Vanishing Act

by Fern Michaels

  “Annie, my dear, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Myra said.

  “When we corner Bonnie and Clyde, what are we going to do with them?” Nikki asked, bringing matters back to hand. “What kind of punishment are we going to mete out?”

  “Let’s get a snack and meet up in our common room and kick it around. I have a few ideas,” Annie said. “Good ones!”

  While the Sisters were kicking around suitable punishments, Jack Emery was banging on the door of Harry Wong’s dojo. At his feet were Harry’s belongings, along with the paperwork and check Lizzie had left for him to give to Harry.

  Harry appeared in the dim light and peered out at Jack. “What? Don’t you ever sleep, Jack? What’s with this nocturnal visit?”

  “You’re so damn ungrateful, Harry. I’m returning your belongings because I care about you and didn’t want you sleeping directly on the floor. And to return your cell phone, which you left at the house. I also come bearing messages from the mountain and one in particular from Yoko, who said she was going to kick your ass all the way to Kentucky. I didn’t even know Yoko knew where Kentucky was, but that’s where you’re going when she gets hold of you.”

  Harry’s arm snaked through the door, and a second later, Jack was sliding across the slick floor. “What the hell…Now I’m going to have blisters on my ass. What the hell is wrong with you, Harry?”

  “That was for breaking my damn door.”

  “How’d you expect me to get your stuff, you dumb shit! You were sitting barefoot on the curb in your Armani suit when I got here. You didn’t even have your toothbrush. I got you your toothbrush. And, you asshole, you even thanked me for getting you all your stuff. I want an apology,” Jack blustered.

  “Climb in the window like any other burglar. Thanks for bringing my stuff back,” Harry said grudgingly. “Are you telling me the truth about Yoko?” His tone was so worried, Jack enjoyed the moment.

  “Would I lie about something that stick of dynamite would say? In case you don’t know it, I’m almost as scared of her as you are. You got some major sucking up to do, buddy, and I can’t wait to see it. Serves you right, you ungrateful…terrorist.”

  Harry’s concession to making peace was to play the host. “You want some tea?”

  “No, I don’t want any of your shitty tea. Don’t you have any beer?”

  “I do. Do you want one?”

  “Well, yeah,” Jack said, getting to his feet.

  Tea in hand, Harry led the way into the practice room. Jack with his beer followed. Together, they sat down cross-legged on a deep-blue practice mat. “So, talk to me, Jack.”

  “The girls are coming soon, probably within the next couple of days. Yoko will be staying with you, at least temporarily.” Jack quickly outlined all that Nikki had told him. Tongue in cheek, he said, “You better start sprucing up the place, Harry.” Harry favored him with the evil eye, which then made Jack hurry to explain all that Lizzie had told him. “Here’s the check for the renovations. A letter of apology will be coming from the bank. Lizzie wasn’t sure how long that would take, but it is coming. If I were you, I’d frame it when it gets here. From now on you will be banking online, and Lizzie and some guy at the bank will be monitoring your account since you have such a phobia about mail. They’re still working on the credit card stuff, so just be patient. You can still use the two cards you have, it’s been cleared, and new card numbers have been issued. You following me here, Harry?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t like that online part.”

  “Harry, you are such a Neanderthal. That’s another way of saying you don’t have a choice in the matter. It was part of the deal Lizzie made, so suck it up and shut up. How about another beer?”

  “What, now you want me to wait on you, too? Gratitude goes just so far, Jack.”

  “Listen, your ass could be sailing over Kentucky as we speak if it wasn’t for me, so, yes, I expect you to wait on me. Hand and foot. Then I’m going to help you spruce up your place for when Yoko arrives. That means we have to wash the sheets, preferably new ones, in some sweet-smelling stuff, get some fresh flowers, dust with lemon something or other, clean the dust off the paddle fan, and really clean up that scuzzy bathroom of yours. I’m thinking you need new pink bathroom rugs. Women love pink. New towels, too, big and soft. Soap that smells good, new toothbrushes, all that junk you saw in my house. I’m sleeping here since today is Friday, and we can hit the stores first thing in the morning.”

