“And that’s funny? I don’t think so!” Annie reached for a cup and poured coffee, spilling some of it all over the counter. “Why are you here, Myra?” Annie asked as she sat down at the table.
Myra folded her hands on the table and leaned in closer. In a calm, steady voice, she explained what had happened in her bedroom. She fully expected Jack Sparrow to laugh, but he didn’t.
Instead, he said, “I believe in stuff like that. Someday when none of us have anything to do, I’ll tell you about my own experiences. Which brings us now to the question for Annie as to why she needs you. You have the floor, Countess.”
Annie frowned as she tried to think how to put into words what she wanted to say. Myra and Sparrow watched her struggle. Finally, Myra said, “Oh, Annie, just blurt it out. We’ll make sense of it, I’m sure.”
Annie’s frown deepened. There was a tight edge to her tone when she said, “I’m spooked here, and I don’t mind admitting it. I also had a dream, the same dream now for four nights. Tonight, though, it was different. I knew it wasn’t a dream. It was real.” She got up off her chair and started to pace her spacious kitchen, which, as always, was neat as a pin. Annie didn’t believe in cooking, as it messed up things. She hated dirtying up her Wolf stove. “Like what you experienced, Myra. I know it was real, just the way you knew what you experienced was real. You also know me well enough to know I do not, as in ever, get spooked.”
“You said you had the same dream for four nights. Was it exactly the same dream, or were there some deviations? In other words, define the word exactly,” Sparrow said.
Annie squeezed her eyes shut as she allowed her mind to travel back into her dreams. Myra could see how her old friend was struggling. She wanted to hug her, but Sparrow shook his head.
“I was on the mountain. It was a beautiful day. The sun was so warm, and the sky as blue as the sea at the bottom of the mountain. I was watching some men, two men, playing chess, but I couldn’t see their faces. Their backs were to me in the dream. There was a pitcher of some kind of drink on the table. I could see the ice cubes in the pitcher. I counted them. There were eleven of them. Both of the men were smoking cigars. It was blue smoke. Cohibas. I don’t know how I knew that. The breeze carried the smoke away.
“I was angry in the dream. I asked them how they got onto my balcony, because the cable car wasn’t working. Someone from the village was due to repair it. I asked them their names, and neither man answered me. It was like they didn’t hear me. I screamed at them, but they still didn’t answer me. I went inside, or maybe I was already inside and just looking out the French doors. Anyway, I went to get my gun. I was going to shoot them, but when I got back, they were gone. The pitcher and the chess set were gone, too. And I couldn’t smell the cigar smoke. It was the same dream on the other nights except for . . . last night. I’m sure of it.”
“How big were they weight wise? Did they wear glasses? I know you said you couldn’t see their faces. Why exactly was that?” Sparrow asked.
Annie squeezed her eyes shut again. “One of the men was wearing one of those floppy fishing hats. The other one wore a baseball cap. They wore sandals, cargo pants, and plain white T-shirts. They were in the sun on the balcony. It gets full sun till around four in the afternoon. Oh, they were wearing sunglasses. It was the same dream all three nights. I woke up each time when I had the gun in my hand to shoot them. I was prepared to shoot them.”
“Why?” Myra asked softly.
“Because they were on my mountain. That mountain was . . . is . . . sacrosanct. You know that, Myra. Don’t you remember how I almost threw you over the side for invading my privacy?”
“You were grieving for your husband and children at that time. I understood. These two men invaded your privacy and usurped what you held sacrosanct. That is not acceptable.”
“Damn straight it’s not acceptable,” Annie snapped.
“Tell us about the dream you had last night. What and how was it different?” Myra asked.
“It was the same two men—I’m sure of it—but it wasn’t on my mountain. The reason I know it wasn’t my mountain was there were no neighboring mountains to be seen. Plus, from my balcony on the mountain in Spain, I could see the cable-car platform and all the foliage. This place in my dream had palm trees, and it was very windy. Ocean breezes, I assume. This time in my dream I sneaked up on them, and I had my gun. Then I must have made a sound, and both men looked up. I saw them clear as a bell.”
Myra gasped. “Did you know them? Did you shoot them?”
