“The meeting at the White House was only days after the request from the Republicans came through the message board to ask for our help.”
Yoko picked up on Nikki’s rundown. “The director appoints Erin to head up the task force, dumps Bert on her to get him out of his hair, knowing full well she isn’t going to get anywhere. He’s already had one showdown with her. Today, if Lizzie calls him, will make two dressing-downs. Bert is in Chicago by now and out of everyone’s hair. So, if Bert’s away from Washington, nothing that goes down can be blamed on him.”
“Remember what Charles said? He said that Pam Lock and Baron Russell had a midnight, or at least a middle-of-the-night, meeting. What was that all about?” Myra asked.
“Pam Lock, according to Lizzie, is golden. She’s on our side even though she doesn’t know it. Russell is a Republican, so that means he’s involved in whatever went on at that White House meeting. This is a wild guess on my part, but I don’t think any donor lists were stolen on either side. I think that’s all one big lie,” Nikki said. The anger in her voice was so pronounced, the others knew she was on a roll.
As one they all bellowed, “Why?”
Nikki shrugged. “The only thing I can come up with is they’re trying to trap us, set up an ambush. We almost walked into it, too. Call Kathryn and see if they’re on their way.”
Yoko flipped open her cell phone and punched in a number. She identified herself and listened. She clicked it shut after eight minutes.
“They’re fifteen minutes away. Kathryn said someone was following her in a maroon-colored Saab. She called Harry, and he ran interference with the ambulance, which he has since ditched at some chop shop he knows, in case we need it at some point later on. He’s on his way here on his motorcycle. Actually, he’s directly behind Kathryn so he can watch her back. By the way, the Woodleys are safe and sound, and will be leaving the country by midafternoon on a private jet. Charles got on it like white on rice,” Yoko said, using everyone’s favorite expression.
“That’s a relief,” Nikki said. “Let’s get back to our discussion. Who is responsible for what was to be our impending ambush and capture? The FBI or the White House? C’mon, c’mon, girls, I need feedback here. Throw it out here and let’s kick it to death. We aren’t leaving this house until I know it’s safe to do so.”
They all jabbered at the same time, throwing out wild ideas and scenarios that were impossible to comprehend.
When they ran out of steam with no solutions, Nikki said, “I keep going back to that promised pardon. At least we were smart enough at the beginning to know that wasn’t going to happen. But, girls, what if…?”
Whatever it was Nikki was about to say was cut off when they heard the sound of a car and the roar of Harry’s motorcycle. Yoko raced to the door and leaped into Harry’s arms as Kathryn and Isabelle flew into the room.
“What the hell happened?” Kathryn asked bluntly as she whipped off her wig and shook out her hair.
Isabelle sat down, leaned back, and closed her eyes.
“This is a dump,” Kathryn said as she looked around. “Tell us what happened.”
Annie summed it up quickly. “What excuse did you give Pam Lock for…uh…bugging out?”
“Said I cracked a tooth and was in pain, and Isabelle had to drive me to the dentist. She bought it. I liked the lady. I can tell you this, within minutes I figured out there was no way anyone could have gotten hold of her donor lists. The lady has it going on, let me tell you that. It all smelled of a setup, and she thinks so, too.”
Annie’s jaw dropped. “And you figured all this out in, what, an hour?”
“Well, yeah, Annie. I was there to spy. So I spied. Plus, Pam likes to chatter. We got on right away. And here’s a second plus for you. When a woman hates a man the way Lock hates Baron Russell, it was all a greased slide. Aside from all the claptrap and the bullshit, Pam Lock and her family are very patriotic and political.”
“What about that middle-of-the-night meeting?” Myra asked.
“Sorry, Myra, I didn’t get that far. Yoko called, and Isabelle and I flew out of there like we had wings. Then we picked up that tail. Has anyone heard from Bert?”
