Cross Roads (27 page)

“Not one little bit. My guys have me covered, so don't worry about me. I know the drill. I drive to the drop-off point, and Snowden's people take care of the rest. Meaning, of course, that all three of them will be loaded on the plane sitting on the tarmac in Fort Lauderdale, which will take them back to where our employers will deal with them in their own way. Our job here is done. Well, almost done.”

Upstairs in the middle room, Nikki worked the computer. “Okay, Alexis, what do we want to do with all of Hank's sizable fortune?”

“Send it to the same place our fifty million went. We can divvy it up later. We need to get out of here. This is some place,” Alexis said, looking around.

“Yeah, it is. Done! His money is now
our
money. Billions with a B, baby!” Nikki said, printing out copies of her wire transfers. She unzipped her wet suit and stuck the papers inside.

“You know what, Alexis, that bastard didn't lie about one thing.”

“Yeah, what's that?”

“He said we were good.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alexis drawled. The two women high-fived each other before they bolted for the steps. They stood watching as Kathryn started to back the rig out of the house as the other truckers outside guided her movements.

Back in the kitchen, which was no longer a kitchen, the group stared at one another. “And we still don't know the why of it all,” Isabelle mumbled.

“Oh, but we do know, dear,” Myra said as she spread open the six-page fax. “I'll give you the short version. Later on, we can all read this and talk it to death.”

“You know?” the Sisters chorused as one.

“Of course. Just because Annie and I are…up there in years doesn't mean we can't hold our own. It's really quite simple. Nineteen months ago the Pentagon decided not to renew Global's contracts. They had their reasons; most of them can't be divulged because of national security. Very valid reasons. His contracts had twenty-two months to go, then he was out in the cold. Oh, he made money from foreign governments and from private corporations, but the billions he earned every year came from the Pentagon. The bottom line was, he was no longer the Golden Boy. He couldn't and wouldn't accept that.

“So, he decided to start a campaign to reingratiate himself with the Pentagon. But first he had to make sure the vigilantes couldn't be used to come after him and expose what he was doing. So he courted Martine Connor, subtly helped to get her to grant our pardons, then convinced our current employers that we needed to be neutralized in order to allow Global to go after the group Jellicoe had made up out of whole cloth.

“Once they agreed and kicked in money to bribe our guys, he set up the murders, and that is the only word that fits, of twenty-three contractors who the Pentagon and some private corporations had paid Global to protect, starting in February and culminating in the murders, just before Thanksgiving, of the seven contractors that Elias learned about from Calvin Sands.

“And, I'm sorry to have to say this, but Isabelle and Annie, if you can reconstruct the eight months from that February until last Thanksgiving, I think you will find that Stu Franklin and Fish were gone at precisely the times the contractors Global was supposed to protect were murdered.”

There were gasps all around, and Isabelle and Annie looked as if they were ready to faint.

“According to Charles's informant, who is now a very rich man, thanks to Annie's money, for which she will be reimbursed from the funds we just liberated, Jellicoe hoped to ‘expose' the plot against the murdered contractors, blame the supposed assassination attempt on the same people, and get back in the Pentagon's good graces. And since all the alleged plotters would be killed in the attempt to apprehend them, no one would be the wiser.”

“But why,” Jack interrupted, “did he pretend to retire and have Bert and me take over the reins of Global Securities? Didn't that risk our finding out about what was going on? It doesn't make sense.”

“Doesn't it?” Nikki asked. “Think about it. Did you ever hear about the deaths of the first sixteen contractors? Did you? Of course not. We heard only about the seven killed around Thanksgiving when it became front-page news around the world. The only information you got was what Jellicoe wanted you to have. And the same went for Bert, didn't it?”

“I guess,” Jack said, looking thoroughly dismayed.

“There's one other important thing Charles learned,” Myra continued. “After the murders started, Jellicoe decided that if things went badly, and Global was blamed for the failures to protect the murder victims, he would pin the blame for lax security on Jack and Bert's cost-cutting efforts. So even if his grand strategy failed to get the intended results, his risk of exposure was basically zero.”

“Wait a minute,” Bert objected. “I didn't get involved in any cost-cutting efforts. Did you, Jack?”

