9. Hokus Pokus

by Fern Michaels

Jack watched. Ted’s disappearance was so slick, he almost missed it. Good old Harry.

  Inside the exquisite suite of rooms that were filled with fresh flowers in crystal vases and silver bowls filled with fresh fruit, the women shed their trench coats and started to peel away the latex that covered their bodies. They scattered in the direction of the bathrooms, calling out to one another, congratulating themselves on getting back into the country undetected.

  Thirty minutes later they were back in the sitting room dressed in jeans, sneakers and T-shirts and munching on the fresh fruit. “That certainly was exciting,” Annie gushed. “I think I could get used to all this…exposure.”

  Isabelle threw a banana at Annie, who caught it in midair. “Don’t you mean scary?”

  “Not at all, dear. I think it’s obvious that we fooled everyone, even Maggie Spritzer. I wonder why Charles hasn’t called us,” Myra said as she reached for a kiwi. A second later her encrypted phone rang. The others grew silent as Myra listened to the voice on the other end of the line. When Myra’s face turned beet red the others grinned from ear to ear.

  As one they shouted, “What did he say? Did he like our performance? What are we waiting for? Come on, Myra, what did Charles say?” they teased, laughing uproariously at the discomfort Myra was showing.

  She hung up and then cleared her throat several times before she finally spoke. “He said he was enamored of our performance and he taped it. We’ll all receive a copy once this is all over. He…uh…He said he’d park his shoes under my bed anytime.” In spite of herself, Myra burst out laughing when the others clapped her on the back. Suddenly they were a team again, all for one and one for all.

  “Pearl is out at my farm. Jack Emery suspects that Ted was out at Nellie’s farm spying. He can’t prove it but that’s what he thinks was going on. Pearl’s live-in, Grant Conlon, showed up after midnight looking for Pearl. Earlier he went to the FBI to ask Elias Cummings to make discreet inquiries as to Pearl’s whereabouts. He lied to Nellie and said he hadn’t spoken to the director. Pearl confided to Nellie that she thought Grant had been aligning himself with Tyler Hughes. By the way, Pearl wants to join up with us after she resigns.”

  “Wow!” Nikki said.

  “There’s more,” Myra said. “Harry snatched Ted Robinson and has him stashed at his dojo with his people watching him. It seems he was outside the Willard when we arrived and Maggie warned Jack that Ted was up to something. He might have put it together somehow. Maggie returned to the paper to do her article. She is going to set up a meeting if possible at the Watergate where Tyler lives. We’ll do a snatch and grab as soon as Charles gives the go-ahead. The plan at the moment is for Kathryn and Isabelle to fly to Oregon, pick up a bus and drive to the location where Pearl’s people are waiting to be taken to safety.”

  “What about Pearl’s boyfriend?” Nikki asked.

  “Charles said he was working on that end of it. That appears to be a little more complicated. We’re to wait for instructions from Jack and Harry. That’s all I know, girls.”

  The phone on the desk shrilled to life. Panic ensued as the women looked at one another. “We said no calls were to be put through,” Alexis said in a strangled-sounding voice. Already she was envisioning something going wrong.

  The phone kept ringing.

  “Maybe we should answer it,” Yoko said.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t,” Isabelle said.

  The phone continued to ring, the sound so shrill it could be heard in the hallway.

  Kathryn bounded to her feet. “Answer the damn phone already! I can’t stand to hear a phone ringing. It might be Jack or maybe the front desk. It’s probably important because I don’t think this hotel wants to piss us off.”

  Annie reached out and snatched the phone. “Yes?”

  The sudden silence was so deafening the others looked from one to the other, their eyes full of unasked questions.

  “Who? I don’t appreciate your humor and I thought we left orders that no calls were to be put through to our rooms. We’ve only been here a few hours and already you’ve broken the rules. What part of what I said don’t you understand? We are not taking calls or accepting invitations. Period.” However, she continued to listen to the voice on the other end of the phone.

  The women collectively mouthed the words “Who is it?” Annie held up her hand for quiet and rolled her eyes. Their eyes popped when they heard Annie say, “Press secretary, my ass. If his boss can’t call me direct, then I’m hanging up. Why should I wait? Time is money. Furthermore…All right, put him on.”

