Gus’s thoughts shifted to his evening with Maggie. It was the kind of evening he’d dreamed about when he was in the desert, finding that perfect mate, making it work, and going on with your life as a couple. The evening had been so endearing, so sweet, so perfect, he thought he was dreaming. Forty-seven years old and he was just now finding true love, and that true love didn’t care if he was a cripple or not.
What was it Maggie had said? “If you go back to being a hundred percent, fine. If you don’t, I’ll take care of you.” That had blown his mind. Absolutely blown his mind. He hadn’t known what to say, couldn’t find the words. Maggie was the one who knew all the words. When she saw him struggling to say something, she’d put her fingers on his lips and say, “That’s a promise.” And he believed her, heart and soul.
Gus was so deep into his thoughts, he didn’t hear it when someone came into the room. When the air stirred around him, he opened his eyes to see the general easing himself down onto the same bench he was sitting on.
“How’s it going, son?”
“Today is better than it was yesterday, sir. How are you doing? I didn’t see you last week.”
“Had to go to Rhode Island to a funeral. Old army buddy. I got so caught up in my memories, I just didn’t feel like coming here. I hate to admit it, but I needed to wallow a bit.”
“I understand, sir.”
The general looked around. He gave a snort of laughter and said, “Maybe you and I are going to give each other therapy. No one is here. The weather is bad, but when that happens, you have to leave early to make sure you arrive on time. You and I know that, son. It’s these civilians that march to a different drummer who don’t understand it. So, what’s new in your life? Have you made any concrete decisions about what you’re going to do when you get out of here?”
Gus grappled to find the words. Finally, he blurted out, “I’m in love. I met the woman I’ve waited all my life for, and she doesn’t care what condition I’m in. I’m going to write a book. I always wanted to do that, so I’m going to try my hand at it. Then I’m going to breed dogs. I’ve been researching real estate on the Net, and I came up with a few possibilities.”
“Sounds like a plan. What kind of book?” the general asked curiously.
“Espionage, spy stuff, illegal funds. I guess you could say political.” Gus sucked in his breath as he waited for the general’s response.
“That stuff sells. My wife loves thrillers. How do you plan on doing your research?”
“I haven’t gotten that far in my thinking. Any idea who I should be talking to? I’m not up on Washington politics. The flip side of that is, why would anyone even talk to me? I’m a nobody.”
Gus was surprised when he felt the general’s hand on his arm. “Son, I don’t ever want to hear you say you’re a nobody. You are somebody. You’re a soldier who almost gave his life for his country. And you’re suffering and undergoing unbearable pain as a result. You get a résumé in order, and when you call around to make appointments, you toot your own horn. I can steer you in a few directions.”
Gus felt his heart start to pound in his chest. Careful, careful, he warned himself. “Which agency should I start with, sir?”
“There is no such thing as full disclosure among agencies, so you’ll have to talk to all of them, depending on what it is you’re going to write about. In other words, your plot, son. I’ve never written a book, so I don’t know if this is good advice or not.”
“You should think about writing your memoirs, sir. When you retire.”
“That’s what my wife keeps telling me.”
The worms crawling around in Gus’s stomach settled down. He heard noise from out in the hall. The therapists must have arrived. Before he could change his mind, he blurted out the question Maggie had told him to ask. “Who would I need to talk to about the different money funds that are not controlled by Congress? I read, so I know that they’re out there and that the general public doesn’t know about them. There has to be a person or a committee or a group of some kind that controls huge amounts of money. Do those people have control of the money, or do they report to the president?” There, he’d said the words out loud. He stared at the general to see his reaction.
“Sounds like you know what you want to write about, son—money and power. You can never go wrong with that. I’m thinking you might want to talk to JJ, but I’m not sure he’d give you the time of day. The man is like a phantom, from what I’ve heard. He answers to no one, not even the president. Or so the story goes. This is Washington, son, and stories abound. Quirky kind of guy and, by the way, this is just scuttlebutt.”
Gus felt a surge of panic when the door opened and a gaggle of people entered the room. One of the therapists clapped his hands and said, “Okay, let’s get to it!”
“Sir, who is JJ?”
The general pierced Gus with a look Gus couldn’t define. He held his breath as he waited for the general’s response.
“Jody Jumper. He knows where all the bodies are buried, or so I’ve been led to believe. And you didn’t hear that from me, son.”
Gus thought he was going to faint. “Hear what, sir?”
“Okay, Sullivan, you’re up!” his therapist said as he held out his hand to pull Gus to his feet. “You okay? You look a little . . . white.”
“Forgot to eat, that’s all. I’m ready.”
Back in Georgetown, Nikki Quinn Emery was staring at her husband, a wide smile on her face. “I can’t believe we’re standing here like this on a Sunday afternoon, both of us. And that you just invited me out to brunch. I accept, Jack. And we need to do this more often. You do know the weather is pretty shitty out there, right?”
“I really don’t care. I’ve been cooped up with Harry and Bert so long, I don’t know what it’s like outside. Let’s just bundle up and go to the Knife and Fork. It shouldn’t be so busy now, and the weather will keep a lot of people indoors. I’ll hold your hand,” he said and laughed.
