"Do we know who has the Evanses' baby?" Annie asked.
"Not at this moment in time, but we should know sometime within the next few days. We know where the twins are at the moment. By the way, the twins' names are Robert and Rita. The Evanses named their baby Benjamin. They called him Benjy. If it looks like the Dawsons' surrogate is going to flee, Mr. Snowden will deter her in some manner."
"I suggest we adjourn for the evening," Annie said as she offered up an elaborate yawn. Myra looked at her suspiciously, but Annie was oblivious to her friend's stare. "'Night, you two. I'm so happy for both of you. I can hardly wait for the wedding."
"Will you help me, Annie?" Myra whispered. "I want it all to be perfect."
"Absolutely," Annie said as she pulled on her boots. "We're all so happy for you. The girls were worrying about what color you want them to wear."
"Ice blue," Myra answered. "What color do you want to wear, Annie?"
"Well, I love purple, but that might clash with the girls. Whatever works for you, dear. I'll see you in the morning."
Myra followed her friend to the door. "You might as well tell me right now what it is that has you in such a tizzy. You know I'll find out sooner or later, and if it turns out to be later, then I just might get pissy. And we don't want that, do we?"
"Fish is going to be calling me soon. I...uh...I called him and we had a very nice dialogue and we're going to do it again."
"Ahhh."
"Never mind ahhh. Try ooh la la," Annie called over her shoulder before she started to slog through the snow. It occurred to her when she was halfway to her building that she could have walked on the shoveled path instead of wading through the midthigh snow.
"Awawk," she mumbled as she brought herself out of her daydreams.
Chapter 4
It was barely light out when Charles set the last breakfast dish on the sideboard. The girls lined up and filled their plates. Out of the corner of their eyes, they watched Charles don his stout boots and fur-lined parka.
"I heard Charles's cell chirp, so that must mean our guest is at the foot of the mountain. That means he has to send the cable car down manually. Around four o'clock I saw him going out with the oil can," Kathryn whispered to Nikki.
"Why are you whispering?" Nikki asked.
Kathryn laughed. "I don't know." She loaded her plate with bacon and waffles.
"Do you think Mr. Tyson and Charles will confer before he springs him on us? It worries me that more and more people know our current address," Isabelle grumbled. Today she was eating sparingly and thinking about how she would look in her old bikini should she find herself on a beach in the Cayman Islands. Maybe she should order a new one and get some sun so that she didn't look like a snowbird when she hit the beach. She chided herself for such thinking, but she couldn't help but smile.
"You might as well tell us," Alexis said. "We've all been trying to figure out why you and Annie have been wearing these secret smiles. Share!"
Isabelle grinned, then looked at Annie, who nodded. She shared.
The girls clapped their hands in approval.
"Annie? It's your turn," Myra said.
Annie shared, her face flushed. "I talked a good game but...it's been like forever since I...you know." She was so flustered the girls forgot their breakfast as they jumped in with both feet to tease her. Annie's face turned a deeper shade of pink at their risque suggestions. The suggestions ran from the sublime to the ridiculous.
"It's like riding a bike. It will come back to you."
"Just look mysterious and blase at the same time."
"Be sure to use the word performance as often as you can."
"Candles, dim light, fragrant sheets are where it's at."
"Brush up on your athletic capabilities."
"You can find a tutorial on the Internet about hundreds of ways to use your tongue. They even have one for hand and toe usage."
Myra had to slap Annie's back when she started to choke. She was still sputtering, the others giggling, when the door opened. Charles led his guest into the dining room.
He was tall; his hair, snow-white. He was handsome and tanned. He was built like an athlete and moved with the stealth of a cat. He looked capable and hungry. He appeared to be of an age with Myra and Annie. It was his twinkling eyes that put the girls at ease.
"Ladies, your attention please. I'd like to introduce Tobias Tyson." It was obvious Charles wasn't going to introduce them by name, and it also looked like the tall stranger standing in front of them understood.
