“Consider it done, my dear.”
“I like the part where the FBI and Homeland Security were chasing their tails,” Nikki said. “No one, it seems, has any opinions on Zenowicz’s whereabouts or that of his lady friend, one Rena Gold. Nellie calling in saying she got that anonymous tip was priceless and gave her beaucoup credibility when she called it in to Elias Cummings. The best part, though, is the statement the World Bank issued saying there were no irregularities at the bank, and that they were as puzzled as the authorities are as to why Mr. Zenowicz didn’t bother to tender his resignation. They did offer up a feeble scenario that he has been under a lot of personal and professional stress of late.” Tossing the paper back onto the table, she said, “Damn, we do look good in that picture. I want a framed one, too, Charles.”
“I’ll take care of it. This might be a good time for me to tell you all that invitations have flooded my computer. It seems the public is more impressed than ever with your capabilities. They liked that you put on that little show in front of the Post,” Charles said. “Two words I want you to start thinking about: ‘collateral damage.’ And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.
“Just in case you haven’t gotten to yesterday’s edition of the Post, you might be interested to know that Mr. Nolan resigned from Homeland Security, saying he wants to spend more time with his family.
“Ladies, is there anything you want to tell me? Possibly something you forgot to mention?” The women looked at one another and shrugged. “I guess I should take that as a no, then?” The women shrugged again.
“Let me phrase that another way, then. I have gotten several very interesting e-mails citing a rumor that the Post indeed has had an offer to buy it. The current owner is actually considering the offer.”
“How interesting,” Myra said.
“New blood is always a good thing,” Annie said.
“So, Charles, how long before our next mission, and do you care to give us a few clues as to what it will be?” Nikki asked, trying to turn the conversation away from the Post and a possible new owner.
“All in good time, ladies. I want you all to rest up for the company that will be arriving in six days’ time. I’m sure you have some primping to do and whatever else you women do when company is coming.”
Isabelle threw a spoon in Charles’s direction. He quickly beat a retreat to the kitchen.
Annie sighed. “Thanks for covering for me, girls. Myra, are you sure I can afford to buy the Post?”
“Annie, I was joking when I said what I said. You are a billionaire. That’s with a b. I assume that’s enough to buy a newspaper. If it isn’t, ask for time payments if they accept your offer. You have to haggle first, though.”
The women got up and headed outside, whispering among themselves as they tossed the two words Charles had uttered back and forth, wondering what they meant.
“Annie, if you own that damn paper, we’re going to be golden,” Kathryn said.
The women high-fived each other as they set off down a piney path to work off the lunch they’d consumed.
“Six more days!” Nikki chortled.
“I can’t wait,” Yoko said.
“I’m nervous,” Kathryn said.
Annie looked at Myra. “You’re right, dear, we’re way too old to have to listen to what’s coming next. Why don’t we go back to the house and take a nap?”
“See! See! Now, you’re getting it. A nap it is, my friend. But first we’re going to look up the words ‘collateral damage’ even though we know what they mean. You know, to see if we can get one step ahead of Charles.”
“Good idea,” Annie said.
Sterling, as a matter of fact.
If you enjoyed FAST TRACK,
be sure not to miss
the other novels in Fern Michaels’s
thrilling Sisterhood series!
Here’s a little taste of
HOKUS POKUS
(a Zebra paperback on sale now!),
followed by COLLATERAL DAMAGE
(a Zebra paperback on sale in October 2008!).
HOKUS POKUS
Prologue
McLean, Virginia
When Judge Cornelia Easter 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 the 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 must 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 longtime 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 would sip 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, “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, but 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. “It belongs to the gardener. I stole it 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 into a cone-shaped filter. She pressed the coffeemaker’s 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 know 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 teeth 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 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…uh…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 important, they trust me with their lives. God dammit, 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 until after she called Charles Martin or should she just get it over with?
The special encrypted phone in her hand, Nellie took a moment to think about her retirement and all the things she’d planned on 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
Barcelona, Spain
Charles Martin stood in the middle of his command center, a setup that would have been the envy of the CIA or the White House if they knew about it. He stared at the wraparound television monitors that displayed the 24-hour news channels and what was going on in the world in real time, but 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 satellite 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 Fox, 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 Patek Philippe chronometer on his wrist and then up at the row of clocks hanging between the plasma monitors. His girls were still sleeping since it was Sunday morning. 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.
Charles Martin, aka Malcolm Sutcliff, aka Sir Malcolm Sutcliff, thanks to his friend Lizzie, also known as Queen Elizabeth II of England, leaned back and closed his eyes. He let his mind travel back in time to when he was a young man in Her Majesty’s Secret Service. He’d met a very young Myra Rutledge and fallen in love but Myra’s parents had whisked her back to America and he hadn’t seen her again until his cover was blown as an M16 special agent. With his government’s help he’d been relocated to America to protect his life and the secrets he carried in his head. H
is new job was head of security for Myra’s Fortune 500 candy company. He smiled when he recalled how they’d fallen in love all over again.
If he ever had any second thoughts about his situation, all he had to do was look at Myra and he knew this was where he belonged.
He continued to smile when he thought about how Myra had asked him to help her break the law. Not that she had to twist his arm. He was so glad to be back in the field he would have begged her to allow him to orchestrate the game she and her adopted daughter had come up with. And while it was dangerous, he had enough contacts all over the world to pull it all together.
Charles was jarred from his reminiscences when the encrypted phone rang. “Good morning, Jack.”
“Charles, do you know what time it is? Of course you do, you take perverse pleasure in waking me from a deep sleep. What’s up?”
Charles told him. From time to time he could hear Jack’s intake of breath and a few mutterings. “That’s where it is at the moment, Jack. I want you to gather the others and meet at the farm. I’ll arrange things on this end and we’ll have a conference via satellite.”
“Wait just a damn minute, Charles. Tell me you aren’t thinking what I think you’re thinking.”
“What would that be, Jack?”
“I’m not snatching the chief justice of the United States Supreme Court. Do you have any idea how much security those people have? No. You have to be crazy to even think…No! The others aren’t ready for something like this. No. No, no, no! Even with Nikki and the others who are more seasoned, I’d still say no. Do you hear me, Charles? I said no. The old judge…Nellie…is so nervous she can’t speak a clear sentence these days. Lizzie Fox and Maggie Spritzer are in no way ready for a mission of that magnitude. Even Harry will tell you to go pound salt. No! You are out of your frigging mind, Charles, if you think this is doable. It’s beyond impossible. One more time, no!”
Fast Track Page 22