Eyes Only (18 page)

He heard a sound then and ran to the door. He looked up to see if a jet was overhead or possibly a helicopter. The sound was coming from his left, from the estate in back of his own, the sound carrying on the wind. He realized it was the sound of motorcycles revving their engines. He went back to the monitors. He gawked in disbelief when he saw the countess, complete with tiara and gem-studded leathers, mount one of the Harleys like a pro. The lush sister, jewel-crusted flask in hand, mounted the one next to the countess just as expertly, followed by three strapping black men all done up in leather and helmets. They laughed as they gunned the cycles, which were peeling out one after the other.

“C'mon, chickee baby, show me what you got!” Annie shouted to Myra at the top of her lungs so as to be heard over the roar of the cycles. Myra showed her as she took a gulp from her flask.

Up ahead, the Sisters giggled, their thumbs shooting high in the air.

“Are we having fun, old girl?” Annie bellowed.

“Damn straight, we are,” Myra said, tossing the flask to Annie, who caught it expertly. She gulped at the iced tea and flipped the flask back to Myra, who caught it just as expertly as Annie had.

The Sisters up ahead convulsed in laughter.

Angus Spyder was so enraged, he tried to put his webbed fist through one of the monitors. All he got for his efforts was pain. He howled; then he thumbed his cell phone to summon all his minions in the compound. Within minutes, his entire security force was standing in his office. Jellicoe was the last one to saunter in, a smirk on his face.

“Stop them right now! Do you hear me?”

“How?” one of his men asked.

“Shoot them!” Spyder snarled. “I don't care. They're making a mockery of my island. They're thumbing their noses at me. I own this goddamn island, and I have rules. I don't give a damn how rich that bitch is, this is
my
island. You're still standing here. Move!”

Spyder fastened his gaze on Hank Jellicoe. “You're taking this rather well. When I give an order, I want it obeyed.”

“You might want to rethink that order. Don't you hear what I hear?”

“What? What?” Spyder shouted as he ran to the door and looked upward. “Son of a bitch! Are you telling me that's the goddamn media with helicopters, spying on me and my island?”

“Actually,
Angus,
I think you're completely secondary. They're actually spying on the countess. She is news, you know. They don't give a good rat's fart about you. She's news. I'd rescind that order to shoot if I were you.”

“You son of a bitch!”

“Among other things.” Jellicoe grinned. “You never take my advice, but I'm going to offer it, anyway. Tell your goon squad to play nice and be a welcoming committee. You get more flies with honey than vinegar. Didn't your mother ever tell you that? Oops, that's right. You didn't have a mother, did you? You were hatched from some frog in some slimy pond.”

“How dare you speak to me like that, you . . . you . . . criminal?”

Jellicoe laughed as he turned around and left the little man screaming like a banshee.

Outside in the brilliant sunshine, Jellicoe sobered. He had to get out of here. Now more so than ever. Like Spyder, he knew that something was off, something was wrong. He could feel it in every bone in his body.

Well, he did have one ace in the hole. Maybe it was time to play it out.

Chapter 17

J
ack, Ted, and Espinosa made their way to the lavish apartment over the pool house, knowing that many sets of eyes were on their backs. The possibility of hidden listening devices kept their chatter low and meaningless. Indoors, where they knew it was safe, they let loose.

“What's the game plan, Snowden? What do you have?” Jack demanded.

Always at odds with Jack, Snowden looked up from the computer he was watching. While he didn't like Jack, he was smart enough to respect his abilities. In the end, the only thing that mattered was the mission and the outcome.

“Well, unlike you three, who seem only to be concerned with the shade of your nail polish, we, as in I and my operatives, think, I say think, that Charles and Fergus are in Jellicoe's house. One of those helicopters you just heard dropped a heat-sensor gizmo on top of the roof. It's too complicated to explain. We immediately picked up on two heat sources, and we know for a fact that a man—can't tell for sure yet if it's Jellicoe or not—left the house earlier and hasn't returned. Uh-oh, he's returning now.” Snowden waved his arm and pointed to the monitor while he raced to the window and pulled his binoculars up to his eyes.

“That guy is a pro for sure. Ball cap pulled low. Says
NEW YORK YANKEES
. It's old, worn. Same build, same strut. He's aware at all times of where he is and what's around him. That's the mark of a pro. He was one of the best back in the day. Can't get a full-face shot of him. It's like the bastard knows we're here. Even a side shot is not telling me anything. I ran our facial recognition software nine ways to Sunday, and we can't get a lock.” Snowden looked at Jack, a fierce look in his eyes. “I have an idea, but it could be dangerous. You want to hear it or not?”

Ted looked nervous; Espinosa, downright worried.

“Spit it out, Snowden,” Jack said. “We aren't here to play games. The sooner we do what we have to do, the sooner we can get out of these outfits. I hate this cherry chiffon nail polish. If God wanted me to have cherry chiffon toenail polish, I would have been born that way.”