“It was Fergus and Charles, and they were at my house on Spyder Island.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” Myra said as she slumped in her chair. “Tell me you didn’t shoot them, Annie.”
“I didn’t shoot them, because Charles said, ‘What took you so long?’ and then Fergus said, ‘We’ve been waiting forever for you to spring us out of here.’ ”
“And you took that to mean . . . what?” Sparrow asked.
Annie started to pace again as she kneaded her hands. “That they are being held prisoner on Spyder Island. Think about it, Myra. It makes sense. I’ll bet my tiara that when Charles was whisked away to England by the queen’s people, somehow, someway, Angus Spyder was involved in that new age city that was supposed to be built. None of us know what went awry. As Abner told us, Spyder has so many layers of holding companies and shell companies that it’s almost impossible to trace down any of it. And don’t forget that Spy Trap company he owns.
“And if Hank Jellicoe was on the scene, and they got downwind of Charles, he was fair game. I don’t know how Fergus got into the mix. I’m thinking that because he used to work for Scotland Yard, Charles requested his help. I’m just throwing this out there. I could be way off base, but my gut is telling me I’m right. What do you think, Myra?”
“If it weren’t for my own—I don’t know what to call it—epiphany, encounter, the blinding light, my spirit daughter telling me to get over here, I might question your dream as just a dream. I believe you, Annie.” She looked over at Jack Sparrow, who was nodding in agreement.
Myra sighed so deeply that she almost slid off her chair. “That empty house on the island, the one Abner said no one lived in, and yet utility bills are currently being paid on the property . . . Is it too far-fetched to think Fergus and Charles are being held prisoner there?”
Sparrow grimaced. “Why? Why wouldn’t Jellicoe, if he’s even there, just kill them and be done with them once and for all? What’s his game plan?”
“I don’t know. Power over them? Back in the day, Charles and Fergus both were top-notch black ops agents,” Annie replied. “Humiliation? Jellicoe and Charles were friends at one point during their lives, until Hank Jellicoe went rogue. And, of course, we captured him, or I should say, the vigilantes captured him. Unfortunately, one of Charles’s men let him escape. Being caught by a bunch of women had to be humiliating. Some men, and I think Hank Jellicoe comes under the heading of ‘some men,’ would never be able to live that down. Plus, he is now in exile, so to speak, taking orders from Angus Spyder. This is all guesswork on my part, of course, but I think I’m right, and I have a pretty good track record. What do you think, Myra?”
“I think you are scary right, my friend. That is what I think. Right now, though, there’s too much we don’t know. Remember now, we’re just guessing that Jellicoe is on Spyder Island.”
Annie settled the sparkling tiara more firmly on her head, a sure sign that whatever was to follow would be up to her. She looked over at Sparrow and said, “We’ve had more than our share of false starts here. We had plan after plan, but in the end none of them were good enough, so we went back to the drawing board. It was Alexis who finally nailed the final plan, the one we are going with. We all agreed. We are scheduled to leave for Spyder Island tomorrow. Having said that, our ETD is up in the air because of several things. Alexis had to order two cargo planes. She was having some difficulty, as I understand it, and that’s another reason we might be delayed.”
>
Sparrow jumped in, a smile on his face. “I got her two C-130s from Andrews Air Force Base. Actually, I got one from them and one from Quantico. They will be parked and ready for takeoff at Dulles the moment you give the okay.”
Annie grinned. “I knew I liked you for a reason. Nice going. Alexis called me last night and said that everything we agreed upon will be arriving at the airport by noon tomorrow. We can load up and be ready to go the moment she’s satisfied with her plan, which, by the way, is a really good plan.”
“Now might be a good time to share that plan, Countess,” Sparrow said, grinning from ear to ear.
Giving her tiara a firm nudge, Annie said, “I think you might be right, Mr. Sparrow. Gather close, children, and listen very carefully.”
Myra laughed out loud. This was Annie at her finest. She watched her give the tiara another nudge. She did love her.
Chapter 13
The kitchen and dining room at Pinewood crackled with electricity as the group talked, laughed, and plotted. The adrenaline in the room was at an all-time high as the group prepped for the new mission, which was to get under way in less than thirty-six hours.
