7. Free Fall

by Fern Michaels

  Maggie was so excited she thought she would explode. The mother lode! Instinct told her to play it all down. She waved her hand about. “Bet he fathered a child out of wedlock when he was 19 or something like that. Who cares? So, do you think you should get the guys in here to help shovel out front? The snow is drifting toward the door.”

  “It’s not necessary. All the shop owners chip in and a guy comes around in the morning to do the whole street. You’re pretty, Julie Jett. I like red hair. When you have a free night would you like to go to a movie?” Nolan asked shyly.

  Maggie felt the sudden urge to cry. She was no better than a low-down skunk. She worked a smile into her voice. “That would be nice.”

  Why would Charles Martin and the women at Pinewood want to know about a movie star—Michael Lyons in particular? She needed to find out more without tipping her hand.

  “What’s wrong? Are you feeling worse?” Nolan asked, genuine concern in his voice.

  “I feel the same. I’m just upset about that movie star. I’ve seen all his movies. I hate it when people disappoint me. Now I am never going to feel the same about his movies. Heck, I probably won’t even go to see them.” Maggie leaned across the counter and whispered, “Do you think he’s a communist or something? Why would the government be interested in him? Why would they pay you all that money to get the goods on some Hollywood movie idol? I bet he’s gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay. If you are, you are. Fans like me would accept that. It’s bad when you deny it and then proof comes out the other way around. Oh, well, life will go on. How could you not have, you know, peeked, at what you were seeing?”

  Nolan looked at the young woman sitting across from him. He was coming up short in her eyes. He shrugged. “I was just paid to crack the computers and get the passwords. Then I burn my records.”

  “What?” The one word exploded from Maggie’s mouth like a gunshot.

  Nolan decided he needed to redeem himself. “Well, they think I burn the records. But actually I hide them. Trust me when I tell you the person hasn’t been born who can crack my computers. But, you never know when something will come back to bite you. Does that make you feel better?”

  Maggie wiped at her watering eyes. “Well, yeah, but for you, not me. That was the first thing I thought about, those people coming after you. They probably don’t have ethics like you do, Alan.”

  “Exactly.”

  Outside the wind howled and the snow fell. Maggie felt like she was enclosed in a tomb. And she felt lousy. Not just lousy but really lousy. She was about to say something when the lights flickered and then went out. They came on a second later and then went out again.

  Nolan called out, “Everyone! Stay where you are. I have a generator. We’ll have power in a few minutes. Julie, there are some candles in the cabinet in the corner. Light them and put them around the café. To save on gas I’m only going to power up the computer room. We’ll have minimal heat but we won’t freeze.”

  Five minutes later dim light could be seen coming from the computer side of the café. Alan appeared at Maggie’s side. “It is going to cool down here rather quickly. Since you’re coming down with something, I suggest you go to the little room in the back and bundle up. There are plenty of blankets. Take a couple more of those cold tablets. I’ll take care of things out here. I’ll look in on you. If you need anything just send up a shout.”

  Maggie wanted to cry all over again. Betrayal was such a terrible thing.

  Chapter 14

  While the snow fell outside the farmhouse in Virginia, Charles called the meeting to order. Two stacks of folders sat in the middle of the table. The women looked at them curiously. In the past, when they were preparing for the crunch before a mission, they were given one single-colored folder. Their curiosity caused them to squirm in their chairs as they tried to anticipate whatever it was Charles was going to tell them.

  Charles reached for the folders and placed them directly in front of him. He spoke rapidly, his words clear and concise. “When the storm passes and the roads are clear, Myra and Annie will leave for California to set up shop at the Beverly Hills Hotel. They will lay the groundwork for their meeting with Michael Lyons. With just weeks till the Academy Awards, everything must be in place. We’ve alerted the appropriate gossip columnists that both ladies are there to back several high-budget films. One strong possibility is the new James Bond series if the studio can get Lyons to sign on for the role. The studios will be clamoring for their attention. The papers will carry articles and interviews every day until the rest of you arrive. By the time you get there, Myra and Annie will be household names in the industry.

  “An old and dear friend, retired from the SIS in England, called me last evening when I put out word I needed his help. To you that means the British Secret Intelligence Service. My friend has been visiting his brother who lives in California. He is now actively on our limited payroll. He and a few operatives of his choosing will conduct surveillance on Mr. Lyons, who, by the way, has returned to the States weeks ahead of schedule. It would seem that Mr. Lyons has been under the watchful eye of my countrymen for some time. No one as yet has been able to tell me exactly why. I do not know if this is true or not, but if it is, we have to work quickly if we want to get to him first.

  “That’s another way, ladies, of saying we have our work cut out for us on this particular mission. I want to show you the headline in yesterday’s paper.” Charles pressed the remote in his hand and one of the oversize monitors overhead came to life with the front page of the Los Angeles Times. The women gasped as the black headline took over the large screen.

  THE LYON ROARS!

  Underneath the bold black words, above the fold, was a shot of Michael Lyons with his clenched fist in the air.

