Cross Roads (9 page)

Isabelle's legs felt like rubber as she made her way down the fragrant street. As always, she marveled at the lush plants and flowers outside each store. It really was a pretty street. Right now she had more important things on her mind than plants and flowers.

As Isabelle meandered down the shop-lined sidewalk, she stopped to peer into windows. The bright sun reflecting off the shiny glass let her see if anyone was following a little too close for comfort. She hoped she was pulling off a nonchalance she was far from feeling. Finally, she chose a store that was so cluttered with racks and bins of clothing it was hard to find walking space. She'd been in it many times and knew exactly where the dressing rooms were. And there was a huge
EXIT
sign over a door in the back hallway that she knew led to a minuscule parking lot for the store employees that, in turn, led to a small side street that would, if she turned left, take her out to the main thoroughfare, where she could flag a rickety taxi. The only problem with taking a taxi was that taxi drivers talked. Even when they took money not to.

An elegant, charming saleswoman approached Isabelle. “Madame Flanders, how nice to see you again. Come, we have some nice things in the back.” What that meant to Isabelle was, the couture items for the well-heeled matrons were kept safely away from the riffraff, as well as the blatant thieves, who snatched and ran.

“Oh, Elena, that sounds decadent. I can hardly wait to see what you have.”

“Straight off the runways. Only someone like you can do them justice, Madame Flanders. Wait one little minute, and I will bring these treasures for you. There are six of them, and all in your size. No alterations will be necessary. I know this.”

“Wonderful! Elena,” Isabelle whispered, “I wonder if you might help me. I'll take all six dresses. Just put them on my account. Right now I don't have time to try them on. I find myself in a rather ticklish position. I need to…ah…go somewhere”—she winked roguishly—“and I have no way to get there. Would it be possible for you to…ah…loan me your car?”

“Ah, love, but of course. It is the Renault in the back. Wait, one little minute and I will fetch the key. All six, you say?”

“All six, yes, Elena. Just put them on my credit card and send them to the house. Tomorrow will do nicely.”

“And what do I say to that sour old woman who follows you like a nanny if she shows up looking for you?”

“Tell her I ran off with the plumber. Just be haughty. Now, where shall I leave the car? I do not want to come back here till very late. You understand, do you not?”

“Most assuredly. Do not worry. I'll report it stolen, but not until tomorrow, when you are safely home awaiting the delivery of your six new dresses. Ah, I wish I was young again with a lover waiting for me.” She leaned in closer. “Are people watching you?” she whispered.

Isabelle nodded and pointed to her bag as she started to strip off her white linen outfit. Feverishly, she pulled out the lime green ensemble, one she'd purchased from Elena months ago.

Elena nodded her approval. She watched, fascinated as Isabelle worked deftly with the latex. Her eyes popped wide when Isabelle whirled and twirled for her benefit. “This man who waits for you, he is worthy of all this…”

“He is my soul mate, Elena. Our hearts beat as one. He is kind, generous, witty, he lives and breathes only to make me happy, and…and he is
RICH
!”

“Say no more.” The older woman smiled. “I see how happy you are. Rich is always good,” she twittered.

Isabelle handed over her discarded clothing. “You can take care of these for me?”

“But of course.”

Isabelle reached into her green-and-white clutch and withdrew a wad of banknotes. She pressed them into Elena's hand. “Keep my secret, and there will be more when I come again to shop. My lover showers me with banknotes. It will be my pleasure to share some with you for your help. Oh, I love him so much!”

“Your secret is safe with me, Madame Flanders. No words shall escape these lips. Oh, dear, I see I was wrong. There are eight new outfits.” She raised her eyebrows in question.

“I'll take the others, too. I must go now. Thank you, Elena. Listen to me—if anyone comes looking for me, do not believe what they tell you. Unless they tell you I ran off with my lover.” The woman nodded, happy with the commission she was making for the day plus her little windfall, with more to come. She watched as Isabelle literally ran out of the dressing room to the little hall that would take her outside to the gray Renault. She did love a good story and a conspiracy.

Elena looked at the banknotes in her hand. Three American hundred-dollar bills. Mother of God! For certain she would never give up any information on such a fine lady, no matter who came asking questions. Not even the
patrón,
Hank Jellicoe himself.

