They all had chores. Yoko saw to the plants and flowers, Alexis tended the vegetable gardens, Isabelle did kitchen duty, Kathryn maintained the pool, while Nikki helped Charles in what they called the command center. Myra and Annie supervised to make sure everything ran smoothly. Unlike their command centers back in Virginia and Spain, this particular computer center was Kollar’s and occupied a separate room in the Big House. It worked for all of them.
Breakfast this morning was simple and hearty—bacon, eggs, ham, toast, fresh fruit, coffee, and juice. It was all set out in chafing dishes on a sideboard that ran the entire length of one wall. At each end of the sideboard were two glorious arrangements of yellow roses, thanks to Yoko. The smell was sweet and heady.
Myra, a stickler for the finer things in life, marveled that here on this mountain, the Havapopulas family, father and son, had exquisite crystal, china, and silver. There was no sign of a paper napkin or a plastic tablecloth. Everything was linen. Everything was as fine as her heirlooms back in Virginia. She did love a pretty table setting.
Charles’s main rule—never discuss business until a meal is over—was strictly adhered to. They made small talk, Yoko talking about the gorgeous roses that were now in full bloom, Kathryn discussing the water temperature of the Olympic-size pool.
When they were finished eating, the women all carried their dishes to the kitchen, poured more coffee, and got down to business.
“What time did our guests leave?” Nikki asked.
“I heard the helicopter at first light,” Alexis said. “Grady hates the sound and wanted out, but I waited till it took off. The cable car was already descending, so it left first.”
“What do we think about last night?” Isabelle queried.
“I don’t think those people told us the whole story. Something wasn’t quite right about it all. Just a feeling,” Kathryn said. “It goes without saying that everyone has an agenda. It could be something as simple as those people wanting to get rid of Zenowicz so they can get someone to take his place who will be more friendly to their specific cause, whatever that cause is. It’s all politics no matter how you look at it.”
“I felt it, too, and I think you’re right,” Yoko said.
The others for the most part agreed.
“I didn’t go to bed after the meeting. I went online to see what I could find out about the World Bank,” Annie said.
The women leaned forward. “And…?” they chorused as one.
Annie loved being the center of attention. She preened for a moment. “Well, the president of the World Bank is an American, as we know. But do you all know that a European is the head of the sister bank, the International Monetary Fund? No one mentioned that last night, did they? If I had a crafty mind, which I do, I’d say this has something to do with Americans versus Europeans. The United States is the bank’s biggest financial contributor. It’s a decades-old tradition, and me thinks those people who were here last night might not want to keep it that way. In other words, politics.”
“A turf war?” Nikki asked.
“Without a doubt,” Annie responded. “The World Bank was created in 1945. The object was to rebuild Europe after World War II. You might not know this, and I didn’t either, until I checked it out, but the bank provides twenty billion dollars a year for projects like building dams, roads, and, of course, fighting disease. The bank offers interest-free loans to the poorest countries. I, for one, would like to see their books.”
“And our guy was in charge of twenty billion a year? I could see the temptation to pocket a little. I could also see some creative accounting where those interest-free loans are concerned,” Alexis said. “Don’t forget, I did hard time for people just like this, who framed me.”
The women were silent for a moment as they digested Annie’s information.
“So, I guess what we’re saying is our guests last night have agendas of their own that they didn’t fully disclose,” Nikki said. “But in the end, that’s not what our job is about. Of course, if we find a way to…uh…change things, we will.”
“Yes, dear, it would appear so,” Myra said.
“I wonder who those anonymous donors willing to give us a blank check are. We need to decide how much to charge now. It goes without saying that we aren’t going to keep the money, right?” Nikki asked.