  “Who?” the women hissed.

  Annie nestled the phone on her shoulder and flapped her arms. “The president! Of the United States,” she clarified. She yanked at the chair by the desk and flopped down when she heard a familiar voice. “Hello, Mr. President. Yes, we’re liking this country just fine. You want us to come to the White House for lunch. We’re flattered, Mr. President, but our schedule…”

  Nikki stood in the center of the room hopping up and down as she hissed, “No, no, no! Get off the damn phone, Annie.”

  Annie stood up and squared her shoulders. “I think I speak for the G-String Girls when I say we cannot get involved in American politics. Our schedule is far too tight to fit in a luncheon and a performance.” She listened for a few moments before saying, “I’ll ask the promoters if there are any spare tickets for your daughters. I can’t promise anything. Can I have one of my people get back to your people, Mr. President?” She tried to slam the phone back into the base and failed. Yoko had to pry the phone out of her hands to replace it.

  “He…That was…He wanted us to come for lunch tomorrow and give a performance for the staff of the White House. Oh, and his daughters. He wants tickets,” Annie dithered. “Did I handle that okay?”

  “Damn straight you did,” Kathryn said, slapping Annie on the back. “I didn’t vote for him. Guess he wasn’t prepared for a turndown. How did he sound?”

  “He tried to convince me to okay the luncheon. He did try to schmooze me. Oh, God, oh, God, I actually talked to the president of the United States! I was waiting for him to throw in a ride on Air Force One. He said his people tried to get tickets for his daughters but were told it was a sold-out performance. Hint, hint. You heard my end of the conversation.”

  Myra worked at the pearls around her neck. “I find this incredibly interesting. Charles is going to be so impressed,” she said.

  A knock sounded at the door. Yoko ran to the door and looked through the peephole. She threw open the door and jumped into Harry Wong’s arms. Nikki flew past her to where Jack was standing and did the same thing. Bringing up the rear was Bert Navarro. He entered the room, zeroing in on Kathryn. Within seconds he swept her up into his arms and did a lip-lock that made Myra and Annie gasp.

  “Oh, my!” Annie said.

  Chapter 16

  Maggie Spritzer knew she was strung as high as a kite as she settled herself to pound away at her computer. Any minute now she expected to go into orbit. She looked up when her boss approached her desk.

  “Nice going, Spritzer! You got the byline. We’re going with the front page and you got the top of the fold even if you look like you’re embalmed. Those women more than make up for your sappy expression. How the hell did you manage to pull it off?”

  Sullivan’s craggy features registered such awe that Maggie laughed nervously. She thought she sounded like a frog in distress.

  “Good reporting and perseverance, boss.” Oh, God, if you only knew. Maggie thought she was being sly when she asked, “How’d Ted do with the Russians?”

  Sullivan scratched at his gray hair with one hand, his other hand jerking at his glasses. “You ever watch paint dry or grass grow?” Not bothering to wait for a response he said, “That’s how it went. He emailed in his report and I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “I saw him at the Willard. I think the whole world was there, at least the media world. They gave me tickets. Two tickets. Do you beli
eve that? I have two tickets!”

  “My wife would kill you for a ticket and not think twice about it,” Sullivan joked. “That was a hint, Spritzer. Since you and Teddy boy are on the outs, don’t you need someone to take to the concert? Your job depends on your answer.”

  Maggie looked up at her boss towering over her as she tried to figure out if he was joking. She decided he wasn’t. She fished around in her backpack and handed over the two tickets. “Your wife will need a partner. For sure you won’t want to subject her to those mobs. Maybe you’ll bust your eardrums. Enjoy,” she said, clicking off her computer.

  Sullivan hated the evil expression he was seeing on Maggie’s face. “Smart-ass. Where you going? Don’t you ever work a full day? Sometimes I think you’re worse than Robinson, and yet I keep paying you two,” he grumbled as he jammed the tickets into his shirt pocket.