  “He’s thanking the Academy for the nomination of Best Actor in that photograph. His picture was nominated for eleven awards. The smart money says they’ll take all eleven Oscars. They also say he’s a hair away from signing on to be the next James Bond. Annie and Myra will be standing in line to offer their backing if he signs. I’m only guessing at this, but I suspect this is how he came under the SIS’s radar screen. We Brits are very cautious and outspoken when it comes to our English heroes and James Bond is right up there with Churchill. No giggling, please,” Charles said sternly.

  “Mr. Lyons is going to be getting a huge rush of publicity. That’s where all of you come in. You’re going to be feature writers for different media publications. We’re going to inundate him with publicity. Alexis will alter your appearance just a little, as we don’t want anyone knowing exactly who you are. I’ve had to make a few changes and I’ve decided that Yoko will be joining you after all.

  “Now, something rather serious has happened. It’s been all underground the past several days but my people have ferreted it out. Mr. Lyons has initiated a nationwide manhunt to find Yoko. I’m not going to give you details on how, what, when and why this came to my attention. Just the word manhunt is enough to chill one to the bone. The man has the wherewithal to hire as many people as it takes to find her. That doesn’t mean he will be successful.

  “There are two other additional areas of concern you need to be aware of. As I told you several days ago, we managed to hack our way into Actor Lyons’s private computers whereby we secured a wealth of information on his activities. However, that all changed as of yesterday when everything was shut down. Obviously, our hacker left some trace that he had invaded Lyons’s files, and his people shut down his entire system.

  “The second area of concern is that Actor Lyons, while in Japan, went to see Yoko’s grandparents. We have no information on what triggered that visit, since he has never done that before. Our operative visited with the grandparents shortly after Lyons left Japan, which was almost immediately. He was supposed to go on to Hong Kong but he canceled out and returned to the States.”

  Charles fixed his gaze on Yoko and then Annie. “The grandparents told Actor Lyons that their g
randdaughter, on her first-ever visit to them, told another lady—that would be you, Annie—that she was going to find and kill Lyons for what he did to her mother. It seems that the old ones know a smattering of English taught to them by a man from one of the local stores in the village nearest them. In case their daughters ever returned, they wanted to be able to talk to them in English to make them proud.”

  Yoko started to cry. “Then they know what happened to my mother and my aunts! How stupid I was. I had no idea they knew any English at all. That man didn’t hurt them, did he?” she asked fiercely.

  “No, he didn’t, Yoko. You had no way of knowing, my dear. I don’t want you to blame yourself. There is no way to know at this time if Lyons’s visit was a spur of the moment thing or if he planned it. He went there to try and find out where you are. Perhaps he went as an errant father. Perhaps he went for devilish reasons. At this time we simply don’t know. What we do know for certain is he now knows that someone, other than his network of perverts, knows about his activities. I suspect he returned home to work on damage control. That’s all I have at the moment. I’m going to hand out these folders. Each one is different so when you finish one, trade off. What you will be looking at is the information we’ve taken off his computers. Attached to each folder is the biography and a picture of a man—wealthy, high-powered men, scions, captains of industry, doctors, lawyers, generals and admirals—people you would never believe could be a member of Michael Lyons’s organization. I must get back to work now.”

  The Ladies of Pinewood looked at the pile of folders with narrowed eyes. Yoko was the first to reach for one. The others followed suit.

  The man ranting and raving on his cell phone bore no resemblance to the smiling philanthropic actor dubbed the Golden Boy who almost daily graced Hollywood’s media. If he had horns, this ugly person could have posed for the Devil.

  “You told me that could never happen. You said you were the best of the best. You said even the CIA couldn’t penetrate my system and now you’re telling me I was compromised not once but twice. I paid you millions of dollars to make sure this very thing never happened. It happened, you asshole. Now what are you going to do?” Lyons screamed at the top of his lungs, sweat rolling down his bronzed cheeks. “Well?”

  The voice on the other end of the line was cold and professional. “If you recall, Mr. Lyons, what I said was that, to my knowledge, there is only one other person with the expertise to hack into your system. Since he works for the CIA and the FBI, I saw little chance of that happening. You agreed with me. I also told you since I, too, work on a consulting basis for both organizations, I was in a very good position to know when and if you were going to be compromised. That didn’t happen. You agreed with me on that, too. It is entirely possible you have a disgruntled member who is disenchanted with you or your organization. The system I installed is so sophisticated I’m having trouble believing that even Alan Nolan could penetrate it. If I were you, I’d purge all your files. I can build you a new system but it will take time and be costly. The decision is yours.”

  “Purge the files! Purge the files!” Lyons screamed. “I’ve already been compromised. My files have been copied already and God alone knows where they are. How do I find that guy?”

  Dan Boatman knew exactly where Alan Nolan lived and worked but he wasn’t about to give him up to the likes of Michael Lyons. “I have no idea, Mr. Lyons. Check the phone book.”

  “Don’t get smart with me, Boatman, or you’ll find yourself in a ditch somewhere,” Lyons roared.

  “Don’t ever make the mistake of threatening me, Mr. Lyons. Since I know where the bodies are buried it would behoove you to alter your tone of voice when you talk to me. Now, do you want me to build you a new system or are you going to go with the one you have left that hasn’t been compromised?”