“I hear you, Emery. Here's the thought. When the girls/guys, Myra, and Annie get back from their reconnaissance, I want you to agitate for a ride. Take the tour to what we think is Jellicoe's house, get off, march up to the door, and knock. I want you to invite him to a barbecue at Annie's. You'll just be three nutty, cuckoo women on vacation. At the same time, if Charles and Fergus are being held there, they might somehow be able to tip you off. You'll have to be on alert, because I want you to go when Jellicoe is not there. Be aware of security and wear those floppy straw hats. Be playful, kittenish. You know how to do that, right? Think your sophomore year in school and the way the girls acted back then. Coy. Yeah, yeah,
coy.
That's a better word.”

Espinosa surprised everyone by saying, “I know how to do that.”

“Well, damn,” was all Jack could think of to say.

Ted just looked at his polished nails and didn't say a word.

“It might not be a bad idea to take that Albright guy and Sparrow with you. Happy, happy vacationers where there are no rules and your host is Countess de Silva. I'm thinking it will work. What do you think, Jack?”

Jack was stunned that Snowden was asking for his advice, but he didn't show it. “It's far enough out of the box that it just might work. Maybe we should also stop by Spyder's house to pay our respects and invite him to the barbecue. What's the worst thing that could happen? Nothing,” Jack said, answering his own question. “As long as you get those helicopters up in the air and let them hover while we're doing our thing. If none of it works, we go to Plan B.”

“And what is Plan B?” Snowden asked.

“I'll let you know when I figure it out. Call everyone back to home base now. We'll get Sparrow and Albright clued in. Yeah, yeah, I'm liking this. What about you guys?” Jack asked, directing his question to Ted and Espinosa.

“Doable,” the two
Post
employees chorused in unison.

“Just out of curiosity, Snowden, what are you and your people going to be doing?” Jack asked.

“I'm going to show some muscle. I'm going to patrol the beach with my people, but only on the side that affects Annie. Securing her perimeter is what we call it. We have AK-47s and a couple of Uzis. Spyder's guys have nothing like that kind of firepower. We're just flexing our muscles. We won't be doing it until the helicopters are overhead, and speaking of heavy-duty machinery, I think I hear a bunch of Harleys approaching.”

“We're outta here,” Jack said, leading the way out of the room and down the stairs to the lower level of the pool house. “Everyone, take a deep breath and start to giggle. Act like silly women.”

“I wouldn't let those women out there hear you refer to them as silly,” Espinosa said as he fiddled with a shoulder-length silver earring that was making his neck itch.

“I didn't mean
them.
I meant other women,” Jack said defensively.

“Yeah, well, I don't think
them
as in
they
would believe you. I am in character. Gee whiz, I just love this turquoise bracelet. Don't you girls just love my turquoise bracelet? And my toe ring, it matches perfectly and sets off my new nail polish, which, by the way, is called Scarlet Blush,” Espinosa trilled.

“Ooh, you are so funny, Joe. Watch me kick the shit out of you in another minute,” Ted said.

Fortunately for Espinosa, Ted's words were drowned out by the sound of the Harleys. The
girls
tripped forward and fluttered their hands, making motions that they wanted to go for a ride. Already warned by Snowden, Annie motioned to her Harley, and Jack hopped on.

“We need to wait for Sparrow and that Albright guy,” he said. “You know the drill, right?”

“I do. Isn't this exciting, Jack? Myra is having the time of her life, but she won't admit it.”

Jack risked a glance at Myra. He thought she looked a little green around the gills, but he had enough self-control not to say anything. He watched as she gulped from the flask. The fake jewels sparkled on the flask, creating miniature rainbows. She looked over at him and grinned from ear to ear.

“We are having fun, believe it or not,” Myra said. She lowered her voice and added, “When we were whizzing by . . .
that house,
I got the strangest feeling. It was all I could do to keep going. I wanted to drive right up to the door. Woman's intuition, something you probably don't understand.”

“Oh, I understand. Nik makes sure of that. I would never discount what you just said. We're on it!” Jack replied.

Myra winked at Jack, who just laughed out loud.

Annie gave her tiara a quick tug. Satisfied that it would remain secure in the ocean breeze, she bellowed, “Saddle up, ladies and gentlemen. We're going for a ride on the wild side!”

Dennis just missed the cavalcade by a hair as he roared onto the drive on Annie's property. “Wow, did you see that! Something must have gone down. I know you don't want me to help you, but we have to stay in character, and that means
I have to help you.
Remember, you are the ancient ones. Play nice, Harry. Let me take your arm. Just play the game so I can go inside and start to cook.”

Harry was as docile as a lamb as he allowed Dennis to help him first, then Yoko. They shuffled and teetered to the house, Dennis a hair away to help should they stumble and fall. They finally made it indoors, where Dennis fled to the kitchen, and Harry and Yoko made their way to the lanai, where they ripped off their disguises.

“They're here on the island, aren't they, Harry? Did you feel what I felt when we went by the house? I
felt
it, Harry, and it was not my imagination, either,” Yoko whispered.

