Vanishing Act (8 page)

“No, I don’t! I’m cold, Maggie.”

“All right, you can get back in bed, but don’t go to sleep. I have to talk this out. We have to find that kid. I remember he said he was in Silver Spring, Maryland. I want you to go there and take Espinosa with you and check out every garage and gas station.”

“Are you crazy? Why? That could take days.”

Ted punched his pillow with such force that the pillow split and a feather sailed upward, then another. Maggie reached up and caught them. She tickled Ted’s ear, and he groaned.

“That kid said he was a foster kid. A foster kid, Ted! He said his friend was in the same boat. The friend wanted to buy a scooter of some kind, and they wouldn’t give him credit even though he had a job. God! I can’t believe I was so stupid I blew him off. But in my own defense, the calls were coming in so quick and fast, legitimate calls, the switchboard blew out. You remember
that
, don’t you?” Maggie snapped.

Ted knew it was worth his life to remember, so he said, “Yeah. Well, we all screw up at one point or another. So what is your point here?”

“My point is this: Let’s just say for the sake of argument the guy or the kid that called is eighteen years old. Let’s say he was a foster kid living with some family, and now he’s out on his own. He gets a job of some kind, and at eighteen, he’s looking for some wheels. He applies for a credit card, and suddenly he finds out he can’t get one because someone stole his identity when he was younger and ruined his credit. How many foster kids are in the system, Ted? Thousands, that’s how many.

“What I want you to do is go to Child Placement, or whatever department handles foster children, and talk to them. If I’m right, and you know I’m always right, there has to be someone on the inside passing information to those cruds who are stealing those identities. Think about it, Ted! If they start stealing these kids’ identities when they’re young, they have a four-or five-year head start before the kid finds out. My God! What a perfect scam!

“Why aren’t you getting dressed, Ted? You need to get on this right away. Call Espinosa and hit the ground running. Find that kid who called in. Use Dawson if you need extra help. Silver Spring isn’t that big.”

Ted groaned. He knew there was no point in arguing, but he tried. “What are you going to be doing while I’m doing all that?”

“I’m going back to sleep. Good luck.”

By the time Ted was dressed, Maggie was snoring lightly. He let himself out of the house, his cell in his hand as he called Espinosa and Dawson. His watch told him it was 4:20 as he slammed his way out to the street just in time to see a
Post
truck roll by with the Sunday papers for the citizens’ early perusal.

Now that he was wide awake and freezing his balls off as he jogged his way to the paper, he had to admit that everything Maggie had just said made sense. He wished he had half her instincts.

C
harles found himself slipping into what he called a “neutral zone” as he waited for his bank of computers to boot up and the faxes that he expected to spew forth. Outside, he could hear a savage summer rain pound at the windows. When he was in the war room in the underground tunnels at Myra’s farmhouse back in McLean, he never knew what the weather was unless he ventured up to the main part of the house. Here, in their mountain fortress, the elements were front and center all day long every day of the year. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. Not that he had a choice.

His eyes felt like they were full of grit, and they probably were. He’d been in the war room for the past two days, venturing forth only to cook meals and listen to his chicks—that was how he thought of the Sisters, his chicks—berate him, ignore him. They were now making demands on him, impossible demands no human could keep up with. He was trying to placate everyone, especially Myra, but it didn’t seem to be working. Yoko was demanding immediate help for Harry Wong and accepting no excuses. Gradually, the Sisters were creeping to her side and voicing questions he didn’t have answers for. It was a sad state of affairs.

In a little over an hour they would all meet to discuss, one more time, what they could do to make Harry Wong’s life whole again.

Once upon a time, the Sisters had had patience and deferred to him one hundred percent. Since his return to the mountain, they’d treated him like an alien visitor. What Isabelle had said to him, words that wounded him to the core, ricocheted inside his mind.
“We found out the hard way that we don’t need you. Back in the day, we may have wanted you…”

It was true that his chicks had bumbled their way through two missions, but when he read the final reports they’d drawn up, he had cringed at how close they had all come to getting caught. What bothered him more than anything was how cocky they had become. He could feel beads of sweat form on his brow when he remembered how they’d gone back to Paula Woodley’s house, then been brazen enough to drive the residents of Evergreen Terrace from the White House back to their homes.