Her dream shelved for the time being, Annie let loose with a sharp whistle that brought all the dogs on the run. Not so those in the group, who merely stopped talking to see what was going on.
“War room, everyone!” Annie called. The gang peeled off, with Jack Sparrow in the rear. Annie handed him a picture and said, “I want one of these. How do I get one?”
Sparrow looked down at the picture in his hand and gasped. “Just like that, you want one of these?”
“Yep,” Annie said. “How do I go about getting one? Can you help me? I’d like it by tomorrow, if possible. Actually, it’s not negotiable. I need it by tomorrow afternoon.”
Sparrow burst out laughing. “Well, now, let’s see. I guess I could call one of the Joint Chiefs or maybe someone at the Pentagon and tell them that Countess de Silva wants a Little Bird by tomorrow.”
“Is that how it works?”
“No! I was making fun of your request. Why in the hell do you want a Little Bird helicopter, and what makes you think that I, of all people, can get you one?”
“That’s the way that I want to travel to Spyder Island. I’m going to make a statement. And since you are the director of the FBI, you must have some clout. Use it. Please.”
In spite of himself, Sparrow laughed. “Will you be wearing your tiara when you hop off the bird? Do you know anything about helicopters? You jump off. You do not deplane.”
“You jump, you tuck, and you roll. Yep, I got it. Of course I’ll be wearing my tiara. I told you, I want to make a statement, and the tiara is part of it. So, can you get me one or not?”
“I don’t know this for a fact, but I tend to think the only way you can get one is if some retired general has one he restored or came by some other way. I’ll make some calls. What are you willing to pay?”
“Whatever it takes,” Annie responded smartly. “Please don’t disappoint me, Mr. Sparrow. I really have my heart set on flying and deplaning out of one of those.”
“Uh, Annie, you don’t . . . ah, deplane. Didn’t you hear what I just said? You jump and hit the ground running. You could lose your tiara.”
“Smart-ass!” Annie snapped. “I still want one. I’m just having fun with you.”
Sparrow had his cell phone in hand as he shuffled along behind Annie to the secret staircase that led to the underground dungeon and war room, where a lively discussion had already begun, with Alexis having the floor. He watched as Annie ran over to Alexis and whispered in her ear. He grinned when he saw Alexis burst out laughing and give Annie a thumbs-up.
Jack Sparrow was one of those people who could listen, absorb, even comment while texting or mumbling into his phone. He was doing it all at that very moment. Of all the things he’d ever been asked to do in his personal or professional life, this request was the strangest. For some ungodly reason, however, he really did not want to fail Annie. He’d get that damn Little Bird one way or the other. As Annie had pointed out, he was, after all, the director of the goddamn Federal Bureau of Investigation. That had to count for something in this life.
Three hours later, as the meeting droned on, Sparrow finally got a solid lead and followed it up. A group of six army officers, all full-bird colonels and pilots, had in 2004 purchased a Little Bird that was about to be eighty-sixed. They had had it restored and took turns using it for pleasure. It was currently housed in a private hangar in upstate New York. On his third call, Sparrow managed to speak to a retired colonel, Duke Wilson. After Wilson got over the shock of having the FBI director personally call him, things got under way. Sparrow made his offer. He encountered little resistance. Wilson said he would contact the others and get back to him within an hour. Sparrow gave him thirty minutes, but not before Wilson told him the Little Bird wouldn’t come cheap. He rattled off some numbers, which Sparrow shot down, then agreed to. He motioned to Annie to see the number on his phone. She nodded.
And the deal was put to bed with the promise that the Little Bird would set down at Dulles International Airport by midmorning of the following day, complete with all the paperwork. Annie then whispered in Sparrow’s ear that after she had her fun with the Little Bird, it would be sold to the highest bidder, with the money going to the Wounded Warrior Project. Then he saw her look over at Alexis again and wink. Sparrow was the first to admit he knew almost next to nothing about women, but at that moment he was totally convinced that the two women were plotting something with the Little Bird. He shrugged. There was nothing he could do about whatever it was, and he was smart enough to recognize the fact.
