15. Vanishing Act

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15. Vanishing Act Page 13

by Fern Michaels


  “This is what I’m going to do. I’ll flash this, get a reading, and if it registers heat, we’ll knock on the door, and I’ll say I’m going to be spraying for bugs tomorrow, and we want to be sure the tenants don’t have any allergies. You two will be making fake notes on your clipboards. Are you ready?”

  Annie shrugged. “It sounds like a plan. Actually, a pretty good one,” she said grudgingly. Myra nodded.

  An hour later, Avery’s man called a halt. “Okay, we have human occupancy in five apartments. “I don’t want either of you doing any talking, let me do it all.”

  “What’s your name?” Annie asked as the man pressed the first doorbell. It chimed inside, a five-note melody.

  “That’s NTK, ma’am.”

  “Need to know, my ass,” Annie hissed into Myra’s ear. “Who does he think we’re going to tell?”

  The door to the apartment opened and a nurse in a white uniform looked at them inquiringly. She was middle-aged and had a no-nonsense look to her. “Yes?”

  The NTK man went into his spiel.

  “It’s not a problem,” the nurse said. “Mr. Donahue has no known allergies, and I don’t either. Spray away.”

  Annie and Myra made check marks on their clipboards. They moved on.

  An hour later they all knew the birds had flown the coop, if they had even been there to begin with.

  “Now what?” Annie asked.

  “Now we separate. You never met me. I never met you. This floor is secure. Good-bye, ladies.”

  “He’s watched too many spy movies,” Annie said as she and Myra headed for the elevator.

  The other Sisters clustered around Annie and Myra the minute the door closed behind the two women. “Talk to us,” they all babbled at once.

  “James Bond II is on his way to wherever he goes after a mission. Whatever-her-name-is got away,” Myra said. “We aren’t sure she was even headed for the sixth floor to begin with. All Charles’s operative saw with his binoculars was her pressing the number 6 on the elevator. She could have gotten out and walked to any floor. This was a big to-do over nothing.”

  “So what do we do now?” Alexis asked.

  “I say we eat something,” Kathryn said.

  “That sounds like a plan,” Nikki said. “Breakfast will be right up. Someone call Maggie and see what’s going on at her end. Isabelle, check in with Lizzie, and, Myra, call the mountain to see what Charles wants us to do.”

  Maggie looked at her star reporter and photographer. “I can tell by looking at both of you that neither one of you has anything that’s going to make my blood sing. Why is that, gentlemen?”

  “Not so fast, Miss EIC, we do have something. We just don’t know what it is we have,” Ted said.

  “No riddles. Either you have something, or you don’t. Do not tease me, I am not in the mood to be teased. Talk to me.”

  “You told me to go to the Watergate, so I went. Espinosa got there five minutes after me. We saw Harry Wong roar up on his Ducati, then off he went like a bat out of hell, and he didn’t even see us. That has to mean he saw something we didn’t see and took off. The only thing is, there was nothing going on. Espinosa took some pictures, but it’s going to turn out to be traffic, pedestrians, and not much else.”

  “Did either one of you think—mind you, I said think—to call Harry to ask him what was going on and what he might have seen?”

  “Well, yeah, Maggie, I did, but Wong didn’t answer his phone. I think the guy is acting independently, which is not good. Everyone knows Harry Wong is like a one-man army.”

  “Jack always seems to know what Harry’s up to. Did you try calling him?”

  “I did, but the call went straight to voice mail. He’s probably in court, so I left a message for him to call either you or me.”

  “So we have nothing more on the original fraud victims other than that two of them have died of natural causes since we ran our last series. It’s a damn good thing that, despite all your whining, I had you two go out and follow up on that foster care angle. Here’s something else on that you might be interested in, gentlemen.”

  Maggie proceeded to tell them what Lizzie had learned from Cosmo about Chase’s discovery when it hired a forensic CPA to conduct an audit of the fraudulent credit cards opened by their “law student” employee.