“As long as the money isn’t coming out of the World Bank, I say we hit them where it hurts,” Kathryn suggested. “Anonymous means anonymous, and we’re never going to know. Let’s go with ten million and set up a fund where we disperse the monies to our own needy, but let’s keep a little in reserve for an emergency. First crack off the bat I say we funnel some monies to Pearl Barnes so that she has enough funding for her underground railroad. Lizzie Fox can take care of all that. The more money they have, the more people they can get to safety,” she said, referring to their last mission in the States where they posed as the G-String Girls to fight AIDS in Africa and save the Chief Justice’s career.
“I’d like to see some money go to battered women’s shelters,” Alexis said.
“We can ask Judge Easter to take care of that. I think it’s a wonderful idea, Alexis,” Myra said.
“Animal rights,” Kathryn said.
“All things children,” Annie said.
“Done,” Myra said smartly. “The children go to the top of the list.”
“All this means is we have to go back to Washington. Again,” Nikki said breathlessly. Going back to Washington meant she’d see District Attorney Jack Emery, the man she loved, again.
Yoko clapped her tiny hands in happiness because it meant she would get to see her love, Harry Wong, a martial-arts expert, to whom she was engaged.
“And just how are we going to get in and out of Washington again? The FBI is so hot on our trail, they’re smoking. And, let’s not forget Ted Robinson. That guy wants to take a bath in our blood. I’m thinking this time around it’s going to be even more dicey,” Kathryn said. “Another thing, do we seriously believe, even for one minute, that there aren’t rumors, leaks, something, that things aren’t right at 1818 H Street, headquarters of the World Bank? If you all believe that, I’ll sell you the Key Bridge.”
“Kathryn has a point,” Myra said thoughtfully.
Isabelle poured more coffee just to have something to do.
“We need a plan,” Annie said, excitement ringing in her voice. “The thrill of danger is so intoxicating. I just know this…this…mission is going to be the one that puts us on the map!”
“We’re already on the damn map, Annie. Any little thing that goes wrong is attributed to us. We’re supposedly in every state in the union. There have been more sightings of us than you can shake a stick at. We get credit or blame, take your pick, for everything that goes wrong,” Kathryn grumbled.
“Yes, yes, but don’t you see, that’s what makes it so exciting. They’re out there chasing their tails on all those false sightings, but when it comes down to the crunch, we move in and strike! It’s all so perfect it boggles the mind!” Annie said.
Myra’s tone was grudging when she looked at her old friend, and said, “She’s right up to a point, and it does make some sense, but none of us should ever think of the FBI as stupid or lax. Ted Robinson, possibly, but sooner or later someone with some chutzpah is going to pay attention to him. He’s gotten way too close to us too many times. He’s not going to give up, and he’s not going to go away. That’s a given we have to deal with.”
“So, we work around him. We’ll get Jack or Harry to put a tail on him. This way we’ll know what he’s doing in real time and be prepared,” Nikki said. Her expression darkened. “If it doesn’t work, or if he invades our space, we’ll simply take care of him.”
“Ooh, ooh, that sounds…lethal,” Annie said, her eyes bigger than saucers as she anticipated going a few rounds with the Post’s intrepid reporter.
The women left the dining hall and walked out into the bright summer sunshine. Murphy and Grady waited pati
ently in the hopes someone would throw a stick so they could play. Kathryn obliged, and the dogs ran off.
The pine scent was heady after the night’s heavy rain. Everything looked scrubbed to perfection. Overhead, the sky was cerulean, with huge cotton candy clouds. The birds in the trees were singing their morning song. In a word, peaceful.
“It seems so perfect, doesn’t it? Almost mystical,” Isabelle whispered to Yoko, who was walking alongside her.
“If you don’t look deep enough as to why we’re here in the first place,” Yoko whispered in return. “Like Annie says, we have to pretend we’re on vacation.”
Murphy bounded up with the stick in his mouth; a moment later, Grady emerged from the thick pine forest with his own stick. Kathryn threw them again before the women climbed the six steps that led into the Big House.
Charles was waiting for them in the small foyer. He escorted them into the same conference room they’d occupied the evening before. The moment they were seated, the women bombarded him with questions and comments about their new employers.
