"Just for the record, I would have gotten in touch, but I didn't know how. I was hoping you might take me up on my offer one of these days."
"That's kind of hard, but I'm working on it. We have two feet of snow where I am right now."
"It's sunny and eighty degrees where I am. There's not a ripple in the ocean, and it's sapphire blue. There aren't many people here right now, which is unusual. I guess the economy is as bad as they say it is."
"Has anyone told you that you're free from prosecution? If not, you can come and go as you please. We...we took care of that for you."
The silence on the other end of the phone lasted so long, Isabelle had to say, "Are you still there?"
"I'm still here. No, I didn't know that. Well, this is a wonderful Thanksgiving, after all. But, how do I know it's true?"
"Because I tracked you down to tell you. I don't lie. I think we might, I say might, be going to Washington soon."
"Is that an invitation? If it is, I accept."
"It is. If you give me your phone number, I can call you if it happens. You can call me anytime but not at this number." She rattled off a number, which Stu Franklin said he memorized.
"Let's talk, Isabelle. I want to know what happened that day at the casino. I want to know all about you."
And so Isabelle told him while Annie pretended to snore lightly on the sofa.
Chapter 3
While their faces were rosy pink with the frigid temperatures, they were also glum. Except for Annie and Isabelle, who for some reason spent the whole holiday weekend smiling.
The snow had finally stopped late Saturday afternoon. Sunday was spent clearing it away with snowblowers. Now they had single-file paths that led to the different buildings. It had taken them hours, but they had managed to clear out a wide path to the cable car. All that remained to be done was to deice the gears, oil the machinery, and hope it didn't start to snow again before the assembled guests were due to depart.
"I don't think I've ever been so tired in my whole life," Jack said as he trudged back to the main building. He looked over at Nikki, who looked just as tired.
Inside the main building, Charles was waiting with rum cake, hot coffee, and a pot of hot chocolate loaded with marshmallows. Food to go had been packaged for those who wanted to eat turkey during the coming week. Only Maggie and Jack had said they wanted food.
The Sisters were moaning and groaning about being frozen to their bones. Myra looked around, an indulgent smile on her face. She knew the girls would curl up in front of the fire that she and Annie would tend after their guests went down the mountain.
"They're so tired, Myra. We need to tell Charles that morning will be time enough to get down to business. Do you agree?" Annie asked.
"I do agree. What I'm thinking is you, Charles, and I can work and get things set up, laid out. And then we just present it to the girls tomorrow morning."
"What about that mysterious guest Charles said is coming to the mountain at dawn tomorrow?"
"I guess we deal with it tomorrow morning. The girls are adaptable, you know that. Look at them. They can barely keep their eyes open. I think that once our guests are gone, they're all going to go to sleep and sleep through the night. Even the dogs are exhausted," Myra said, pointing to Murphy and Grady, who were stretched out in their dog beds near the hearth.
Myra and Annie were always sad, even gloomy, when it was time for their guests to leave. That day was no different.
Two hours later they watched as everyone pulled on boots and heavy jackets.
Charles appeared with a carton that held thermos bottles full of hot chocolate. "You'll need it when you get to the bottom of the mountain. More snow is predicted after midnight, so it's a good thing you're getting a head start. Please, all of you, drive carefully, and check in when you're home safe and sound."
Everyone promised to do so.
Nellie and Elias were the last to leave. Myra hugged her old friend and whispered in her ear. "I know you won't forget, Nellie, but if you can't find it, call me. I want to get married in my daughter's wedding dress. I think...I think she might like to know I'm getting married in her dress. At least I hope so. It was so beautiful, Nellie. All those seed pearls that were hand-sewn."
"Don't worry, Myra. When I come up next weekend, I will have it with me."
"Nellie, if I'm not here, just hang it in your room. We might be...Well, we might be off the mountain, working. I don't want Charles to know. It's a surprise."
"Understood. Thanks for a wonderful weekend. Elias and I will treasure the memory. Stay warm, my friend."
"You too."
