Deja Vu

by Fern Michaels

  The six dotty neighbors never knew this, because at one point, retired professor Simon Jordan did return to take up residence. Those same dotty neighbors considered Simon Jordan a whippersnapper, saying he was only sixty-six years old. He had a passport that said he was Simon Jordan and a valid Virginia driver’s license if anyone cared to look at them. If asked, several of the oldsters would have claimed to have seen their neighbor time and again, but no one asked. Why would they?

  The “new” retired professor Simon Jordan, the one with teeth, returned from France and took up residence without a blip of any kind.

  The contents of the house at 911 Sherman Way didn’t change at all on the first floor. The second floor was another story entirely. Except for one bedroom and bath, the other five bedrooms had had their walls knocked out and computer equipment had been installed bit by bit, all purchased from the Virginia, Maryland, and Delaware area. The basement, which was totally dry, held three humongous, deep freezers, all jammed to the top with the finest food money could buy. It could last years, even if the power went out. In that case, emergency generators would kick in within three minutes. Win-win for the present-day Simon Jordan.

  The library held enough reading material to last into the next millennium. After all, professor Simon Jordan, old or new, was a lover of the written word.

  With all his family gone, Simon Jordan was left alone. Even his nearest and dearest friends were gone, too. Put even more simply, no one gave a good rat’s ass what he did or where he went, which had worked just perfectly for Henry, call me Hank, Jellicoe, from the moment he had assumed retired professor Simon Jordan’s identity.

  Chapter 21

  The Five Musketeers, as Ted referred to the little group, settled up their bill and waited for Espinosa, who said he had to make a pit stop.

  “Beautiful day,” Bert said.

  “Stunning,” Jack said.

  “I hate it,” Ted said.

  “The only reason you hate it is because Maggie dumped you. Right now you hate everything and everyone. Look at that beautiful sun! Feel the warm breezes. Life is good, you’re just too stupid to know it,” Jack said. “Give her time, she’ll come around. Where else is she going to find a dumb cluck like you?”

  Espinosa pushed through the door, looked at his friends, eyebrows raised. “What?”

  As if on cue, five cell phones vibrated, buzzed, chirped, beeped, and chimed. Faster than the wind, all five men held the phones to their ears. Again, as if on cue, all five powered down and were left staring at each other on the sidewalk.

  “I don’t want to talk about this right now. Shall we adjourn to my dojo and finish up our business? I say our business before we tackle what just happened,” Harry said.

  “You know, Harry, a ninety-minute lunch is one thing, but anything over that we’re off the clock. Maggie will have our hides if we don’t check in.”

  “What part of ‘she dumped you,’ aren’t you getting? Even though this is the modern age of technology, unless she has a tracking system keyed to your DNA, she has no way of knowing where you are at any given moment,” Harry said. “It was an order, in case you failed to notice.”

  “Oh, okay,” Ted said agreeably. “We’ll meet you there. Joe here is driving today. At some point we have to cover some diplomat who is arriving at Dulles around four. Too much information, huh? Okay, okay. C’mon, Espinosa, let’s hit the road.”

  Harry hopped on his Ducati, which was parked at the curb, and roared off, leaving Jack and Bert puffing on cigarettes near the curb.

  “Harry doesn’t have any patience, Jack, you know that. I’m ready to commit, so you better make up your mind. What’s the problem here?”

  “I haven’t talked it over with Nikki yet. Yeah, I’ve been meaning to but… the time just never seemed right for some reason. Things have been strained, as you well know. Did you talk it over with Kathryn?”

  “No. But I’m not married, Jack, you are. That means I don’t have to talk something to death. I can make my own decisions.”

  “Are you saying I’m a wuss or, worse yet, pussy whipped?”

  “Well, yeah. Hey, Harry has offered us a golden opportunity. Both of us are more than qualified to do what he wants. In this economy, you can’t sneeze at 150K a year. It’s a win-win for us and for Harry. He gets to go to the trials, and he might even ace it and be the number one martial-arts expert of all time. We owe Harry, Jack.”