“Ten million dollars, Charles. That’s our fee,” Nikki said. “We don’t plan to keep a penny of it for ourselves. I hesitate to ask this, but: What happens if something goes wrong? What happens if we fail? I’m not saying that’s going to happen, but I want to know, since we’re the ones taking all the risks here. Just chalk it up to the lawyer in me.”
“The money is yours, win or lose. I made that clear to our guests even before they arrived. They were in agreement with everything with one exception. Should things go awry, there is to be no mention of the World Bank or their visit here. I assured them of confidentiality. I knew you’d want to be philanthropic about it, so accounts have been set up offshore, in the Caymans and Switzerland. This was also done before our guests arrived. At the moment, dear ladies, that is the least of our worries.”
“We want to know what they didn’t tell us, Charles,” Kathryn said, fixing him with a steely gaze.
“I’d wager quite a bit. People tend to be reticent when discussing matters such as ours. I just need a little time to figure out what it is. I will find it if it’s there to be found. Right now, that is not the issue. As we all know, nothing is as it seems at first blush.”
“Taking on the World Bank is about as serious as it can get,” Kathryn said. “I can’t even comprehend one billion dollars, much less twenty billion.” Her voice turned ominous when she said, “People kill and get killed for money like that.”
Myra looked at the women, and said, “Greed is the most powerful motivator in the world.”
“Do we have any indication that Zenowicz suspects anyone is onto him?” Yoko asked.
“From what I was told, it appears not. He’s carrying on his…uh…interesting lifestyle as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. This is going to be a very big blow to the administration if it gets out,” Charles said. “If you are successful, and there is no reason to think you won’t be, when the administration gets wind of it, we won’t be able to count on any…help from them. Just so you know.”
“Who’s next to succeed Zenowicz if he resigns? And all those White House people he surrounded himself with—they’ll have to resign, too, won’t they?” Yoko asked again.
Charles nodded. “It’s a presidential appointment. I’m told there are several names on a short list. Ideally, the appointee should be an economist with experience in development. Someone who can work with the staff that Zenowicz has managed to alienate over the past few years. The institution has to be brought back together so it can function normally without any hint of scandal.”
“And we’re going to make this happen? How?” the ever-skeptical Kathryn asked.
Charles looked over the top of his glasses at the women seated at the table. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, but haven’t you all said, on more than one occasion, that you’re women, and you can do anything?”
Kathryn’s feathers were ruffled. “Actually, Charles, what I said was we’re women, we kick ass and take names later.”
Charles tried not to smile. “That will work, too. Now, let me get back to work so I can map out a strategy to accomplish your objectives and keep you safe at the same time. I’m sure you’re all going to want to bat this around, think of ways to…uh…punish the culprits.”
“Guess that means we’re dismissed,” Alexis said, getting up from the table. “I’m going for a swim. Anyone want to join me?”
The others walked off, leaving Annie and Myra, the two oldest of the group, lagging behind. They opted for a walk through the pungent forest, Murphy and Grady at their heels.
When they were out of earshot of the others, Annie turned to Myra. “I find this a bit…frightening.”
Myra looked at her old friend in stunned surprise. “Frightening? Is that what you said? And you didn’t think getting up on a stage wearing a G-string and pasties frightening at our age?”
“That was fun, Myra. Well, it was until our latex started to melt. Taking on the World Bank is a Federal thing. That means a Federal prison if things get out of hand.”
“Annie, Annie, Annie! The last issue of Forbes that I read had you listed as the richest woman in the world, richer than Bill Gates. That means you have more money than the World Bank. Which in turn means you could take over the World Bank if you wanted to,” Myra said, her thoughts all over the map.
Annie’s jaw dropped. “Do you think?”
“Absolutely.”
“Will I be broke then? Destitute?”
“Except for maybe twenty billion or so.”
“Oh, okay. I didn’t know you kept such a sharp eye on my finances, Myra.”
“Not me, Forbes. I just read about it. You know Charles, Forbes and the Wall Street Journal are required reading.”