Harry held up his hand for silence. Then he went into the house and returned with two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to his wife and watched her drink. Then he sampled his own. He felt like sand was clogging his windpipe. “Yes, I felt the same thing you did, and five bucks will get you ten that Myra and Annie felt exactly what we did. Because they are so tuned in to Charles and Fergus. We felt it because we practice Zen. End of story.”

“You are so wise, my charming husband. Whatever would I do without you?” Yoko teased.

Harry trembled. This little bit of a woman could bring him to his knees with just a look. Not that he would ever admit it. But Jack knew, and it was their secret. He smiled because he wasn't seeing the look that told him Yoko was being insincere. Suddenly, the sun seemed brighter and warmer, the scent of the flowers more pungent, and the lemonade suddenly sweeter. And all because his wife was sincere. How happy he was.

“Do you think anything will go wrong?” Yoko asked. “I wish we were there. What if we're needed, and they get into trouble with the island security?”

“We can't go. We have to stick to the plan. Jack's on it, and so is Avery Snowden. Don't worry. Maybe we should offer to help Dennis. He looked a little frazzled.”

“That is
not
a good idea. No cook or chef wants a second person in the kitchen. That boy is very resourceful, as we've come to find out. Let's just sit here and talk about our trip to see Lily in the fall. I wonder how Cooper is doing.”

Harry slapped at his forehead. “I forgot to tell you in all the excitement of coming here. Julie Wyatt sent me a text. Her daughter gave birth to an eight-pound, six-ounce baby girl right on Cooper's schedule, and they are calling her Hope. She said Cooper woke her up at three thirty in the morning and urged her to get dressed, then ran to the door. She said they drove straight to the hospital because she got a call just as they were getting into the car. Cooper knew. That dog is . . . magical, ethereal, something. Anyway, Julie said he took all his gear and set up shop in baby Hope's room. Guards her night and day.”

Yoko smiled. “Just the way he did with Lily. Let's talk about something else, Harry, so I don't start to cry.”

Harry sucked in a deep breath. “Sure. Do you think the girl Gretchen and Albright have a chance at a life together?”

“I do. But first we have to take out that father of hers. Once he's out of the picture, I see no reason why they can't have a life together and raise a family.”

“But what about the twins Gretchen gave up for adoption?” Harry asked fretfully.

“The twins belong to the Domingos now. If Gretchen and Greg are lucky, they might be allowed to be a part of their life, but only if the Domingos say so.”

“So Greg will forgive her for not telling him and giving them up?”

“If he loves her, he will. I have to believe she was protecting him the only way she knew how. She was so young, Harry. They both were. Because they are young, they can have more children. If, and this is a big if, she gets the operation they were talking about. A lot of ifs, Harry. A lot to overcome. But you know what they say. If there's a will, there's a way.”

“I wish we could take a walk on the beach,” Harry said.

“We can, Harry, if you want to put on all that stuff again. Old people shuffle, as you know. I'm game if you are. But we need those big straw hats, and we go barefoot, okay?”

Harry raced into the house and returned with what he called the mess. They helped each other until they were satisfied that they looked the way they had earlier, with the addition of the floppy straw hats.

“Want to hold hands, Harry?”

Harry grabbed for his wife's hand. “If people see us, they'll think we're holding on to each other to stay erect.”

Yoko laughed, the tinkling sound that turned one Harry Wong into pure jelly.

 

 

Charles Martin looked across the chess table at Fergus Duffy at the first sound of boots on the staircase. He said nothing. He didn't need to; his eyes said it all.

The two men were prisoners of Hank Jellicoe, although Hank Jellicoe referred to both Fergus and Charles as his personal guests. He was quick to point out the lavish rooms, the custom-made furniture, the wonderful, plentiful food and premium liquor he provided. The library was stocked with the latest books, magazines, and newspapers. The satellite television allowed for the latest shows, movies, and news. He allowed outside walks on the beach, plus pool and ocean swims. What he didn't allow were phones or any outside access to the world both men had once known. Even so, they were both prisoners, unable to leave the island. He paid both men a weekly visit, usually on a Sunday, when he chitchatted about what was or wasn't happening on Spyder Island, which was usually nothing, so the chitchat was minimal. Today was not Sunday.

Jellicoe opened the door. There was no point in locking it, because there was nowhere for either man to go. Cameras were everywhere, with sound. Both men turned at Jellicoe's entrance. They waited, neither man speaking.

“There are guests on the island. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to stay indoors until they leave.”

Charles smiled. “Dare I ask if it's the president, the queen, or the pope?”

Jellicoe forced a laugh he didn't feel. He eyed the two men, weighing how much to say, if anything. He admired both Duffy and Martin for their honesty and their integrity, the same two traits he himself had had a lifetime ago. Charles Martin had once been a dear, close friend, but that was another lifetime ago, also.

“Someone a lot more interesting. Countess de Silva. I believe you know her, don't you, Charles?”

Charles could feel his heart thunder in his chest. “I met her twice. She was a school friend of my wife when they were children. Quite rich, I believe.”