“Not on your life. Hell, all I ever did was read papers my secretary put on my desk. I knew as much about what was really going on as Bush did about New Orleans.”

“Jack,” Myra asked pointedly, “how much do you want to bet that any investigation of your computers would turn up conclusive evidence that you and Bert were engaged in a sustained program of cutting corners in the area of contractor security?

“Never mind, you don't have to answer. Anyway, I think it's safe to say it was never really about the money with Hank. He believed he was infallible. He or his people had started making mistakes. He tried to cover them up, and things went downhill to the point that he became desperate. That's when he came up with that wild story about the chatter, the bogus threat, and managed to convince everyone but our own government because they knew. They knew. I think they might even send us a thank-you letter once they find out we took care of business for them,” Myra said.

Wide-eyed, jaws agape, everyone looked at Myra and Annie in stunned amazement.

“And you found this out…how?” Nikki demanded.

“We didn't find out till just before five o'clock this morning. I did tell Hank that we knew the whole story just before they loaded his sorry ass into the truck. He tried to spit on me, but Annie knocked him out.”

“Way to go, ladies!” Jack said.

“Obsolete my ass,” Annie hissed in Myra's ear. Myra laughed as she led the parade out what was once a back door and down to the dock.

“Hey, Harry, why don't you ride with Yoko. One of Snowden's men is staying behind, and he needs the Jet Ski.”

Harry's fist shot in the air as Jack blew him a kiss. Harry winked as he slid onto the ski behind Yoko.

No one looked back as the Jet Skis shot forward.

Eleven minutes later, the support beams at 123 Dolphin Drive collapsed, and the house crumpled to the ground. It stayed that way for thirty-six hours until a Coast Guard helicopter spotted the wreckage, by which time the Sisters were on the deck at Pinewood, toasting each other on a job well done.

Christmas Eve
Pinewood, Virginia

O
utside the old farmhouse in McLean, Virginia, there wasn't an evergreen to be seen that wasn't festooned with colorful Christmas lights. Inside the house, which was lit from top to bottom, giant twelve-foot balsam firs, resplendent with colored lights and heirloom Christmas decorations, were tucked into every corner of every room. The scent was delightful. Delicious, heavenly aromas wafted from the kitchen, where Charles, wearing a decorative Christmas apron, held court.

He and the guys had rehashed for the umpteenth time the events of last summer and had moved on to speculating about how Hank Jellicoe had managed to escape from Avery Snowden and his men. All anyone knew was that when Jellicoe was to be turned over to the big shots who had hired the Sisters, he was gone.

Despite their disappointment, the intelligence and law-enforcement chiefs had been sufficiently relieved to learn that all the chatter about assassination plots was nothing more than a con job by Jellicoe that they had agreed to take care of Stu Franklin and Fish. From what the Sisters had later heard, the two murderers were now permanently, as in for eternity, located near a place with one of those funny-sounding names in the deserts of the Middle East. Nothing further had been heard from Jellicoe, though no one took the threats he had made against the Sisters lightly.

All the persons near and dear to Myra's heart were there for the Christmas festivities. They'd all arrived three days before Christmas to help with the extensive decorating Myra, Charles, and Annie insisted on. Garlands were strung, mistletoe hung, and fragrant balsam wreaths hung from each window and door. As Nikki put it, and the others agreed, “We need to make up for not being here last year.” And make up for it, they did.

“I don't think I've ever been happier in my whole life,” Myra said as she looked around at her little family, which wasn't so little anymore. Everyone was present and accounted for except Lizzie, Cosmo, and Little Jack, who were on their way from the airport via a horse-drawn sleigh that Jack and Bert had arranged for. Their ETA was any minute now, depending on the horse's gait.

The seven dogs, wearing antlers and red collars with bells on them, pranced and danced around, enjoying all the activity. Even the pups, who were no longer little. They were still named One, Two, Three, and Four, and as Myra said, “I don't see me changing their names anytime soon.”

The dining-room table was set for twenty. A high chair that had more bells and whistles than a top-of-the-line sports car sat in the middle of the row and did not seem out of place. The table was set with the finest china and crystal, and silver that Myra and Annie had washed and polished for days. The tablecloth was more than a hundred years old, threadbare in some spots but carefully mended along with the napkins, which were equally worn and soft to the touch. In the center of the table, flanked by red candles, sat a gorgeous evergreen centerpiece on which Annie and Myra had worked for hours. Red berries and scarlet poinsettias added all the color that was needed to the magnificent table arrangement.