Tyson shed his white poplin down jacket and took his place at the sideboard. He filled his plate with fruit and muffins. Instead of coffee, he opted for hot tea.
Conversation consisted of the weather below the mountain, the coming holidays, and the Christmas trees that were going up in New York and Washington.
Later, all agreed they liked Tyson. He was well spoken on just about any subject. They all liked the fact that he looked whomever he was talking to in the eye. And, Yoko said, he smelled good. She wanted to know what cologne or shaving lotion he used so she could get some for Harry.
The minute the table and sideboard were cleared and the dishwasher was humming in the background, Charles left them to return to his command center.
Tyson unzipped the heavy bag at his feet. It took all his strength to lift a heavy door model onto the table. "This," he said, "is a replica--a scaled-down version--of the safe you will be dealing with." He pointed to a smaller unit. "This is a replica of a digital safe." He pulled a small square box out of the bag, powered it up, and said, "This will run through thousands of numeric codes in seconds and will give you the code you need within fifty-seven seconds." In a businesslike voice, he said, "Put your hands on the table so I can see them. When I tell you to raise your hands, do it and flex your fingers." He demonstrated how they should do it. "What's needed here is flexibility and a light touch."
The women frowned, openly showing their disapproval as Tyson touched their hands, shaking his head.
"Too short. Stubby isn't going to work. Knuckles too big. Those nails have to go, and so does the polish. It might chip, and it will be a clue for the authorities to follow. Too much jewelry. It has to go, too. Wrist's too thick. I'm looking for long, tapered fingers. Piano fingers. The pads of your fingers are too thick. Yours are too fleshy."
"Aren't we supposed to sandpaper our fingertips?" Nikki all but snarled.
"That's only in the movies. This is no movie," Tyson responded. "I was told that there is a security guard who makes his rounds of the building every twenty to thirty-five minutes. On the second go-round, the guard opens the office and checks the interior. Your window of time is small, so we have to make sure the person cracking the safe knows what she's doing and can do it with her eyes closed."
"I don't remember hearing anything about a security guard," Yoko grumbled.
Tyson looked over at the small, Asian American woman as though taking her measure. He didn't bother to respond. "Ahhh, perfect. Finger pad is just right. Good flexibility. No sign of arthritis. Nails trimmed just right. You'll do!" he said dramatically.
Annie was so befuddled, she didn't know what to do. When Tyson winked at her, she almost blacked out.
Isabelle leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I think you have a problem here, Annie. You went from no man to two men all of a sudden. I saw that wink. It was roguish. The others saw it, too. He's interested in you. I bet you could bring him to his knees if you tried."
Annie swallowed hard. Feast or famine. Tyson was waiting for a comment. If Isabelle was right, and the wink meant something, she did have a problem. Well, she knew how to wink. In the end, she made a kissing motion, then laughed. She smiled and kept smiling, to Tyson's discomfort. She leaned over and whispered, "You wouldn't know what to do with me. Trust me." She loved the man's startled expression so much, she decided to go a step further. She dropped her voice even more. "I know how to..."
Myra couldn't believe her ears. She ga
sped, and she gasped again as she whispered to Kathryn, who then passed Annie's comments down the line.
His ears red, Tyson made a production out of searching for something in his bag. "You couldn't possibly...," he muttered.
"Mr. Tyson, do I look like someone who makes idle boasts? I'm up for a sizable wager. Now, let's get this show on the road. Time is money. By the way, how much money are we paying you?"
Tyson told her.
"Really! I hope you can earn it. Shall we get started?" Annie wanted to be done with it all so she could go on the Net to visit the tutorial the girls were talking about.
Clearly flustered, Tyson asked Annie if she wore a hearing aid or if she thought she might need one to hear the tumblers turn over.
"My hearing is as perfect as the rest of me, Mr. Tyson."
The girls gawked, their eyes round as saucers. Annie never ceased to amaze them.
"Call me Tee."
