“This is a private cigar bar. The ten bucks is your membership. So, do you want this beer or not?”
“Why the hell not,” Harry said, plunking a twenty down on the bar. He couldn’t resist adding, “I don’t smoke.”
“Tell it to someone who cares,” the bartender said, moving off to wait on another customer.
Harry looked up at the television mounted above the bar. He cringed as he listened to the news anchor giving directions on how to get out of the city if the authorities ordered a mass evacuation. The bar suddenly turned silent as one of the customers asked the bartender to turn up the volume on the set.
Drinks were forgotten, cigars grew ashen in the ashtrays as the customers sat glued to what was being said on the news. Harry saw fright and fear in those closest to where he was standing. He wanted to shout out that it was all bogus, just to wipe away the fear he was seeing. How in the goddamn hell had this crap made it to the media, and how in the hell could the media run with such scare tactics without hard proof? When this was all over, someone was going to have some real serious explaining to do.
Within minutes, tabs were being rung up and the now-quiet customers were leaving the club. Harry sat down on a vacated stool and looked around. He spotted Ted Robinson at the same moment Ted spotted him. Harry hung loose, winked roguishly, then swiveled around to face the bar, the cell phone in his hand. He punched in Jack’s number, and said, “Robinson and two other guys are here at the High Flyer. No, not the dick, two other guys. I think they’re reporters. I am sitting tight, Mom,” he said as he slapped the cell closed and stuck it back in his pocket. He swiveled back around as he brought the beer bottle to his lips.
The place was almost empty now, so Ted and his two friends stuck out like sore thumbs. Only two people remained at the bar with Harry. The waitresses huddled in the back by the computer screen attached to the cash register, wondering if they should pack up and go home or wait it out to see if any other customers showed up. It was obvious to Harry that tips took precedence over worries about the possibility of the plague.
Harry felt like he was on display, and he hated the feeling. He toyed with the idea of starting a fight, but it would be so unfair. He could take on Ted and his two friends with one hand and foot tied behind him and walk away the winner. He nixed the idea almost immediately when he looked around at the pricey-looking accoutrements in the bar. Sit tight. Yeah, right.
Harry held up his empty beer bottle for the bartender’s perusal. A fresh bottle was slapped down on the bar. He really wasn’t a beer drinker but when in Rome…
The bartender, a big guy with a ponytail and a salt-and-pepper beard, looked desperate for conversation. It was never Harry’s way to initiate a conversation. He waited patiently for the bartender to let go of his angst and say something.
The bartender jerked his head in the direction of the television, where the anchor was now talking about some guy in government having an epileptic seizure at his summer home. “What do you make of that?” he asked in a worried tone.
Harry played dumb as he nursed his beer. “What? The guy with the seizure or the plague?”
“Well, shit, man, figure it out; the guy had the seizure because of the plague. Those government people are in the know. I bet he got his family out of town to safety, then he had his seizure. That’s the way shit like that happens.”
And this is how rumors continue to circulate, Harry thought. Harry knew the seizure had nothing to do with the plague because there wasn’t any plague. Still, he had to say something. “If you’re so worried, why don’t you close up and take your family to safety? Personally, I think it’s a crock.”
“Man, haven’t you been listening to the tube? Homeland Security is over there now at the embassy, and those damn Brits are tighter than a duck’s ass when it comes to saying one word they don’t have to. And those exterminating people bugged out. No pun intended. That tells me they found something they weren’t equipped to handle. You need to listen up, man. I can’t leave here until the boss says I can. This is a chain, and you don’t get paid if you don’t follow orders.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Harry said, leaning across the bar. “You’re piss-ass scared, but you won’t leave to take your family to safety because whoever owns this joint won’t pay you? That sucks, man,” he said, mimicking the bartender. He tossed some bills on the bar, drained his beer, and slid off the stool.
Harry was halfway to the door when he walked back to the bar. “See those three guys sitting over there?” he asked, pointing to Robinson and his friends.
“Yeah.”