  Harry’s eyes were as round as he could make them. “Tell me you’re jerking my string, Jack.”

  Jack laughed. “It’s either that or you’re going to Kentucky. Your choice.”

  “I hate your guts, Jack. If I find out you’re lying to me, you’re the one who will be going to Kentucky!”

  Chapter 13

  The Sisters were clustered together on the platform where the cable car rested as they waited for Charles to join them with whatever last-second information was coming in by the minute. It was four in the afternoon, and their trip into the nation’s capital would get them there soon after dark. It was the perfect time for the six-hour trip.

  “I can’t believe it’s taken six days to get all this information,” Kathryn grumbled. “My head feels like it’s going to explode with all the information Charles drummed in to me…us. Finally.” She sighed as she pointed to Charles crossing the lawn, the two dogs at his side. “Damn, will you look at that stack of folders he’s carrying. They must weigh a ton,” she continued to grouse.

  Charles handed a folder to each of the women, then stepped back. “Ladies. There’s been a change of plan. Annie, Myra, instead of waiting until tomorrow to go into Bonnie and Clyde’s apartment at the Watergate, you’ll be doing it right after you arrive. Word came in from the men and women who have been tailing them that both Bonnie and Clyde have checked in for the night at the Hiltons where they had their business meetings. No one knows why the change in routine, but it works out well for us.

  “So, good luck! Call in every three hours, and I don’t mean every four hours. Three means three, and it also means no one acts independently under any circumstance. Should that happen, you will be extracted. I have already alerted Jack, Harry, Bert, Ted, and Joseph to these new rules. Do any of you have any questions?”

  They all shook their heads no. It was Annie who opened the gate to the cable car. She stepped in, Myra behind her.

  As the dogs barked, Charles waved nonchalantly and slowly made his way back to the command center.

  Alexis shoved her Red Bag, which looked like it weighed a ton, into the cable car before she followed Annie and Myra.

  “You look more like Tyra Banks than Tyra does,” Nikki shouted at Alexis. “See you tomorrow.”

  Alexis laughed at what she’d accomplished with her Red Bag. She did look like Tyra Banks. She could hardly wait to see Joe Espinosa’s expression when she let herself into his apartment. Would he think that somehow the wrong woman had come calling? What a hoot that would be.

  “Do you think we look like two spinster sisters?” Annie asked Alexis.

  “You do. Trust me, no one will give either one of you a second glance. I don’t mean that the way it sounds. What I mean is no one who sees you will think of either Annie de Silva or Myra Rutledge. And if, when you’re around people, you can remember to speak that awful German language Charles forced us to learn, you’ll ace your new identities.”

  Dressed in prim suits, walking shoes with stout heels on their feet, and look-alike wigs fitted perfectly to their heads, the two women did resemble sisters of a certain age. Both wore glasses with wire rims and had no jewelry other than plain gold wedding bands. Widows, both of them. Each carried a small leather duffel bag that was worn and battered. Two suitcases waited for them at the bottom of the mountain. They were in the trunk of a two-year-old Ford Taurus, complete with an onboard navigator, set to show them the way to the Watergate and its underground parking garage.

  Alexis, on the other hand, looked just li
ke the model and movie star she was supposed to be. She wore skintight jeans, spike heels, and a crisp white shirt tied in a knot at her waist. A rakish jeweled cap pulled low over her forehead at an angle matched the gleaming bracelets and rings she wore. Huge gold-hoop earrings dangled from her ears. A car waited for her, too—in her case a Ford Mustang convertible, which also had a navigation system. It would take her straight to Joe Espinosa’s apartment, where she would park in an underground parking spot, at which point she would take the elevator to the floor where the photographer hung his hat. She was so excited at the prospect that she had trouble breathing. This would be the first time she was actually going to be alone with Joe. Giggling, she said, “I am ecstatic!”

  Myra and Annie smiled indulgently.

  The cable car came to a stop and slid into its nest. The women exited quickly, and Myra pressed the button that would send the car back to the top of the mountain. Within minutes, all three women were in the waiting cars and out on the highway. Their destination: Washington, D.C.

