Nellie looked around. It looked to her like the director was turning over the floor to her. She stepped up to the plate. “Director Cummings, if we’re laying all our cards on the table, I want to let you know that I have a copy of all those files that were turned over to you by the Post reporter. Those files could have ruined my life, my career and the lives and careers of Ms. Fox, Mr. Emery and Mr. Wong. Not to mention all the other people Riley was intent on destroying to achieve his goals.
“The four of us decided that the Bureau does not need to be undermined with this kind of garbage and that’s why we’ve remained silent. We will continue to remain silent unless it behooves us to do otherwise.”
“That sounds like a threat, Judge,” the director said quietly. “You can’t threaten the FBI.”
Nellie smiled. She sipped coffee that was so bitter it made her eyes water. Her companions did the same thing, although their smiles were strained. She wagged her finger. “Off the record, remember?”
The director sighed. “I could force you to turn those files over to me.”
Nellie continued to smile. “You could try. I surrendered them to others for safekeeping. At this time I don’t even know where they are, other than that they’re safe.”
The director sighed again. “Judge, you’re treading on thin ice here. Who has those files?”
Nellie didn’t hesitate before she replied. She didn’t even blink. The name slid off her tongue smooth as silk. “The vigilantes have them.”
Limp as a rag doll, the director flopped down on the chair at the head of the table. “Are you telling me you aided and abetted those…those…women?”
Nellie clucked her tongue. “I don’t remember saying anything of the sort. I did not give them the files. At their demand, I surrendered them. I’m way too old to fight that kind of fight. That’s your job. I believe the vigilantes are the ones who turned the files over to the reporter. There’s no other way the reporter could have gotten them. As to how they came into my possession…Let’s just say they were delivered anonymously,” the judge said, lying with a straight face. “However, the vigilantes did give me a message to give to you.”
The director bounded to his feet. “And that would be…what?”
“To cease and desist. Leave them alone. They no longer reside in this country. They said to tell you if you persist in your endeavors, if you don’t honor their request, they’ll come back. They said if they have to come back, you’ll be sorry. That’s all I can tell you. Now, my colleagues and I want, in writing, a little cease and desist of our own. None of us want surveillance of any kind. We want to go on with our lives and put this whole unsavory mess behind us. This is a bad case of all of us being at the wrong place at the wrong time. All we want is to get on with our lives. You’re in their crosshairs, Director Cummings.”
“That’s blackmail, Judge, and you damn well know it. I can lock you up right this minute.”
Nellie stood up and gathered her purse and briefcase. “You can but you won’t. We both know it. Besides, we’re off the record.” She whipped out a small tape recorder from her jacket pocket. The director groaned. “Now, have someone type up our agreement and we’ll leave your lovely building.”
Jack, Harry and Lizzie rose to follow the judge. The three agents at the door moved in, their hands inside their jackets.
Harry looked at Jack.
Jack looked at Harry and shrugged.
Two minutes later it was all over and Harry had his foot on the director’s chest. The three agents were sleeping peacefully on the floor. Lizzie giggled at the director’s dazed expression.
Jack dusted his hands together as he moved toward the door. “Our work here is done.”
“Well?” Nellie asked.
Harry removed his foot from the director’s chest to allow him to reach for his cell phone.
A young man with a spiky hairdo entered the office just as the director was struggling to his feet. Cummings spoke rapidly to the young man, who didn’t even blink at the sight of the director getting up off the floor or the three sleeping agents. He was back in less than ten minutes with four sheets of paper in his hand. The director scanned them quickly, and then scrawled his signature before he handed them out.
The director’s guests filed toward the door, the judge and the director the last to leave. Nellie turned around, winked and whispered, “You did good, Elias.”
“My pleasure, Nellie. Maybe I should have been an actor. How about lunch next week?”
Nellie laughed. “Have your people call my people to set up a time and place.”
Nellie could hear the director, an old and dear friend of hers, laugh as he encouraged his agents to get up off the floor.
As Jack had said, her work here was finished.
The hour was late. Pinewood, Myra Rutledge’s estate in McLean, Virginia, blazed with light from top to bottom.
Had there been neighbors, nosy or otherwise, those neighbors might have wondered why, after so many months, the house was suddenly alive with activity and light. But, since the farmhouse was so secluded and there were no neighbors, there was no one to take notice.
Downstairs in the secret room where Charles Martin and the Sisterhood had held court, machines hummed as the small assembly of people gathered.
Judge Easter rose from the table. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Pinewood. Let me introduce everyone. Lizzie Fox, Jack Emery, Harry Wong, Maggie Spritzer and Bert Navarro.”
“What the judge is saying, without saying it, is we’re the second string,” Jack said.
The others hooted and stamped their feet.
“Second string, my ass,” Lizzie Fox said.
The judge held up her hand for silence. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just say we’re an extended group of the American persuasion. With all that’s gone on this past month, I think it’s time for all of us to take a vacation. We’ve been invited to head abroad. It seems the…uh…first string can use our help. All those in favor say aye.”
Six hands shot upward as the ayes rocked the underground room.
“The ayes have it. We leave one week from today.”