“They’re reporters. Well, I know for certain the tall one is. He broke the story this morning on the rats and the plague. Talk to him, but don’t believe anything he says because he lies.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind,” Harry said, waving him off. He walked outside and moved away in the darkness to see if Robinson would follow him. He stood in the doorway of a shop called Stitch and Sew and called Jack. “So, what do you want me to do?”
“Wait ten more minutes. If they don’t come out, then come over here to Ethel’s Piano Bar in Georgetown. You can fall asleep in this place, that’s how boring it is, but the girls are all in the nest, and they’ve made contact with Rena Gold. We just have to wait to see how it all plays out, and before you can ask, there’s been no word from Charles.”
“Shit! Here they come, and they don’t look like happy campers. By the way, Jack, it’s dead, as in dead, around here. Right now I feel meaner than a snake.”
“Then do something about it. Those three assholes are responsible for what’s going down. Bye, son.”
Shit! Shit! Shit! Harry stepped out of the doorway of Stitch and Sew and sauntered down the street, but not before he gave Robinson the finger. In the blink of an eye, he whirled around on one foot and stamped both feet to get the men’s attention. They stopped in their tracks as Harry lunged for all three. Five heartbeats later all three men were flat on the sidewalk. They tried to slide backward on the gritty concrete as they looked up at Harry in stunned surprise.
“That’s for starting false rumors and making this town go on Red Alert. Don’t even think about giving me bullshit that you didn’t do it. I know you did. You’re nothing but slimeballs swimming around in a sea of pus. Now get up off your asses and get out of here before I really hurt you.”
Ted was braver than Monroe and Ellis. He got up, dusted himself off, and advanced a step. “Listen to me, you piece of shit. We have pictures of those Reston Exterminating trucks. And their license plates. You know what else? There really is no Reston Exterminating. How do we know this, you might ask? It’s simple. We’re reporters. You’re just muscle. So, run back to Emery and tell him I know who was driving those Reston trucks that suddenly dropped off the face of the earth. They’re back here, aren’t they? Jesus! They are, aren’t they? I wish you could see your face, Wong.” Ted suddenly doubled over laughing. “Son of a bitch! I knew it.”
Harry’s heart was beating so fast he thought it was going to jump right out of his chest. His fist shot out, and the laughter died in Ted’s throat.
Monroe and Ellis helped Ted to his feet. Harry stamped his feet again, and they ran off like little boys caught stealing apples from a pushcart.
Harry headed for the rusty Mustang, but before he turned on the engine, he reported in to Jack. “There wasn’t any sense in following them. The night’s over for those guys. You still want me to come to the piano bar?”
“Yeah,” Jack responded. “The girls are getting it on here. It’s one big, happy party. Kathryn pretended Nikki was an acquaintance she knew from her legal practice and invited her to sit at their table. From there on it was like a domino effect. It’s a little involved, but they’re all sitting around a table drinking wine spritzers. Gold is rapidly getting snockered from the looks of things. I’m back in a corner, and it’s dark in here. Ambience, you know.”
Harry turned the key in the ignitio
n. The old car coughed and sputtered before it died. He waited a few seconds with Jack on hold and tried again. This time the engine caught, and he eased out of the lot and headed for one of the main arteries that would take him to Georgetown, all the while talking to Jack. “Robinson’s onto the drill, Jack. I’m not sure the other two are buying into it, and this whole damn town knows Robinson has vigilantes on the brain. He sees them everywhere. Now, he didn’t mention them by name, just that he put two and two together. You know what else, Jack, there’s very little traffic tonight. This is getting scary. Have you been watching the news?”
“No, there’s no TV here in this place. It’s full, though. They close at twelve thirty. How soon will you be here? I’m going to fall asleep listening to all these Golden Oldies.”
“Whenever this junk pile gets me there is when you’ll see me. You did get the part about Robinson taking pictures of the license plates, right?”
“I got it all, Harry. I still can’t reach Charles. I called the farm, and Myra and Annie sound like they’re drunk. Annie admitted to a little libation. They haven’t heard from Charles, either. Isn’t this a fun night, Harry?”
