3. Vendetta

by Fern Michaels

“Honey, you are going to be a knockout. I’ll do your makeup. You will be more beautiful than the…What do they call the woman who is getting engaged at the party tomorrow night?”

  “Prospective bride, I guess,” Nikki said. “I think Charles said she is going to college in the States but came back here to have a traditional Chinese wedding. One old family marrying into another old family. Doting parents on both sides. In other words, the wedding of the year, and not at all unusual to have American guests. Which we are. Perfect cover. Mr. Li is a personal friend of the bride’s father and is related to the groom’s mother by way of his deceased wife. When Mr. Li told both families he wouldn’t be able to attend because we were visiting him, both sets of parents insisted he bring us along. And that’s all I know, other than that Mr. Li was able to get all our papers in order lickety-split.”

  “John Chai is a woman-chaser,” Yoko said, her lips tight with anger. “And he prefers American women over…over his own kind. I read that in the dossier Charles put together for us.”

  “I think that lets me and you out, Yoko. You’re his kind and I’m black. Guess who that leaves? Oh you lucky, lucky girl, Nikki.”

  “Shut up, Alexis. How did we get on to this anyway? We were talking about our gowns. Mine is a sizzling red. Tonight I am going to be one hot chick! When, and only when, you see steam coming out my ears, intervene. I think I should play hard to get, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely!” Yoko said. “Men do not like to be ignored. My husband told me this. It has to do with their ego. This is true, is it not? As a weapon it is wonderful to know. Do you think all women know this?”

  “I think so,” Nikki replied, thinking about Jack. Jack hated to be ignored. He’d always wanted her undivided attention. When she ignored him, he sulked. “Let me share something with you two. Men are just little boys at heart. And they can be trained just like you train a puppy. You have to be relentless, though, because men/boys have one-track minds. You following me here?” Nikki laughed uproariously.

  “What I think is that we’ve all had too much wine and it’s time for bed,” Alexis said. “Oh, in case you’re all wondering what my gown is like, it’s a mix of gold and copper. Slit to the navel, slit up to the groin, and backless!”

  “Damn,” was all Nikki could say.

  Alexis giggled. “My sentiments exactly. C’mon, let’s say our goodnights and hit the sheets so we can dream about what we’re going to do to John Chai.”

  “I believe you used the wrong terminology,” Yoko said. “The word you want is nightmare.”

  “Damn, you’re good, Yoko. Nightmare it is!” Nikki said as she swallowed the last of many glasses of wine.

  Four

  Half a world away, as Charles and the girls were dressing for the engagement party in China, Myra Rutledge had her eye on the clock as she paced back and forth in the kitchen.

  “Myra, stop! You’re making me dizzy. They’re fine. Charles isn’t going to let anything go wrong.”

  “I know, I know,” Myra said. “My mind tells me the same thing but my heart tells me I should worry. Women have been worrying since the beginning of time. Why should I be any different? They’re in China, Kathryn. China is not a safe country.”

  Kathryn slipped her arms into her flannel-lined denim jacket. Murphy growled and then barked. “I don’t like leaving you alone out here at the farm all by yourself, Myra. We should have insisted that Isabelle return this evening. What the hell was so important that she had to stay in the city?”

  “I think it was a dinner meeting with someone who can help her get her license back. It’s so important to her, how could I say no? I’ll be fine. The dogs are here; I’ll lock up and wait for Charles or the girls to call me. The minute I hear something, I’ll call you. You have enough on your mind without worrying about me.”

  Something tugged at Kathryn’s heart. “I know this is going to sound off the wall, Myra, but how about coming along with me to Oregon? I’ll have someone else to talk to besides Murphy. You can ride shotgun with Murphy. Of course you’re going to have to get rid of the pearls and all that jewelry hanging off you. You gotta look like me otherwise I’ll get drummed out of the trucking business. Think of it as an adventure that you can tell Charles about when he gets home.” At Myra’s look of disbelief and indecision, Kathryn coaxed her further. “Come on, go for it! When was the last time you did something spontaneously?”

  Murphy pulled and tugged at the hem of Myra’s knit skirt. He stopped tugging for a moment to look up at his host and bark.

