Vendetta

by Fern Michaels

  “Airborne. We’re on our way home. I don’t want you to say anymore on the phone, Isabelle. I’ve been trying to reach Myra. Will you put her on please, Isabelle?”

  “Myra isn’t here, Charles. She went on the road with Kathryn. I think it was a last-minute decision on her part because when they finally called me they were already headed cross-country. Is there anything you want me to do?”

  “No. Don’t leave the farm. Keep the alarm on. I can’t think of a better deterrent than those dogs. We should be home in the early hours of the morning.” The conversation turned to the mundane as Charles rattled off a grocery list for their Thanksgiving dinner. Isabelle dutifully wrote it all down and promised to call in the food order. She was shaking when she hung up the phone.

  She ran into the laundry room. She needed to do something normal. Laundry was normal. Making coffee was normal. Ordering groceries was normal. She turned on the brand new turbo washer, added soap, bleach and softener in the appropriate dispensers and started to throw in the dirty clothes she’d brought with her days ago. It finally dawned on her that the pantyhose she had meant to hand wash were missing. Suddenly she didn’t feel like doing any laundry, too rattled to put the obvious two and two together. Coffee seemed like a better idea.

  Isabelle looked around the kitchen, panic written all over her face. When she’d left the other day she’d cleaned out the coffee pot and pulled the plug, but it was plugged in now. There were ground coffee beans in the wire basket and leftover coffee in the pot. Whoever had been in the house had certainly made themselves at home. Who? The people who had been watching the house from the forest? Jack Emery and his friends? If it was Jack Emery, that had to mean they were still watching the house and the comings and goings of all of them. Suddenly her car break-in made sense. The theft of her stuff and her cellphone made even more sense. Myra was right; she’d been set up.

  Isabelle cleaned the pot and made coffee because she didn’t know what else to do. While it dripped, she walked from room to room, careful to avoid going near the fireplace. Charles had warned them all about the high-tech telescopic lenses that could see through anything but steel. She jolted backward in the library when she saw the little cover on the answering machine flipped up. She knew what she was seeing but she wiggled her fingers around the opening anyway. The mini cassette was gone. That’s when her knees gave out and she had to sit down.

  “Oh, God, Myra, why didn’t you ever get voice-mail?” She wondered if the phone was bugged. She almost jumped out of her skin when it rang. Should she answer it? Of course she should. She just had to be careful what she said.

  “Hello, Rutledge residence. This is Isabelle Flanders.”

  “Hey, guess who?” came the cheery greeting. “Julia!”

  “I’m not in the mood for games, whoever you are, so just hang up and free up this line. There are police here and they might want to use the phone.” Isabelle hoped Julia would understand that she couldn’t talk to her.

  “I’m so sorry. I must have dialed the wrong number,” the voice said before the connection was broken.

  Isabelle slammed the phone into the cradle as if it had suddenly turned into a poisonous snake.

  Back in the kitchen she poured coffee. She gulped at it, her eyes watering as it burned her tongue and throat. She didn’t care. She looked down at Julia’s plant and was happy to see that it was thriving under the skylight. She wished she could have mentioned it to Julia. She shrugged. Julia would be here for Thanksgiving; she could see it for herself.

  Outside, the dogs patrolled the grounds. She was stunned to see that it was still snowing. By craning her neck, she could see that the trainer had left the new barn door open for the dogs. The barn was heated and Myra had told her that the dog beds, water and food were set out by the trainer every day. The dogs looked sleek and deadly, but she also knew if they trapped a quarry they would sit and hold.

  Suddenly it dawned on her that some people out there were wearing her panty hose on their heads. How weird was that? She started to laugh, but her laughter was hysterical rather than amused.

  Ten

  Myra leaned her head back so that Murphy, his paws on her shoulders, could nestle his big head on her. He liked nuzzling her neck and did it periodically during the long trip. He had, after all, given up his shotgun seat for her. “I really do think this wonderful animal likes me,” Myra said. “I’m going to give him a special treat when we get to the house.” Murphy thumped her shoulder in approval.