“Up yours, Jack!” Harry said as he clicked his cell phone shut and tried his best to get the Mustang over thirty. It bucked, the odometer hitting thirty-five, and chugged onward. Harry cursed in every language he knew. Then he cursed out Jack and Charles Martin. He was about to start all over again when he realized he was a block away from the piano bar. He found a parking spot with no trouble and hoofed his way down the street to the bar.
Jack was right, it was dark inside. Harry waited a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he moved forward. He saw the girls, heard the final strains of “Moonlight Becomes You.” The applause was soft but appreciative. The piano player, a short, balding man, finished his set, then ambled over to the bar. People started to talk to one another. Harry finally spotted Jack in the back, nursing a beer. He slid into the booth across from him, and said, “So, whasup? I see what you mean about falling asleep in this joint.”
“The guy is okay, but he’s no Bobby Short.”
“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Harry asked sourly.
“No, I was just making conversation. What the hell are we going to do about Ted and his cronies?”
“Listen, Jack, I don’t want to be a party to the crap that’s going on. People are panicking. I would be, too, if I didn’t know this is all a big setup. Someone has to do or say something. We can’t let this continue.”
“What? You mean like calling in anonymously to television stations or the papers? The papers are what started this in the first place. I don’t feel any better about this than you do. Until we hear from Charles, our hands are tied. If we go off half-cocked, we could make things worse. Capisce?”
Harry shrugged. He didn’t care what Jack or Charles said. First chance he got he was calling someone. “How much longer are we staying here?”
“Till the girls give me a sign the night is over. Nikki stopped on her way to the ladies’ room to say Miss Gold is very talkative and loves having met new friends. She’s particularly taken with dowdy Isabelle because Isabelle has a little musical background and can actually play the piano and talk about it intelligently. So far Gold hasn’t given anything up other than she has what Nik called a stingy sugar daddy. They’re making plans to meet up again tomorrow evening for dinner. Girls’ night out after work. Gold offered up the use of her limo. That’s all I know right now. I think there’s one more set, and it’s lights out for this place. It can’t be too soon for me. By the way, Nik said that Gold is sharp as a tack.”
Harry snorted. “She can’t be that sharp since she hasn’t figured out this is all a setup and Kathryn was a plant. I thought you said she was snockered.”
“I did, and she is. I guess she said or did something before she became inebriated. What do you want from me, Harry? They’re women. They talk in code. They only understand each other. Anyone with a brain knows women are the smarter sex. As men, we’re just clay in their hands.”
Harry tried to widen his slanted eyes, but it didn’t work. “And you’re just figuring this out? I don’t want to be your friend anymore; you’re too stupid.”
Jack burst out laughing. “That was a good one, Harry. I needed a good laugh.”
In spite of himself, Harry grinned. “Looks like the last set is ready to start. If I manage to nod off, wake me. I have a 5:00 AM workout scheduled for tomorrow.”
As the piano player sat down and flexed his fingers before striking the keyboard, Jack rolled his eyes. He sipped at the last of the beer in his bottle and waved to the middle-aged waitress for the check. Harry’s eyes remained closed, but Jack knew the martial-arts expert was aware of everything going on around him. He’d long ago given up trying to figure out why or how Harry did anything.
With one number left to go in the set, Jack nudged Harry. “I paid the bill. Let’s go outside so it won’t seem like we’re waiting and watching. We’ll just be two guys talking about music who are getting ready to call it a night.”
When the women exited the piano bar, Harry and Jack were standing off to the side. Jack was smoking a cigarette as he pretended to look at the ground, the trees planted curbside, and the curb itself.
“What are you looking for?” a patron coming out of the piano bar asked. “Did you lose something?”
“Rats!” Jack said loud enough for Kathryn and her party to hear.
Nikki whirled around and literally screamed. “Did you say there are rats here?”
Rena Gold turned around and lost her footing. Alexis and Isabelle caught her before she fell. “Whoa there, little lady,” Alexis said, holding on to her.
“Are there rats here?” Gold asked in a shaky voice.
