Hokus Pokus (The Sisterhood: Rules of the Game, Book 2)

by Fern Michaels

  “A little over a year ago he started to change. It was subtle. He stopped being so attentive. He grew secretive. I was so busy with the underground and my work in court that I more or less chalked it up to plain old exhaustion on my part. As you know I can be cranky at times. I should tell you that there is a lot he doesn’t know. Maybe in my heart of hearts I didn’t trust him. All I know is he started pressuring me to tell him those things I didn’t share with him, the things I won’t share with you, either, for the safety of my people who are putting their asses on the line every day.

  “One day Grant had to go to the hospital for some tests and his annual physical. I was home that day so I went at it. I went through his things. His portfolio is seriously depleted. He suffered some severe losses in the stock market. He has his pension and that’s about it. Soon after that, he stopped giving me his share of the expenses. We stopped dining out. I let it go for a while and then I said something and he went ballistic. I stepped back, stopped including Grant in my…my mission. Of course he noticed.

  “I digress here. Back to my spying. I looked through his day planner and I think he’s meeting with Tyler, my ex–son-in-law. He just used intitials of the people he’s meeting as opposed to spelling out a name on the days he has appointments. Tyler’s initials are the only ones that stood out to me. I might be wrong. Also, he’s been taking cash advances on his credit cards. He’s seriously in debt. He talks a lot on his cell phone. I’m sorry you don’t like him, Nellie. Right now, I don’t much like him, either.”

  Nellie reached out to take her old friend’s hand in her own. “What I think of him doesn’t matter. All I care about is protecting you. Do you have a game plan, Pearl? Is it your intention to…disappear?”

  Pearl swiped at her wet eyes. “Damn it, Nellie, I’ve busted my ass all these years to save women and children. To give them a better life. I love my job. I worked hard to get there. If I’m meant to lose that, so be it, but I want it to be because of me not because someone blackmailed me. Do I want to go to jail? That’s a stupid question, but it looks like that’s exactly where I’m headed and there won’t be anyone around to help me out. I might have to disappear. Do you have any idea what kind of circus that would be?” She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. “What should I do, Nellie?”

  “Well, for starters I think you need to call Grant and chop him off at the knees. As soon as it gets light out so he doesn’t suspect I got in touch with you somehow. Then you need to call your daughter and tell her you’ll be away for a while and not to worry. Tell her not to talk to anyone.”

  “They’ll track my phone calls. I live under a microscope, Nellie, you know that.”

  Nellie held up her encrypted phone. “Untraceable. What about court?”

  “I’ll call in and say I have to take some emergency family time. It won’t be a problem at first. In ten days it will become a big problem.”

  “Which brings me to my next question. What do you want us to do? Spell it out for me, Pearl.”

  “Stop Tyler, and Grant, too, if he is aligned with Tyler. Give me back yesterday if it’s humanly possible.”

  “And if we can somehow make this all happen, and don’t forget there undoubtedly are other people involved with Tyler, then what?”

  “Then, my dear friend, I will resign from the Supreme Court. I am not one of those people who wants their cake and expects to eat it, too. I know what I have to do. What I won’t do is abandon all those women and children who need and depend on me. Isn’t that how the vigilantes work?”

  Nellie ignored the question. Pearl had given her the right answer, the answer the vigilantes could live with and work around. She nodded.

  “How do you all do it? How do you stay sane? Look at me, I’m a basket case. Nellie, we have to get to those women and their kids and move them.”

  “Look at me, Pearl! Do I look like the picture of serenity to you?” Nellie knew she was finally admitting to Pearl what she already knew when she said, “We have an excellent network. In your case you had only Grant. I’m not faulting you. Money, and I assume money is at the root of his problem, can be one’s downfall. The girls are here, Pearl, and ready to go to work. All I have to do is call Charles. Right now you need to tell me where that safe house is in Oregon so the girls can get your people to safety. I need to know everything, Pearl. And I do mean everything.”

  “What about Grant and Tyler?”

  Nellie straightened her shoulders. “Well, we’ll just…What we’ll do is…We’ll just have to take them out.”