  Back on the mountain, Yoko, Kathryn, Isabelle, and Nikki stepped into the cable car. Sadly, there was no one to wave good-bye.

  Charles had issued new identities and driver’s licenses, the procurement of which had also contributed to the weeklong wait on the mountain.

  Nikki, sporting a dark auburn wig with feathery bangs, was dressed as her old cleaning lady, Cleo Kilpatrick, whom Jack had sent on a two-week vacation. Isabelle, wearing a navy business suit, heels, glasses, and a short blond wig, looked just like Kelly Ripa. She could have been anyone—a lawyer, a banker, an executive of some sort. Women dressed like her paraded the streets of Washington every day. Kathryn, her hair bunched up under a ball cap and dressed in jeans, work boots, and a skinny mini tee that showed off her bronzed, muscled arms—seemingly attesting that she worked at something in a man’s world. A tool belt that looked to weigh at least forty pounds was around her waist. She carried the weight well.

  Yoko was dressed casually, carried a backpack, and had the credentials of an exchange student from Taiwan. A motor scooter waited for her, and it had a navigator programmed to take her to Harry Wong’s dojo.

  At the foot of the mountain, the Sisters hugged, gave each other a thumbs-up, and climbed into their respective vehicles. Yoko slid onto a powerful Honda motor scooter and was off before the others could even turn the key in their ignition. Then Nikki drove off in an ancient dark green Toyota Corolla, Isabelle in a sleek black Audi, and Kathryn in a white van that said it belonged to the Carpathian Plumbing Company.

  Once all the Sisters were in their nests, the plan called for telephone contact only, until told otherwise.

  The mission was on.

  The German sisters, aka Myra and Annie, pulled their well-traveled suitcases behind them as they made their way down the hall that would lead them to their newly acquired apartment on the eighth floor of the Watergate. Annie opened the door and gasped at the nicely decorated, comfortable apartment Charles had managed on such short notice. “For however long we’re going to be here, Myra, I think we’ll be quite comfortable. I like that the eighth floor isn’t that high up.”

  Myra nodded as she walked around, looking at things. While she wouldn’t want to live in a place like this, she could and would adjust for the short-term.

  Within minutes, they were unpacked and checking to be sure the computer, the printer, and the fax machine were up and running. Suddenly beeps and whistles could be heard throughout the three-bedroom, three-bath apartment.

  Annie smiled. “Avery’s people playing with the electric breakers. They were obviously keeping track of our arrival and gave us some time to get ready. That was number one. Four more, and we hit the hall and do our thing. I think we should be waiting by the door for the fourth surge. That’s when we hit the stairs and walk up to the twelfth floor, so we can do our power walk. The cameras in the stairwells will pick us up, but Avery’s people will erase or adjust the film. When the power goes off completely, we scoot right into Bonnie and Clyde’s empty apartment. Charles said we’ll have ten seconds before the power comes back on for five minutes, time for us to do what we need to do inside and get back out to resume our power walk. That’s the way you see it, right, Myra?”

  Myra nodded. “That was three, Annie.” She opened the door and stepped out into the hall just as the fourth power surge caused the hall lights to flicker.

  Both women went directly to the stairwell, where they huffed and puffed their way to the twelfth floor and immediately went into their power walk, arms pumping.

  “There it is, 1206, and Charles was right, the door is slightly ajar. Slow down, Annie, we don’t want to get too far down the hall.” She looked down at her watch. “Two seconds, turn around,” she hissed. “Now!”

  Annie and Myra barreled back down the hall and were inside Bonnie and Clyde’s apartment the moment the windowless hallway went black. Myra counted to ten. The power came back on, and the apartment came to life. Whoever had entered first and left the door open for them must have been the one to turn the lamps on. Undoubtedly they would return and put things back the way they were after Myra and Annie left. The overhead light in the foyer gave off enough light to illuminate the dining area, the kitchen, and the living room.

  The apartment was sparsely furnished.

