16. Deadly Deals

by Fern Michaels

  "They are whoever you want them to be. Lizzie Fox, the reporters, that Hispanic guy back at the beach house. And I wouldn't be one damn bit surprised to find out that those goddamn vigilantes are in on this. I never believed for one minute that they got away from Lizzie Fox when they made their escape. She's too smart to let something like that happen. What that means, Baron, is she's involved with them. You said this was foolproof. I believed you. Now we're a hair away from getting caught. Goddamn you, Baron, say something."

  "Shut up, Adel. I'm thinking." And he was thinking. But he was thinking about the children's Christmas party at the White House. He was reasonably certain he'd covered all his tracks. What Adel did, she did on her own. The worst thing that could happen to him, he thought, was he'd be a three-day story about an extramarital affair. He might be banned from the White House for a while, but all things blew over sooner or later in Washington. No matter what, he had to pull off the Christmas party. No matter what.

  Bell wondered if he could get away with killing Adel Newsom.

  "Lizzie Fox did not file the suits yet. She said she wanted to make a deal. She just did us the courtesy of letting us know what she had. She's in the Post's pocket, and that's how they know. Legally, Lizzie will cut a deal. She's probably the most ethical lawyer in the District. For God's sake, she has the president's ear. The Post is just interested in headlines and selling papers. In case you aren't getting it, Adel, this is about those babies you've been selling to the highest bidder. I warned you. This is what you get for thinking you're smarter than I am. I'm going to enjoy watching them dragging you off to jail."

  "You miserable son of a bitch! Do you think for even a nanosecond that I won't tell them all those surrogates and adoptive parents were referrals from you?"

  "If you're dead, you won't be able to tell anyone anything," Bell snarled.

  Adel Newsom clamped her lips shut and started to wail. "What are we going to do, Baron?"

  "I don't know. I need to think this through. There's a motel up there on the right. I'm going to stop. Let's just hope they have available rooms." Bell hunched over the wheel to see better out the window, between the wiper blades. His cell phone took that moment to ring.

  "Don't answer it, Baron. They can tell by the pings where you are. I saw that just recently on television, in some kidnap case."

  Like he was going to answer the phone. He knew without looking at the phone that it was his wife checking on him, the way she did every night before she went to bed and he wasn't home. Right now, right this minute, he'd give up everything he owned if he could turn the clock back and be sitting in the den with his wife, in front of a nice cherrywood fire, eating popcorn. His wife always gave him the fluffies right off the top. She was such a good woman. She was also a wonderful mother. She was also a wonderful wife in all ways except the bedroom.

  Bell had to physically restrain himself from knocking Adel silly when she said, "This looks like a fleabag, one of those places that charges by the hour."

  Bell stopped the car. "You go in and register. I'm too well known. Pay cash. Try to get an outside room."

  Adel looked like she was going to protest, but in the end she opened the car door and got out.

  I should just drive off and leave her here, Bell thought. The moment the thought entered his mind, he had the car back in gear and was headed around the circle that would lead him back to the turnpike.

  Now he could think.

  The Mercedes's taillights were just a pinpoint of red light when Adel Newsom exited the lobby of the Blue Jay Motel, room key in hand. She knew instantly that she was on her own. "You miserable, lousy, rotten piece of crap," she shouted, her words carried off by the swirling snow. Tears rolling down her face, her high-heeled leather boots soaking wet, she walked around the side of the building to room twelve.

  The only thing that could be said for the brown and yellow decorated motel room was that it was warm. Very warm. Maybe she was having a hot flash. All the plastic surgery she'd had was external. Internally, her body was way over fifty and allowed for hot flashes, along with a host of other female problems. She shuddered as she slipped out of her fluffy down coat and tossed it on the bed.

  Newsom's thoughts were all over the map as she paced the sleazy room. How dare that bastard go off and leave me like this! How dare he! Well, he'd dared, because here she was in this puky room, with no vehicle at her disposal and the possibility of prison looming on the horizon.