  Pearl swallowed hard. “You mean like on those television shows when the gangsters say they’re going to…to take someone out, as in…?”

  It was Nellie’s turn to swallow hard. “More or less,” she said firmly. “We do not kill people, Pearl. We render them…What we do is…”

  “Never mind, I get the picture. What about Elias Cummings? Is he going to be nosing around, too? How did Myra and the girls get here?”

  “It might be a good idea to call Elias, too, and head him off at the pass. It certainly won’t hurt to be preemptive now, will it? Are you game to going down into the tunnels? If so, I can show you how the girls got here. I think you might enjoy the coverage.”

  Justice Barnes stood up. “I want to see this. Lead the way, Nellie. Isn’t it amazing how we’ve come full circle? Remember how we used to play here, sliding down the bannisters when we were little girls, playing dress-up in the attic? Riding our ponies out in the pasture? Remember the tea parties out under the old oak? We climbed trees, something girls weren’t supposed to do back then. Oh, the skinned knees. Lemonade and those big fat sugar cookies we ate on the back porch. It was all so long ago. A lifetime, really. Look at us now. We’re goddamn criminals, Nellie.”

  Nellie reached the bookcase, fumbled in the dark until the panel slid open. “Hold on to my shirt until the panel swings shut. Then I’ll turn on the light. Just so you know, Pearl, there are rats down here. There’s moss growing on the steps and they’re slippery, so be careful. Once we get to Charles’s command center, it’s different, climate-controlled and modern. It’s all so high-tech it boggles my mind.”

  “This is all so amazing. I had no idea you all had this kind of operation. Mine is in my head and on scraps of paper. Where did all the money come from to set this up?”

  “Myra’s fortune and then when Annie came aboard, she kicked in, too. Charles runs everything. The man is an absolute genius. Do you know he calls the queen ‘Lizzie’ and they talk on the phone in the middle of the night?”

  Pearl shook her head. “No, I didn’t know that. I think I might want to join you if you’ll have me, once I resign. Do you think that’s possible, Nellie?”

  “You’ll be a fugitive if you go with them. We’re the second string, Pearl. It’s me, Lizzie Fox—she’s that flamboyant lawyer known for dazzling the courts—and Maggie Spritzer, a reporter from the Post. Then there is District Attorney Jack Emery and Harry Wong, the martial arts expert who also works for the police department.”

  “I’m impressed,” Pearl said as she walked around looking at everything.

  Pearl walked up to Charles’s old station and turned on the three plasma screen television sets. She turned them all to the different 24-hour news channels. “I’m sure they’ll show it all at the top of the hour. That’s in four minutes. You ready, Pearl?”

  Pearl focused on the big screen for the required four minutes. “It’s those rock stars from South Africa. I read yesterday that they’re putting on a sold-out benefit for AIDS.”

  “The G-String Girls!” Nellie said. “Look at that crowd. See, there’s Jack Emery and there’s Harry Wong. They had the security detail. With the Russian delegation in town they had to pull in every off-duty officer in town and from Virginia and Maryland, too. This is an event.” She watched Pearl closely to see if there was any change of expression on her friend’s face. She felt smug when she saw the perplexed look on Pearl’s face.

  “Those girls certainly
have superb bodies. When is whatever you want me to see coming on? Oh, good Lord, that one is kissing Jack Emery! Well, that will certainly be a memory for that young man. Did we ever have bodies like that, Nellie?”

  “I didn’t. I was always kind of squat. You and the others were willowy.”

  “No, I can honestly say I never looked like any of them.” Pearl looked at her watch to see how much time the station was devoting to the G-String Girls.

  “See those two by the limo?”

  “What about them?”

  “That’s Myra and Annie. Nikki Quinn is the one who kissed Jack Emery.”

  Pearl’s jaw dropped. “No! How…?”

  “Like Jack says, Charles is the go-to guy when you want something done. He choreographed this whole thing.”

  Pearl looked like she was in a daze. “Are you telling me they’re going to give a concert? Myra and Annie don’t know how to play a guitar. My God, they look stunning!”