A last round of hugs and kisses followed. The two dogs slept through the departure. By the time the door closed behind their guests, the girls were making a mad scramble to the living room, where they snatched at pillows and comforters to make nests for themselves.
The moment the table was cleared of the cake plates and cups, the girls were sound asleep.
"The fire will last a good three hours, so I suggest we adjourn to the command center, where I can brief you on our agenda. If we're to accomplish our goal, we'll need to stay on a very tight schedule," Charles told Myra and Annie.
The trio bundled up, then checked on the girls one last time before they left the building. The first thing Charles did was rebuild the dying fire in the main room of the command center.
"Myra, I don't know if I should feel special right now or if I should feel dismayed that you and I are the only two at this orientation," Annie grumbled. "So much can be lost when we translate for the girls."
"Not to worry, Annie. I think the two of us are articulate enough to make it happen where the girls are concerned. If not, oh, well," Myra said, throwing her hands in the air in a devil-may-care gesture. "And, may I say you are looking particularly...sparkly this evening, Annie. Did something happen I don't know about?"
"Whatever in the world are you talking about, Myra Rutledge? What could have happened up here on this damn mountain that you wouldn't know about?"
Annie's face was so pink, and she was so flustered, Myra knew she was onto something. "You have a point, dear, but you do look...uh...guilty."
"I do, do I?"
"Yes, dear, you do." Myra did her best not to laugh at her friend's discomfort.
Annie was saved from having to make whatever comment she could have come up with when Charles took a seat at the round table. Three stacks of folders had mysteriously appeared while Annie and Myra were talking.
"So, Charles, who is the mysterious guest who is to arrive in the morning? What happens if the cable car is frozen? Then what do we do?" Myra asked.
"We'll deice it and spray some hydraulic oil. Our guest is Tobias Tyson, also known as Tee or, as his...uh...colleagues like to call him, MF. For Magic Fingers. Mr. Tyson is a...safe-cracker. Top of his field. Two stretches in the federal pen for his expertise. He very graciously agreed to my invitation to join us here and to teach one of you the tricks of his trade."
"Which one of us? Whose safe are we going to crack?" the two women asked at the same time.
"That's up to Mr. Tyson. But to answer your question, it will be Baron Bell's safe that you are going to crack. My intel tells me the safe is like the man himself, or the self he portrays to the public--benevolent and old-fashioned. I have here many articles and pictures of the man, and the safe is always prominently displayed for some reason. It is an antique and weighs several tons. Impossible to steal, but not impossible to crack."
"Tell us what you've learned from your people and the files Maggie brought to the mountain," Myra said.
"On the surface, Mr. Bell is what he appears to be. He has a thriving legal practice, mostly corporate. He's a fine lawyer. Being benevolent, he doesn't advertise that he brokers baby deals. It's not something he does on a regular basis. From what we can gather, he does it several times a year. Once the deal is done, all the legalities are worked out, and everyone signs off on it, he's finished. An example is Rach
el and Tom Dawson. Mr. Bell brokered their deal. I hate using that particular term, but that's what it was, a deal. As subsequent events made clear, the babies the surrogates bring to term are nothing more than commodities as far as Mr. Bell is concerned.
"Mr. Bell put the Dawsons in touch with a surrogate, who would conceive a child using Thomas Dawson's sperm. The Dawsons paid Mr. Bell one hundred thousand dollars. The surrogate had her own attorney, but we can go into that later. Right now we're just concerned with Mr. Bell. Mr. Bell's role in the matter was to end the minute the surrogate gave birth and the papers were signed.
"But when the surrogate gave birth to twins, which was not expected, as the second baby hadn't shown up on the ultrasound, things changed. The surrogate demanded more money for the second child, and the Dawsons didn't have it. They said they would try to come up with the money. Here is where Mr. Bell entered the picture again, presumably because more money from the Dawsons was involved. The Dawsons took the twins home. They managed to come up with a few thousand extra, but nowhere near what Bell and the surrogate wanted.
"Then the surrogate filed a suit with her own lawyer, saying she'd changed her mind and wanted to keep the twins. Bell bowed out and refused to talk or meet with the Dawsons. Not only couldn't the Dawsons defend a lawsuit--they were bankrupt--but since they couldn't come up with the rest of the money, they had to surrender the twins to the birth mother.