  “Yeah, we do owe him. Damn, it’s a big undertaking for Harry. I never thought he’d step out of his comfort zone and go for something like this.”

  This was the expansion of Harry’s business. Shortly after his stint with Hank Jellicoe, Harry and Yoko bought up the derelict buildings on the block where his dojo stood. With all the alphabet agencies in Washington and Virginia clamoring to have their agents trained by one Harry Wong, Harry forged ahead.

  When he first approached Bert and Jack, Harry explained how he wanted to train and go to the martial-arts trials in Bangkok the following year. “I’m tired of being number two,” was his bottom line. “If I win, and we all know that’s a given, we will have agents coming here from all over the world to be trained by the three of us. You two are good. I won’t deny it. You can run this business while I train. I have contracts through the next five years, so that guarantees your salaries. Expenses, too. Lizzie has all the incorporation papers in place. Maggie has all the advertising we talked about ready to go once you guys sign on. The contractors tell me three more weeks and we’ll be up and running. Four new classes are on hold. Seven are up and running. The waiting list is around the corner.”

  “I’m in,” Jack said. Bert clapped Jack on the back. A moment later, both men were on the run as they sprinted down the street, picked up speed, and ran full bore toward Harry’s dojo. They arrived sweaty and flushed, but there was a light in their eyes that made Harry laugh out loud.

  “We have ten minutes before my next class starts. Talk fast, boys.”

  “The girls found Hank Jellicoe’s wife and daughter. I sure as hell would like to know how they did that.”

  Ted cleared his throat. “Don’t be stupid, guys. Maggie did it. She has this guy on a leash who, I swear to God, can ferret out anything. I know it sounds corny, but he’s like magic. But you pay for it. Big-time. It blows my mind that someone … anyone … actually cracked the Witness Protection Program. It’s never been done, and they’ve never lost a person under their protection. And this damn guy did it!”

  “Yoko said Annie and Myra are on their way back and should be here late this afternoon,” Harry volunteered. “Listen, as long as we’re all on the same page, call Lizzie, have her overnight or fax the contracts, get your kick-in monies in place, and let’s get this show up and running.”

  Espinosa looked at everyone, and said, “Alexis just sent me a text saying Charles would like us all to go out to Pinewood for dinner. Can you guys make it?”

  “Yeah, sure,” they all agreed.

  Harry waved as he walked to the back of the dojo, where his students were trickling in.

  “So now what?” Ted asked.

  “What indeed?” Jack said.

  “Guess we’ll head on home then since we’re unemployed. I need to get out of this suit and tie anyway. We’ll meet up with you at the farm, okay, or do you want to ride out with me and Jack?”

  “Don’t know how long we’ll be with the diplomat. No sense hanging around waiting on us. We’ll head on out as soon as we’re finished,” Ted said.

  The foursome splintered off, with Jack yelling to Bert to stop by the house after he changed.

  Jack parked on the street, then entered the house he shared with Nikki. All manner of thoughts and emotions ripped through him as he walked through the house and upstairs to get out of his suit. He dressed in khakis and a bright yellow shirt, one that Nikki had bought him. She had a passion for the little green alligator sewn on the shirts. He’d smiled when she’d presented him with a shirt in every color of the rainbow.
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  These days she was barely talking to him. But she was talking, so that was better than nothing. It was when she froze him out that he became a basket case. God, if he could only unring the bell.

  Jack sat down on the edge of the bed and let his mind race. What should he have done differently? Where had he gotten off the path? Why wasn’t he working double time to fix things between himself and Nikki? Was this all his fault? Shouldn’t she share some of the blame for their current situation?

  Jack flopped back on the sweet-smelling bed and stared up at the ceiling. Goddammit, I want yesterday back. For the first time, he admitted to himself that he wished the Sisters’ pardons had never come through. How sick was that? Pretty damn sick, he answered himself.