  “No, no. The real G-String Girls will be arriving incognito the day of the concert. Right now Myra and the others are at the Willard waiting for you to get off your duff and tell them where to go in Oregon to help your people. I need to call and tell them what you want done. Be sure you’re okay with all of this, Pearl. I don’t think I have to tell you what a chance those girls took coming here to help you. So be sure whatever it is you want, you can live with. Do we understand each other, Pearl?”

  “I understand perfectly, Nellie. I’m in. Is that the right response?”

  “It will do.”

  Chapter 15

  His stint covering the Russian delegation over, Ted Robinson headed for the Willard hotel, hoping to get a glimpse of the G-String Girls. Who was he kidding? He was going to the Willard in the hopes of seeing Maggie. Even though he liked the G-String Girls, he didn’t give a good rat’s ass if he saw them or not. He’d pitched a fit when Liam Sullivan, his boss, told him he was to cover the Russian delegation and Maggie got the nudie gig. He’d protested hotly that there were other more qualified reporters who spoke a smattering of Russian who should get the assignment. Sullivan had merely blown cigar smoke in his face, fixed him with a steely gaze and asked him who his boss was. Somehow he’d managed to slink out of the Post with his tail between his legs.

  With less than an hour of sleep under his belt, he was in a pissy mood and he knew it. He’d only had an overripe banana and half a cup of yesterday’s coffee that was so bad his eyebrows had curled up. Maggie always made the best coffee, grinding the beans and making sure there was real cream in the fridge. A memory now.

  “Hey, bud, the meter is ticking and I’m going to be stuck here unless you get out and walk the rest of the way. Them girls from Africa have tied up this city’s traffic. Them Russkies just sailed through ’cause no one cares if they’re here or not. You one of them reporters?”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Remembering the question, Ted said, “Yeah, I’m one of them reporters.” He dug around in his pocket for cab fare before he got out of the taxi. He looked around. Pennsylvania Avenue was a war zone. He listened to the curses from drivers, saw others shaking their fists at the cops, some on horseback, who were doing their best to keep things from exploding into a giant mess that would reflect badly on the administration, not to mention the law-and-order detail. He loped off, his backpack thumping against his shoulders. He wondered if the G-String Girls had arrived or if this unruly crowd had prevented their entry into the Willard.

  The moment he saw the first satellite truck he knew he was in trouble. Every news outlet in the world looked to be in attendance. The Russians should only get this kind of coverage. He knew a single exclusive picture of the G-String Girls could go for as much as half a million dollars. He knew in his gut, just knew, knew, knew, that Maggie Spritzer was going to get one of those pictures. Maggie always had luck up her ass. He was getting crankier by the moment.

  His press card around his neck, Ted elbowed his way through the crowds till he somehow managed to get to the front of the line where he spotted Jack Emery and Harry Wong trying to hold the excited crowd in check. He saw Maggie off to the side along with several colleagues from other papers. He recognized Jeff Josel from the New York Post and Tom Driscoll from the New York Daily News. Standing next to Josel was Rick Ferensic from the Times. All three of them were almost as good as he was but they weren’t as sneaky, he thought smugly. He did his best to sidle up to Maggie without calling attention to himself. He didn’t need a confrontation with Emery at this point.

  Ted clapped Maggie on the back. “Hey, babe, how’s it going? You get anything?”

  “You!” Maggie screeched, but she was drowned out by all the noise surrounding her.

  “Don’t go getting pissy on me. I have as much right to be here as you do. I am a reporter. I was just trying to be nice. We did sleep together in case you forgot.”

  “No, you’re a hack. And we are never going to sleep together again. That is not a memory, it’s a nightmare. Get away from me, you crud.”

  “Stop being like that. Look, I’m sorry.”

  “Go tell that to someone who might care. Read my lips. I-do-not-care. Get away from me or I’m going to have you arrested.”

  Ted was saved from replying when a shout went up that the G-String Girls’ limousines were approaching. Things went from wild to wilder as law enforcement did their best to hold the rowdy crowds in check.

  Cameras were aimed and ready. The news trucks blasted their horns to show they were the eight hundred-pound gorillas. Hotel security at the door looked panicked, the startled guests more panicked.