"Mrs. Dawson went through what she described to Lizzie as a mini-breakdown. Mr. Dawson wanted to kill someone. The couple's marriage is suffering because of all this. Then Mrs. Dawson got angry. She pulled up her socks and started to check on things on the Internet. She also spent a lot of time in the park, talking to nannies and young mothers, and came up with another case similar to her own. That's when she went to Nikki's firm, and the office manager sent her to Lizzie."
"Were the Dawsons given back their money by Bell?" Annie asked.
Charles shook his head. "No. Nor did the surrogate give back the monies they paid for her care during her pregnancy. The Dawsons could sue for the money, but they have no funds to work with."
"Why didn't the Dawsons go to the newspaper or the media? If Mr. Dawson's sperm was used, he is the biological father. That has to count," Myra said.
"They didn't want the public uproar they knew would occur. Mr. Dawson was afraid his employer would terminate his position if it came to light that he was embroiled in a family media circus. Mrs. Dawson more or less felt the same way as her husband. They did talk to several lawyers. When they told the lawyers about the demands for more money because a second child was produced, they were told that for the surrogate to make such a demand, and for Mr. Bell to be involved with the attempt to extort the money the surrogate demanded for the second child, was a crime. It is illegal to sell babies, so the one hundred thousand dollars and associated expenses paid the surrogate could not be part of a commercial transaction in which the baby was bought. The minute the surrogate demanded more money simply because she gave birth to a second child, she was breaking the law by trying to sell the second child.
"But when the lawyers were told that the only evidence that such a demand had been made was the Dawsons' testimony, they could tell the Dawsons only that they couldn't win, that as long as the birth mother testified that she had simply changed her mind and could not bear to be parted from her children, she would always get the kids. They were also told that Mr. Dawson risked having to contribute child support if he pursued the matter."
"But you said Mr. Dawson was the sperm donor. Doesn't that count for something?" Myra demanded again, outrage ringing in her voice.
"It takes money to pursue any kind of action they might want to bring. And any suit they brought would undoubtedly be met with a countersuit. Right now, Myra, that young couple is licking their wounds, and they don't know what to do. Lizzie is going to represent them pro bono. As a matter of fact, she's scheduled an appointment with Baron Bell for Wednesday. She's going to fly in, attend the meeting, and return to Vegas on the red-eye. She didn't explain the purpose of the meeting to Bell's secretary. Because of her reputation, they wouldn't dream of asking or putting her on the spot. The truth of the matter is they were probably flattered that she wanted to meet with Mr. Bell."
"Are we thinking Baron Bell and the surrogate's lawyer are...in this together?" Annie asked. "Who's her lawyer? Anyone we know?"
"From what I'm told by Maggie, she's a Lizzie Fox wannabe," Charles replied. "Maggie said she is full of herself and isn't even a good lawyer. Her name is Adel Newsom. From what I can gather, she tries to emulate Lizzie in everything. Her colleagues aren't kind about it when they discuss her."
Myra fingered the pearls at her neck. She looked toward the windows, but all she could see in the shiny blackness was her own reflection. "Do we know if they're just business associates, or are they...something else?"
"Oh, Myra, for heaven's sake, say what you mean. What she wants to know, Charles, is, are the two of them shacked up?" Annie said.
"It appears to be so, but at the moment there is no proof. Maggie has her people digging deep."
"What about the babies? Are they safe? What about the other case? What happened to that child?"
Charles closed his eyes. It looked to Myra and Annie like he was in pain. Somehow he managed to speak through his clenched teeth. "Bought and sold after the surrogate reclaimed the child. The same thing will probably happen with the Dawson twins."
"This is all about money," Myra said, her eyes brimming with tears. "How can people do that to innocent children?"
"People like that have no conscience, Myra. They go by the green stuff in hand. Well, I, for one, am going to relish going after them if Lizzie can prove they're the scum we think they are. And I, for one, will show no mercy where they're concerned. What else, Charles?" Annie demanded.
