Game Over (17 page)

“You give it up, you're dead,” Harry said.

Ted took one look at Harry's serene expression and knew he meant every word. He nodded.

Jack's cell rang. He reached for it automatically and clicked it on to hear Lizzie identify herself. “What's up, counselor?” He mouthed Lizzie's name for the benefit of the others.

“Jack, I…I wanted you to be the first to know. Well, actually, you're third, but when I tell you, you'll understand. By the way, I'm in Vegas. Cricket is right here next to me. I just…what I wanted…if it wasn't for you…I…uh…”

Alarm bells rang in Jack's head as he looked down to see that somehow or other he'd clicked on the speaker, and the others could hear Lizzie. “What's wrong, Lizzie? Talk to me.”

Everyone else in the room turned rigid, their eyes glued to Jack and their ears tuned to the voice talking to Jack.

“Nothing's wrong, Jack. In fact everything is so right, I am beside myself. I just wanted to thank you for saving my life that night at the cemetery. If you hadn't had the foresight to read me the way you did, I wouldn't be sitting here, calling you to tell you I'm going to have a baby. Me! I'm pregnant. I'm going to be a mother. It's taken me a few weeks to get used to the idea before I could begin telling everyone about it. Cosmo and I have been spending a lot of time making plans for the house in Old Town, the one no one told me about. Say something, Jack.”

Jack's eyes started to burn. He tried squinting as the others clustered around him, and he saw they were having the same problem he was, even stone-faced Harry. “That's…that is probably the most wonderful thing I've ever heard, Lizzie. Congratulations. I don't think there will be a better mother than you in the whole wide world. I'm so happy for you, beyond happy. The guys are here. We just had a meeting, but that's for another time.” He held the phone aloft, so the others could shout out their congratulations.

“Thanks, Jack. I wanted you to…You understand, right?”

“I do, Lizzie. Just be happy. Tell Cosmo we'll wait for the cigar until he comes East next time.”

“I'll tell him, Jack. Night.”

“Good night, Lizzie. Well, boys, it's been a hell of an evening. All good. Let's have another beer and call it a night. Unless you want to have a sleepover, and we all go together to the meeting in the morning.”

In the end, after some discussion, it was decided everyone wanted to go home to
think.
Jack felt only relief, because he, too, wanted to do some heavy-duty thinking.

When they made their last toast of the evening, it wasn't to the vigilantes, upcoming pardons, or their new jobs; it was to Lizzie and the new baby she would deliver in the coming months.

There wasn't a dry eye in the house.

T
ed Robinson breezed through the doors of the
Post
building just as it was turning light outside. He hadn't slept at all and felt both elated and depressed. He wondered how that was possible. He stopped at the kiosk that sold sundries, magazines, and the paper. He dropped some coins on the counter, picked up the paper, then headed to the café across the lobby.

Since it was so early, he had the café to himself, but only for a few seconds. He looked up as a waitress and Joe Espinosa appeared at the same moment.

“Couldn't sleep,” Espinosa mumbled as he sat down, his copy of the paper on top of Ted's. They both ordered egg-and-bacon sandwiches, coffee, and juice.

Ted pointed to the dark headline on the front page of the morning paper. “Man, that guy moves at the speed of light.”

“FBI director resigns!” Espinosa mumbled.

Ted looked down at the article, written by Maggie herself, which said in part that the director had made the difficult decision to move into the private sector to head up the worldwide firm of Global Securities.

The rest of the article dealt with Bert's successes and his few failures, his high recommendation from former director Elias Cummings, and his general background and years he spent as a special agent in the Bureau. The article went on to promise an in-depth personal interview with ex-Director Navarro for the next edition.

“That's a pretty snappy picture of old Bert,” Espinosa said. “I didn't know this was going to run, did you, Ted?”

Ted shrugged, which meant no. “I haven't talked to Maggie. I fired off my resignation via e-mail, just like Jellicoe instructed. Don't know if Maggie's seen it yet. I am not looking forward to handing over the paper resignation. How about you?”

Ted's voice sounded so jittery, Espinosa winced. “I don't have a problem with it, but then again, I'm not sleeping with Maggie, like you are. Are you having second thoughts?”

“I didn't close my eyes once last night. I spent the whole night worrying and spending all that new money we're going to get. And when I wasn't doing that, I was trying to straighten my backbone for the inevitable when Maggie gets hold of us. I am
not
looking forward to seeing her this morning.”

“You better not screw up like the last time,” Espinosa said ominously. “You have to stop letting Maggie walk all over you.”

“Yeah, I know. I'll hold it together. C'mon, finish up here, so we can get our resignations on her desk before she shows up. It's going to take me five minutes to clear out my workstation. Then I'm outta here. How long is it going to take you?”

“Just long enough to pick up my dental floss, my toothbrush, and my sunglasses. Five seconds maybe.” Everyone at the paper knew how anal Espinosa was about brushing and flossing.

