10. Fast Track

by Fern Michaels

  And then she was being smothered in a fierce hug. “It’s good to see you, Sis. Joe and I worried so about what happened. I prayed every night that you would be okay. You don’t have to worry about us, you know that, right?”

  “I do, Cass. I wish I could stay and shoot the breeze, but I’m on a tight schedule. Joe, take the plates off the Suburban and it’s yours, but I need to take the plates with me. C’mere, see this,” Kathryn said, pointing to the screen in front of her. “It’s yours. There will be more to come, but the details will have to be worked out. Not as much as this, but enough so you don’t have to sweat it out every month. You take care of your kids and all those grandbabies, you hear?”

  Tears welled in Big Joe’s eyes. “I can’t…How…?”

  It was Kathryn’s turn to put her fingers to her lips. “Shhh. Just use it all wisely. I really have to go. Hey, you got anything to eat in here? I’m starving.” Joe laughed out loud. Every truck stop from east to west knew about Big Sis’s love of food.

  “Cass will fix you something while I remove those plates. This couldn’t have happened at a better time. My old clunker is about to die on me.”

  Ten minutes later, Kathryn had a sack of food and hot coffee to go, along with the government plates. “I was never here, right?” she asked as she climbed into the Econoline.

  “Never here,” Joe and Cass said as they waved her off. Kathryn gave a light toot to the horn and barreled out to the highway, a satisfied smile on her face.

  Chapter 9

  It was one thirty in the morning, ninety minutes past the witching hour, when Jack Emery, Harry Wong, and Bert Navarro, who were on foot, walked to the rear of the British Embassy and entered the building quietly.

  Nocturnal visitors to the embassy were due to arrive momentarily. Their job was to secure the entire building and make sure the women were safe. Bert’s job was to hot-wire everything in the main computer room and check out the security system. Harry examined the top floors, Jack the bottom.

  By two fifteen the men were in a stainless steel kitchen drinking coffee, their eyes glued to the windows for any sign of headlights. According to Charles, the Sisters’ ETA could be anywhere between 2:00 and 3:00 AM.

  While they waited, the men made small talk, mostly discussing sports. It was Harry who brought up Ted Robinson’s name, saying that Ted had been scoping out the embassy. He’d seen him with his very own eyes in his quest to follow Jack’s orders. “But,” he said, holding up his hand for their attention, “on my sixth or seventh drive-by, I did see other reporters along with their camera people checking things out. So, Robinson could be a coincidence, or he could be onto something. But I have no clue how he could have gotten wind of this so quick. Take that one step further and realize the British Embassy closing because of rat infestation is news, and the papers will all run with it. It’s on the TV news. Things are slow here in the summer, so anything out of the ordinary—and rats at an embassy is out of the ordinary—is news of a sort. What’s even more out of the ordinary is the building shutting down and all the people being temporarily relocated. For two weeks,” he said ominously. “Sooner or later, someone is going to use the words ‘terrorist’ and ‘plague’ in the same sentence, and the shit is really going to hit the fan. We need to get this show on the road and make quick work of it before that happens, and Homeland Security decides to raise a fuss and get the Brits to allow them access to the embassy.”

  Jack and Bert looked at the martial-arts expert in awe.

  “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time, Harry,” Bert said.

  “But he’s right, Bert.”

  Bert looked glum. “Yeah, I know. I thought about it myself but didn’t want to say anything. Those people at HS are wild, and there’s no dealing with them.” He made a strange sound that could have been laughter, and said, “They might even want to duct tape the whole damn building and hope the rats stick to it.”

  “Lights!” Harry said, pointing to the window.

  Harry turned off the kitchen light and walked over to the door that led outside. Yoko slipped out of the driver’s seat, turned around, and locked the door before she sprinted forward to be swept up in Harry’s arms. They rushed inside, leaving Jack and Bert alone in the kitchen.

  Jack fired up a cigarette and offered one to Bert, who said, “What the hell,” and lit up.

  “One down and five to go,” Jack said, anxiety ringing in his voice.