  “So, Myra, do you think you could make a living on the road? You ride shotgun real good. I thought Murphy would be upset giving up his seat, but I think he likes it that you’re sitting there.”

  “Dear, one time was enough. I wasn’t too much of a drag, was I?”

  “Lady, you saved me a bundle of money. Murphy might have gotten wise to those thieves, but unfortunately he can’t talk. I owe you for that, Myra.”

  “You don’t owe me a thing, dear. I had the time of my life. We do stink, though. I think Charles would say we’re gamey. I don’t think I ever went three whole days without bathing in my entire life. Everything was such an experience. I had a lovely time. How will we get this pine resin off our hands?”

  “By scrubbing our skin off, that’s how. Nail polish remover will take the worst of it off. You better move your head. In about five minutes, Murphy is going to spot the turn-off that will take us to McLean. He knows the way, believe it or not. He’s going to bounce all over the place, so be prepared.” Myra leaned forward just moments before Murphy belly-crawled over the seat and Myra’s shoulder. He barked one shrill burst before his big paws slammed against the window. “Told you,” Kathryn laughed.

  Myra giggled. Kathryn thought it the most endearing sound she’d ever heard.

  “I hope Charles is at Pinewood. Do you think it’s too soon, Kathryn?”

  Kathryn shrugged. “I’m thinking sometime tomorrow. I say that because I know Charles and the others want to be home for Thanksgiving. We have to be patient.”

  Ten minutes later Myra gasped. “My goodness, Isabelle must be having a party! Every light in the house is on. I do hope she wasn’t afraid being in the house alone. You have the dog whistle, don’t you?”

  “Yep, it’s been hanging on my neck for days now. Two sharp blasts and the dogs return to the barn! No cars, so that means Isabelle doesn’t have company.” The gates swung open, allowing Kathryn to drive her eighteen-wheeler through them. She rolled down her window and gave two sharp blasts on the special whistle. In the headlights both women could see the dogs racing to the barn. The gates closed just as Kathryn cut the engine on the rig. Murphy was the first one out, Myra second, and finally Kathryn.

  “I hope it snows all night,” Myra said. “I do love waking up to a winter wonderland. It will be nice if we have snow for Thanksgiving. Over the hills and through the woods to Myra’s house we go,” she sang. “Would you look at me! Charles would be aghast if he could see me right now.”

  Arm in arm, the two women walked across the concrete apron and up the steps to the kitchen door. Kathryn rang the bell. Isabelle came running, a look of relief on her face when she saw who was there.

  “I need a beer,” Myra said. “Truckers drink a lot of beer. Did you know that, Isabelle? I had a marvelous time. Did Charles call? Is there a reason why the house is so lit up, dear? OK, chug a lug! Later, I’ll show you how to play quarters. The life of a trucker is so interesting. I have six — that’s six, Isabelle — invitations to the Truckers’ Ball. I’m going, too. See this shirt? I earned it! Just ask Kathryn. Someday you have to ride shotgun with Kathryn. It’s an exhilarating experience. Now, tell us what’s been going on.” Myra stopped babbling, suddenly all business as she swigged from her beer bottle.

  Isabelle brought them up to date.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing Julia. I can’t believe the girls and Charles are actually on their way back to us. Nothing else matters, not even Jack Emery and his henchmen. I’m not going to
give him another thought. I’m sorry about your car, Isabelle. I’ll speak to Charles about replacing it. Now, you girls sit here and talk girl-talk while I take a nice long bubble bath. I think I’ll just take another beer with me. You were right, Kathryn, it grows on you. The beer, I mean. Goodnight, girls. If Charles arrives, please wake me.”

  “You got it, Myra,” Kathryn said, offering up a salute. “Sleep tight.”

  When Myra was out of earshot, Kathryn leaned across the table. “I swear to God, Isabelle, she was the best damn shotgun I ever rode with. I wish you could have seen her. She was on the horn and picked up the lingo like that,” Kathryn said, snapping her fingers. “She loved the greasy food at the truck stops, going for seconds if you can believe that. She saved my ass at the depot when she overheard three thieves ripping me off. Then, when we got to this Mom and Pop place in North Carolina, Mom and Pop didn’t have anyone to unload the trees so Myra and I did it. The lady didn’t bat an eye. She’s something else. The whole trip, all she kept saying was she wished Charles could see her. You know what, I wished he could have seen her, too.” Kathryn suddenly switched gears. “So someone took the answering machine tape and your pantyhose. Perverts. The world’s full of them.”