 

The lady in green, as Isabelle thought of herself, made good time to the Asuncion Silvio Pettirossi International Airport, where she would board a plane that would take her somewhere, anywhere, out of Paraguay and out of the reach of Stu Franklin, Hank Jellicoe, and Global Securities. She got out of the car and locked it. She didn't know what to do with the key, so she dropped it into her handbag. She received many admiring looks from business travelers as she made her way inside the modern, air-conditioned airport. She looked up at the monitors, trying to decide which flight was scheduled to leave within the next forty minutes. If she hurried, she could get her ticket; breeze through security, because she had no bags; slither through the Customs line; and be on the tarmac with the other passengers, all in time to board. It was all doable, she told herself over and over as she waited to see if her passport would pass muster. She almost fainted when the man waved her through as he pocketed the local
guaraní
currency he removed from her passport.

Isabelle knew she wasn't out of the woods yet. Only when she was thirty thousand feet in the air would she relax. Until then she would think about Fortaleza, Brazil, which was where her ticket said she was going. From there she would board a flight to Miami, and from Miami, a flight to Washington. Travel time with layovers, almost twenty-four hours.

With ten minutes till boarding, Isabelle hit the restroom, where a gaggle of young girls were giggling and laughing. Those who weren't giggling and laughing were chattering on their phones. If only she could get one of those phones. Well, she wouldn't know if she didn't ask. She approached one of the giggling girls with a few folded bills in her hand. At best, her Spanish left a lot to be desired, so she simply pointed to the girl's phone and held out the money. She made a motion to indicate she'd dropped her own on the marble floor, and it had ceased to work and was now in the trash can that she pointed to. The girl smiled, handed over the phone, and the charger from her bag, and graciously accepted the money Isabelle held in her hand.

“There is a God,” Isabelle whispered as she entered the stall and immediately tried to call Myra Rutledge.

B
ert Navarro knew he was strung tighter than a guitar string. He also knew he'd never felt this way before, not even when he was in the line of fire. He turned his head slightly to look out the plane window from his window seat. They were on the ground. On the ground. In England. Son of a bitch, they had actually made it. That it was too easy made his heart pound. They'd been sitting for ninety minutes waiting to roll up to the plane's designated jetway so they could disembark. By craning his neck, he could see that nothing was blocking the plane's progress, so why the hell were they just sitting here?

Bert closed his eyes. The tension and hostility emanating from Kathryn, who was sitting next to him, was so intense he thought he was going to jump right out of his skin. Over the course of his life he'd heard the expression “ticking time bomb,” but he'd never actually been able to apply it to a person or a situation until now. If they didn't get off this damn plane soon, she was going to explode. Aside from the tension and energy, he could feel her anger.

Kathryn took that moment to turn and look at him. Her eyes were colder than ice, her words harder than steel. “This is a Jellicoe Global Securities Gulfstream. Either you get me off this plane like
NOW
or I won't be responsible for what happens next. Do you hear me, Bert?”

Bert nodded because he didn't trust himself to speak. Even though they were just sitting on the runway, he hadn't unbuckled his seat belt. He did so immediately.

“Another thing,” Kathryn hissed. “This was just way too easy, Mr. Navarro. For a year and a half you and Global wouldn't let me leave that hellhole, and now here we are sitting on a runway in Merry Old England, and we can't get off the damn plane. What's wrong with this picture,
Bert
?”

Like he had the answer. “I don't know, honey.” He moved past her to head toward the cockpit.

“Don't you ‘honey' me! Don't you ever ‘honey' me again, Bert Navarro,” Kathryn said through clenched teeth.

Kathryn watched through narrowed eyes as Bert walked forward and spoke quietly to the frazzled hostess, who was trying to talk to him and knock on the cockpit door at the same time. She was here, on friendly soil, just a heartbeat away from seeing Nikki and Jack, and she couldn't get off the plane. In the whole of her life, she'd never been as angry as she was at that minute.
I'm being punished,
she told herself.
For my wild and wicked ways.
Meaning, of course, running off with Bert to what she called never-never land when she'd promised Alan, her dead husband, she would never get married to or love anyone else. Well, she hadn't married Bert, so that was a good thing. Or not. These days she didn't seem to know anything.

She'd never been a crier. The last time she'd cried was at Alan's funeral. And that seemed like a lifetime ago. A lone tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed at it with a trembling hand at the same moment she felt the plane start to glide forward. “Thank you, God. Thank you, God. Thank you, God,” she whispered to herself.

Bert was back in his seat and whispering, “Just a computer glitch that…”

“Computer glitch, my ass,” Kathryn seethed. “All they had to do was open the door, roll up the stairway, and we could have been off this goddamn plane eighty minutes ago.”

“It doesn't work that way, hon…Kathryn.”

“Yeah, Bert, it does work that way. Right now, I hate you. Don't talk to me, don't touch me. I just want off this plane. Where is Murphy?”