  “You’re like a cat on a hot griddle, Jack. What makes this gig any more dangerous than the others you participated in?”

  “I wish to hell I knew. I just have a bad feeling. Don’t say anything to anyone. No sense spooking the girls. I have to be honest with you, Bert. I don’t know how those women do it. Think back to when they stuffed those firecrackers up those two guys’ asses and tell me on your best day you could have done that. They’ve got nerves of steel, that’s for sure. I’m thinking I’m too old for this shit. And look at you, and the double life you lead. It takes its toll, make no mistake about it. When you’re in your twenties, you still think you’re infallible, but once you hit your mid-to late thirties, it’s all downhill and you lose your edge. I don’t mind admitting I’m a basket case.”

  Bert grinned in the darkness. “It’s a mind-set, Jack. Did you ever really take the time to sit down with Charles to learn the way he operates?”

  “Hell, no. If I had, I wouldn’t be here. I just let Nikki convince me. Are you telling me you did?”

  Bert said, “Of course I did. I’m an FBI agent, for Christ’s sake. I listened with both ears. This is not some rinky-dink operation Charles has going on. The man has operatives all over the world who are only too glad to help him using whatever their expertise is. It’s so well funded it makes your eyes water. If you really want to know what made me swing on his side of the gate, it was something he said to me. He said sometimes you have to work outside of the system to fix the system. I totally agreed with that. I’ve seen too much and get too angry at how situations slip through the cracks because of the antiquated legal system. Privatization is where it’s at these days.

  “This might surprise you, Jack, but there are tons, and I mean tons, of organizations like the one Charles fronts. Off the top of my head I can name you three. Fort Bragg, Camp Perry, and Fort Story. SEALs. None of them have the expertise or the funding that Charles has, but they are out there, and they’re on the FBI’s radar screen. Not that they can do anything about it. CIA, you know. Our archenemy. I understand their methods are a little more unorthodox.”

  “The ends justify the means, in other words,” Jack said.

  “Pretty much. I see some lights coming our way.”

  Jack stared into the darkness, wondering why Bert’s little speech didn’t make him feel any better.

  The second Econoline pulled up and parked next to where Yoko had parked her vehicle. Isabelle climbed out and walked toward them. “Kathryn is about fifteen miles behind me. She should be arriving shortly. Nikki is twenty miles out, and Alexis is forty miles out. She had an oil leak and had to stop. I have no news on Myra or Annie. Is there anything to eat or drink inside?”

  “Fridge is loaded. These people eat real good. I saw a ham, half a turkey, and all kinds of cheese and specialty breads. Help yourself,” Jack said.

  Isabelle laughed. “I was thinking more along the lines of a good stiff drink before I tackled the food.”

  “It’s in there, too. All top-of-the-line. Help yourself.”

  “See! They have nerves of steel. You’d think she was arriving for a pajama party or something,” Jack said to Bert as Isabelle went inside. He fired up a second cigarette. Bert declined, saying he didn’t want to smell like stale cigarettes when Kathryn arrived.

  “You really like her, don’t you?” Jack asked as he blew out a cloud of smoke. “I quit smoking a long time ago. I just smoke three a day. I’ll totally quit again.”

  “And you think I need to know this, why?”

  “I’m
making conversation because I can see how jittery you are with Kathryn’s impending arrival.”

  “You’re a wiseass, Emery,” Bert said, peering into the darkness.

  “I’ve been called worse. Admit it, you’re nervous.”

  “Okay, I admit it. Kathryn makes me feel…good. I never met anyone like her before. It doesn’t even matter that she’s a fugitive. I’m breaking the law myself, just the way you are. Somehow or other it’s all going to work out.”

  A minute later, Jack said, “Here she comes, Bert. She’s a lot of woman. You sure you can handle her?”

  Bert laughed. “Would you mind disappearing for a little while? I’ll call you when the others get here.”

  Jack stepped on his cigarette, then picked it up. He tossed it in the Dumpster before entering the building, his stomach muscles twitching and churning.