  Newsom's pacing took her into the ratty bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror and cringed. She looked awful, and every single day of her over fifty years glared at her from the worn-looking mirror. Over fifteen years of my life I've given to that bastard, she thought, and he drives away and leaves me in this rat hole.

  She leaned closer and rubbed her fingers over the mirror to see if the film would disappear. It didn't. She should look better, but she didn't. She wanted to cry, but she was too scared and angry.

  Back in the bedroom, she rooted around in the huge Chanel bag for the throwaway, untraceable cell phone she'd bought six months ago. Somehow or other she'd managed to program the stupid thing, a feat in itself since she was not electronically inclined. The first call she made was to the Dawsons' surrogate, Donna Davis. She crossed her fingers that the call would actually go through despite the bad weather. She almost fainted when she heard her client's familiar voice. "No names, please."

  The voice came through as high and shrill. "I tried calling the office, but they said you were gone. Someone is watching me. Two men have been asking questions about me at the university and here in the apartment building. Someone knocks on my door on the hour. I was going to leave, but the weather is really bad. On top of that, my car won't start. I spoke to Joan Olsen earlier this morning. I called from the school cafeteria. Is it the...you know who?"

  Newsom sucked in her breath. Her worst nightmare was coming true. She tried to calm her voice, but she sounded jittery even to her own ears. She knew Donna Davis was picking up on it. "Right now I'm stuck in Delaware, with no car at my disposal. I'm trying to get back to the District, but that probably won't happen till tomorrow morning. I want you to sit tight. Do not talk to anyone, and refer all queries to me. Where is--"

  Anticipating the question, Donna Davis said, "Safe. Look, if I see a chance to get out of here, I'm gone. I'm not stupid. When I was a little kid and did something wrong and my father found out, he would say, 'The jig's up, girlie.' Well, I'm telling you the same thing: The jig's up, Ms. Lawyer. The handwriting is on the wall. Joan Olsen agrees with me."

  "Don't do something you will regret. I'm working on getting back to the District. I'll take care of things the minute I get back. Please, give me your assurance that you will do as I've asked."

  "Well, guess what, Ms. Lawyer? I'm not giving you any assurance. I'm outta here the first chance I get. I know Joanie feels the same way I do. Find some other suckers to fund your designer wardrobe." Newsom blinked when she realized the surrogate had hung up on her.

  A glutton for punishment, she hit the speed dial and waited to see if Joan Olsen would answer the phone. The call immediately went to voice mail. She cursed under her breath and threw the cell phone on the grungy yellow bedspread. Her breathing was so ragged, she thought she was going to black out.

  Adel Newsom sat down on the edge of the bed and dropped her head into her hands. How the hell did I get into this position? Is Baron right, and it was my own greed? Oh, God!

  A sob caught in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut as she hoped for a lightning-bolt solution to hit her between the eyes. All she had to show for her life was a mediocre law practice, a pricey house in Georgetown with an uncomfortably high mortgage, a high-end car that she was upside down on, scars all over her body from all the exorbitantly expensive plastic surgery, and another woman's husband three times a week.

  There was no doubt in her mind that Baron Bell would throw her to the wolves to protect his nice cushy life. She also knew he'd covered h
is fat ass all along the way.

  "Well, we'll just see about that, you little toad."

  Newsom pulled on her puffy coat and slogged her way through the snow over to the lobby of the motel. There had to be someone heading into Washington who would give her a lift into town.

  Fifteen minutes later she was sitting high in the cab of a truck headed to the nation's capital with a delivery for Starbucks. For a measly five hundred dollars, the trucker had agreed to drop her off near the White House. Newsom was no fool. "Half now, and the other half when you drop me off," she told him. "I think I should warn you, I'm a lawyer and an officer of the court. I have a pistol in my bag, and I'm licensed to carry it."