  A cordon of private security for the G-String Girls exited the two limousines. The crowd went crazy, screaming and yelling to get the African stars’ attention.

  A megaphone in one of the guards’ hands suddenly came to life. “I’m going to pick three reporters for ONE interview. Inside the lobby. The G-String Girls will pose for ONE picture.” The guard walked to the rope line and pretended to be considering his choices. He zeroed in on Maggie, Ferensic and Josel. Stunned to be chosen, Maggie, in a daze, crawled under the rope. Her two colleagues followed suit. “Wait in the lobby by the concierge desk,” the guard said tersely.

  The limo doors opened and the G-String Girls stepped out. They waved, blew kisses and then disappeared. The media howled their outrage.

  What followed for the staff of the Willard was a nightmare. The girls strutted their stuff as they made their way to the concierge desk. The burly guard was front and center. “ONE picture! Do it now.” Cameras clicked. Maggie just knew she wasn’t focusing. Sullivan would have her hide for getting personally involved.

  “One question each,” the guard said. “Make it quick!”

  Ferensic went first. “How about a kiss?”

  Isabelle, aka, Susy, leaned forward and kissed the reporter so soundly the assembled crowd gasped aloud.

  Josel, not to be outdone, asked for the same thing. Kathryn stepped forward and stuck her tongue in the reporter’s mouth. Maggie watched as Ferensic reached out to steady his colleague.

  Maggie, her tongue thick in her mouth, finally got it to work. She didn’t have a question. “I just want to thank you for doing this concert. I’m a huge fan.”

  “Okay, she’s the one,” the guard said, motioning for Ferensic and Josel to be escorted to the door.

  “The one for what?” Maggie squeaked.

  “Our one and only interview,” Myra said in her new throaty voice. “We can give you five minutes.”

  “But I wasn’t…I’m not prepared…Oh, damn, just my luck.”

  Annie stepped forward. “No problem, honey, we see this all the time. Here,” she said holding out a sheet of paper. “These are the answers to the questions if you had asked. Chester, take a picture of all of us with this reporter. I like her.”

  Maggie thought she was going to pass out. She was a giddy teenager as she posed with the G-String Girls, a sappy look on her face.

  Nikki stepped forward
to whisper in Maggie’s ear. “Look alive, Maggie, or you’re going to blow our cover.”

  Maggie blinked, gasped and then slid to the floor, her digital camera in a death vise in her hand, the printed sheet in the other. The G-String Girls managed to get to the elevators while others attended to the intrepid reporter.

  Within seconds, Maggie was being helped to her feet. “I’ve never fainted in my life,” she mumbled.

  The bearlike guard lowered his head. “The girls do have that effect on people. Act a little crazed when you get out there. You following me here?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I get it.” She was still mumbling but she couldn’t help it.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Hell no, I’m not okay. Don’t worry, I know how to act crazy. Just give me a few minutes to get myself together.” A second later she barreled through the door, screaming at the top of her lungs. “They gave me an interview. An honest-to-God interview! They touched me. Patty is the one who touched me!” she screamed again. “I have pictures!” she bellowed. “My God, I actually have pictures! Oh, my God, I can retire now!”

  A reporter from NBC stuck a microphone in Maggie’s face. “Tell us what it was like.”

  Maggie brushed him away. “I have an exclusive! Do you think I’m going to share it with you? Not.” She looked over at Ted, whose expression was scary. She gave him her famous single-digit salute as she struggled to make her way through the phalanx of security and media. When she brushed past Jack Emery she hissed, “I don’t like the look on Ted’s face. I think he’s putting two and two together. Do something and do it quick.”

  Jack looked over his shoulder to see Ted arguing with a fellow reporter as he tried to shove him out of the way so he could follow Maggie. Jack yanked at Harry’s arm and jerked his head to the side. Harry turned, his eyebrows shooting upward. “Take him out, Harry. I don’t want him doing any jukin’ and jivin’. Stash him somewhere. I think he thinks he knows something. Don’t hurt him but chop him off at the knees.”