  When the door closed behind him, he looked around at the empty kitchen just as his cell rang. He clicked it on. “A status report, Jack,” Charles said.

  Jack shrugged. Talking to Charles would help him kill some time until Nikki arrived. He told Charles about Harry’s day. Charles told him about Kathryn’s meeting with people from her old life. “Yoko, Isabelle, and Kathryn are here. Everything seems to be on track.”

  “Excellent,” Charles said before the call ended.

  Jack sat down and propped his feet up on one of the other chairs. He leaned back and closed his eyes as he tried to imagine, to feel the moment when he wrapped his arms around Nikki. He tried to picture married life with Nikki. Where would they live? A house somewhere with a brick walk leading to the porch. Lots of colorful flowers lining the walkway. A pretty front door. A welcoming door. With copper lights on each side that would be on at the first sign of darkness. A nice lawn. They’d both rake the leaves in the fall. Nikki would put pumpkins on the porch and one of those straw things on the front door people bought to decorate for Halloween and Thanksgiving.

  A backyard with a fence for the dogs they would get. Maybe children. Maybe not. If they got out of this business, then there would be children. If not, it wouldn’t be fair to bring children into the world. That in itself was one hell of a dilemma. He wondered if Nikki would want a pool. Definitely a hot tub.

  The ideal scenario would see the two of them opening a law practice. Family law. He had no clue what they would do to earn a living.

  At best it was a pipe dream. Asking Nikki to marry him was probably one of the stupidest things he’d ever done. He knew it and so did Nikki but she’d said yes anyway. His eyes burned with the realization that it was probably never going to happen.

  When he felt a gentle touch to his cheek he bolted from the chair, his hand going to the gun in his shoulder holster. His eyes wild, he looked up to see Nikki, who had jumped to the side of the chair he had been sitting on before his wild bolt off the chair.

  “Hi, Jack,” she whispered.

  “Oh, Jesus, I didn’t hear you. I can’t believe I fell asleep. I was thinking about us and how maybe there is never going to be an us.” He held out his arms, the gun still in his left hand.

  Nikki stepped into his arms and whispered, “There will always be an us, Jack,” before her lips found his.

  It was a kiss like no other.

  But like all wonderful things, it came to an end. Jack looked at the woman he loved with all his heart, only to see tears in her eyes. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. Please, somehow, some way, don’t let it be a pipe dream. Let it be real.

  The back door opened, and suddenly there was a small crowd in the huge kitchen.

  “Everyone present and accounted for,” Annie said as she flopped down on a chair. “It’s been a long time since I socialized at this hour of the morning.”

  “We’re all tired, Annie,” Jack said. “Let’s call it a night and meet here early tomorrow morning.”

  The others looked at one another, then drifted off, with Jack leading the way to the housing quarters next to the chancery. Only Myra and Annie were left in the kitchen.

  “How about a nice glass of soda pop and a sandwich, Myra?” Annie asked as she peered into the refrigerator.

  “I’m not really hungry, Annie, but I will take the drink. I’m tired, and I still have to call Charles to let him know we’re all safe and sound.”

  Annie’s hands fluttered. “I think he already knows that, but go ahead. Do you want root beer or a cola?”

  Myra perked up. “Root beer! I haven’t had root beer in years. Barbara and Nikki used to love root beer floats.”

  Annie stopped what she was doing and looked over at Myra, whose eyes were filling up. “We can’t go there, dear. Not right now.” Myra nodded as she fingered the pearls around her neck.

  Thirty minutes later the two older women were walking up the steps to the second floor. Two open doors beckoned them. They patted each other’s arms and called it a night before they closed their respective doors. Tomorrow was another day.

  Ted munched on a bagel loaded with cream cheese and chives. He finished it just as the cab he was riding in pulled to the curb. The time was a respectable 9:00 AM. He walked up to the British Embassy and saw two other reporters. He knew both men. They greeted each other and complained that no one was answering the door. The local security, according to one reporter, had left the premises around eight, but the second shift hadn’t reported in as yet.