  She fished around in her bag and finally scraped together all her loose bills. He could just whistle "Dixie" for all she cared when it was time for her to get out. Unless he took credit cards, he would be out of luck for the second half of his transportation fee. She let him see the pistol, then leaned back to listen to Willie Nelson blaring from a CD. Her mind raced. Should she cut and run? If she did that, she would have to go back to the house in Georgetown to take what little money she had stashed under her mattress. The thought made her blood run cold. A lawyer with money under the mattress! What is wrong with this picture? Maybe she should go to the office on Nebraska Avenue, tidy up, and leave from there.

  She had several changes of clothes in the small closet, and her car was in the parking lot. That meant she would have to pay someone to shovel it out. Once she paid off this hick driver, she would have only coins left. The petty cash in the office would barely get her a cup of coffee. Talk about being between a rock and a boulder. Unless...she could get to Baron's office before he did. She looked down at the Rolex on her wrist. She knew the security guard's routine, only because of the late-night trysts in Baron's office back at the beginning of their affair fifteen years earlier. She knew the combination to the ugly safe, too. What Baron didn't know was that she knew about the safe built into the floor under his desk. While she didn't know the combination, she knew where he kept the secret numbers. At least she thought she knew where he kept the numbers. Men were so predictable.

  Once, during some heavy-duty pillow talk, Baron had blurted out about the cash he kept in the safe. At the time he'd said it was to whisk her away to some exotic getaway where no one would ever find them. While she had never seen the brochure to that exotic getaway that he'd boasted about, he'd said it was in the safe, to be utilized at the proper time. Well, this sure as hell was the proper time. Too bad he wouldn't be accompanying her on the junket. The only thing she didn't know for sure was how much cash Baron kept in the safe. For the most part, Baron wasn't a liar, so she had to assume the amount would be robust. And he'd once bragged about a fortune in bearer bonds that had come his way via the death of a wealthy client with no heirs.

  All she had to do was get in and out of his office, make her getaway, and the world would be her oyster.

  Not once did she think about any of the babies or their well-being as a result of her and Baron Bell's activities.

  Sometimes life was a stinking bitch.

  Chapter 9

  Charles looked down at his coffee cup and was surprised to see that it was empty. He wondered how many cups he'd consumed. Not that it was important in the scheme of things. He knew that however many cups he'd consumed, he'd consume that many more before dawn broke over the horizon. He raised his head to look up at the wall, at the bank of clocks that gave him the time all over the world. For some strange reason, looking at the clocks always calmed him down. As much as he hated to admit it, he was nervous. Sending the Sisters down the snowy mountain and into the waiting arms of Snowden's people was unnerving him for some reason.

  Charles moved his neck from side to side, hoping to alleviate the kinks that were bothering him. He knew what his problem was, and worrying wasn't going to help solve it. Anytime 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue came into play, things became problematic. He poured himself a cup of coffee and walked over to the window. The snow had stopped about an hour ago, and he could see that it had not started again. The white world outside the window was bathed in a golden glow from the lamps in the courtyard. It looked eerie, ominous somehow.

  Charles looked down when he felt something brush against his legs. Murphy on one side, Grady on the other. Absently, he reached into his pocket for the treats that he always carried with him. They were man's best friend, and as such, both animals deserved everything he had to give for their love and loyalty. Both dogs waited expectantly to see if there would be a second treat, and there was. This time the dogs carried their chew bones over to the hearth and lay down. A sign that their world was just fine. At least for the moment.

  Break time was over. Charles walked back to his bank of computers. He saw two incoming e-mails at the same moment the fax machine whirred to life. He was about to click on the e-mails when his special encrypted cell phone rang. It was Avery Snowden. Charles felt his stomach muscles bunch into a knot. "Avery, just give me the short version and the resolution," he said briskly.

  "Donna Davis, the Dawsons' surrogate is on the move. She sneaked out the basement door of the apartment. Right now she's standing in the doorway. I think she's waiting for someone to pick her up. I removed the distributor cap of her vehicle hours ago. She went back inside. The lights are on in her apartment. I assume the babies are still in her apartment, but in checking earlier, she leaves the babies with a woman on her floor from time to time. Do you want me to tail her or snatch her?"