Her heart beating like a trip-hammer, Annie did her best to pay attention and ignore the closeness of the man beside her. She liked the smell of the man and said so, her ear pressed to the makeshift safe door.
"Thank you. I don't think anyone ever told me she liked the way I smell before."
"Shhh, ah, this is the first one. Keep going. There's a first time for everything. What was it like doing two stretches in the federal pen? That's it. Number two. I thought you said this was hard."
"It is hard. It's the third one you're going to miss. It wasn't a picnic, but once I made up my mind that I had to do the time, I did it and walked out a free man. Believe it or not, law enforcement calls on me from time to time to...help them. I do it gratis. How would you like to go dancing someday?"
"Dancing? You did that on purpose to throw me off so I'd miss it, didn't you?"
"I did. You have to focus, pay attention, and not allow yourself to get distracted. For instance, you could be going for the third tumbler, and the guard is a little early. You have to keep going and let the others worry about the guard. Capisce? The third tumbler is always the harder one. Once it took me nine times. Start from the beginning. We have all day. So, would you like to go dancing someday?"
Annie pressed her ear to the safe door. Suddenly she felt like crying and didn't know why. "Someday may never come, but if it does, I get to lead."
Tyson threw his head back and laughed. "You got it! Now concentrate."
"You may not know this about me, Mr.... uh...Tee, but I know how to multitask."
As Annie concentrated on the task in front of her, she found herself measuring the ex-con sitting next to her against Fish. The trouble was, neither one of them was coming up short.
Myra almost killed herself getting up from the table and running to the pantry off the kitchen, where the others were doubled over laughing. "She's a loose cannon. Someone has to rein her in," Myra said, her voice so garbled, the others could barely understand what she was saying. "This is not funny, girls. What if she...crashes and burns? Then what?"
"That is not going to happen. We're all going to take her under our wings and teach her a thing or two. That's not to say she needs teaching. It will be more like taking a refresher course." Nikki giggled. "You're getting married soon, Myra. You're welcome to sit in. You know what they say. You're never too old to learn new tricks."
Myra's hands flew to the pearls at her neck. "Oh, dear God!"
"Okay, fun's over. Time to get to work. Straight faces, everyone," Kathryn said. "Let's take the small safe and the digital gizmo, along with the instructions, into the living room and see which one of us is proficient at modern safe-cracking. I can't believe that schmuck said my fingers are too thick. I think I have nice fingers. Rings look nice on my fingers."
"Give it up already," Nikki snapped. "Do you hear me complaining that he said my fingers were stubby? I think we should push him off the mountain after he teaches us all he knows."
As they sat in the kitchen at the Post, Maggie scarfed down pancakes and sausages as she rattled off orders to Ted and Espinosa, who were trying to eat and take notes at the same time. "You can take Carmody with you if you feel you need more manpower. It's your job to convince the Dawsons and Evanses to go public. I want family pictures, not the ones you had earlier. All new parents take pictures all day long. I want a regular gallery. I want sweet, I want sad, I want devastated. Now, listen to me carefully." Maggie stopped eating long enough to show how serious she was about what she was about to say. "Only as a last resort are you to mention the vigilantes and their willingness to step in to help. You can mention that there will be financial aid to both families if they agree to go public and their employers terminate them because of the publicity. Take your food in a to-go bag and get on it. I want all this by noon, so get going."
"How am I going to eat waffles with syrup in a to-go bag?" Ted grumbled.
"Get some toast and a banana," Maggie said as she went back to her hearty breakfast. "Do a good job, and I'll treat you to dinner at Martin's in Georgetown. I'll even call ahead to see if we can get John Kennedy's favorite booth, the one where he proposed to Jackie. Booth three, or maybe booth one, where he would go to read the Sunday paper after Mass."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ted said as he galloped out of the kitchen, Espinosa on his trail.