  When she had finished, Ted grinned sheepishly. “Okay, we are properly humbled, Madam EIC. What do you want us to do now?”

  “Espinosa, let me see those pictures you took. Ted, keep trying to reach Jack and Harry.”

  Espinosa handed over his camera.

  “Load them onto my computer so I can print them out. I want you both to go back to the Watergate and stay there until I tell you otherwise. Check in with the girls. They might have some info for you. They’re in Apartment 809. Go!”

  Maggie sat in front of her computer, staring at the pictures Espinosa had taken earlier. Nothing. Life in Washington early in the morning. People. Cars. Traffic. A dog walker, a woman pushing a stroller, an elderly lady shuffling along with a pull-along grocery cart. An ambulance going by. Four young girls, their arms linked, laughing. A group of pigeons clustered at the curb. What? What had Harry Wong seen? Frustrated, Maggie threw her hands in the air but not before she sent the pictures off to Charles. Then she hit the SEND button again, and they were off to Nikki and Lizzie. Maybe one or the other of them would see something she wasn’t seeing.

  Jack Emery pulled into the skinny driveway that led to the back of Harry’s dojo. He blinked when he saw that the Ducati was gone. He looked down at his watch. He was right on time. Where the hell was his friend? He let himself in through the broken door and started yelling for Harry. He whipped out his phone and hit the speed dial. “C’mon, c’mon, Harry, answer the damn phone.” He was about to hang up when he heard what he thought was Harry’s voice. “Harry, izzat you? Where the hell are you? I’m here at the dojo. You were supposed to be here, Harry. You are not here, Harry!”

  “I know I’m not there, Jack. I’m here. You on foot, or do you have your car?”

  “I drove. Judge Dumas has a medical appointment this afternoon, so I’m off. Where the hell are you, Harry?”

  “Get in the car and come here, 1454 Monarch Street. I followed the chick from the Watergate, and this is where she came. I’m waiting to see if her partner shows up. It’s in Mt. Pleasant, Jack. Just get here. I called some of my guys; we need surveillance here.”

  Jack was already backing his car out of the skinny driveway. He debated all of one second before he reached down for the strobe and slammed it on the roof of his car. He cranked the siren, the sound splitting the air as the red-and-blue strobe warned drivers to pull to the side. One eye on the road, the other on the navigation system, Jack roared down the road, marveling at how the drivers of other vehicles moved out of the way. He loved every minute of it.

  Three blocks from Harry’s stakeout point, Jack cut the siren, yanked the strobe off the roof of the car, and tossed it under his seat. He pulled to a curb a block from where Harry said he would be. It was obvious that Harry wasn’t budging from his parking spot, which meant Jack had to get out of the car and walk back to where Harry sat straddling the Ducati.

  “You want to tell me what the hell you’re doing here, Harry? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Because you were in court, and I did leave a voice mail. Didn’t you get it?”

  “I guess I should have asked what the hell you were doing at the Watergate. I told you to stay away from there. You cannot act independently on this. I told you that, too.”

  “Listen up, Jack. It’s a damn good thing I didn’t follow your orders. And I just went there. I wasn’t going to do anything. It made me fucking nuts to know those skunks were hiding out in there after what they did to me and thousands of other people. Screw Charles and that Chinese fire drill he has going on. They got away. Somehow or other, one of those professionals spooked them, and they bugged out. I followed the woman, and here I am. I have two
of my guys in the back. There’s an alley behind the houses and a row of garages. The guy hasn’t showed up yet, but he will. I think we need a few more guys. What do you think? Actually, it doesn’t matter what you think since they’re on the way.”

  Jack didn’t know what he thought. “How do you know you followed the right person?”

  “Read my lips, Jack. I-do-not-make-mistakes. I-have-the-eyes-of-an-eagle.”

  “Okayyyyy. But who did you recognize?”

  “I really studied those pictures Maggie sent us. I memorized every detail. I studied them for hours because those people ruined my life.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But how did you nail the woman?”

