the time in the world.”
“Nice seeing you again, Your Honor,” Jack said as he cupped Lizzie’s elbow in his hand to usher her out the door.
Neither spoke until they were outside in the brisk air. “What the hell is going on, Jack? What was that dog-and-pony show all about?” Lizzie demanded as she waved to Ted Robinson. He waved back.
“When I find out, I’ll let you know. See ya,” Jack said, heading to the curb to hail a cab.
He looked back once to see Ted Robinson glaring at him. He shivered in the crisp air as he climbed into the cab. He barked out the address of the courthouse, then leaned back to think about what had just happened inside 935 Pennsylvania Avenue.
Chapter 11
After leaving her office just before noon, Lizzie Fox had the driver of the town car take her back to her home in the pricey neighborhood above Dupont Circle. She signed the credit card form, added a generous tip, and slid out of the car, thanking the driver.
Key in hand, she opened the solid oak door, then closed it behind her as she kicked off her spiked heels. They sailed across the room, landing with a plop next to a luxurious white sofa. Her antenna went up almost immediately. Someone was in the house, even though it was deathly silent. She tiptoed over to the sofa and picked up one of the stilettos. Carrying it like a weapon, she moved cautiously through the house. She stopped long enough in the dining room to slide open one of the drawers, where she kept a fully loaded gun. Shoe in one hand, gun in the other, she slowly inched open the swinging door that led into the kitchen. Her jaw dropped and her eyes bulged when she saw Judge Cornelia Easter sitting at her kitchen table.
“Damn, Nellie, I could have shot you and asked questions later. How’d you get in here?”
Nellie offered up a tight little smile. “While I was sitting on the bench, over the years many people stood before me on trial. One gentleman enlightened us in great detail about how to break and enter without getting caught. Believe it or not, I took notes in case anyone else came before me and tried to snow me.”
“I guess he wasn’t such an expert if he got caught,” Lizzie said, snapping the safety on the gun in her hand and stuffing it into a kitchen drawer.
“Oh, he didn’t get caught breaking and entering. He wanted to convince me he retired from such nefarious doings by explaining his résumé to me. He was charged with highjacking an eighteen-wheeler full of designer shoes that he had family members selling at a flea market in Alexandria. His smart-ass lawyer got him off by convincing the jury his client was at the wrong place at the right time. I could use a good cup of coffee right now. Tell me, dear, what’s going on and what do we have to do?”
Lizzie removed her suit jacket and hung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs before she set about grinding beans and filling the coffeemaker with water. She set out cups and saucers, cream and sugar. “I’m not sure, Nellie. We lucked out this morning, with Elias showing up the way he did. Coincidence? I don’t believe in coincidences, Nellie. Never have. Was it all a setup to make us nervous? Possibly a warning of things to come.”
“Did something happen out of the norm? Myra told me the girls are getting ready to take on something, but she was vague on details. Do you think it’s just the bad press the FBI is getting from the media? They have become a laughingstock on the 24-hour cable news channels.”
“I think that’s part of it. I’ve interacted with the agents assigned to this special task force on occasion. However, today was the first time I met Erin Powell. How she got up to bat on this gig is beyond me. All female fibs want to make a name for themselves. I have no reason to think Powell is any different. The best thing we have going for us right now is that Bert is on the inside, but there’s a problem there, too. Powell followed Bert last night when he gave Jack a ride home, then spent the night, since he had to be in the office by five thirty. He managed to text message me about it as I was riding down in the elevator. So he’s on Powell’s radar screen. He said she believes there’s a mole in the FBI who helps the vigilantes. Don’t worry about Bert, he knows how to cover his ass.”
Nellie wondered what exactly interacting with the agents on occasion really meant, but she’d bite off her tongue before she asked. So she just nodded and waited for whatever Lizzie was going to say next. With Lizzie it was always a bombshell a minute.
“Well, it’s my opinion that something somewhere is going down for Elias to form this special task force. It’s got to be more than the bad press. Every organization gets bad press and lives to fight another day. I’m thinking, and again, this is just my opinion, but I think it’s all a setup to trap the vigilantes somehow,” Nellie said.
Lizzie got up to pour the coffee. She patted Nellie’s bony shoulder on the way. “It’s funny, Nellie, that you should say that because I’ve been thinking exactly the same thing. At least we’re on the same page. All we have to do is wait to see how it all shakes out. With Bert on the inside, I’m thinking we won’t have long to wait.
“Listen, Nellie, I want to change my clothes. I made a lunch date with Ted Robinson. He’s going to meet me at the Squire’s Pub. I’m going to try to turn him.” At the judge’s startled look, Lizzie laughed. “I admit it’s a daunting task but not impossible. Enjoy the coffee. I won’t be long.”
Nellie blinked. And it only took her not quite five minutes to dump the bombshell. In spite of herself, Nellie burst out laughing. She didn’t have a doubt in the world that Lizzie could turn Robinson but at what cost?
Nellie finished her coffee and was calling her driver to pick her up when Lizzie appeared in the doorway. Nellie’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. The statuesque lawyer sported skintight black leather pants, scarlet knee-high leather boots with spike heels, and a short, candy-apple red bomber jacket. To Nellie’s practiced eye it didn’t look like she was wearing anything under the jacket. She was still sporting the headlight diamond on her left hand. The wild mane of silvery hair shimmered in the kitchen’s fluorescent light. “Oh, my,” was all Nellie could muster in the way of words.
Lizzie did a perfect pirouette. “Sex makes the world go round. I have a meeting at two with Annie’s lawyers and the ones representing the owners of the Post.”
&n
bsp; “Oh, my,” Nellie said again.
“You know that old saying, Nellie, ‘First you bullshit them, then you dazzle them, and when they’re gasping for breath, you either hand them a pen or call an ambulance.’ Works every time.”
“No, I can’t say I ever heard that before. I just know about catching more flies with honey than vinegar. I guess that makes me sound old.”
Lizzie laughed as she rinsed the coffeemaker and pulled the plug. “I’m not trying to catch flies, Nellie. I’m trying to outswim the sharks. Not to worry, I have a lock on it.”
“Well, in that case I won’t worry. You look…You look…spectacular.”
Lizzie laughed again because she knew Nellie meant every word. “I’m outta here. The door will lock behind you. Stay as long as you like. I’ll call you later this afternoon. Check in with me if you hear from Jack or Bert, okay?”
“Is it okay if I smoke while I wait for my driver?”
“No problem. There are some cigarettes in the kitchen drawer. There’s an ashtray in there, too. I puff on one now and then when my stress level hits a high note.”
Nellie couldn’t imagine Lizzie Fox ever getting stressed out. She was the cockiest, the most confident, arrogant female she’d ever met. Of course, it could all be a façade for all Nellie knew. She waved to Lizzie’s retreating back. She didn’t light her cigarette until she heard the front door close behind the lawyer.
Nellie blew a perfect smoke ring before she closed her eyes. Where was all of this headed and what was the outcome going to be? She wished she was psychic.
The Squire’s Pub was a watering hole for government lawyers, White House personnel, and assorted white-collar bureaucrats with designer briefcases. It was a place to be seen. The pub was huge, and always, no matter the hour of the day or night, filled to overflowing. The bar was long, solid mahogany, with matching walls and stained glass windows. Politicians vied and cajoled to have their pictures mounted on those walls. It was a known fact that some of the more aggressive Washingtonians went so far as to try bribing the owner, a Brit named Graham Abernathy.
Collateral Damage Page 9