  “I’m going apartment hunting and then I’m going to rest on my laurels,” Maggie said as she slid her chair up against the desk. “I figure those tickets bought me, let’s say, two or three days of free time. See ya.” Like she was really going apartment hunting.

  As she waited for the elevator, the phone in her pocket chirped. Abner. “Whatcha got, Abby?”

  The weird-sounding voice on the other end of the line squealed to life. “Meet me at Starbucks. The one around the corner from the Post. Get me a coffee, six sugars and light on the cream.”

  Still reeling with her success at the Willard and seeing the vigilantes, Maggie had trouble downshifting to a neutral zone. “Huh?”

  “I’m not sending stuff like this over the Net. Ten minutes. Don’t forget the coffee.”

  “Yeah, yeah, okay.” Maggie pressed the ground-floor button. Outside she raced around the corner to Starbucks where she ordered two coffees, laced Abner’s with six sugars and a spurt of cream, gagged, and then carried the coffees to a table outside. The place was almost empty. How strange was that? Normally, at any hour of the day she had to stand in a line that wrapped all the way to the Post. Everyone must be at the Willard, she thought smugly. Well, she’d been there and done that.

  Maggie sipped at the scalding coffee. She wished she’d thought to ask for some ice. She felt the breeze Abner created as he swooped close and then sat down. He reached for the coffee and took a mind-bending swallow without batting an eye. “How do you do that?”

  “I can drink boiling water and it doesn’t bother me. So, when are we sleeping together? I’m free this weekend,” Abner said as he shoved a manila envelope across the table.

  Maggie blew on the coffee in her cup. “I’m busy this weekend. Let’s shoot for this time next year. Whatcha got in here, Abby?” she asked, pointing to the manila envelope.

  Abner took the reporter’s rejection with good grace. “Don’t you remember what you asked for? Hey, if you’re not going to drink that coffee, can I have it?” Maggie slid the cup across the table. “I got you everything you asked for plus a few extras. How come you didn’t get me a muffin or something?”

  “Because you didn’t ask me to get you one. Just give me a summary, Abby.”

  “He travels a lot. He had some money in an offshore account but it’s almost gone now. Ecuador, in case you want to know. He’s a ladies’ man. But only rich women. He appears to be overbearing. Women don’t like that. Well, at first they do, but then they want to be boss. Like you, Maggie. He owes big bucks. He has an American Express Black Card. I think they call it Centurion or something like that. You have to spend $250,000 a year to get one of those babies. And this guy uses it. All his other cards, and he has six, are maxed out. Clothes, high-end dining, trips, cash advances. His bank account is about subzero. He has $22,000 in it. He’s taken nine trips by plane to Vegas this year alone. This guy doesn’t seem to work too much, he’s off more than he’s on. There were some whispers, and I want to stress the word ‘whispers,’ that some creative accounting might be going on. By one Tyler Hughes. I couldn’t nail that down. Just know that the whispers are out there.”

  “Were you able to find out what his divorce buyout was?”

  “Yeah, eight million. That’s what went into the offshore account. It’s all gone except for $40,000. That info took some doing to get so I hope you appreciate my abilities.”

  “I do, Abby, I do.”

  “He pays his rent late. Constantly gets late notices. He’s got lousy credit. His FICO score is in the dumper. About the only thing he pays is that Black Card. In short, the guy needs money. Did I forget anything?”

  “What about his emails? Did you get anything on that?”

  “Well, yeah,” Abby drawled. “That was a piece of cake. He’s like most people who think if you delete them they’re gone. Wrong. Nothing really interesting. He does everything on his computer, his reservations to restaurants, flight reservations. By the way, he flies on the cheap if he goes somewhere alone. If he takes a woman he goes first class. He does his tennis and golf times by email. No close friends that check in on each other. Just a few emails from women confirming a luncheon or tennis date. There were about a dozen emails to someone named Grant Conlon over the last eight months. They were deleted as soon as they were read. He didn’t bother to delete his other emails. He’d do it every few weeks. I printed everything out. That’s it, Maggie.”

  Maggie digested the information. “No emails to the ex-wife or the ex–mother-in-law? What about the daughter? Fathers usually stay in touch with their kids by email if they’re too busy to make personal visits.”

