"No, Peter, not at the moment." Cricket wondered if he was being aced out by the long-legged, silver-haired woman. His eyes narrowed to slits as he contemplated his options if that was to happen.
"Good." Udal clicked off and dialed the number Cricket had given him. He waited while his heartbeat kicked up a notch. The voice that greeted him was soothing, light, and almost musical.
"This is Lizzie Fox. What can I do for you?"
"Miss Fox, this is Peter Udal. I'm the president of the Nevada Gaming Commission, and I'd like to speak to you as soon as possible, like within the next hour. I'll be more than happy to pay your fee, whatever it is. Before you can ask, this meeting has nothing to do with our chief counsel and his fancy car."
"I think I need to know a little something before I make a decision. Time is money, Mr. Udal."
Udal cleared his throat. "How does a billion dollars sound for your intervention?"
The melodious voice turned brisk and professional. "What kind of intervention?"
"I'd rather not discuss something like this on the phone. Right now I'm at the airport. I can be back in town in forty minutes or so. There's a little place downtown called the Rabbit Hole. No one will pay attention to either one of us, and the food is very good—they don't serve rabbit. Rabbit is the owner's name. He used to be a prizefighter before he got knocked silly. His wife does the cooking. He watches."
"An hour, then," Lizzie said before she hung up.
Udal felt sick to his stomach when he got up to leave his comfortable chair in the Crown Room. Maybe he'd gone too high. He wished Elias had been a little more specific. He hoped to hell the casinos wouldn't balk.
Udal spent the forty-minute drive back to the city hitting his speed dial and talking to one after the other of the casino executives. A few complained but in the end agreed to his outrageous demand.
He felt a little better when he spoke to the owner of the Crystal Palace, who said, "Jesus, Pete, I'd agree to double if you can guarantee to get rid of Hank Owens and his gang. Count me in. If you need me to talk it up with some of the other execs, be glad to do it."
"Thanks, Jerry, I got it covered."
"Is it a guarantee, Pete? Are they that good?"
Udal forced a laugh. "Money-back guarantee."
"Hey, Pete, heard your main guy had a little fender bender." He started to laugh and couldn't stop. "You guys are paying Cricket way too much. Moreover, he was over the white line."
"Yeah, I'm buying him a moped for Christmas."
"Damn, I'd pay to see that guy riding one of those. See you around, Pete. Call me if you need help."
"Thanks, Jerry. I'll stop by when we have this all locked up, and we can have a drink and shoot the breeze."
"I'll look forward to it."
Udal looked at his watch. Right on time. He wondered if Lizzie Fox was one of those women who liked to make an entrance or to be fashionably late or whatever the hell it was women did to keep men on their toes.
He pulled up in front of the Rabbit Hole, double-parked, stuck a bright blue NGC sticker on his windshield, and got out of the car. No one looked at him. No one even glanced his way. For the first time he noticed that the day was bright and shiny. He hoped it was a good omen.
The Rabbit Hole was a dismal place with cracked linoleum on the floor. The tables listed and had cardboard under the legs to keep them steady. The vinyl on the chairs was covered with strips of gray electrical tape. He wasn't sure, but he thought the vinyl might have once been turquoise in color. Dark green pull-down shades graced the windows. There were nine tables in all and a counter where lone customers sat so as not to take up an entire table. With all the stainless steel and mirrors it looked like a diner.
The Rabbit Hole had four things on their menu. Beef stew, chicken noodle soup that was loaded with actual chicken, fresh bread, and honest-to-God homemade apple pie that was served with ice cream whether you wanted it or not.
Udal looked around. There was no one in the Hole who looked like she might be a high-powered attorney. He felt a tap to his arm.
"By any chance are you Peter Udal?"
"I am. And of course you are. . ."
"Elizabeth Fox. This is my associate, Ted Robinson. He goes where I go. Please don't let it become a problem."