  Isabelle shrugged. “I think you should go to bed, Kathryn, you look exhausted. I’ll stay up because I’m not sleepy. We can talk in the morning.”

  “I am tired. I gotta take a shower first, though. I think I’m even scuzzier than Myra. See you in the morning. Be sure to wake me if anything happens. I’ll leave Murphy down here with you. Night, Isabelle.”

  “Wait a minute, Kathryn. Did Myra talk about…that guy? When I told her just now that they were on their way back with him, she didn’t seem overly excited.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that, too. She’s on a high, Isabelle, and hasn’t come down to earth yet. She had the time of her life on the road. You have to admit, life out here on the farm is pretty dull even with all of us and…what we’re doing. The hiatus between missions is months. She must get terribly bored, but I can tell you, her adrenalin sure was flowing these past few days. We’ll see tomorrow when Charles and the others get back. I’m dead on my feet. See you later. Murph, stay with Isabelle.”

  Isabelle stood by the kitchen window for a long time, staring out at the falling snow. Finally she tore her gaze away and said, “Let’s go watch some stupid show on television, Murphy. I built a nice fire a little while ago. I even put a basket of dog bones in there by your bed.”

  Gentleman that he was, Murphy waited for Isabelle to lead the way.

  Charles tossed aside the magazine he was reading, unbuckled his seatbelt and got up. “We’re ninety minutes outside of Baltimore-Washington Airport. Alexis, it’s time to get ready. How’s our guest?”

  Nikki shrugged. “Well, he looks like he’s dead, but he isn’t. He stirred a little while ago but then went back to sleep. I think he’s going to be wild when he finally wakes up.”

  Charles looked down at the shackles binding the man’s feet to his hands by way of a chain. “I imagine so, but he isn’t going anywhere. I tried to call Li but there’s no answer at his house. I’m concerned.”

  Nikki could only nod.

  Yoko walked forward. “Is our guest awake?”

  “He’s starting to come around. Another few minutes. Alexis, are you ready?” Charles asked.

  “You bet,” Alexis said, opening her red bag. “By the way, whose idea was it to dress him in that kimono? I say we just cut it off, less of a struggle.” She fished around in the bag and withdrew a pair of yellow-handled scissors and started to cut away the silk kimono that was embroidered with fire-eating dragons.

  “He’s wearing a black silk Speedo. Not much there,” Nikki said, tongue in cheek. “Be sure to tell your aunts they were right. Seeing is believing,” she said.

  John Chai’s eyes popped open. He struggled to focus. When he saw the four faces peering down at him, he flinched. A nanosecond later he realized he wasn’t wearing anything but his underwear. Another nanosecond later he seemed to realize he was on an airplane. So far there was no fear in his eyes. He made a move to get up, only to realize he was shackled to the seat. Obscenities spewed from his mouth. Yoko covered her ears.

  “Hi there, Chinese boy,” Nikki said cheerfully. “I gotta tell you, your fame as a party boy was grossly exaggerated. Well, we’re going to fix that right now.”

  More obscenities followed, this time in English. “My father will have you killed for this. My family has royal blood. You can’t kidnap me!”

  Nikki rolled her eyes. “Hey, Chinese boy, we already kidnapped you. Look at yourself, look at us. We’re in charge here. Don’t insult us.”

  A flicker of fear showed on Chai’s face. “What do you want? How much money for my safe return?”

  “There’s not enough money in the world to buy your way out of this situation,” Charles said.

  “Then what is it you want from me? Are you after my father? Why are you doing this? I haven’t done anything to you.”

  “No, just you. Your father and his wealth are of no concern to us,” Nikki said and grinned.

  This time there was more than a flicker of fear in Chai’s eyes. “Where are you taking me?”