  “See! That’s Murphy’s way of telling you he wants you to come with us. This dog is so smart he makes me crazy sometimes. Shake it, Myra, we gotta get on the road. Have you ever been to Oregon?”

  “Ah, no, dear, I haven’t. Do you really…Whatever will Charles say?”

  Kathryn laughed. “I think he’ll say you’re a woman of many surprises. We’ll have fun. You can talk to some of my road buddies. I’m Big Sis. I can give you a handle. That’s what we call a name. You game, lady?”

  “You don’t think I’m…too old to be doing that?”

  “Hell, no! Creaking Granny, that’s her handle, is seventy-four and she’s still driving. You can talk to her when we get on the road.”

  Myra debated all of five seconds. “OK, I’ll do it! But I don’t think I have the proper attire. I don’t want to…to embarrass you, Kathryn.”

  “We’re the same size, Myra. Go up to my room and pick out some duds. Make sure you bring along a baseball cap. All drivers wear baseball caps.”

  “I can do that. Yes, yes, I can do that. Wait for me.” Myra scurried off, Murphy hot on her heels barking every step of the way.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Tell you what, I’ll warm up the truck. Be sure to put on the alarm and lock up. Leave a note for Isabelle. We can call her in the morning just to be on the safe side. Time is money, Myra! Move!” Kathryn shouted to Myra’s retreating back.

  Myra got dressed at the speed of light. She looked at herself in the mirror hanging on the door. Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Oh, my goodness! What do you think, Murphy?” The big dog tossed back his head and howled. “Yes, yes, that’s pretty much my opinion, too. If Charles could see me now, he’d laugh himself silly.”

  All Kathryn could do was gawk, her jaw dropping when Myra left the house by the kitchen door. Her thumbs hooked into the belt of her baggy blue jeans, Myra strutted across the compound in her Timberland boots. She was wearing a navy-blue sweatshirt that said DON’T SCREW WITH ME under a zip-up sleeveless vest with a hood. On her springy gray curls sat a baseball cap that said she was a fan of the Redskins. She wasn’t wearing her pearls.

  Kathryn bounced out of the truck and went around to open the passenger door.

  “This is so exciting. I’ve never ridden in a truck before. How does one get in this vehicle, Kathryn?”

  “I think I’m going to have to boost you up. Right leg up, atta girl!”

  Murphy scrambled into the truck, hopped over Myra’s shoulder and went to his bed behind the cab. He barked sharply, which meant, “All aboard, let’s move!”

  Myra buckled up, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Dear, this was…such a tremendous idea. Ooh, we’re up so high! I can see everything.”

  “You’re Queen of the Road today, Myra,” Kathryn laughed as she backed up the big rig.

  “Is this when you say something profound, like this is where the rubber meets the road?”

  “Nah, you only say that when you’re about to get in trouble. We say time to hit the road or time to burn rubber…”

  “I see. Time to hit the road. Burn rubber. I’ll be sure to remember that so I can tell Charles. Both sayings refer to speed, I take it.”

  “You got that right. No one wants to mess with truck drivers. That’s the reason for the saying on the shirt you’re wearing. I had to earn the right to wear that particular shirt, me being a woman trucker and all. Actually, Creaking Granny gave it to me at the Truckers’ Ball
three years ago.”

  “You have a Ball? Is it like a cotillion?”

  Kathryn laughed so hard she almost fell off the seat. “Yeah, Myra, like a cotillion.” Her sarcasm did not go unnoticed by Myra.

  “This is so very interesting. I hope I can remember everything so I can tell Charles. The dear man is going to be stunned. Just stunned.”

  “Oregon, here we come!” Kathryn said as she blew a wicked blast on the diesel horn.

  In the thick pine forest that surrounded the Rutledge house and lawn, Garrity almost fell out of his tree when he heard the diesel blast. In a heartbeat the high-powered binoculars were at his eyes. “What the hell?” he muttered. He continued to watch the eighteen-wheeler until it went through the security gates and out to the main road. He was on his cellphone in the blink of an eye. “Jack, Garrity here. Hey, man, the last two birds just flew the coop. The chick with the eighteen-wheeler took off just minutes ago with her dog and the old lady. Both of them were duded up for a long drive, would be my opinion. There’s no one in the house, Jack. Can I go home now?”