Udal sucked in his breath when he looked up at the striking woman standing next to him. Her hair looked like spun silver. He wilted a little when he stared at her mouth. But it was her outfit that really drew his eye. The vision in front of him was wearing painted-on red leather pants with matching vest, and he knew in his gut there was nothing under the vest but her. She was wearing what his oldest daughter would call slut shoes, outrageous heels with a few tiny straps across the toes. He almost felt sorry for Cosmo Cricket.
Udal looked up at Ted and made an instant decision. "I won't let it be a problem. Follow me, and we can get down to business."
"Are we going to eat?" Ted asked.
"Of course. The menu is limited, but once you eat here, you'll go out of your way to come back again and again."
"Works for me," Ted said as he sat down on one of the lopsided chairs. He wagged back and forth before he reached for a wad of napkins to put under the legs.
They ordered stew all around. "The pie comes with the stew even if you don't want it, so don't make a fuss. The hot bread is to die for. I always take a batch of everything home when I manage to come here to eat. My wife loves it.
"Since this is my gig, I guess I should get right down to business and since, as you say, time is money. Here's my deal, but before I get to that, I want to assure you I have the full cooperation of every casino in this town. We want to engage the services of the vigilantes and are prepared to pay them a billion dollars. That's with a b. I'm not going to beat around the bush here. We need to take out, I think that's the phrase that's used these days, the security team that manages the Babylon. We're losing billions, so agreeing to pay the women that much will save us in the end. No killing, that's an absolute. No way, no how. We just want Hank Owens and his inner ring to disappear off the face of the earth so we can get back down to business. And, of course, whatever your fee is."
Ted was busy clicking away on his BlackBerry as he mumbled and muttered to himself. Holy fucking shit, a billion dollars. The guy rattled off the number like he was agreeing to pay a fiver at Starbucks.
"What if I say I want some perks?" Lizzie asked.
"Name them."
"Miss Barnes gets reinstated at her school and gets paid her lost wages plus reinstated benefits if they were terminated."
"Done."
"Miss Barnes is compensated for her six days in lockup. A generous compensation."
"Done."
"And she needs extra compensation for the humiliation she suffered at the hands of those goons at the Babylon. That comes out of the Babylon's coffers."
"Done."
"And you tell your gunslinger I call the shots. I don't want Mr. Cricket cramping my style."
"Done. So when can I. . ."
"I'll be in touch. Be sure you understand, Mr. Udal, I have not agreed to any of this. Yet. We are talking about a contract, are we not?"
"Absolutely."
"And your eight-hundred-pound gorilla is not to interfere."
"I'll see to it."
"And the money is to be paid in advance. I can set that up in the Netherlands Antilles. Do we agree?"
"We agree," Udal said, a rock the size of a dinner plate settling in his stomach.
"Then I suggest we eat this fine fare, and I will get back to you around four this afternoon. Is that acceptable?"
"It is."
Ted's fingers had blisters. He wondered if he'd be able to hold a fork to eat.
"There is one thing that you will have to agree to, Miss Fox. It's coming from the casinos, not me, but I have to say, I agree. Miss Barnes has to agree to relocate far away from Nevada. If she's as good a teacher as you say she is, she can get a job anywhere. That one little point is
not negotiable."
Lizzie smiled, and the room was suddenly brilliant with light.
"Done. But she must still be reinstated, with an apology, so that her record does not show a dismissal."
Chapter 15
It was almost dark when the bell rang once, a loud, booming sound that shook the mountain. Murphy let loose with an earsplitting howl, throwing his head back and pawing the ground. Grady, his companion, not to be outdone, did the same thing as flocks of birds emerged from the trees and took wing.
The women, who were just finishing their yard work, stripped off their work gloves and headed for the main house, jabbering as they ran. One bong of the bell meant hop to it, NOW.
Yoko looked down at all the ingredients that were ready to be cooked. She took a quick look in the oven at the coconut cream pie with the luscious topping that was browning. It needed another minute. Her eyes raked the unusually large prawns, then she sighed. One bong meant now, not one minute from now. She quickly removed the pie and slid it onto a hot pad on the counter with one hand, turning off the oven with the other. The luscious-looking pie slid off the trivet and onto the counter. She shrugged as she sprinted for the door, then across to the compound. She was the last one into the war room, arriving breathless. She was about to explain about the pie when Charles held up his hand and got right to business.