  “She was pushing a baby stroller. She herself looked a little different, bulked up in sweats, but because I have the eyes of an eagle, I could see that it wasn’t a real baby in the damn stroller. Then she dumped it in an alley and took off running. After that, she swooped to the curb and grabbed a cab. She had a diaper bag over her shoulder. It had little yellow ducks all over it.”

  “I’m impressed, Harry.”

  “And well you should be.”

  “How come you didn’t call Charles to ask for some of Snowden’s people to help out?”

  “Because…Jack…Snowden’s people are the ones who blew it.”

  “Okay, that’s a good point. So who’s coming?”

  “My guys. These people are not going to get away again.”

  Jack shuddered. He’d seen Harry’s guys in action. Skinny little guys with fifth-degree black belts. There was never enough left for identification after a melee.

  “You wanna do lunch, Harry? Then we should go to the Watergate and tell the girls we have the situation in hand. Yoko is going to be so proud of you.”

  “What’s that we stuff?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get all the credit. Harry, I really hate to ask you this, but how sure are you that the woman’s partner is going to show up?”

  Harry tilted his head to the side and stared at Jack. He didn’t say a word.

  “Yeah, yeah, I take that to mean you’re damn sure. Okay, so we’re waiting for your guys, who, I assume, know what to do when they get here. Do you think by any chance you and I might both be blowing this gig by standing here talking? Well, actually, I’m standing, and you’re sitting. Do you not think this is just a little suspicious?”

  “Take a look around you, Jack. This is a mind-your-own-business neighborhood. I could be slitting your throat, and no one would come to your aid. People in this neighborhood lurk. We’re lurking. I’m not leaving here till the guy shows up.”

  “Which guy, Harry?”

  “The dog walker.”

  “You’re that sure, huh?”

  “Do birds fly, Jack?” Suddenly he looked down at the wide mirror on the right side of the Ducati. “Here he comes, and he’s still got the dog. Light a cigarette or something, but don’t look. Pretend you’re new to the hood, and try to look slick.”

  Try to look slick. “Kiss my ass, Harry.” Jack fumbled in the pocket of his sweatpants for the cigarettes he always carried but smoked only when under acute stress.

  Across the street, a fight broke out with loud yelling and cursing. The dog walker was the only one who didn’t pay attention. The fight carried out to the middle of the road just as the dog walker approached the six steps that led up to a decrepit front porch.

  “Okay, Jack, let’s do lunch now.”

  “Huh?”

  “Squire’s Pub, and you’re buying,” Harry said as he roared down the road without a backward glance.

  Jack turned around to see how the fight was progressing, then it dawned on him. “Fight, my ass. Harry’s guys on the job.”

  He felt like a fool as he trotted to his car and climbed in. Just for spite Jack put the strobe on the roof but didn’t turn on the siren until he caught up with Harry. He laughed himself silly when Harry pulled to the side. He laughed harder when he saw Harry offer up a single-digit salute.

  Apartment 809 was crowded to capacity when Harry and Jack arrived two hours later. The Sisters listened in awe, their jaws dropping as Jack praised Harry to the hilt.

  Annie ushered everyone to the dining room, where she served coffee and pastries that no one wanted.

  The moment everyone was updated, Myra looked around the table and voiced the question they had avoided until then. “Does Charles know?”

  “We can’t blame Charles or Snowden’s operatives,” Nikki said. “Something spooked the woman. It’s that simple. Besides, we’re not here to bash Charles, so let’s move beyond that. Harry was in the right place at the right time, which works for us. We all know that what can go wrong will go wrong. What we have to decide is what we do next. I can’t believe those two are going to stay in that house for any length of time. They’re going to move soon. That’s a given.”

  “Maggie’s first headline about identity theft hits the street tomorrow. If they see it, they might spook quicker,” Ted said.

  Espinosa mumbled something about pictures he’d uploaded onto Maggie’s computer. His eyes were on Alexis, who was smiling and winking at him.

  “They’re good for three days,” Harry said.

  No one questioned the authority in Harry’s voice.