As if that weren’t bad enough, they’d…what they’d done was…piss off the Secret Service, the
FBI
, and local law enforcement. Now they expected him to pull a rabbit out of a hat and get them all back into the nation’s capital to help Harry Wong.

Charles shook his head to clear his thoughts when a streak of lightning zipped past the window of the war room. Seconds later, a loud crack shook the building he was standing in. No one needed to tell him the lightning had felled one of the tall pines. From past experience, he knew that more trees would fall before the storm was over. It was inevitable.

The bank of clocks on the wall told him, at a glance, the time all over the world. At the moment, though, he was concerned only with local time and what it meant as far as his culinary duties were concerned. He still had an hour till lunch. At four o’clock in the morning he’d found himself in the kitchen preparing a delectable shrimp and crab casserole and cutting up greens for a salad. He’d also prepared a delicious pink ham and some honeyed yams for dinner. He’d showered and consumed a gallon of coffee that was now having its effect on his nerves. Once, a lifetime ago, he’d been nerveless.

Charles realized suddenly that the war room was quiet. All the faxes he had been waiting for had arrived, his e-mails were all downloaded. He was good to go. He looked down on the right side of his computer terminal to see the thick report that had come in from Maggie Spritzer early yesterday. Whoever her source was, he or she was good, just as good as his own hacker. He felt the nerves in his stomach jump. Maybe the girls were right, with contacts like Maggie had, did they really need him?

A blue folder with a gold star in the middle set his teeth on edge. Annie had gone ahead and purchased the Babylon casino with Lizzie Fox’s help. A done deal, and he’d had no input. Lizzie had made sure everything was buried
deep.
He had to be honest: it was possible Lizzie had outshone his own people. And now she was married to Cosmo Cricket, and he hadn’t even been in the country for them.

His eyes started to burn. Would Lizzie take the job Martine Connor offered as chief White House counsel? He should know the answer to that question, but he didn’t. He didn’t know the answer because until three days ago he had been out of the loop, an outsider. There was so much he didn’t know about the Sisters anymore, and there had been no time to be fully briefed, to read all the reports and notes the girls had kept in his absence. He needed more hours in the day, less sleep. What bothered him the most was where his old pal Avery Snowden had deviated from the plan and taken Myra and Annie somewhere at the end of the last mission. In the report he’d read it simply said, “
NTK
.” Need to know. It was obvious even the girls didn’t know where Annie and Myra had gone on their detour. Snowden, when questioned, had simply refused to answer the question. And that had been the end of that.

With years of long practice, Charles sifted through the faxes and printed e-mails. Those that were crucial went into one pile, those that needed attention but not immediately went into another pile. Those with tidbits of information went into a third stack.

Fifteen minutes later, Charles thought he had the initial elements of a plan. He made call after call, cryptic messages were left and recorded. He pressed a button, and the plasma screens sprang to life. He wished, as he always did, that Lady Justice would remove her blindfold, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Charles reached for a stack of bright yellow folders and proceeded to fill them with stapled reports. Stepping down from his dais, he was meticulous as he placed the folders in front of each chair at the round table. His job for the moment was done.

His eyes were drawn to Maggie Spritzer’s blue folder. Annie had been so right when she appointed Maggie editor-in-chief of the
Post
. He allowed a small smile to tug at his lips when he recalled how he’d almost gone ballistic when he found out Annie wanted to buy the newspaper. A smart move. More than smart; brilliant. He’d had misgivings about Spritzer, Ted Robinson, and Joe Espinosa, but those had turned out to be unfounded. All three had performed beyond his expectations. No regrets there. And he had no regrets where Bert Navarro was concerned. He still wasn’t sure about the liaisons the girls had formed with the newest members. It seemed everyone had someone to lighten and brighten their lives. Nikki and Jack. Yoko and Harry, Kathryn and Bert, Alexis and Joe Espinosa, Maggie and Ted, Annie and Little Fish. Isabelle was the odd woman out, but he was sure that would change sometime soon. At the moment Isabelle had the company of Myra. Myra, dear Myra. He couldn’t think about Myra just then and what the future held for the two of them or—more to the point—whether they even had a future together.