“No, dear, he hasn’t called in,” Myra said. “He’s probably just arrived in Chicago. Even if they suspect that Bert is their mole, they have no proof.”
“People have been convicted on less,” Kathryn said. She was worried, and the Sisters could tell, so they tried to reassure her. But Kathryn wasn’t buying false hopes. “Bert put his neck and reputation on the line for us. We need to do something to protect him.”
Harry and Yoko joined the group sitting on the floor. Harry dropped down and said, “I know I don’t have a voting voice with all of you, but this is one time I’d like to make a suggestion. They’re going to hang Bert out to dry unless you can switch it around. My suggestion is you make Erin Powell the mole.”
Annie was on her feet, gesturing wildly with both arms. “See! I told you we should have taken her out! I just didn’t get far enough in my thinking that we should frame her. I think that’s a stupendous idea, Harry.”
“Then let’s do it,” Kathryn said, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Nikki, if you’re right, and Powell is still at the Woodley house, call and talk to her. Arrange a one-on-one meeting. We’ll be your lookouts to make sure she doesn’t have her people watching her back. We take her out right then and there. Charles can clean up after us. Yeah, yeah, we have to call him first. I think it will be better if it comes from Myra.” The others agreed. “Charles should have foreseen this.”
Myra immediately went on the defensive. “How could Charles possibly know something like that ahead of time, Kathryn?”
But Kathryn was in a fighting mood. “He knows everything else, doesn’t he? If he didn’t know, he should have anticipated something like this happening. We’ve been flying blind since we got here. Our intel was sloppy at best. Our intel comes straight from Charles, so there is no one else to blame, and someone needs to take blame here or Bert is going to get caught, and where does that leave us? We owe it to Bert.”
“You’re absolutely right, Kathryn. We do owe it to Bert to step in.” Nikki looked around at the others, who were nodding in agreement.
Nikki’s cell phone seemingly materialized out of thin air. She jabbed in Paula Woodley’s home phone number while Myra contacted Charles. Nikki wasn’t surprised when a deep male voice answered Paula’s phone and asked who she was.
“This is Carol Maloney from the Post. I’d like to speak to Special Agent Powell. I have something urgent to tell her about a case she’s working on.”
“Hold on. What’d you say your name was again?”
“Carol Maloney.”
Nikki listened as the agent bellowed for Erin to take the call. Myra was off the phone before Erin Powell came on the line. She whispered instructions to Nikki, who nodded.
A moment later Nikki heard her old friend identify herself. Erin followed up with, “How did you get this number, and how did you know I was here? I don’t know anyone named Carol Maloney. What do you want?”
“Hello, Erin. Is that any way to talk to a member of the press? This is Nikki Quinn. To answer your question I watched you all morning. I was right under your nose, to be exact. If you’re trying to trace this call, don’t bother. I’m willing to meet you one-on-one. I have people watching you. Not only do I know exactly where you are right this moment, I can actually see you. If you want to confide in your fellow agents, my proposed deal is off. So, do you want the meet or not?”
“Why should I meet with you? For God’s sake, Nikki, you’re a felon. I have orders to find you and bring you in. The FBI does not make deals. You know that.”
“I am a felon, and so are the others. I don’t deny it. Don’t give me that bullshit that you fibs don’t make deals. You do it all the time as long as it benefits you. Listen to me, I want to help you. You’re being set up by Director Cummings. He thinks you’re the mole. That’
s why he gave you Navarro, and you fell right into his trap by making him your number one. You were always smart, Erin. I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out. You’re going to be twisting in the wind unless you chop them off at the knees. There goes your career. Meet me somewhere, alone, and I’ll turn over the information I have so you can save your skin and at the same time turn the tables on them. This is just between us, Erin. If you try anything funny, I won’t like it, and the vigilantes will have to retaliate. Are we clear on that?”
“How do I know…?”
Anticipating the question, Nikki jumped in with, “You don’t. You’ll just have to trust an old friend and know she’d never do anything to harm you. It’s your call, Erin.”