"Time, girls, is of the essence. Your mission has been confirmed. Lizzie just nailed down all the details. The money brokers in Las Vegas have agreed to pay you, the vigilantes, a whopping billion dollars to. . .uh. . .take care of some rather unpleasant individuals, five in all. Lizzie will brief you on your arrival. I have on loan a British Airways Red Cross jet that will be setting down at Raleigh-Durham International Airport in exactly three hours. That means you need to change and get dressed and head out immediately. A van will be waiting for you at the bottom of the mountain to take you to the airport, where you will be met by seven male nurses who will assist you onto the plane. You will be arriving by. . .wheelchairs. When you arrive at McCarran International Airport, you will be taken in your wheelchairs to an as-yet-undecided location. There is no time for questions at the moment. Go! Don't worry about dinner, I'll force myself to eat my delicious meat loaf all by myself. There will be packaged food aboard the plane for all of you and, of course, drinks."
"Billion!" was all he heard, as the women hastened to follow his instructions.
Yoko was about to open her mouth to explain about the dogs eating the meat loaf but decided to let Charles find out for himself.
The women jabbered and babbled about having $1 billion to donate to charity. They scattered, ripping at their work clothes as they ran back across the compound to their quarters.
Fifteen minutes later they were at the bottom of the mountain and climbing into a large white van with a huge red cross on each side.
While riding down in the cable car, Yoko had explained about the pie, the first pie she'd ever baked in her life, sliding off the trivet. "Charles will have to eat it with a spoon. I'm sorry, Kathryn."
"No, no, no. I'm so. . .honored that you even tried to bake me a pie. I hope Charles chokes on it. No, I don't wish any such thing, I just said that. I don't know why I even said it," Kathryn babbled.
"Charles didn't say when Jack and Harry were going to Las Vegas," Nikki said fretfully. "I wish I knew where we're going to be staying."
"I don't think it matters, dear. One place is as good as another," Annie said cheerfully. "I brought money. Did any of you?"
The women looked at Annie as much as to say, Money, what's money?
"To gamble with." Annie reached in her pockets and pulled out wads and wads of folded-up bills. "I even have some stuck in my bra. Don't worry, I have enough for all of us. We want to win. Big. Really big!"
"What's bigger than a billion bucks?" Kathryn demanded. "I can't believe our services are worth a billion dollars."
"Well, I can!" Annie said. "We're worth every penny. It isn't ours, anyway, dear. We have to give it away. I'm talking about winning for ourselves. If we win, we get to keep the money. We can buy some of those fancy sparkly clothes they sell in Vegas. The kind the showgirls wear when they go off duty. I can't wait to buy my first pair of rhinestone cowgirl boots! We need to get some leather, too. With lots of fringe. Lizzie can help us, she has such exquisite taste in clothes."
"But the catch is, we won't look like Lizzie," Alexis said, giggling.
"And to think, Annie, you were wearing a god-awful white sheet when I came to that mountain in Spain. Now you're a clotheshorse," Myra said. "I knew I should have pushed you over the mountain that day. I am not wearing rhinestone cowgirl boots!"
"Want to bet?" Annie asked.
Myra worked her mouth into a grimace. She started to finger her pearls. She knew she'd be wearing cowgirl boots with rhinestones before the mission was over, and she'd probably be singing the dreadful song that went with the boots. Something about a rhinestone cowboy.
Ninety minutes later, the white van roared across the tarmac and came to a full stop near the British plane. The doors to the van slid open, and white-clad figures pushing wheelchairs appeared out of nowhere.
"Oh, this is sooo exciting. I've never been in a wheelchair before. I've seen people playing basketball in them and doing that wheelie thing," Annie said, as strong arms lifted her out of the van. "I'm absolutely loving this," she said to no one in particular.
Just as the British Red Cross plane hit a cruising altitude of thirty thousand feet, Lizzie Fox was sitting once again in Marble Rose Barnes's comfortable living room. Ted was busy punching words into his BlackBerry, but his ears were tuned to the conversation surrounding him.