Nikki was already slipping into a long all-weather coat the color of burgundy. She plopped a rain hat on her head, pulled on boots and gloves, then held out her hand. “I’m ready, husband of mine.”
“I love the way that sounds.”
What should have been a three-minute walk to the Knife and Fork turned into a twenty-two-minute walk with hard, icy rain pelting them. In the end, Jack guided Nikki to the cobblestone road and held her arm tightly. It was slush up to their ankles, but they managed. Both of them sighed when they entered the small eatery. Both of them were surprised when the hostess told them it was a ten-minute wait. They hung up their coats and took a seat along with four other couples waiting to be seated.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all. The temperature is dropping. By the time we leave here, it’s going to be pure ice out there,” Jack said.
“Nonsense, and do we really care? No, we do not. Think of this as romantic,” Nikki said. “We held hands the whole way here. If we have to, we can slide on our bums all the way home.”
Jack laughed and mouthed the words I love you. Nikki mouthed the same words in return.
Fifteen minutes later, when they were finally seated, Nikki said, “Jack, did I tell you I think I have Alexis convinced to go to law school? You know I was in court all day yesterday, even though it was Saturday, because court was dark for two days with no heat. When I got back to the office, there was Alexis, manning the fort. She’s a natural. I think between you and me, and a few other people I know who can pull strings, we can get her into law school if she wants to go.
“The firm will pay for it as long as she signs on to work for us when she graduates. She wants to, but she doesn’t think she’s got the smarts to do it. I also think she thinks she might outshine Joseph Espinosa. I don’t know whom she loves more, Joe or his family. She absolutely adores Joe’s mother. I don’t think she would want to put that relationship to the test, and she might back away for that very reason.”
“Do you want me to
have a little preemptive talk with Espinosa?”
“Yeah, that would be great, but don’t come on too strong. Talking to Ted might also help since the two of them are so tight.”
“Consider it done,” Jack said, picking up his menu and perusing it. “I love their Canadian bacon, so I think I’ll go for that and two eggs over easy. And some fresh-squeezed orange juice. Wheat toast with some of that blackberry-raspberry jam they’re so famous for. How about you, Nik? You as hungry as I am?”
“I’ll have the same, but let’s split one of their potato-onion casseroles, too.”
Jack gave the order to the waitress after she filled their coffee cups.
Jack leaned back in his captain’s chair and smiled across the table at his wife. “Seems like the only time we get to play catch-up is on the weekends. What’s new?”
“That’s so true, Jack. We really have to make more time for us. I thought that would happen when you and Bert took over Harry’s training.”
“Yeah, well, if Harry hadn’t screwed things up, it would have happened. We got him going in circles now. Bert cracks the whip, I can tell you that. Harry has agreed to everything we set up. I wish we could take the credit, but down deep I know it was Yoko who set Harry straight. He’s coming along well, and I think he has a really good chance of taking the title in the spring.”
“Did Yoko tell him yet?” Nikki asked.
“Tell him what?”
“Well, Myra and Annie swear Yoko is pregnant, but she hasn’t said anything to any of us to confirm or deny it, but by the same token, we haven’t asked. Morning sickness,” Nikki said, as if that would explain everything to Jack, who just looked blank.
“That’s really great if it turns out to be true. Harry can’t keep a secret to save his life, so I have to say no, he doesn’t know. If he knew, he’d be out running the streets, shouting at the top of his lungs. No, he doesn’t know,” Jack said emphatically.
“Don’t say anything, Jack. If it’s true, Yoko will tell us when she feels the time is right. She might be afraid, considering what happened the last time. Asian people are often superstitious when it comes to things like this. Promise you won’t say anything, Jack.”
“I promise. That the sum total of your news?”
“No, I have more.” Nikki giggled. “Fergus and Elias are working at Yoko’s nursery, pro bono. They’re getting along like two peas in a pod. They make Yoko sit and drink tea, and they do all the heavy lifting. You know, hefting those Christmas trees to roll into the barrel so they can net them up. Fergus told Annie’s business is brisk, and Yoko is very happy when they tally up the receipts at the end of the day. And in February, Fergus is going to head up the security at Myra’s candy factory.
“Mr. Unger, who replaced Charles, is going to retire. Lizzie is working on getting Fergus the right paperwork so all that can happen. Annie is happier than a pig in a mud slide, I can tell you that.”
“That is a lot of news. You’re right. We have to spend more time together. I can’t believe I didn’t know any of this.” Jack grinned sheepishly.
“Wait, there’s more,” Nikki continued, giggling again. “I saved the best for last.”
“Hit me!”
“Gus Sullivan, Maggie’s new amour, went to her place for dinner last night and spent the night. I know nothing more, so do not ask questions. Maggie is definitely in love. She said Gus loves her, too. And, Gus has the inside track with some general who goes to Walter Reed for therapy. He’s going to ask him some questions this afternoon. Seems the general prefers weekends for his therapy so he can be in his office during the week. Just two military types who are sweating the same bullets and hoping they can walk away whole when it’s all over. She promised to call me when Gus reports back to her at the end of the session.”