  “Nope. Nothing like that. I saw you on the news this morning. You looked spaced out. What was that like?”

  “Awesome,” Maggie said, her mind racing and twirling in all directions.

  “How’d they look in person? Were they nice or snooty? You know—above all us little people.”

  Maggie stared across the table at her companion. She didn’t know why but she thought Abner was acting a part for her benefit. Her stomach churned. “They were awesome,” Maggie said once again, using her favorite word. “Really nice. They posed with me for a picture. I get the front page in tomorrow’s paper. They weren’t snooty at all. I liked them. You going to the concert?”

  “I wish. They were sold out the moment they became available. I’ll watch it on television.”

  Maggie was sorry she’d given up the two free tickets so easily to Liam Sullivan. Nothing she could do about it now. “Thanks, Abby. If I can get more tickets, I will. I’ll let you know. What would I do without you?”

  Abby flushed a bright red. “I like to help people. Not many people can do what I do even if it is breaking the law. I’m glad to help, Maggie, because you’re one of the good guys. Call me if you need anything else. Thanks for the coffee. By the way, if you do get the tickets, will you go with me?”

  Maggie smiled and nodded. She didn’t see it happening, but you never knew what could happen at the eleventh hour. She realized at that moment she was genuinely fond of Abner. “Okay, how about we have sex over the Fourth of July? This way neither one of us will know if it’s our rockets going off or the fireworks,” she teased. She took a moment to wonder what sex would be like with the computer hacker. She burst out laughing when Abby winked at her. Suddenly she knew—and she didn’t know how she knew—but she knew sex with Abner would be over-the-top. Oh, yeah. Ted who? she thought smugly.

  Abby laughed as he hitched up his baggy pants. He offered up a sloppy salute as he sauntered away.

  Maggie took a moment to think back to when she’d first met Abner. Even back then she hadn’t shoved him off as a nerd. For some strange reason she thought what she was seeing today was a façade. She’d also bet a week’s salary that his name wasn’t really Abner Tookus, either. She’d once tried to track down a rumor that Abby had worked at the DOJ, the Department of Justice, and was an up-and-coming lawyer, and that something had gone awry and suddenly he was gone from the DOJ.

  At one point she’d unearthed a picture of him dressed in a Brooks Brothers suit with a regulation haircut. Sh
e remembered how her heart had fluttered. Well, that was then and this was now. Whatever his reason for staying out of the limelight and wearing his sloppy disguise, not to mention the affected squeaky voice, who was she to blow his cover? In this business you needed all the allies you could muster up. One of these days she was going to go for the gusto and show up on his doorstep and whatever happened at that point would simply happen. First, though, she had to figure out where the hacker hung his hat. One of these days. She mentally put it on her To Do list. Yep, one of these days.

  Maggie jammed the manila envelope into her backpack. She had to find Jack and turn it over to him. Then she needed to find a way to set up another meeting with Tyler Hughes.

  Back in Virginia, Nellie Easter picked up her encrypted phone and held it up for Pearl to see. “The calls we make will be untraceable,” she said. “It’s almost nine o’clock. You should be able to get hold of everyone now. Give me Grant’s cell phone number, I’ll dial it and hand you the phone. You know what to say.” Pearl rattled off a number and Nellie pressed it in. She handed the phone to Pearl, who licked at her dry lips before she spoke.

  “Grant, it’s Pearl. I understand you’ve been looking for me. Why? I don’t go around asking your friends where you are when you go off. I don’t appreciate the inquiries you’ve been making.” She listened for a moment and then said, “Why does it matter where I am? To be blunt, Grant, it’s none of your business. I have things to take care of.” She listened again, rolling her eyes for Nellie’s benefit. “You’ll see me when you see me.” Pearl chewed on her lower lip as a barrage of questions were put to her.

  “Hurry up, you’ve been on long enough,” Nellie whispered. Pearl nodded to show she understood.

  “So what if I left my purse and cell phone home. Why are you snooping in my things, anyway, Grant? I just told you, you’ll see me when you see me, at which point you and I will have a long-overdue talk. In the meantime, you might think about relocating. Good-bye, Grant.”