“Then let's do it,” Ted said, getting up from the table. He dropped some bills and said, “Lunch is on you, buddy.”

The newsroom was starting to come alive when Ted and Espinosa stepped out of the elevator. Seeing no lights on in Maggie's office, they raced across the room, resignations in hand. Like two errant children, they dropped the two envelopes on Maggie's desk and raced to their workstations, where they cleaned out their cubicles. They made it safely to the lobby and were almost outside when Maggie whistled sharply as she pointed to the café they had just left.

“You screw this up, Ted, and I'm going to kick your ass all the way to the Mexican border. You hear me?” Espinosa asked.

“Yeah.”

Inside and seated at the same table they had just vacated, Maggie looked at them with a piercing gaze. “You two have some explaining to do.”

Ted squared his shoulders. “About what?”

“Where were you last night?” Maggie quizzed. “I tried calling you all night. How come I had to get the headline from Bert and not you? How come I, the EIC, had to do the interview, and not my star reporter? Well?”

“Well what?” Ted asked.

Maggie glared at both men.

“I had personal business last night,” Ted said. “It was poker night. You knew that. I told you in the morning. You weren't listening. You never listen to me, Maggie. I'm getting a little sick and tired of it, too. I do have a life outside this goddamn paper.”

“You're up to something. I can tell,” said Maggie. “You might as well spit it out right now, instead of making me work for it. Give it up.
Now.
”

Ted's eyes narrowed. Espinosa was impressed with how his friend was standing up to their boss. “Or what?” Ted asked coldly.

“Or else you're fired, that's what.”

“No problem, Miss EIC. I quit. I tendered my resignation via e-mail in the wee hours of the morning. Joe's is there, too. There are hard copies on your desk.” Ted slid off his chair and headed for the door, Espinosa right behind him.

Ted's voice was so shaky, Espinosa had a hard time understanding what he was saying, which was, “I thought that went rather well, considering that we left her speechless.”

“Are we expecting her to grovel? Beg us to return? Come running after us?”

“None of the above.”

“You feeling pretty powerful right now, Ted?”

“No. I feel like shit. Were we supposed to make our resignations effective immediately? No one said.”

“Too late now. We're technically…no, officially unemployed. What the hell are we going to do till ten o'clock?”

“Let's go to Harry's dojo. We can hang out there and all go together. Unless you have a better idea.”

“That'll work,” Espinosa said.

“Just in case you're interested,” Ted said, “Maggie is calling my cell. I have it on vibrate. You wait. She's going to rip me a new one.”

“You are such a chicken, Ted. She can do that only if you let her. How the hell did you let her get such power over you? I'm almost ashamed to be seen with you. You are such a
wuss,
and you are pathetic in the bargain.”

“I know.”

Espinosa stepped to the curb and hailed a taxi. Both men stepped in, Ted taking the right corner, Espinosa the left. Three people could have sat between them. Espinosa rattled off Harry's address, then leaned back and closed his eyes. They didn't speak again until the taxi pulled to the curb outside Harry's dojo.

“Look, I'm not back watering here, but what the hell is the point to all of this?” Ted asked.

“The point, you dumb cluck, is Jellicoe does not want Maggie running with this until everyone is on board and everything is signed, sealed, and delivered. Bert was…I guess he wanted that out there right away. Maggie would have a special edition ready to go in ten minutes with the mass exodus. I'm thinking, and I say I am thinking, he wants us all far away from here when the stuff hits the fan. Makes sense to me. You need to stop thinking with your dick, Ted.”

“That was a low blow, Joe.”

“It was meant to be a low blow. You deserve it.”

The dojo was empty, which was surprising, because Harry always scheduled early-morning classes for the local precincts. What was even more surprising was that Harry was dressed in a sport jacket, a pristine white shirt, and sharply creased trousers. His tie shrieked
power.

“Did someone die?” Ted asked, knowing Harry's aversion to getting dressed up.

“No, someone did not die. At least no one I know. I am dressed this way because when someone is about to hand me a check for a quarter of a million dollars, the least I can do is look
nice
. You two should be ashamed. You look like rag-pickers,” Harry snorted. “When one walks into a bank to deposit a check in that amount, it garners respect. When you two walk in, they're going to call the cops.”

“What's wrong with the way we look?” Espinosa asked defensively. “I showered and shaved. My clothes are clean. I'm a working stiff.”

Harry went back to his green tea and the paper he had spread out in front of him. “I know you guys saw the paper, but did you see what's on page three?”

“Why don't you just tell us, Mr. Fashion Plate?” Ted retorted, angry with himself that whatever Harry was seeing he'd missed.

Obviously, Espinosa had missed it, too, because he was leaning over Harry's shoulder.

“These two little boxed questions,” said Harry. “Right at the top of the page. The first box asks the question of the reader as to which Supreme Court justice is retiring in June. The second boxed question asks if the vigilantes should be pardoned. Readers are asked to e-mail the
Post
with their responses.