Erin’s voice was hesitant when she said, “Where and when do you want to meet?”
“Right now, within the hour. The British Embassy. I’ll be waiting. One wrong move on your part, and it will be the last one you ever make. Do you understand what I just said?”
“Yes, I do. How accurate is your intel?”
Nikki knew by the whispered voice that she had her. Her fist shot in the air, a signal to the others that Erin would play ball.
“We haven’t survived this long by sharing information. Suffice it to say we’re never wrong. One hour.” Nikki slapped the encrypted cell phone shut and looked around at the small group. “She went for it. I told you all along she’s a smart cookie. She’s already seeing the handwriting on the wall.
“Myra, call Charles and have him call the British Embassy and make sure they invite her in when she gets there. Harry and his people will be right behind her. They’ll do the snatch and grab, and it’s over and done with.”
“Then what?” Harry asked.
“Then we have Judge Easter call the director, since the two of them have a history, and tell him his mole was Erin Powell. Not to worry, we’ll make sure Erin has a good life someplace quite distant from here. I suspect Charles will find her a very good job at Interpol or maybe even MI6, and give her a new identity.
“Kathryn, call Bert and tell him to catch the next plane home from Chicago. He can always say Erin called him back. We’re going to need Bert.”
Annie clapped her hands. “I love it. We’re smokin’ now.”
“Harry, move it,” Nikki said. “We’ll have Charles call you once you’re at the embassy. Okay now, ladies, let’s get down to business. We need the guy who set this all up. I’m thinking it’s the president’s chief of staff.”
“So how are we going to get to him?” Myra asked.
“We aren’t. You’re going to call Justice Pearl Barnes and have her arrange a meeting. He won’t dare turn down someone like her. We swoop in and make him regret this little charade. I think it might be a good idea to include Director Cummings, too, if we can prove he’s implicated—along with Baron Russell.”
“Girls, we are on fire!” Annie chortled.
Chapter 19
The Sisters huddled after Harry’s departure. They worked in sync, Myra and Annie working the phones as they cheerfully blackmailed the seamier side of Wall Street. Annie was especially adept at finding incriminating information in the dossiers they’d confiscated from Mitchell Riley, before he’d been sent to the federal pen to live out his life. She ended each phone call with the same words, “I absolutely will not take no for an answer. Wire the money to this account. I’m so happy for you that now you will have a ten-thousand-dollar stake in the election of the next president.” For those who wanted to balk, she offered to fax them a list of their extracurricular deeds. Two hours into their gig, Myra had it down pat and was even more vicious than Annie. Neither took any prisoners.
With Charles’s help, the Sovereign Bank of Virginia was now the recipient of a fund designated as the proceeds for seating at Martine Connor’s upcoming soirée at the Waldorf-Astoria. The date of the soirée was to be announced by Pam Lock in the campaign’s next press release.
Isabelle spent the major part of the morning conferring with Maggie Spritzer, dictating articles and editorials the Sisters wanted to run in the paper. At the same time Alexis was glued to the phone with Lizzie Fox, tying off all the legal loose ends.
Nikki sat at the computer as she talked to Charles hour after hour, working out the final details on wrapping up a mission that had smelled like a dead fish from the beginning.
Kathryn spent her time talking to Bert by phone until he had to board his flight home. From time to time the others would look at her and smile. They’d never seen Kathryn so happy.
Cold-as-ice, hard-nosed, kick-ass, take-names-later Kathryn Lucas was in love.
Yoko tapped away at her computer, backing up everything Nikki sent her way. When Nikki finished a call to Charles, she’d hop on the phone with Alexis’s help to order materials for the Red Bag.
It was totally dark outside, almost eight o’clock, when all the women stopped what they were doing, as if some ultrasonic signal only they could hear had gone off.