  Not liking where his thoughts were taking him, Jack bounded off the bed and walked down the hall to one of the spare bedrooms both he and Nikki used as a home office. He turned on the fax machine, powered up, and called Lizzie. He could hear little Jack laughing in the background. He found himself laughing when Lizzie explained that little Jack was trying to walk in Cosmo’s shoes. She promised to fax the contract papers, congratulated him on the good sense to incorporate with Harry, then signed off. Jack felt better when he broke the connection. Talking to Lizzie always made him feel better for some reason.

  Eyes on the fax machine, one ear tuned toward the doorbell, Jack yanked out his cell phone and, before he could think twice, he hit his speed dial for Nikki. “Hey, babe, how’s it going?”

  They made small talk until Jack had enough and said, “Listen, Nikki, I have something I want to talk to you about. I should have discussed this with you sooner, but as you know, of late we … haven’t been talking much. How do you feel about me going into business with Harry? Bert is going to join, too. As you know, Harry bought up the entire block where the dojo is, and he’s going to expand.

  “He wants to train for the trials in Bangkok, and he wants Bert and me to run things. Pay is 150K guaranteed for each of the next five years. I want to do this. I need to put some distance between me and the law for a while. It’s a hell of a commitment, but I owe Harry. I have to put in 100K as my share, but I’ll own a third of the business. Lizzie is handling the details. I guess I just want to know if you’re okay with this. Are you?”

  “I am okay with it, Jack. Why would you think otherwise? Actually, I think it’s the perfect solution for the three of you. You’re coming out to the farm, aren’t you?”

  Jack sighed. She actually had a lilt in her voice, and she sounded like she wanted him at the farm. Well, damn. “Yeah, I am. We’ve been like two ships passing in the night, Nikki. I think it’s time we collided. Thanks, Nik, for understanding.” Nikki laughed. Jack blinked. It was almost like old times—the easy laughter, the teasing—but there was something still missing. Even a fool could tell that. He struggled to find what it was, but it was too elusive. Still, he felt better for having talked to his wife.

  Jack was halfway down the steps when the doorbell rang. He opened the door, motioned for Bert to come in. Overhead, he heard the fax machine ring. He motioned for Bert to follow him back up the steps.

  “Our contracts! We overnight the originals back to Lizzie, and we’re in business. I think it’s going to work out, Bert. I just got off the phone with Nikki, and I told her. She’s okay with it. I feel like a load of bricks just fell off my shoulders. Did you talk to Kathryn? By the way, where is she?”

  “She was in Rhode Island early this morning. She’s on her way back. I did talk to her, and she thinks it’s a good idea. I think I was surprised, but I also had the feeling if I had told her I was going to dig ditches for the gas company, she would have been okay with that, too. That’s another way of saying she doesn’t give a shit what I do.”

  “C’mon, Bert, cut her some slack. So she isn’t ready to get married, so what? It’s not like the old days when women wanted men to take care of them. Women today are career oriented; they know how to juggle and make it work for them. Them being the operative word here. Your mistake, and I’m saying this as a friend, was when you let her know you didn’t approve of her doing overland trucking. Saying that was a man’s job was like the kiss of death. I do have a suggestion, however.

  “Ask her if you can go along on her next job. Ride shotgun. Get the feel of the road, see why she doesn’t want to give it up. Understanding is half the battle. I’m not saying it’s going to work, but what the hell do you have to lose at this point? Play your cards right, and she might even let you take the wheel. Hell, she might even let you blast that air horn a time or two.” Jack guffawed at his own wit.

  “Some days I really can’t stand you, Jack. I would hate every minute of it. But if you think it’ll work, I’ll take a shot at it.”

  “Some days I can’t stand you, either, Mr. Ex–FBI Director. It won’t work if you have an attitude about it. You have to dive in like taking the trip is the most important thing in the world to you. Women love it when men buckle. They feel superior then. C’mon, Bert, let’s face it, women are smarter than men. You just gotta be grateful that they let us win once in a while.”

  “Harry’s right, you do suck, Jack. I was never good at pretending.”