Charles looked at his watch. Five more minutes before the girls would appear to take their seats. Five minutes until they looked up at him expecting a miracle that would turn Harry Wong’s life right-side up. For the first time in his life, he wondered if he could make the desired result happen.

Charles’s gaze went to the wall of windows to see that it was totally dark outside. The summer storm was kicking up in intensity. Lightning ripped across the sky as thunder rumbled and cracked. It sounded like it was directly overhead. Since there was nothing he could do about the weather, he made his way back to the computers. His nerves were still twanging every which way.

He almost gagged in relief when he heard the door open and the women enter the room. They made a production of taking their seats, murmuring among themselves. The sound of the chairs scraping on the pine floors sounded to Charles’s ears as loud as the thunder overhead. He found himself watching them out of the corner of his eye. All expression seemed to be gone from their faces. Two days, he told himself, wasn’t all that long to put a plan into action. But to the girls it was an eternity. He could read them like a book.

He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew his position was hanging in the balance. All of them, Yoko in particular, wanted a miracle. Could he produce one? Only time would tell. He knew that he was being tested, tested as to whether he still belonged with them, whether they still needed him, whether they still wanted him.

Charles followed protocol and descended the steps that put him next to the round table. He allowed himself the luxury of one last look at the faces staring up at him. Surprisingly, it was Annie’s expression that told him he had only one option, and unless he exercised it, his job there was done.

The women were so polite, so blank, it was unnerving. He decided to take the bull by the horns and said in as neutral voice as he could manage, “I have something to tell all of you. When I’m finished, I never want to speak of it again.” He had their attention now, especially Annie’s. She gave a slight nod of her head.

Charles took a deep breath and said, “My son was a traitor to Her Majesty and to his family. The details are not to be spoken of, it is what it is. I found myself in a position where I had to…to make concessions, promises; promises that I’ve now broken. That means I can never go back across the pond. Never. I will never be able to see my daughter-in-law again. I will never be able to see my grandchildren. My relationship with…my childhood friend has come to an end because I refused to stay in England; the reason is that my life is here with all of you. Having said that, I expect you all to make up your minds at this precise moment and decide if we can get past this episode and get back on track.”

“Charles, thank you for that disclosure, and I think I speak for all of us when I say thank you and that your…your…family business is safe with us. Having said that, let’s get down to work on Harry’s problem,” Annie said.

The atmosphere in the room changed as quickly as the weather had outside. Sunlight streamed through the windows, the rain ceased, and Myra smiled up at him. He thought her eyes were full of promises. He’d made the right decision. It was his turn to smile, and smile he did. And then they were all smiling and giggling.

Life was back on track. Charles felt like a peacock ready to strut his stuff, but he stifled the feeling. He risked a quick glance at Myra, who was still smiling. He felt buoyed at the thought she might switch up that ugly comforter on the bed and put her fluffy yellow towels back in the bathroom. He couldn’t get emotional at the moment. He had a job to do, and his chicks were waiting.

“First things first. I want to congratulate you on your last two successful missions. I say
successful
because you are back here safe on the mountain. I want to stress to all of you that you broke all the rules. You took ridiculous chances with your well-being. What that means to me and should mean to you is you all got cocky. If it was just one of you, I might be able to understand the attitude, but for all of you to endanger one another is not acceptable. Someday, not today, I want you to tell me what you were trying to prove by going to the White House and driving those people home to Kalorama. What you accomplished is to turn every organization into high gear in regard to capturing you. You acted like teenagers out on a lark. There will be no more of that. Do you understand me?”