“You know damn well where the dog is. He's with the pilot. He'll get out at the same time you do. I thought you didn't want me to talk to you. And just for the record, Kathryn, I broke a hundred rules to smuggle that dog on board.”

“Cry me a river, okay?” Kathryn snarled, just as the plane came to a smooth stop. A nanosecond later, Kathryn was out of her seat and rushing forward. She let loose with an ear-piercing whistle and was rewarded with a thunderous bark. The cockpit door opened, and Murphy, the 120-pound German shepherd, had both paws on Kathryn's shoulders. Kathryn squeezed him so tight the big dog yelped, then quieted down.

Kathryn did her best to settle her jangling nerves. Murphy, sensing things weren't quite right, hugged her side, his huge body quivering with anxiety. She knew in her heart, her mind, her gut, that if there was anyone standing outside the plane door barring her run to freedom, she would, with the aid of Murphy, kill them on the spot.

The door opened, and the only person standing to the side on the gangway was a man in a lime green vest, one of the airline employees.

God in heaven, she was really here! She was. For just a moment, she felt dizzy with the knowledge. Then she was moving forward, Murphy at her side, up the jetway and out to the area where she had to go through Customs.

With nothing to declare except her purse and Murphy's papers, she hopped from one foot to the other while another man in a bright orange vest checked her through. He squinted at the huge dog at Kathryn's side, at his papers, used the Micromax Scanner Kathryn handed him and checked Murphy's ISO microchip, then nodded that she could be on her way. She knew Bert was somewhere behind her but she didn't care. Off she went, following the signs. She'd memorized the details Bert had given her on where they were to meet up with Nikki and Jack. Her eyes were like ricocheting bullets as she raked the various signs that would take her and Murphy to where the couple was waiting.

Suddenly, Murphy stopped short, his head went up, and a long sigh escaped his lips. He let out with a monster bark but didn't move. He barked again. People turned to stare, smile, frown, and moved on.

Kathryn heard her name being shouted, and she started to run, Murphy galloping along at her side.

“Kathryn!”

“Nikki!”

Then they were holding on to each other for dear life, hugging, squeezing, and crying all at the same time. Murphy whined and growled playfully until Nikki dropped to her knees in the middle of the concourse to hug him. The big dog nuzzled and pawed her.

“I have to take him out to pee. Can we get back in? Do we have time?”

“Yes and yes. Myra chartered a plane for us. We aren't flying commercial, so we have all the time in the world. We just have to go through security again, that's all. Oh, God, Kathryn, it is so good to see you. We
need
to talk. Where's Bert?”

“Ask someone who cares. Which way, Nikki?”

“Follow me. I've been up and down and around this airport so many times I lost count. We've been waiting four hours for you to get here. I assume your relationship is about the same as mine is with Jack. We were such fools, Kathryn. How could we have been so stupid?”

“We were in love. And the guys were greedy. I think that sums it up, at least for me,” Kathryn said.

“Past tense?”

“Yeah, for now. This is how I look at it, Nikki: I was robbed of a year and a half of my life. That bullshit about not being able to leave, the phones that didn't work, all of it made me sick. Look how easy it was all of a sudden. We're in England! We're almost home. I had so many nightmares, I thought I would go out of my mind. I think I was out of my mind. What about you?”

Nikki linked her arm with Kathryn's as they headed to the door that would lead them outside. “You know what, Kathryn, I was packing to leave when Jack roared into the house and said we were going home. I was leaving him. I was going to go to the embassy and ask them to get me home. I'm still not sure what's going on.”

Murphy strained at his leash as he headed to a trash can and lifted his leg.

Then they were back inside and headed toward the gate, where Nikki said a private charter waited for them. “It's burning fuel as we speak. Myra said not to worry—the only thing that was important was getting aboard and heading back across the pond. We'll be back in the States in six hours, and an hour from that time, we'll be at the farm, where the others are waiting for us. Annie said we are going to
partieeeee
big-time. By the way, Isabelle is winging her way north from Miami. She skedaddled, too. Must be something in the air.” Nikki giggled nervously.

“Nikki, what the hell is going on?”

“I don't know. I don't think Jack knows, either. What about Bert?”

“Bert is like a clam. All those years at the FBI. Everything with him is NTK. I guess he thought I didn't need to know when I
did
need to know. I didn't marry him, Nikki. I kept remembering that promise I made to Alan. I just couldn't do it. I'm not sorry, either. How do you like being Mrs. Jack Emery?”

“It had its moments. There they are. Let's save anything else we want to share until we get
home
. I wish we'd never gotten those damn pardons,” Nikki blurted.