Forty minutes later, Maggie was back in her office. She took care of a few housekeeping details and settled down to wait for Lizzie Fox's call. She took the three-hour time difference as a personal affront to her own busy schedule as she watched the latest happenings coming in over the wires. Her eyes narrowed to a squint as she stared at her computer.
Santa Claus, aka Baron Bell, and his elves will arrive in his personal antique sleigh, complete with sleigh bells and his eight worthy steeds, on the South Lawn of the White House for the annual children's Christmas party at the White House, hosted by President Connor and Baron Bell. The date is three days away.
Maggie's gaze raced through the news flash. Tree lighting. Tons of gaily wrapped gifts, snowballs.
The ultimate in photo ops. No mention who would set the sleigh down in the snow on the South Lawn or how they would accomplish this feat. Or how the horses in their Christmas attire would get there. Probably by horse trailer. Security would be worthy of a summit meeting.
Maggie pressed SEND. Five seconds later the article was on the way to the mountain.
Maggie reached for her BlackBerry. She sucked in her breath, then let it out in a loud swoosh as she alerted Ted to what she'd just read. Headlines of every size and shape ripped through her mind. It looked to her like it was going to be one hell of a busy week. Gut instinct told her she might get two special editions out of the forthcoming events. "Yesss!"
Promptly at nine o'clock East Coast time, Lizzie Fox called. They updated each other, made small talk, then got down to business. Maggie read to Lizzie the article that she'd just e-mailed to the mountain. Lizzie burst out laughing, knowing exactly what Maggie was thinking.
"Maggie, before I keep my appointment with Baron Bell tomorrow, I am going to need written confirmation that the Evanses want me to represent them. I don't want to give Baron Bell one inch of wiggle room. I also cannot solicit the Evans family. They have to come to me. Rachel Dawson said she would do her best to convince Beth Evans, who in turn would have to convince her husband."
"Okay. Ted is probably at the Dawsons' right now. I'll text him and tell him what he has to do. The Evanses live in Old Town in Alexandria, right?"
"Yes. What's going on, on the mountain?"
Maggie told her. Lizzie giggled, and they both signed off.
It was two o'clock when Ted and Espinosa loomed over her desk.
"Do you have it all?" Maggie asked.
"We do. That guy Evans was a hard nut to crack, but he went along with it in the end. I hate to admit this, but I think it was the vague promise that Lizzie was going to get their money back. But it could have been the mention of the vigilantes. I just don't know. They've given up on getting the baby back, sad to say. We did our
best, Maggie, but that couple is beaten down. They want to believe the paper can help. I did have to throw in the vigilantes, like I said. Mrs. Evans perked right up and said if her husband didn't agree, she was leaving him. Listen, we're going down to the cafeteria to get something to eat. It's all there. Text me if there's something you don't understand. The pictures Espinosa got will break your heart. How soon do you need me to write it up?"
"As soon as you're done with lunch," Maggie replied. "I'm not going to run with it just yet, but I want it ready in case I decide to go with a special edition. We've done all we can for the moment. Now we wait for Lizzie to see how things shake out. Check the wires while you're eating, and let me know what you think about the Christmas party at the White House."
Maggie went back to her computer and downloaded the photos Espinosa had taken. Ted was right. There was nothing more beautiful than a new baby being held in his mother's arms. In the case of the Dawsons, two babies. Absolutely nothing.
Maggie continued downloading the pictures, her eyes misting up from time to time. The babies were beautiful. The two sets of parents looked haunted. Both young mothers looked vulnerable and fragile. The fathers looked bewildered.
Maggie spread out the photos on her desk. First she lined up the babies. Then she put the pictures of the parents next to the babies. Her hands flew as she moved, shifted as she struggled to come up with a headline that would tell the story in three words or less.
A sticky pad found its way to her hand. Readers would want names to go with the cherubs' faces. The parents needed names, too. Mom and Dad? Beth and John? Rachel and Tom? Mom and Dad! Nurse, teacher, doctor, engineer? Robert, Rita, Benjy? What should she go with for her headline?
Deadly Deals Page 5