  Charles didn't even hesitate. "Snatch her and take her to the Post apartment. The girls will be arriving later today. Find a female operative and take the babies someplace safe. Make sure the babysitter is fully aware of the repercussions should she...talk to anyone."

  "Understood. Do you want us to snatch the Olsen woman? As a reminder, the baby she sold is not with her, but we know where he is. She's in for the night. Apartment is dark, so I assume she's sleeping."

  "Yes, take her to the Post, too. Don't do anything about her baby. We're still working on that. Check in on the hour, Avery. Good luck."

  Charles sipped at his coffee as he scanned his e-mails and the incoming fax. Satisfied that things were moving at the speed of light, he sat down and proceeded to fire off e-mails.

  Hundreds of miles away, in the nation's capital, Maggie Spritzer jerked to wakefulness when Ted Robinson shook her shoulder. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We come bearing gifts. And food," he added as an afterthought. He plopped down two steaming pizza boxes, along with a six-pack of Corona that he'd bought from an all-night pizzeria around the corner.

  Jack and Harry were busy removing their winter gear and kicking off their boots. "Can you turn the heat up, Maggie? Espinosa's heater conked out halfway here. We're frozen," Jack said.

  Maggie eyed the foursome before she ran into her private bathroom for a bundle of wool socks. She tossed a pair to each of the four before turning the heat up all the way. "My mother always said if your feet are warm, you'll be okay. They're unisex socks, so don't be shy about putting them on. What'd you get? Tell me you got everything that will give me a drop-dead headline."

  Ted turned defensive. "We got everything there was to get. We didn't take the time to go through it. We were too busy trying to stay alive on the damn highway. We all deserve a monster bonus for putting our lives at risk. How much?"

  Maggie bit into a slice of pepperoni-and-sausage pizza. She rolled her eyes in happiness. "Whatever you want," she mumbled.

  Ted and Espinosa lit up like Christmas trees. "Do you mean it?" Ted asked.

  "No!"

  Four slices of pizza later, Maggie came up for air. "Okay, let's get to it. We need to copy every single sheet of paper. Then we have to fax each and every sheet to the mountain. By the way, the girls will be leaving as soon as it gets light. That's about three hours from now, so chop-chop, boys."

  Exactly one hour later Maggie sat back on her heels and looked at the others. "This is a gold mine. I have to g
ive Adel Newsom credit: She kept impeccable records. She was smart, too. She outsourced some of her clients and got kickbacks from other lawyers. The main thing is that there is a complete list of the babies put out for adoption after being reclaimed from the parents who arranged for a surrogate through Baron Bell. This has to go to Charles right away so he can put his people on it. The only thing that matters is getting those babies back to their original adoptive parents."

  "Kidnapping babies is a federal offense," Jack said.

  "Possession is also nine points of the law," Maggie said. "Charles told me if we were successful in finding the babies and snatching them, Nikki's old law firm has agreed to take all the cases on a pro bono basis. Lizzie will be in charge behind the scenes. If it looks like it isn't going to go our way legally, he is prepared to, ah...relocate the babies and their adoptive parents to a more friendly environment. That's not our problem right now. Freeing up the information and getting it into the proper hands is our end of the job. And the headlines and story, of course. 'Tis the season of miracles, and the public will be on our side. Trust me."

  "Like we have a choice," Ted muttered.

  "Look!" Espinosa said. "There are pictures of the babies, along with foot- and handprints on each adoption. This should make the lawyers' work a little easier."

  The time was 3:10.

  At 3:45 the fax machine shut down, forcing the foursome to head out to the main office to finish up. At 4:05 they had three copies of each file, and one set was safely on the mountain. The second set was packed into three packing boxes to be sent out to Nikki's old law firm by private messenger as soon as they could arrange a pickup.

  "I'm feeling pretty good about this," Maggie said. "Anyone want to go out to breakfast? Our job here is done."

  Harry looked pointedly at the two empty pizza boxes and shook his head. "I'm going home."

  "Me too," Jack said as he pulled on his boots. "Did they say anything about the closings? This town shuts down when it flurries out, especially government."