  “Give me an hour, Garrity. I’m going to need you to cover my ass. I’m coming out there right now. Well, not right now, but as soon as I can get someone to tail that truck. What about the architect? Any sight of her?”

  “Nope. She took off earlier. I don’t know if this means anything or not but she was carrying an oversize bag and one of those architect’s folders. Don’t you have someone on her?”

  “Mark’s got it. I’ll check to be sure. Just sit tight till I get there.”

  “I couldn’t move if I wanted to, I’m frozen to this branch. You gotta rotate me out of here, Jack.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Stop whining, Garrity. We’re paying you time and a half to sit there and freeze your ass off. Stop being a wuss.”

  “What the hell good is time and a half if I freeze to death up here? I felt snow flurries earlier.”

  “Snow’s invigorating,” Jack said, as he clicked off his cellphone. He turned to his partner. “Mark, look alive here,” he said, snapping his fingers. “That was Garrity. He said everyone’s gone from the Rutledge estate. I’m going out there. Kathryn Lucas, the dog, and, from the description Garrity gave me, Myra, too, just left in the rig. I want to know where she’s going. Tap into the dispatcher that Lucas works for and get back to me. And keep the tail on the architect. If it looks like she’s heading back to the farm, create a diversion so she stays put. And see if you can find a replacement for Garrity. He’s getting cranky. If you have to, promise double time. I need someone out there until I do my search.”

  Mark took off his glasses and started to polish them. “This is not a good thing, Jack. That guy Martin probably has the place rigged with alarms. If you set them off, your ass is grass. We don’t have enough money for bail. All right, all right, I’m on it. Be sure you call me every hour on the hour. Just out of curiosity, how do you plan on getting in there?”

  Jack smacked at his forehead. “I thought you knew, in my other life I was an electrician. I’m going to short-circuit those gates and walk through or climb over.”

  Mark groaned and put his glasses back on. He looked like an intelligent owl as he bent down to start hitting the keyboard. He didn’t look up when the door slammed behind Jack.

  Jack’s heart thundered in his chest as he climbed behind the wheel of his car. He was tingling from head to toe. He could almost smell victory. Halfway to the Rutledge estate he slowed down as a thought hit him. What if it was all a set-up? To his knowledge, Pinewood was never left unattended. Why now? Why would a lady like Myra Rutledge suddenly decide to go for a ride in an eighteen-wheeler? Where did Nikki, the black girl, the Asian girl and Charles Martin go in the Gulfstream? Maybe he shouldn’t be so damn hasty. But there was no need to get his ass in a sling. Would he ever get a chance like this again? Probably not.

  Jack hit the speed dial on his cellphone. Mark growled a greeting. “It’s me, Mark. You get anything on the Gulfstream? They had to file a flight plan. What’s taking so long?”

  “Shut the hell up, Jack. What’s taking so long is I’m trying to access records that aren’t supposed to be accessed by the likes of me. From what I can gather, they went to China. That can’t be right, can it?”

  “You mean the country of China?” Shit, how brilliant was that? “Or are you talking about Chinatown in San Francisco or New York?”

  “Asia, Jack, Asia. Hong Kong to be precise. I’m working on it, OK? Where are you?”

  Hong Kong! What the hell? Son of a fucking bitch! Jack felt so light-headed he pulled to the side of the country road and rolled down the window. “I’m five minutes from Pinewood,” he managed to gasp before he clicked off the cellphone. He took in great gulps of the frigid November air. When he had his wits about him, he leaned back and closed his eyes as his thoughts ran in all directions.

  China. Hong Kong. Home of John Chai, the diplomat’s son who had killed Myra Rutledge’s daughter, Barbara. Coincidence? Unlikely. Three of the women, plus Charles, had gone to China. Two of the women, plus Myra, stayed behind and were now on their way to wherever. Dr. Julia Webster was missing. Maybe she was in China, too. And where the hell was Senator Webster? And Marie Lewellen and her family? Shit! He picked up his cellphone and hit the number one on his speed dial.

  “Don’t say anything, Mark. Just listen, OK?” He was like a runaway train as he rattled off his suspicions. When he was finished he heard Mark whistle so loud he had to move the phone from his ear.