“They’re all over the city,” someone said. “Didn’t you hear the news earlier? Homeland Security issued an alert. They’re afraid of the plague,” he said before he walked away.
“Oh, my God!” Rena Gold said.
“I don’t think it’s true,” Harry chirped up.
“I don’t believe it, either,” Jack said.
Rena Gold looked from Harry to Jack and asked, “Then why did that man say what he said?” She listed to the side, but Alexis held on tightly. “Someone needs to call those vigilantes to take care of it. They can do anything. Where are they when they’re needed?” And on and on she went until her cab rolled to the curb. “Someone should get in touch with them. I donated a huge sum of money to their defense. Maxwell didn’t like that one little bit.”
Kathryn was on it in a nanosecond. “Who is Maxwell?”
Rena Gold giggled. She leaned over and whispered in Kathryn’s ear. “He’s the stingy bastard that pays my bills. I’m not allowed to talk about him or mention his name.”
Kathryn winked slyly to show she understood. “Your secret is safe with me. See you tomorrow evening. I’ll give you a call around midday. Remember, I don’t have to go to work until noon because I got my client that settlement.”
“Right. Right. It was so nice meeting all of you. Tomorrow night—or is it today already?—the party is on me,” Rena said happily, as her cab pulled away.
“Well, damn,” was all Yoko could think of to say. “Do you think you should have gone with her, Kathryn?”
“I thought about it, but when she sobers up, she might have second thoughts. It worked out perfectly, with no suspicion that I could discern. Do you all agree?”
The women nodded and moved off. Harry and Jack followed at a discreet distance.
“And she donated to the vigilantes’ defense fund,” Jack cackled. “Sometimes you just step in it, and it’s golden. See, we’re having fun. What say you, Harry?”
Harry scowled as he peeled off and stepped to the curb to hail a cab. No way was he going to chug his way home in the rusty Mustang. “Screw you, Jack.”
Chapter 15
Rena Gold woke in good spirits even though she had a throbbing hea
dache. She brushed her teeth, showered, and dressed for another uneventful day in her life. While she waited for the coffee to finish dripping into the pot, she thought about the new friends she’d met the night before. It was the first enjoyable evening she’d had since leaving Las Vegas.
As she poured her coffee, she suddenly remembered her cell phone. She flinched slightly. There was going to be hell to pay for that little folly. She reached for her handbag on the counter, where she’d tossed it when she got in. She yanked out the phone and glared at it but didn’t turn it on. As she brought the steaming cup to her lips, she realized she had to decide, right here and now, if she cared. She decided she didn’t give a tinker’s damn about Maxwell Zenowicz. Last night was all the proof she needed that she didn’t belong here and that she hated him. Her old mother, whom she loved dearly, would say she was in a bit of a pickle.
Rena supposed maybe she was in a bit of a pickle, depending on how one looked at things. Maybe if she played her cards right, fought to the finish, she could walk away with a killing. She felt light-headed just thinking that maybe she was finally going to get out from under Maxwell. Vegas was looking real good and it didn’t even have a state income tax. If she was smart, she could take all her plunder, assuming she got said plunder, and start a business. Something for women. Esther and a few others could help, and they’d get out of show business. Being on the fringe was almost as good as participating and a whole hell of a lot easier on the body and joints.
And all this new confidence she was feeling was thanks to a lawyer she met in a bar. She could hardly wait for tonight to meet up with all her new friends.
When the doorbell rang, Rena shuddered. One of Maxwell’s security team coming to check on her. If she didn’t answer the door, the man would use a key. That was just one of the things she hated about Maxwell. The second thing she hated was the way Maxwell allowed them to ogle her.
Carrying her cup, Rena walked to the foyer and opened the door. She looked up at the tall, burly man standing in the doorway. She almost laughed in the man’s face when he said, “The president wants you to call him. It seems your cell phone is in the OFF mode. He said to tell you the phone is always supposed to be kept in the ON position in case he needs to reach you.”
Fast Track (The Sisterhood: Rules of the Game, Book 3) Page 12