The signal, as it turned out, was the roar of Harry’s Ducati, and Jack and Bert arriving in separate cars. The women ran to the door and turned on the outside light. Their sighs of relief could be heard all the way to the vacant house down the road.
Kathryn’s eyes devoured the tall, strapping federal agent. Always a gentleman, Bert just dropped his arm around her shoulders. Not caring about appearances, Harry picked up Yoko and headed outside in the darkness. Jack simply reached for Nikki, drew her close, and kissed her till her teeth rattled. The Sisters clapped when the couple came up for air.
A devilish grin on his face, Jack bowed low and Nikki did a full curtsy. The Sisters clapped a second time. Then they applauded a third time when Bert held up a huge shopping bag.
“Chinese and Italian!”
“Oh, you dear, sweet man,” Annie gushed. Then she whispered in Kathryn’s ear. “See, dear, one cannot live on love. One must have sustenance. How wonderful that Bert recognized that little fact.”
Kathryn gave her a playful swat on her rear end as Annie danced away with the aromatic bag.
An hour later all of the food and the beer was gone. Alexis bagged up the trash and carried it out to a garbage can at the side of the house. She made sure to clamp the lid on tightly so that raccoons couldn’t get into it. As she walked back to the cabin, she thought about her life as it was before and what it had become. She missed Grady and she felt sad that there was no one in her life to hold hands with, no one to tell her she looked pretty once in a while. When she reached the steps leading to the front porch, she sat down and hugged her knees.
If she was back in the real world, what would she be doing right now? Probably just getting home from work and heating up a can of soup because she was too tired to do anything else. A warm bath, then bed, so she could get up at four thirty, walk Grady, and still be at the office by six thirty so the powers that be could see what a dedicated worker she was.
She couldn’t help but wonder what she would do if she was suddenly given a pardon and was able to go back to her own life. What would I do? Tears gathered in her eyes when she had to admit to herself that she truly didn’t know. Could she handle being thrust into the mainstream of life after all she’d been through? Did she even want to go back to that old life?
Maybe she could open a small office and be a one-woman financial planner. She grimaced at the thought. She got up from the steps and winced. Her knees felt stiff and sore. Maybe she was getting the arth-a-ritis, as her old grandmother used to say. She laughed, then sobered instantly. Arthritis would be the least of her problems at this stage in her life.
She looked up at the star-spangled sky and the half moon that lit up the straggly front yard. What day is it? She couldn’t remember. Earlier Myra had said something about Thanksgiving fast approaching.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Alexis walked between the cars and Harry’s motorcycle out to the end of the road. She looked right and left, wondering, if she walked either way where the dirt road would take her
. For one split second she was tempted to turn right and start walking, but she didn’t. She looked back at the yellow light spilling out of the cabin’s windows and knew she’d committed to the people inside. She couldn’t walk away any more than she could stop breathing. This was her life. She turned around and walked back up the driveway and onto the little front porch. She opened the door and was greeted with a warm hug from Yoko, who was about to go out into the night to look for her.
“I thought something might have happened to you,” Yoko whispered. “We were all worried.”
Alexis felt warm all over. This, then, was her family. “Silly. It’s a beautiful evening. I sat down on the steps to look up at the stars. It’s been a while since I wished on one. I saw the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper.” Realizing Yoko had no clue what she was talking about, she said, “I wished us all good luck and good fortune. After I wished for good health and happiness. Is something happening?”
“Not yet, but any minute now. Justice Barnes and Judge Easter are on the phones with Annie and Myra.”
“What about Erin Powell?”
Yoko laughed, a delightful sound in the quiet evening. “She’s on her way to Merry Old England as we speak. She’s probably at thirty thousand feet in Annie’s private plane. According to Charles, Ms. Powell didn’t kick up a fuss or anything. She just accepted the situation and gave in gracefully. She did leave a message for Nikki, which said in essence she wished Nikki had trusted her a little more and known she would have found a way to fix things.”
Collateral Damage Page 17