"I have what I think is good news and a little of what you might perceive as bad. Which do you want to hear first?"
Marble Rose looked like she was back to normal. She wore khaki slacks with a lemon yellow T-shirt and camel-colored loafers. Her shiny blond hair curled around her face. She looked like the girl next door with her intelligent blue eyes and an oh-so-subtle shade of lipstick. Curled in her lap was a pure white Angora cat with startling green eyes. Marble Rose explained that after her arrest a friend who had a key to her house had come in and taken the cat to care for. The cat was purring loudly as it burrowed in her lap.
"Just tell me," she said as she stroked the cat's head.
"Well, we started out with me demanding you be reinstated in your job with full back pay and, of course, all your benefits. They agreed. By they, I mean Mr. Udal, who is the president of the Nevada Gaming Commission. He speaks for the casinos. I received a call from him, and he said the Babylon is falling into line. You will be compensated for your. . .false arrest, all the pain and suffering you endured. Handsomely compensated. You could donate everything you've won at the casinos to charity, plus what's in your trust fund, and still live very handsomely on your compensation if you so desire."
Marble Rose smiled. "I guess that's the good news. What's the bad news?"
"The bad news is you have to relocate. I know, I know, that's not what you want to hear because first he said he would make sure you got your old job back, but as we negotiated, he turned a little stubborn. If you stay, you will be banned from all the casinos on the Strip as well as those in town. I took some liberty and said you'd take the deal. I can always go back and say you changed your mind. I wouldn't recommend it, Marble Rose. You're a good teacher, from everything I've heard. You can get a job anywhere. Some. . .things are going to happen here, and I don't want to see you become part of the problem or the solution. Oh, the casino is going to buy your house at fair market value. We can close this out, and I can deliver checks to you by tomorrow morning. You should plan to leave right after breakfast tomorrow."
Ted looked up and watched the young woman as she pondered what she must perceive to be her options, when really there weren't any choices open to her. Would she take Lizzie's advice or not? He hit the BlackBerry again.
"And my mother?"
&nbs
p; "Your mother is not part of this equation."
Marble Rose licked at her lips. "I suppose you wonder. . ."
Lizzie held up her hand to stop whatever she was going to say. "Nothing is ever totally black or totally white. There are always, always, gray areas. Growing up without a mother is. . .well, it's the worst thing in the world. My mother died when I was seven. Suddenly there was no one to brush my hair in the morning, no one to tuck me in at night and sing to me, no one to tell me to eat my vegetables. My father didn't know how to iron, so I was always wrinkled. He wasn't much of a cook, either, but he did his best. One of our neighbors bought me my first bra. That same woman explained everything to me about 'that time of the month.' My prom dress was all wrong, my peers said it was slutty. I just loved the ruffles and sparkles and thought I looked like a million bucks. I cried for days when I heard what they said about me. There was no one to share it with but the dog. I missed my mother every day of my life, and I still do.
"The reason I'm telling you this is because just a few days ago, a very wonderful, kind lady adopted me. She adopted me. I now have a mother. This wonderful lady was the first to say she would never, ever, try to take my mother's place because that was impossible. She said she would just be a stand-in mom."
Marble Rose chewed on her lower lip as she twirled her hair between her index finger and thumb. Lizzie smiled to herself. She used to do the same thing when she didn't know what to decide. Hell, she still did it when no one was watching.
"You don't understand. . ."
"I understand more than you realize. You have absolutely nothing to lose by talking to your mother one-on-one. I'm willing to go out on a limb here and say when you walk away it won't be final. You'll make your peace and be happy about it, but the best part is you'll have a mother you can call on the phone, a mother you can visit, and, in time, open your heart to. This is just advice, Marble Rose, and now I'm off my soapbox. Tell me if you accept the offer."
Marble Rose took so long before she finally spoke, Lizzie was about to scream in frustration. "All right. So, what, I just get in my car tomorrow and. . .drive off?"
12. Final Justice Page 14