“Yeah. I've had nightmares over that, too.”

The two women came to a stop in front of Jack and Bert. Both of their expressions were full of anger and hostility. Murphy, picking up on their mood, growled.

“Why are you looking at us like we're the enemy?” Jack said.

“Because you are!” Kathryn said.

“We can discuss all of this later. We have a plane waiting for us. I know the way, so let's just get out of here.” There was no lilt in Nikki's voice, but there was grim determination as she whirled around to head toward the plane waiting on the tarmac.

Nikki and Kathryn, Murphy between them, set off, Jack and Bert directly behind them as they literally sprinted down the concourse to an
EXIT
sign that led them out a jetway and down a set of movable stairs to where a Gulfstream waited. They bounded up a second set of movable stairs, Murphy in the lead. He sniffed the captain, the cocaptain, and the two hostesses who were waiting to welcome them. Then he turned, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He let loose with a mind-bending howl that brought the foursome on the stairway to a stop.

“Something's not right.” Kathryn leaned in closer to Nikki so she could hear better over the roar of the jet's whining engine. “I knew it was too good to be true. Thank God for Murphy.”

Still growling, the fur on the back of his neck staying on end, Murphy tried to force his mistress back down the stairs. It wasn't a hard sell on the dog's part or Kathryn's.

“Change of plans, boys,” Kathryn said as she took the steps downward, two at a time, Nikki behind her. They raced to the door they'd just exited.

Jack and Bert looked up at the confused expressions on the pilot's and hostesses' faces. “The lady called it, change of plans.” Without another word, they, too, galloped down the stairway and raced to the door Nikki and Kathryn had just entered.

Inside, breathless, Jack demanded to know what was going on. “What? Ten minutes ago we were the enemy, you couldn't wait to get on that plane, then when you're almost there, you chicken out. What the hell is it with you two?”

Not to be left out, Bert weighed in. “Yeah, what the hell is it with you two?”

Kathryn turned, snarling as only Kathryn could snarl, and said, “I'll tell you what, Mr. Ex–FBI Director, Mr. Ex–Global Securities Slave, you and your buddy Jack get on that damn plane. Nikki, Murphy, and I will find our own way home, thank you very much.”

“That means put up or shut up. I goddamn well dare the two of you to get on that plane!” Nikki shouted as she headed down the concourse. Where she was going, she had no idea. Kathryn and Murphy hugged her sides.

Jack looked at Bert, and Bert looked at Jack. Both of them said, “What the hell!” in unison.

“We going or staying?” Bert demanded. “I can't believe we're staying behind because that damn dog pitched a fit.”

Jack bristled. “That damn dog, as you put it, has saved our asses on more than one occasion, and I'd put my money on him any day of the week. Something isn't right on that plane. For a charter flight no one but us and the flight crew should be aboard, and the crew were right there to be seen at the top of the stairway. With the way the light was shining on the window, I saw four more forms in the back of the plane. I saw them, but Murphy
smelled
them. Now are you getting it? It means, in case you're interested, those two women are smarter than we are on our best day, and this sure as hell isn't our best day. I wish Harry were here.”

“What? I'm chopped liver? Why the hell didn't you say something, Jack?”

“As you constantly remind me, you're the brains of this outfit. Jellicoe went to you first. How come I'm the one that spotted the figures in the back and not you?”

“Well, you were still going to get on, Mr. Know-It-All. And you're taller than I am and blocked my view,” Bert said defensively.

“Bullshit!” Jack said as he picked up his feet and sprinted after the two women. He almost laughed when Murphy turned around, saw him, and barked, a joyous sound to Jack's ears. He felt stupid when he offered the dog a thumbs-up, but he didn't care. Murphy barked again when Bert came abreast of him.

Murphy's world was right side up, at least for the moment.

Outside in the dismal gray weather, the foursome gathered under an overhang. “We can talk about this later. Right now we have to make a plan. In order to do that, we need a new phone so we can call home. I feel like E.T. right now. I don't trust any of the phones we have,” Nikki said. “I think we need to find someone who is willing to part with their phone or at least let us use theirs to make some calls. How much cash do we have among us?”

“Two thousand,” Jack said as he tallied up the money being shown him. Kathryn snatched the money in the blink of an eye. The others watched her as she approached an elderly lady huddled under a bright pink umbrella. She returned five minutes later minus a thousand dollars but plus one phone. “She said the pound is worth more than the dollar. I wasn't about to argue,” Kathryn said as she scanned the cell phone in her hand. “Okay, I think I know how this one works.” She started pressing numbers.