  “They knew Chai would never come back to the States, so they went there. They’re going to kill him, Mark.”

  “Wait a minute. Just hold on, Jack. If that’s true, why didn’t Mrs. Rutledge go with them? I’d think she’d want to be part of it. I know I would if it was my kid. Nah, I think you’re off base. By the way, the Lucas woman is on her way to Oregon to pick up twenty thousand Christmas trees. She’ll drop them off on her way back up the Eastern Seaboard. They’re due back in McLean in…Who the hell knows? Depends on how fast she drives, I guess. Think about it, Jack. Myra Rutledge is helping Lucas with Christmas trees while her friends go to China to do in her daughter’s killer? It’s too big a stretch. Fall back and regroup, buddy. Where are you now?”

  “Outside the gates of Pinewood. I’m about ready to fry these gates. I’m not wrong, Mark. Don’t think for one minute that they didn’t get rid of Senator Webster, either. And Marie Lewellen. Now that we know how powerful Charles Martin is, it all makes sense. Factor in Myra Rutledge’s money, Nikki’s legal expertise and all those other women who probably have special…talents, and I make my case.”

  Jack had to strain to hear Mark’s whispered response. “Vigilantes!”

  “Yeah. Vigilantes. I’ll get back to you. Gotta get to work.”

  Jack climbed out of his car and looked at the high-tech panel that controlled the gates. A few years ago they were simple gates with a simple code: 1-2-3-4. Nikki had a remote on the visor of her car that she hit and the gates swung open. Mere visitors had to press in the proper code. Less than two years ago these new gates, the kind they had in prisons, were installed with a monitor and a different set of codes. The gates also sounded prison-like, clanging so loudly you had to hold your ears. There was no code these days. The gates were controlled either by someone inside the house or by a special remote control. Why was that?

  Jack walked around the back of his car, popped the trunk and took out his brand new Private Dick kit that Mark had assembled for him. He wished now that he had paid more attention to the instructions on all the high-tech gizmos. He knew, though, that Mark had included the instructions. They were probably somewhere in the bottom of the voluminous canvas bag. He dropped the black bag outside the gates and climbed back into the car. He backed it down the road and then drove it into a dense area of wild-looking straggly brush. He looked around for a pine tree, found some saplings, broke off the branches and covered his car. He took a minute to survey the surroundings in case he had to m
ake a hasty retreat. When he had the site firmly locked in his mind he jogged back up the driveway to where his black bag awaited him.

  Jack fished around inside the bag until he found the gray box he was looking for. He wished suddenly that he had been an electrician in his other life. He carried the box over to the control panel, opened it, looked at the wires and closed his eyes. Red wires, blue wires, yellow wires. Yeah, well, color was color. He hooked on the gray box, hit the plunger and watched the gates give off a shower of sparks. Then he slipped his arms through the straps of the backpack and marched over to the gates, calmly pushed them open, and walked through like he was a regular visitor.

  His cellphone chirped. Garrity.

  “Gotcha in my sights, Jack. Nice fireworks display. What do you want me to do?”

  “Mark is sending a replacement. Stay there till he arrives. Then meet me in the barn. You can hop the fence behind it. We have time before the dogs get here.”

  “OK. Be careful, Jack. This whole place spooks me big time.”

  “Keep me in your sights, Garrity. I’m almost to the barn. Call me every ten minutes until your replacement shows up. If you see anyone hovering around, beat feet. Don’t join me. You got that?”

  “Yeah, Jack. I got it.”

  Jack stared at the new doors on the barn. Everything around here was new. His mind told him it was probably a set-up, but he was going through with his plan anyway. Maybe a bunch of guys with the special shields were waiting for him in the barn. Maybe this time they’d kill him. Maybe a lot of things.

  Jack slipped his arms out of the backpack and rooted around until he found a black box that was guaranteed to give him the right numerical code to any lock. He spent five full minutes reading the instructions before he pressed a series of numbers. He watched the keypad blink as numbers danced across the green bar at the top of the keypad. He heard a click and then the keypad went dark.

  “Open Sesame!” Jack chortled. He picked up his backpack and opened the door. All he could see was blackness.