“Just before you got here, I heard on Fox News that the
Post'
s Web site crashed. A few, and they stressed the word
few,
people were interested enough to ask who the retiring judge is. The rest of the people were voting to pardon the vigilantes. The numbers were in the thousands, and all within twenty minutes of the papers hitting the street. Pretty amazing. I guess Maggie will now move the boxes to the front page until she gets a number she's happy with. Pretty damn clever, if you ask me.”

“I can't believe you said all that, Harry. You usually just grunt. This is exciting.” Espinosa cackled. “By the way, when are your killer friends arriving?”

“Eat me! Day after tomorrow, and you're first on my shit list, so bear that in mind,” Harry retorted.

“Why are you always so damn cranky, Harry?” Ted asked curiously.

Harry appeared to give Ted's question some serious thought. “I think it might have something to do with dealing with dumb shits like you two day in and day out. And the fact that you can't keep your lip zipped. You weaseled on Cosmo Cricket. Does that answer your question?” Harry snapped.

“It does!” Ted said, saluting smartly. “However, now that I am about to become financially independent, I have turned over a new leaf. This is the new Ted Robinson, intrepid reporter, saluting here.”

“Yeah, right. Maggie snaps her fingers, and you're off and running.” Espinosa cackled again.

Ted just looked sheepish.

“Enough of this frivolity,” said Harry. “I think we should be heading out for our appointment. May I say one more time how tacky you both look?” Harry shrugged his slim frame under the designer sport jacket, adjusted his power tie, then shot his cuffs. “Stay behind me and pretend you do not know me. Is that clear, gentlemen?”

Espinosa continued to cackle. “Ted, who
is
this guy?”

“Someone Jack Emery introduced us to a lifetime ago. Move it, Espinosa, before this schmuck decides to take a swing at us. Listen,” Ted hissed, “we are doing the right thing, aren't we?”

Espinosa stopped cackling long enough to look worried. “This is a hell of a time to wonder about it, Ted. It sounds good, feels even better, and I sure can use the money. Think in terms of how much cat litter you can now buy by the truckload. You can store it all in your new attached garage, which will be attached to the new house you're going to buy. Which then opens up another can of worms. Once you have a house with an attached garage, complete with designer kitchen, fireplace, and one of those showers with fifty jets to pummel your body, Maggie is going to be on you like white on rice. There's no way she's going to wait for her fingernails to grow out. So, yeah, this is the right thing we're doing.”

“Shut the hell up, Espinosa,” Ted said. He was starting to feel sick to his stomach.

Thirty minutes later the cab they were in rolled to the curb outside a two-story brick building in Georgetown—Nikki Quinn's all-female law firm.

“I should have known when I saw the address on the card. It seemed familiar, but I missed it,” Ted said, slapping at his forehead.

“That's because you're stupid,” Harry said, getting out of the cab and leaving Ted or Espinosa to pay the driver.

“Pony up, boys. The fare was twenty bucks, and I gave him a five-dollar tip. I no longer have an expense account.” Ted stood still, his hand out until Harry and Espinosa each slapped eight dollars into it. “See, now we're getting along. Did I say one word about putting in the extra dollar? No, I did not. I could have asked for thirty-three cents from each of you, but I didn't. Fair is fair.”

Harry turned around, his serene countenance scaring the hell out of Ted, who backed up three steps.

“I like being generous,” Ted said.

Inside, the receptionist hustled the trio down a hall to a conference room, which held trays of pastries, fresh fruit, an urn of coffee, and crystal pitchers of orange juice. Bert and Jack were munching on Danish. Their meaningless conversation came to a halt as Ted and Espinosa sat down.

The five of them looked at each other, but no one said a word. Their expressions, however, clearly questioned why they were all there.

“See you made the headlines, Bert,” Ted said.

“Yeah,” the ex-director said. “Kind of gave me a jolt when I saw it in black and white.”

“You guys see the boxes on page three?” When Bert and Jack just stared at Harry, he elaborated.

“Maggie is on it, eh?”

“And,” Espinosa said quietly, “he did not cave in to Maggie this morning, so our secret that isn't a secret is still safe. What about you, Jack?”

“I walked out with my bag of M&M's, my Montblanc pen, and didn't look back,” Jack reported. “Took me ten minutes to assign my case-load, another ten minutes listening to my boss harangue me, and I am now a free agent. I have to admit I felt crappy about not giving notice, but when they fire someone, it's on the spot without notice, so I managed to stifle my guilt. I'm looking forward to that trip to the bank. Unemployed with a quarter of a million dollars in the bank. Works for me, gentlemen.”

“The best part is we have a month off before we show up for…uh…boot camp. Then thirty days later we take over Global Securities. Elias Cummings asked if we could use an old codger as a consultant, and I said yes. Just for the record, he knows the Mideast like the back of his hand. I think, boys, we just had ourselves one hell of a coup,” Bert said.