"We think there's a good chance the twins are about to be sold off to a new couple. That's why we have to do something quickly," Charles said.
"Maggie!" both women said in unison.
"Front-page picture of the Dawsons and their problem, along with pictures of the twins," Annie said.
"What if the Dawsons won't cooperate?" Myra fretted.
"If they think they can get the twins, I think they might ignore the media circus. We can help them out financially. The downside is we're going to have to watch the surrogate, as well as the two lawyers," Charles said. "Everyone is under surveillance as we speak."
Annie reached for a yellow legal pad. She scribbled furiously for several minutes. "Give us the name of the second surrogate and the adoptive parents."
"The second surrogate is Joan Olsen. She's also a student. The parents are Beth and John Evans. She's a nurse, he's a doctor. Intern, actually. Like the Dawsons, they didn't want their employer, the hospital, to know what was going on. Newsom represented Olsen, Baron Bell represented the Evanses. They had essentially the same experience the Dawsons did, absent the attempted extortion. When things went sour, they tried contacting Bell, but he wouldn't return their calls. John Evans said at their initial meeting Bell spelled it all out for them. Once they took possession of the baby, and all the papers were signed, his part was done. Any future legal problems would have to be dealt with by another lawyer. Bell said he simply did not have the time to do a follow-through for the next eighteen years. Evans said he made a joke of it, and they signed off on it. So Bell didn't commit any obvious crime in that case. Morally, that's another story."
"What do we do and when do we leave?" Annie asked. "By the way, does Mr. Bell's safe have some kind of special significance?"
Charles smiled. "Think about it, ladies. Seeing a safe like that, an old-timey affair, complete with the engraved elk on the door, tells me Bell wants people to think he has a lot of things in there. It also tells people it's impenetrable. What it tells me is this...There's another safe in his offices. Snowden managed to secure and forward to me a complete blueprint of the entire office building. Mr. Bell's second safe is b
uilt into the floor under his desk. I'm sure he has one of those hard plastic sheets on top of it so that his chair can roll and move about with ease. Undetectable to the naked eye."
"So which safe do we want to crack?" Myra asked.
"Both," replied Charles. "If I'm right, the one in the floor will be a modern safe, digital, a snap for someone like Mr. Tyson to open. The old-timey Browning safe is going to be more difficult. You have to have a good ear so you can hear the tumblers. Not to mention a light touch."
Annie looked over at Myra. "This is exciting, don't you think, Myra?"
Myra thought the whole thing was frightening. Here she was, soon to finally marry the love of her life, but before she could do that, she had to take a hiatus so she could do a little breaking and entering and possibly pay a visit to the local jail.
"Absolutely, it's exciting," she snapped.
"Is that why you have such a death grip on those pearls around your neck?" Annie asked.
"No!" Myra snapped again. "I suggest you get rid of those chains around your neck if we're going to be breaking and entering. I can hear you clanking when I'm a mile away."
"You're such a poop," Annie sniffed. "What else, Charles?"
"There's not much that's going to happen through the night. Our surveillance is ongoing. I have a conference call scheduled with Lizzie and Maggie in the morning. Ted is going to see the Dawsons and the Evanses first thing in the morning to prepare them for whatever plan Maggie and Lizzie decide to run with. We don't want to tip our hand this early in the game."
"What about Adel Newsom? Who's checking her out?" Myra asked.
"I have it all right here," Charles said, tapping a dark blue folder. "She's a one-lawyer office with two paralegals and two secretaries. She does not do pro bono work. Never has. She drives a high-end car, wears only designer clothing, has a luxurious apartment complete with terrace. She likes fine wine and gourmet food. She also has a summer house at Rehoboth Beach. She spends many weekends there. Mr. Snowden's people visited her office here and her apartment and found nothing in either place to help us. I would like her to realize her security has been penetrated at the same time Baron Bell realizes it. That's when the rats start to scurry. Then Maggie follows up with her headline, whatever it turns out to be. At that point, it's all in your hands, ladies."
Deadly Deals Page 4