A finely crafted serving tray sat on the buffet, another of Myra's heirlooms, filled with crystal wine flutes and several bottles of Cristal champagne.

Outside, a fine snow was falling, perfect weather for this exceptional Christmas Eve.

In the living room, in the center of the floor, sat the most exquisite Christmas tree that Myra's farm had to offer. Underneath mounds of presents, all gaily wrapped, waited for Little Jack's busy fingers to unwrap.

The dogs heard the sleigh bells first, then they all ran to the kitchen. “Lizzie's here! Lizzie's here!” Myra opened the door, and they all rushed outside to see the sleigh driven by a man decked out in a red suit, a curly white beard, a stocking hat with a big white fur ball on the end, and shiny black boots. A.K.A. Avery Snowden. Next to him was a huge red velvet bag full of surprises.

Cosmo Cricket hopped down from the sleigh and reached for his son, whom he handed off to the man in the red suit. He held out his hand for Lizzie, who was dressed in something that looked like white ermine, and probably was.

Snowden let loose with a few “ho ho ho's” for Little Jack's benefit before driving the sleigh to the barn, all seven dogs hot on his trail. Fifteen minutes later, sans costume, he was in the kitchen with the other guys, having his usual “friendly” colloquy with Harry.

The dogs took one look at Little Jack, who was no longer in his bulky snowsuit, and nosed him forward. They barked happily as they led the way into the living room to where the giant Christmas tree waited for the little one. The dogs circled him, tugging at his pant leg. The toddler looked around, his eyes bigger than saucers as he squatted, then sat down. The dogs were on him in a second, rolling around and tussling with one another, as he squealed happily.

Charles whistled. The dogs immediately came to attention, even the pups. Little Jack got up and wobbled over to his mother. Lizzie picked up her son, and said, “Everyone, I want you to meet my and Cosmo's son. We call him Little Jack. If you all stand back, kind of in a line, I'm going to put him down so he can go to you when I call your name. He knows all of you because…because you're our family. While we aren't here on a daily basis to see you all in person, Cosmo and I have shown him videos and pictures.”

As Lizzie called out each person's name, Little Jack waddled up to that person for his hug and kiss. When only one person whose name hadn't been called remained, Lizzie said, “Jack, where's that one special person Mommy told you about?” The toddler turned around, his eyes going from person to person until he found Jack Emery. In his haste to get to that special person, he stumbled and fell, but Murphy reached down, straightened him up, and set him on his way. Lizzie's eyes sparkled with glistening tears when Jack held out his arms, and the toddler stepped into them. “Me Jack!” One chubby finger jabbed Jack in the chest. “Big Jack!” The same chubby finger then jabbed at his own chest. Me Lil Jack! Luff you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, too,” Jack said, tears rolling unashamedly down his cheeks. He hugged the little boy hard to his chest. Nothing in the whole of his life had ever felt this warm, this good, this perfect, this right.

Little Jack started to jabber, but it was hard to keep up with what he was saying. Jack looked at Lizzie, who whispered, “He's trying to say you're his mommy's White Knight, and he's thanking you for letting me be here. I told him our story the day he was born, and I've told it to him every night ever since. It's his favorite bedtime story.”

Jack swiped at his eyes, a lump the size of a golf ball in his throat. All he could do was nod.

Sensing something different in the air, something the dogs didn't understand, they barked, and the moment was gone, though it would never be forgotten.

Charles stepped forward. “I do believe it's time for dinner.”

Hours later, when the table was cleared and Little Jack was sleeping upstairs in Nikki's old bed, Charles served coffee, and everyone retired to the living room to sing some carols and wish one another a joyous Christmas.

Eventually, as the clock was about to strike midnight, they all ran to the window. It was snowing harder. A truly white, wonderful Christmas.

“I wonder where we'll all be next year at this time,” Nikki said.

Annie and Myra linked arms, mysterious smiles on their faces. In unison, they both said, “Right where we want to be, where we all belong.”

“That's it, that's all you're going to say?” Kathryn grinned.

“For now, dear. For now.”