“Where are we going?” Maggie Spritzer asked.
“To a beautiful mountaintop in Spain,” the judge said. “I think we’re adjourned, ladies and gentlemen.”
Don’t miss the next thrilling novel in Fern
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Prologue
McLean, Virginia
When Judge Cornelia Easter (Ret.) looked up at the monitor outside her security gate, she gasped so loud that the two cats she was holding leaped to the ground. She heaved herself out of her recliner and hobbled over to the security system to press a button. “Pearl, is that you?”
“Does it look like me, Nellie? Will you open this damn gate and let me in before someone sees me out here? Hurry up, Nellie.”
Her mind racing, Nellie Easter pressed the remote that would open the huge iron gates, compliments of the federal government. The moment the gates opened, a battered black pickup truck barreled through.
Nellie winced at the sound of the truck’s grinding gears when it screeched to a stop outside her kitchen door. She held the door open for her old friend. “Pearl, it’s after midnight. What in the name of God are you doing out here? What’s wrong?”
“Everything’s wrong, that’s what’s wrong. God, Nellie, I didn’t know where else to go except here. You have to help me.”
“Do you want a drink? Whose truck is that?”
“Hell, yes, I want a drink and the truck belongs to the gardener. I stole it. How else do you think I got away from my security detail? Being a chief justice of the United States Supreme Court isn’t easy these days with all those nutcases out there ready to bump us off. You had your share of that when you were on the bench so you know what I’m talking about. It mu
st be wonderful not to have all those people crawling all over you. You said something about a drink. Make it a triple, straight up, no ice. How’s your arthritis?”
“Worse than ever,” Nellie said as she poured a good four ounces of 100-proof bourbon into a squat glass that almost overflowed. She blinked as she watched her long-time friend down the contents in three long gulps and then hold the glass out for a refill. Nellie poured with a steady hand. Whatever brought Pearl Barnes out here had to be serious. Pearl sipped at sherry on occasion. Nellie found herself wondering if her old friend was a closet drinker.
Who was this wild-looking woman drinking 100-proof bourbon in her kitchen? Where was the impeccably coiffed, Chanel-wearing Pearl Barnes who had come to her retirement party just months ago? The same Pearl Barnes who had whispered in her ear and said, “Now you can really go for the gusto, Nellie”? And then Pearl had winked at her and Nellie felt her blood run cold. She didn’t sleep well for weeks afterward, wondering if somehow the chief justice knew about her role in the Sisterhood.
“I think that will do it for now. Don’t put the bottle away. Is this house secure? Is it monitored in any way since you retired?”
“It’s safe. They sweep it twice a week. I like your outfit,” Nellie said, tongue in cheek.
Pearl Barnes looked down at the dirty bib overalls she was wearing. “They belong to the gardener. I stole them when I stole his truck.” She reached up to remove the baseball cap she’d scrunched down over her gray hair. “Do I smell? I seem to smell manure.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Nellie grinned, “but yes, you smell. How about if I make some coffee? Are you hungry?”
“Yes to the coffee and no to the food. I’ll probably never eat again. I need your help, Nellie. And it goes without saying, I was never here. Are we straight on that?”
Nellie nodded as she spooned coffee grounds into a cone-shaped filter. She pressed the red button, then took her seat across the table from her old friend. “Spit it out, Pearl.”
“I need you to get in touch with the Sisterhood. Yes, I know all about it. I want you to tell Myra I need her help and don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know you’re involved up to your ears with those women. I watched you that day in court. You were so slick you made me proud of you. I cheered you all on. But I know, Nellie, so don’t insult me by playing games. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m desperate—or I wouldn’t be here.
“Pearl, what’s wrong?” Nellie wasn’t about to give up anything until she knew what was troubling one of the most powerful women in the nation.
Both women waited silently for the coffee to finish dripping. The moment the cup was in Pearl Barnes’s hand she gulped at the coffee, her gaze raking the modern kitchen. “I like this kitchen. I like to cook, but then you knew that, right? What do you do about the yellow leaves on the plants?”
“I throw them out. I’m going to throttle you if you don’t tell me why you’re here. I’ve never seen you frightened before, Pearl. Is it your daughter, or did something happen to Grant?”
“It’s me, Nellie. And yes, Beka. And my granddaughter Mandy, too. Grant is…Grant is just Grant. That doesn’t seem to be working out these days either.”
Nellie clenched her jaw as she played with the fringe on the placemat in front of her. With all the patience she could muster, she said, “Tell me everything.”
Pearl gulped more coffee. “Myra isn’t the only one who broke the law, not to mention all those other women. You, too, Nellie. I…well, what I do is…oh, God, I don’t know if I can say this out loud.”
“Well, you damn well better, and you better do it quick.” Nellie sloshed more bourbon into Pearl’s coffee cup.
“Fine! Fine! I’ll tell you. I operate an underground railroad for…for…women with kids, mothers whose husbands, fathers and boyfriends abuse them and get away with it. Grant and I have been doing it for years. We’ve saved thousands of women and children. There, I said it. Beka’s ex-husband, that Tyler, is threatening to blow the whistle on me. I have no idea how he found out. He’s an arrogant bastard. Now do you see why I need the Sisterhood?”