  “Well, you’d better start practicing, or you’re going to lose Kathryn, that’s my gut feeling. Just be open to it, Bert. If it’s meant to be, it will be. If not, you move on.”

  “Easy for you to say. Did you read these contracts?”

  “I’m reading them right now. Do you really think Lizzie would screw up?”

  “She’s a woman, isn’t she?” Bert growled.

  Jack looked up at Bert as though he’d sprouted a second head. “There are women, then there are women. Lizzie is in her own category. That means she does not make mistakes.”

  Both men scrawled their signatures on the last page of the contracts. Jack scooped them up, shoved them into an overnight envelope, filled out the air bill, then closed the envelope while Bert called the overnight courier, who would pick up the envelope from the front stoop before six that evening.

  As Jack was bounding down the steps, Bert’s cell rang. His heartbeat kicked up several notches when he saw that the call was coming in from the Hoover Building. “Shit!” He put his finger to his lips when he saw Jack standing in the doorway. “Navarro.” He listened, then said, “What can I do for you, Director Yantzy?” Jack rolled his eyes.

  Bert continued to listen. Finally, he managed to say, “I’m a private citizen these days, Director Yantzy. I’m also gainfully employed.” He listened again, and said, “Try hauling me in and sweating me for seventy-two hours! Just try it. I don’t have to tell you anything, and why do you think I know where the Post got some book they’re touting? I still have a few friends at 1600 whom I can call if you try pulling a fast one.” Bert went into listening mode again. “I’m a private citizen, I can say whatever the hell I feel like saying. Right now, I’m done saying anything. Have a good day, Director.”

  “Sounds like he’s got his panties in a wad,” Jack said, laughing.

  “Guess the countdown is on. Let’s call Maggie and see what she’s running in tomorrow’s paper. Maybe instead of calling her, we should pop in on her like old times. You know, before the breakup.”

  “Dude, you really do not know anything about women. Maggie would see through that in a nanosecond. She is almost as sharp as Lizzie. Call her,” Jack said. “Tell her we’re going to have dinner out one night to celebrate our new venture. Maggie loves going out to dinner. Especially a celebratory one. What are you waiting for? Call her, already.”

  Bert reared back when he heard Maggie bark a greeting. He went into his spiel the minute she said, “Speak.”

  “Ah, listen, Maggie, I called for a couple of things. First off, Director Yantzy just called and wanted info on the book story you’re writing. Do you want either Jack or me to pick you up for dinner at the farm tonight? Annie and Myra are on the way back.

  “And then there is the really good news. Jack and I signe
d on with Harry. We’re going to be running the dojo while he trains for the martial-arts trials in Bangkok. Would you like to come to dinner with us one night to celebrate? Also, Jack said to ask you what you’re going to run with in tomorrow’s papers.”

  Bert listened, then realized he had dead air on his cell. He powered down, looked at Jack, and shrugged. “She doesn’t need a ride, thank you very much. She can get there on her own. Said Yantzy is an asshole, but we already know that. She said congratulations and let her know when and where the dinner is.

  “She’s happy for Harry. Delighted that Myra and Annie will be at the farm. Tomorrow’s article is going to have an added word: terrorist. Man. Myth. Monster. TERRORIST! She said she has it all blocked out already, whatever that means. Then she broke the connection. She sounded strange, like maybe she’s getting a cold.”

  “You stupid ass. She sounded like that because she’s been crying. Women sound like that after a good cry,” Jack said knowledgeably.

  Bert thought about it a moment, and said, “Smart-ass!”

  “Terrorist, huh? Well, that is the buzzword these days. Nothing like that word to rile up the populace. Hope Jellicoe sees it. If he objected to being referred to as a monster, imagine what he’ll do when he sees himself referred to as a terrorist. Ooooh, we all need to start shaking in our boots.”

  “Seriously, Jack, where do you think that bastard is?”

  “Right under our noses. For all we know, he could be parked right outside this house. You know it as well as I do. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. He thinks like that.”

  “You got anything to drink?” Bert asked.