  “The land of the free and the brave. The good old US of A., Johnny. We’re about seventy minutes outside of Washington, DC. We’ll be making our descent soon. You remember Washington, don’t you, Chinese boy? You were a regular on the party circuit, weren’t you? Twenty-four-seven was the way I heard it. Guess what, those party days are over now. Now you’re going to party with us.”

  Fear galloped across Chai’s features. The reality of what was happening finally kicked in. He started to babble, first in Chinese and then in English.

  “Oh, will you just shut up already! You talk more than an all-night disk jockey. You’re here, we’re here, and you aren’t going anywhere, Mister Chai,” Nikki said.

  “OK, I’m ready,” Alexis trilled as she dragged her red bag over to the seat where Chai was sitting. “First we dress him. Just looking at him offends me. Here,” she said, tossing a pair of cheap black cotton trousers and a long-sleeved black Mandarin shirt at Yoko.

  A whispered conversation between the women and Charles followed. Finally, Charles reached into a first-aid kit and withdrew a hypodermic. Before Chai could protest, the syringe made contact with his arm. “One minute and we can release his shackles. Be quick, Alexis. I gave him just enough to keep him out for two hours. He’ll be half-awake but very groggy when we land. He’ll probably be wide awake by the time we reach Pinewood. I’m going forward to talk to the pilots. Like I said, be quick.”

  The women obliged while John Chai slept the sleep of the dead.

  Chai was unshackled and dressed in minutes, just in time for Alexis to warm her spirit gum and latex. Yoko held the mega-wattage flashlight so that Alexis could see what she was doing. The first thing she did was shave off Chai’s shiny black hair. Nikki scooped it up as fast as it dropped to the floor. Then she plastered, patted, poked and sanded. A glop of glue went on to his head. Alexis smoothed it out and added straggly white hairs from a plastic bag. “When the glue dries it will look like his bare scalp shining through.”

  The girls marveled at the expertise, which she’d garnered while working with Little Theater. Within minutes, Chai took on the appearance of a wizened ninety-year-old man. Another glop of glue then went over Chai’s upper lip. More straggly hairs were stuck into the glue and trailed down both sides of his lips. Finally a sad, sparse-looking goatee was added.

  Alexis threw her hands in the air. “Ladies, I give you my version of Fu Manchu. Whatcha think? Oops, I forgot something.” The girls watched in wonderment as Alexis pulled out a padded shoulder brace, similar to what football players wore, and attached it around Chai’s shoulders. “It’s heavy, weighted. He’ll be stoop-shouldered. I’m going to attach another one to his waist that will hang down to his buttocks. He’ll be so groggy he won’t understand why he can�
��t stand up straight. We want him to look old, bowed, miserable, and there will be no doubt that he is in physical pain.”

  Charles walked down the aisle and gasped. “Alexis, my dear, you are without doubt a master of disguise. I would never in a million years recognize John Chai. The last thing we have to do is take our seats and prop up Mr. Chai so the co-pilot can take a video of us all chatting. The time and the date will be on the video. Should we ever need to prove who was on this flight with us, Mr. Chai’s papers say he is a poor farmer from Aberdeen named Gan Jun that we are bringing to America to have a kidney transplant. There will be a record of Mr. Jun being admitted to Georgetown Hospital, thanks to Julia’s efforts all the way from Switzerland. No further information will be given out. In two days’ time, Mr. Jun will be discharged to an American family where he will receive dialysis at home until a kidney donor can be found. From there, he will drop off the face of the earth. Here comes the co-pilot. Smile prettily and look concerned over our fellow passenger. The video has sound, so be careful. Just chat normally.”

  Charles complimented them all when the taping session was over. “We may have one small problem with Mr. Chai when the plane lands. I’m thinking the pilots can carry him down the air stair, at which point we’ll put him in the portable wheelchair. There’s no way we can let him stumble down the steps. We’ll be landing in just a few minutes. The wheels are down. The co-pilot will continue to video us as we take him to the car. I want all of you to look solicitous. Another hour and we’ll be home safe and sound.”

  The relief was so apparent on the women’s faces that Charles chuckled. “You’re the best. I wish I had all of you on my side years ago when I was an active agent with MI6.”