Nellie stared across the room at a stained-glass panel hanging over her kitchen window. It was her pride and joy. She tried to contain her astonishment. Whatever she had thought Pearl was going to tell her, this wasn’t it. She tried desperately to wrap her mind around the words she’d just heard.
“Say something, for God’s sake! Can’t you see I need help? I’m a sister under the skin. This is not a trap, if that’s what you’re thinking. Nellie, I need you to say something right now.”
“How long have you been…ah…doing this?” Nellie managed to choke out.
“Since before I was nominated. I couldn’t turn my back on those women any more than you and the Sisterhood could. I lied to everyone, even Grant in the beginning; and then when he started to get suspicious, I had to tell him. He’s into it just as much as I am but I think his interest is waning. Will you please fill this cup up again?”
“Do you have a window of time here? Did something specific happen that brought you here? Are you sure no one knows you came out here?”
“No one knows I came out here. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s how to watch my back. Grant doesn’t even know I’m here. And I never told him my suspicions about you, Myra and the others. As to the window of time, I don’t know. A week, maybe, possibly a little longer would be my guess, unless I can stall Tyler Hughes. He’s trying to blackmail me. He wants me to vote…a certain way on…something. I can’t go into that with you, Nellie.”
“What is it you want?” Nellie asked in a shaky voice. She stuck her old, gnarled hand into the pocket of her sweater to touch the special phone Charles Martin had given her.
“Oh, God, Nellie, I don’t know. For Tyler to be…taken care of, I guess. The problem is: I don’t know who else he might have told. I don’t know if I should take Beka and Mandy and get the hell out of Dodge or not. I suspect that isn’t a good idea right at this moment. Blackmailers never give up; they just keep coming back for more and more. I can’t go to the authorities. My people need me, they depend on me, and most importantly, they trust me with their lives. Goddamn it, Nellie, are you going to help me or not?”
“Have you considered going to the FBI? The new director, Elias Cummings, is a good man.”
“Cut the crap, Nellie. If you were me, would you go to Elias Cummings?”
“Probably not. Listen to me. Go home and stall for time. Let me see what I can do. Pearl, I can’t promise anything. Make sure you understand that.”
Pearl Barnes stood up and stared down at her friend. “Oh, I understand all right. Now it’s your turn to understand. Either you help me or I blow the whistle on you and Jack Emery and that kickboxing guy. If I go down, so do you. On that note, I think I’ll leave you now. Don’t worry, I’m sober as a judge. No pun intended.”
Nellie’s jaw dropped as she watched the kitchen door open and close. She knew she was going to get sick. Should she wait for her stomach to erupt before she called Charles Martin, or should she just get it over with?
The specially encrypted phone in her hand, Nellie took a moment to think about her retirement and all the things she’d planned upon doing. She shuddered as a vision of a six-by-nine-foot prison cell appeared behind her closed eyelids. A mighty sigh escaped her lips as she pressed the numbers on the special phone. With the time difference between Virginia and Spain, the members of the Sisterhood would probably be having breakfast right this minute.
Chapter 1
Spain
Charles Martin stood in the middle of his command center, a set-up that would have been the envy of the CIA or the White House, if they knew about it. He stared at wraparound television monitors that displayed the 24-hour news channels and what was going on in the world in real time. Right now he wasn’t interested in the news. He was trying to come to terms with Judge Nellie Easter’s excited voice on the satelli
te-encrypted phone at his ear.
“Slow down, Nellie. Tell me again, word for word, what Justice Barnes said to you.” The voice on the other end rose shrilly, and Charles could hear the fright in the retired judge’s voice. All right, all right, I’m getting the picture. I’ll call Jack as soon as I hang up. Try and get some sleep. I’ll get back to you in a bit.” The squawking on the other end of the line forced Charles to hold the cell phone away from his ear. “That’s an order, Nellie.”
Charles walked over to the round table in the middle of the underground room. He sat down, his mind going in all directions. If Nellie was right—and he had no reason to believe she wasn’t—he had to take seriously the threat to his beloved Sisterhood and Nellie herself—not to mention Jack Emery, Harry Wong, Lizzie and Maggie Spritzer.
He wondered why he was having so much trouble comprehending Chief Justice Barnes’s extracurricular activities. After all, he and the Sisterhood were doing the same thing: breaking the law and serving justice their way. He realized suddenly it wasn’t Pearl Barnes’s activities that troubled him, but the threat she’d made to the Sisterhood. Blackmail was something he absolutely would not deal with. But, he asked himself, was it his decision to make?
Charles looked down at the Philippe Patek chronometer on his wrist, and then up at the row of clocks hanging between the plasma monitors. Since it was Sunday morning, his girls were still sleeping. Jack Emery would also be sleeping, but he had no qualms about waking up the district attorney back in Washington. Before he could change his mind, he pressed the buttons that would allow him to have a private conversation with Jack.
The groggy voice on the other end of the phone mumbled something that sounded like, “This better be good.”
“I don’t know about good, Jack, but it is important. Wake up and get some coffee and call me right back.” Charles broke the connection before Jack could protest.
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