  “Then that means we have three days to reel them in. Why wait? Why don’t we just do it now?” Kathryn asked. “Too many things can go wrong the longer we wait. Harry said they’re good to hold out for three days. That doesn’t mean they’ll wait the whole three days. For all we know, they could be planning their escape as we sit here hashing this out. I think we should take a vote whether to wait or not to wait.”

  “Maggie’s not ready. Her special edition doesn’t hit until tomorrow,” Ted said as he looked over at Harry.

  Suddenly, cell phones rang, one after the other.

  “It’s Maggie.”

  “It’s Lizzie.”

  “It’s Charles.”

  Harry looked down at his cell phone, and said, “Oh, shit!”

  Chapter 17

  The inside of the house on Monarch Avenue was empty of furniture, with the exception of two kitchen stools buttressed up against a counter whose ceramic top was cracked and pitted. There were no appliances, and the water and electricity had been turned off months ago.

  The lease on the property testified to the fact that Edgar and Anna Penn had paid for a whole year’s lease with the intention of refurbishing the property if the owner would cut them a deal on a possible sale—something the owner had readily agreed to.

  The Monarch property was little more than a way station for the two occupants who were staring out the window at the fight going on across the street. While the man watched the fight move onto the road, the woman watched the thin man on the motorcycle and his companion, who was puffing on a cigarette.

  His eyes still on the ongoing fight, the man said, “I know the guy on the cycle. Do you remember when I did the pay-per-view of the martial arts exhibition in Las Vegas a while back?” The woman nodded. “He’s the number-two expert in the world. Do you think it’s strange that he’s right outside this house?”

  The woman nodded again. The little dog he’d brought with him barked, then lay down on the filthy floor and went to sleep.

  “The men scrapping with each other are of Asian descent, like the man on the cycle.”

  The woman looked up at him. He was so detached about everything. With what was going on outside, he sounded like he was discussing preparations for an evening at home with his friends. Nothing fazed him. Nothing. She, on the other hand, was a worrier; she even had a set of worry beads. “We need to leave now. What about the dog? We can’t leave the animal here.”

  “I’m going to call a messenger service to pick him up and take him back to his owner. I’m not heartless.”

  Yes you are, she wanted to say but didn’t. “They’re too close. We’ve always had ample warning before. What are you waiting for? Do you want them to co
me up and knock on the door?”

  “You worry too much, honey. When you rush, you make mistakes, and that’s when things go wrong. I do not make mistakes. Aren’t you the one who drilled into my head at the beginning that we had to have foolproof contingency plans in place due to your paranoia? At the risk of repeating myself, this was all your idea.”

  Honey. The days when that term of endearment thrilled her were long gone. So was the passion, the adrenaline thrill. These days she hated the man standing next to her, but she feared him even more. She wished for a fairy godmother who would come and whisk her away to someplace safe. The urge to reach up and snatch the skin off his face was so strong, she had to clench her fists at her sides. She’d spoken, so now there was nothing she could do but wait.

  She watched out of the corner of her eye as her partner whipped out his cell phone and made a call. She strained to hear his soft voice.

  “Yes, it’s a small live animal. The dog weighs about twelve pounds, his name is Stewart. He’s to be taken to the Watergate Apartments, Apartment 1406. The owner’s name is John Mulberry. I’ll be paying cash. Please pick up a dog carrier, and I will pay your messenger when he gets here. I need the animal picked up immediately. Thirty-five minutes will be just fine. Thank you.”

  “We’ll be on our way in precisely thirty-seven minutes. That’s assuming the messenger is on time. Do you have our things?”

  The woman pointed to the diaper bag with the yellow ducks on it. Within seconds, she had the contents out on the floor and the bag turned inside out. Now the diaper bag was a rich tartan plaid. She adjusted the straps, added an extender, and, voilà, the bag became a backpack. She knew she could change her appearance in less than five minutes. Her partner could do it in three.

  She paced as her partner continued to stare out the filthy window.

 

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