  “Any exterminators show up yet?” Ted asked.

  One of the reporters, Lincoln Monroe, a tall, lanky redhead, grimaced. “Five trucks lined up in the back. I think these people work at night. That’s when rats come out, you know.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Ted said. “So, how come no one is answering the door?”

  Both reporters shrugged.

  “The cops wouldn’t talk to us, either,” Monroe said. “Well, actually, they did talk to us. They said we couldn’t move past the yellow tape.”

  “No one answers the phones. Don’t you guys think it’s a little strange that the Brits don’t have call forwarding?” Ted asked.

  Both reporters nodded and shrugged again.

  “The Brits have eleven consulates. You guys want to divvy them up? Let’s call them all and see if we can get some kind of comment so we can get the hell out of here,” Ted said.

  The two men agreed. Ted ripped two sheets of paper out of one of his small notebooks and handed them out.

  The reporters mumbled and muttered to themselves as they dialed, waited, stated their business, then waited again, only to be referred back to the main number at 3100 Massachusetts Avenue.

  Monroe looked at his two colleagues. “I have an idea. Let’s go to a pet store and buy a couple of rats and take pictures of them. We give them back to the pet store after we take the pictures and we can shuck this place.”

  Ted and the other reporter, Zack Ellis, nodded. It was definitely a plan.

  “Why the hell not?” Ellis asked. “Who goes for the rats?”

  “I’ll do it,” Monroe said. “We keep this zipped up, right? That’ll be five bucks each, gentlemen.”

  Ellis and Robinson each handed over five dollars.

  “What’s the name of the exterminating company?” Ted asked.

  “Reston Exterminating. I checked it out. They’re out near the access road that leads to Dulles Airport. You just get a recording when you call.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Monroe was back, carrying a burlap sack with a lot of movement going on within. The sack was tied tight with stout string. “I have good news and bad news, gentlemen. The good news is I have in this sack three dozen rats—eighteen females and eighteen males. They produce young’uns on the hour.” He laughed at the horror he saw on his colleagues’ faces. “You have to buy rats in three-dozen lots. I did not know that. And you each owe me fifteen bucks. Who the hell knew rats were so expensive? The bad news is the store has a no-return policy. So, how do you want to play this?”

  The three men huddled. “When you open the sack, are they just going to scurr
y like in a line? Or will they scatter?” Ted asked. “Christ, I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. What do we do if someone comes out and sees what we’re doing?”

  Monroe pondered the question. “Then we lie and say we caught the damn things. What do you want from me? We play it by ear. Tell me when you’re ready.”

  Ellis and Ted rolled their eyes. “Let it rip, buddy,” Ellis said.

  Monroe suddenly looked sick. He carefully untied the string, his hand clutched around the top of the sack. “I’m thinking, and I don’t know this for a fact, but I’m guessing these little bastards are fast, so be prepared. The guy at the store said they might be confused since they’re nocturnal. That damn sun is pretty bright. Okay, I’m going to drop this sack on the count of three. One! Two! Three!”

  “Oh, Jesus!” Ted bellowed as rats scurried in all directions. He clicked his camera again and again as he tried to get out of the way.

  “Oh, God! Oh, God!” Monroe bellowed. “They like me. Oh, shit, they’re following me! Run!”

  And run they did, the rats following in their shadows.

  Looking out one of the second-floor windows was Myra, who screamed in panic at what she was seeing. Annie gasped, her face draining of all color.

  Chapter 10

  It was midmorning when Bert Navarro’s cell phone rang. He walked a little distance away from the chattering group in the kitchen for privacy and to hear a little better. Across the kitchen, Jack watched the agent’s expression go from stunned awe to outright fear. When Bert clicked off and pocketed the phone, he turned around, and said, “Sorry folks, but I have to leave. Duty calls and all that. I’ll try to get back here later, but it might not be possible.”

  Jack looked at his friend’s expression and his angry stance, and knew something awful was brewing somewhere. He followed Bert out to the back end of the parking lot and waited. “What?”