“Yep, that was news.”
Nikki leaned across the table and hissed, “So, share. What’s your news?”
“I really don’t have any, Nik, unless you want to hear all about Harry’s idiosyncrasies. He wears boxers. He sleeps on the floor. He eats crap. He’s lost weight, but we’re putting it back on him. We have him on such a tight schedule, all he does is curse us. Bert actually bought earplugs. We train for two hours, and then we make him shower and eat a small protein meal, wait thirty minutes, and go at it again. It’s paying off. He’s got more stamina than ever. We call it quits at seven thirty, when Yoko gets home. Like it or not, he has to go upstairs with her. He’s getting ten hours’ sleep a night. He’s looking good. Actually, Nik, I’m so proud of the three of us, I could just bust.”
“That’s hardly newsworthy, Jack. That’s it!”
“Well, Ted Robinson stopped by a few days ago with a very pretty young lady on his arm. I think he wanted to show her off. She’s a real-estate broker in Arlington. Late thirties, early forties, nice-looking. Definitely in shape, and she was hanging on to Ted for dear life, and he was loving every minute of it. Her name is Rachel Ryan. Never been married, no baggage, as Ted calls it. We all liked her. Sweet personality, just right for Ted. And speaking of Ted, which makes me think of Maggie for some reason, what’s up with her hacker? Is he on the job?”
“Oh, good Lord, how could I have forgotten to tell you about that? Not only is he on the job, but he is on the job with Isabelle. They are now an item, as in a couple, as in love. Annie said she has never seen Isabelle this happy, but yes, they are working on what . . . you know . . . what he does. We should be hearing or seeing results in the next few days.”
Their food arrived just as Nikki finished talking, and they dug in. They chatted about the weather, the law, and nothing important during the meal. When they were finished, Nikki said, “This was a good idea, but I am stuffed. Dinner tonight will be a salad and some soup.”
“That works for me, but what about dessert?”
“Let’s go home and make some peanut butter fudge and hit the sheets.”
Jack leered at his wife. “As in . . .”
“You want a diagram?”
“No, ma’am, I figured it out.” Jack stuffed some bills under the saltshaker, got up, held Nikki’s chair for her. They both raced to the door and bundled up.
Outside, the precipitation was a mixture of sleet and snow. Laughing like two kids, they made their way home, slipping and sliding and giggling the whole time.
Gasping for breath, they climbed the few steps to the front door. While Nikki fumbled with her keys, Jack said, “I love you, Nikki Quinn Emery.”
“Not as much as I love you, Jack Quentin Emery,” she said, thrusting the door open. They both barreled through the door at the same time and headed for the stairs.
“I thought we were going to make peanut butter fudge?” Nikki grumbled.
“Are you nuts! No pun intended,” Jack managed to blurt out.
Giggling, Nikki sprinted up the steps, Jack hot on her trail.
Chapter 21
Charles Martin stood at the back door in the kitchen, straining to see the weather outside. Sleet crashed against the windows and even found its way to the panes in the kitchen door, even though there was a protective overhang. For sure, winter was here. And early this year, in his opinion.
In the background, Charles could hear Myra laughing and the dogs barking as she did her best to wrap Christmas presents in the living room. He’d peeked in earlier, while he was readying a prime rib to put into the oven. So much food for just the two of them, but Myra said she was in the mood for prime rib, so prime rib it was. He turned and walked to the door leading into the living room. Myra was actually rolling across the floor, a skein of scarlet ribbon in her hand, which one of the pups was intent on getting. A mountain of gaily colored paper and ribbons were strewn everywhere. As fast as Myra fixed a bow, one of the dogs snatched it from her. Charles smiled as he listened to his beloved’s hysterical laughter. He knew at some point she would have enough, at which point she would whistle and say, “Enough!” and the dogs would retire to the fireplace, where their beds were lined up. Of cours
e, she would have to bribe them with chew bones, whereas all he had to do was give a command, and the dogs fell into line. The dogs knew who was boss and whom they could trick.
Charles did one last check of the kitchen for tidiness—he did sooo hate a mess—as well as looked at the banana cream pie he’d baked earlier. Satisfied that he had a good two hours before it was time to serve dinner, he headed for the war room. He decided to make his way through the dining room, out to the hall, then to the hidden opening behind the bookshelves that would lead him to the dungeons under the old farmhouse. No sense in disturbing Myra; she was having too much fun, something that was sorely lacking in her life these days.
Charles took a moment to look around what the Sisters called his “lair,” the place where they said he made things happen. That was back in the day, he thought ruefully.
These days, the upstarts were showing him up. He hated to admit it, but his sources simply hadn’t kept up with the times. But, he did have the manpower.
He touched a few keys to see if he had incoming e-mails to go to the printer and was disappointed that there was nothing there for him to analyze. He stared down at the round table where his chicks, as he thought of the Sisters, had sat so many times, plotting a revenge to right some wrong. He focused on Julia’s chair, Annie’s chair now. He said a little prayer for Julia, the way he always did when he got in one of his moods. Julia might be gone, but she would never be forgotten.
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