“Whatever would I do without you, Myra?”
“God only knows,” Myra responded as she wondered if He would punish her for egging her old friend on but, as Charles always said, “if you don’t take risks you’ll never know.”
Chapter 3
Liam Sullivan, editor in chief of the Post and Ted Robinson’s boss, stood over his employee’s cubicle watching the reporter sleep. He whistled sharply and was pleased to see Ted jump to attention.
“Since when do I pay you to sleep on the job, Robinson? You’re on shaky ground as it is. You’re back one week, and already you’re taxing my patience. I can send you to the unemployment line in a heartbeat if that’s what you want,” Sullivan snarled.
“No, that’s not what I want. Look, boss, I’ve been kicked to the curb, kidnapped because of those damn vigilantes; my girl bailed out on me; you give me the shit detail; my cats won’t come near me; and I’m not sleeping at night. I know that’s no excuse, but that’s the way it is. Can’t you cut me a little slack here?”
“Your problem is you’re obsessed with those vigilantes. You need to forget about them. You’re making this paper a laughingstock in the industry. If it’s any consolation to you, I miss Maggie, too. Being as smart as you are, you should realize women are fickle. By the way, I want you to go over to the Post’s apartment and pack up her things. I owe her that much. One of these days she’ll come back and want her belongings.”
“I can’t do that, boss.”
“Ted, I wasn’t asking you to do it, I was telling you to do it. In other words, it was an order. I am your boss. I make sure your paycheck gets signed every week.”
Ted sighed. “What do you want me to do with her things?”
“Put them in storage. Take them home. Just clear out her things. We have a guest arriving tomorrow whom the Post needs to accommodate.” His demeanor softened a little. “Didn’t she send a note or say good-bye?”
Ted turned off his computer and rolled down his shirtsleeves. “No. She just fell off the face of the earth. Her cell phone just rings and rings. She had a second cell phone. I told you all about that. I never saw anything like it. Look, I know you don’t believe me, but she hooked up with the vigilantes
. I know it as sure as I’m standing here. She was last seen with Lizzie Fox, who, ironically, disappeared at exactly the same time Maggie did. High-dollar Lizzie, lawyer to the rich and famous, and she just packs it in. I-don’t-think-so. Judge Easter is involved, too, and so are those cruds Jack Emery and Harry Wong. It’s all one goddamn big conspiracy. Another thing, Chief, don’t you find it a little strange that Chief Justice Barnes suddenly retired? And where’s that live-in lover of hers? Everyone suddenly disappears. Even that dandy ex–son-in-law of hers resigned from the think tank where he worked. The guy was set for life, high bucks, and he blows it off just like Pearl Barnes. She was set for life, too. It smells.”
Ted’s voice turned desperate when he said, “Think about it, Chief, all of a sudden five people drop off the face of the earth. All five are connected in some way.”
“All those people are of an age where they can do what they want. No missing person reports have been filed. That means the story is dead. D-e-a-d! Now, I want you out there pounding the pavement. I want some news. I want some credible stories. This is Washington, D.C., where things happen on an hourly basis. I know it’s summer, and things slow down, but there’s news out there. So go find it so I can print it, but first, get Maggie’s stuff and store it away.”
Ted almost exploded. “What? You want me to write gossip? That’s crap, and you know it. Shirley is good at that. Tyson loves it,” he said, referring to his colleagues. “Why me?”
“Because they’re busy, and all you do is sleep on the job. I want my money’s worth, Robinson, so get your ass out of here and get to work.”
“Wait! Wait! How about I do a series on the disappearance of those five people? Whet people’s appetites. I might come across something that leads to something else. C’mon, Chief, give me a break here. I can hire a few dicks, trail along, and write a short column, titled…something like, ‘Where are they now?’ You know how this town loves a good mystery. You’re right, it’s summer, it’s slow. We might pick up some new readership.”
Fast Track (The Sisterhood: Rules of the Game, Book 3) Page 2