  “I don’t know for sure what rental furniture looks like, but I think we’re looking at it,” Annie said, indicating the dark, bland furniture that looked neither comfortable nor fashionable. The women separated, Annie taking the bathroom and bedroom, Myra the kitchen, living room, and dining area. It took only four minutes before the women met up in a short hallway that separated the living area from the bedroom.

  “No one lives here, Myra. There’s no stuff. Everyone has stuff. Everyone brings something with them from the old place to the new place, even if it’s only a dying plant. There’s always a bit of the past you want to bring with you to the present to remind you where you’ve been. This is just a shell, a cover of some sort. Everything is new, the sheets on the bed still have the creases on them from being packaged, and they smell new. Everything is minimal, drugstore cosmetics, all new. Clyde’s shaving kit and his sundries are new and unused. They forgot to take the tag off the towels. The chest of drawers holds brand-new clothing from JCPenney. Seven of everything. It still smells new. The closet has shoes, they’re new, too. No DNA anywhere in this place, and that’s a guarantee.”

  “It’s the same thing in the kitchen,” Myra said. “There are four of everything. Nothing extra. Two pots, two fry pans. The refrigerator has a bottle of wine, three bottles of beer, and a six-pack of bottled water. There are two dried-up oranges in the fruit bin. In the freezer there are two frozen TV dinners, a can of frozen juice, no pitcher to mix it in. That’s it. The coffeepot has never been used, and the can of coffee hasn’t been opened.”

  “This place is carpeted, but there’s no vacuum cleaner. No cleaning supplies. I don’t think Charles was expecting this. What do you think, Myra?”

  “I think you’re right. This place is just a cover. I think like you do, there must be another apartment inside this complex where they really live.”

  Myra looked at her watch. They both ran to the door and waited for the power to go back out. Just as Myra turned the knob on the door, the apartment went dark. Like the conspirators they were, they raced to the end of the hall. The only light to be seen was the red EXIT sign over the stairwell door. Inside the dark stairwell, they waited for the power to come back on before they made their wild scramble back to the eighth floor and their apartment.

  Inside, both women collapsed onto a soft, nubby off-white sofa.

  Her voice sounding jittery, Annie said, “That was fun, wasn’t it, Myra?”

  “About as much fun as a root canal. Do you realize you could live in a place like this for years and never see or know your neighbors?”

  The two women waited through three more power surges, darkness, then light before Annie called Charl
es to report in. “There has to be another apartment here. All your people saw was Bonnie and Clyde exiting and entering the building. They didn’t see which apartment they came out of. Myra and I are tired, so we’re going to bed. That means we will not be checking in during the next eight hours.” Annie rolled her eyes at Myra, and so it was obvious Charles was berating her for something.

  In a voice loud enough for Charles to hear, Myra said, “Tell him to sit on it!”

  Annie immediately broke the connection.

  “I think the correct expression according to Kathryn would be, ‘sit on a pointy stick and twirl around,’ or, in other words, ‘perch, pivot, and rotate.’”

  “Whatever,” Myra drawled as she got up and made her way toward the bedroom. “Tomorrow is another day, Annie. Do you have a good feeling about any of this?”

  “Actually, I was just thinking about Lizzie and wondering if she’s going to take the job as chief White House counsel. But to answer your question, I’m thinking positive thoughts. It’s going to depend on all of us working together. Think positive, dear.”

  “I don’t think she’s going to take the job. She has a new husband, and with all the work we’ve been sending her way, I just don’t see her leaving the work she loves behind, however prestigious the new position is. Lizzie has her own reputation and prestige. She doesn’t need the White House,” Myra called over her shoulder as she yawned elaborately.

  Ten minutes later, Myra came out of the bathroom. She was wearing silky pajamas with butterflies all over them, a long-ago birthday gift from Nikki. She sat down on the edge of her bed and looked across at Annie, who was taking off her shoes. “I like it that there are two beds in this room. I hate sleeping in a strange place by myself.”

  “Me, too.” Annie yawned. “Myra, wouldn’t it be wonderful if our Lizzie found herself pregnant and had a little girl? A boy would be nice, too, but a little girl is kind of special. I wonder if she’d let us both be the baby’s godmothers?”