Sparrow crooked a finger in Abner’s direction and showed him the screen on his cell phone, which meant he was to wire the funds for the Little Bird to Colonel Wilson ASAP. He nodded and grinned at a mental picture of Annie sitting on the running board of the Little Bird, wearing her tiara and Louboutin shoes with the spike heels. It wasn’t that he knew anything about women’s fashion, but he recognized the famous name from the chattering women. Obviously, if you wore Louboutin shoes, you were a fashionista. As far as making a statement to one Angus Spyder, he personally didn’t think it could get any better than that.
Sparrow got all flustered and turned pink when Annie winked at him and gave him a thumbs-up. He’d come through for her. That was all that mattered. Damn, he felt good. He leaned back and focused on the conversations around him to make sure he wasn’t missing anything.
After listening carefully for thirty minutes, Sparrow decided it was time to speak up. He waved his hand for attention. “So far, all I’m hearing is the name Hank Jellicoe. Hank Jellicoe this and Hank Jellicoe that. I thought this mission of yours . . . ours was about Gretchen Spyder, the children she gave up for adoption, and the adopting Domingo family.
“Mr. Albright, alias Stephen Wolansky, who is the biological father of the adopted twins, twins he knew nothing about, is now an FBI rookie agent with the assignment of seeing to the matter and bringing it to a resolution. I haven’t heard anything about how we’re going to do any of that. So, is the mission Hank Jellicoe or the Domingos and Gretchen Spyder?”
“Both. They are inextricably intertwined, Mr. Sparrow,” Myra said. “Gretchen and the children are our primary concern, but we have to factor in Mr. Jellicoe. And, to be honest, we are trying to be preemptive, because we do not know for certain that he is even on the island. We need to be prepared if he is. Hank Jellicoe is an evil man and will stop at nothing, and I mean nothing, to protect his own skin. He was a hair away from losing it once, and he will never let himself be put in that position again. And this time he has all the might of Angus Spyder and his fortune to back him up. We’re just a bunch of women. That is the way he thought of us back then. If you have any advice or ideas, now would be a good time to present them.”
“I don’t. I just wanted to make sure I understand. I’m still not getting how you think he isn�
�t going to recognize you all. Your pictures were in all the papers. You were all household names.”
Myra laughed. “He never met Annie. He never met Abner, Dennis, or Mr. Albright. Alexis is a master at disguise. Trust me when I tell you that that lady has everything under control. As for you, Mr. Sparrow, you will not recognize yourself when she’s done with you. Even though you never met either man personally, your picture has obviously been in the papers more than once. We can’t risk exposing you. And, by the way, Mr. Snowden just sent me a text assuring us that the Domingos are as safe as safe can be. He does want to know what we want to do about the bugs someone planted in Annie’s house. We need to think about that and make a decision.”
Sparrow nodded as he sank deep into thought. The meeting went on, notes were taken, and coffee was consumed by the gallon. Myra left twice to see to the dogs and returned immediately both times. He was amazed and stunned at how the group worked together. They could finish each other’s sentences, voice each other’s thoughts. A well-oiled team. Better than most of his own teams at the bureau, where it was all about ego and whose name went first on the list.
When the group finally wound down, they all looked exhausted, but in a good kind of way. They were pumped and ready to go. Especially the women. Once again, he thought about how little he knew about women. What he did know was that he was looking at one hell of a group of dedicated women who did not know the meaning of the word failure. In that one second, he knew this mission would be successful. He felt himself relax and wished he had a dozen teams like this one at the bureau. If only. He didn’t give a second thought to breaking the law. Not one nanosecond. Been there, done that.
It was approaching seven o’clock, dusk now, as Pinewood came alive once again. Dennis and Greg Albright had volunteered to barbecue steaks outside on the grill. The women were bustling about in the kitchen, making salads and baking potatoes. A good but plain dinner that would give them all enough sustenance to work through the night so they could leave on schedule. A schedule that had been moved so many times, it was almost as though it would never happen. And then, suddenly, everything was in place, and their estimated time of departure was set for three o’clock the following afternoon.
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