  Lyons bit down on his lip. “I’ll get back to you.”

  He threw the cell phone across the room. The back of the phone and the batteries rolled across the floor. He made no move to pick them up. Beyond livid, he stomped his way to his office where he picked up the phone to call Five Star Investigations. He asked for Paul Yarm. When Yarm answered, Lyons told him he wanted to locate Alan Nolan. He gave Yarm what information he had and said he wanted the information yesterday. He ended the call and looked around helplessly. He knew what he needed to do but he couldn’t bring himself to call his clients. Maybe this was nothing more than a little windstorm he could weather. If he played his cards right, he would save himself and the others the humiliation of being found out.

  What he should do now was enjoy being nominated for an Academy Award. He should start returning all the congratulatory calls. And he needed to call a few of the gossip columnists and give them a few sound bites. He’d always done it in the past so he had to do it this time, too. He couldn’t do anything out of the ordinary to draw attention to himself. He’d never believed in secretaries and he sure as hell didn’t believe in money managers or bodyguards or any of that claptrap other celebrities surrounded themselves with. When you led a double life like he did you had to be careful who was in your inner circle.

  Who in hell was Alan Nolan? He wondered if that was the man’s real name or just the name that Boatman knew him by. He decided it was the latter, which did nothing for his mood. Did he really want to mess around with someone who worked for the CIA or the FBI? Hell, no, he didn’t. But if it came down to his survival and reputation he would kill the son of a bitch if he had to.

  His thoughts turned to his daughter that he’d never seen. He didn’t know why she was consuming his thoughts. Aside from the fact that she wanted to kill him, he knew nothing about her. It bothered him that she had the edge. She knew who he was, what he looked like and she could find out where he lived just by asking around. He knew nothing about her, except her age. He didn’t know what name she went by. Suki might have given her a meaningless name just in case he ever tried to find her. The girl might be married by now with a whole new name. Finding her would be like finding a guppy in the ocean. All he could do was hope that Five Star Investigations lived up to its name.

  Lyons walked around his house then just to have something to do. He stopped at each framed poster hanging on the wall. One for every movie he’d ever made. His own personal Rogue’s Gallery. He loved each one of the posters.

  And now the possibility he might sign to be the next James Bond was something he had to deal with. The studio wanted five pictures. One a year for the next five years. He could pack it in at the age of 55 and retire. Maybe he should think about retiring now. Hollywood would remember him as the man who walked away from the megamilliondollar Bond deal. He could say he wanted to spend his time working for his various charities. He’d get out of Dodge and he’d fade off the radar. Yeah, yeah, that’s what he should do. He’d make the announcement after the Academy Awards. Or, better yet, he’d make his announcement when he gave his acceptance speech, Oscar in hand. He wasn’t going to carve it in stone just yet. The ceremony was weeks away and many, many things could happen between now and then.

  One thing he did know now was his daughter’s name. Yoko. Yoko what? A million names raced through his mind. Did Suki name her Yoko Naoki, her maiden name? Or did she pick an alias so he could never find her?

  The phone on his desk rang. He looked down to see the caller ID and winced. He picked up the phone and said, “Hello.”

  “Michael, it’s Maxwell. I heard you were back in the States and didn’t go on to Hong Kong as planned. Do you care to tell me why?”

  “Actually, Maxwell, I returned for personal reasons. I plan to go back after the Academy Awards. You sound upset, why is that?”

  “Because I was counting on some new merchandise. My people were expecting to sample the merchandise as promised. I don’t like giving my word, accepting payment and then having to say things went awry. This would be a good time to tell me if there’s something wrong.”

  Lyons struggled to keep his voice light. “Maxwell, have I
ever let you down before? Leave the worrying to old ladies. I told you I came back for personal reasons. If you read the papers I’m sure you know the studio is trying to get me to sign on to do five James Bond movies. I have a business life in case you’ve forgotten. I have to pay attention to that business. Some of the merchandise will be arriving next week. As always, you get to view it first. I’ll be in touch in a few days when the details are finalized.”

  “See that you do,” the voice on the other end of the line snapped.

  “Screw you, too!” Lyons snarled as he slammed the phone down.

  Michael Lyons stretched out his foot to pull out the desk chair. He sat down and started to shake. Was his secret life about to come crashing down around him?

  Would his daughter find him and try to kill him?

  Would Five Star Investigations find Alan Nolan?

  He wished he could see into the future.

  Chapter 15

  Maggie Spritzer woke drenched in her own sweat. She struggled with the cocoon of blankets she was wrapped in before she looked down at her watch—3:10. She’d slept for three hours. She lay quietly as her mind raced. She felt alert, less groggy than when she’d come back here around midnight. The cold tablets must have helped since she didn’t feel as feverish. She wondered if it was still snowing. How was she going to get home in the morning?

  The silence was so total, Maggie felt like she was sealed in a tomb. She could see dim light from the computer area, which meant the generator was still on. Where was everyone? Probably curled up on the floor or on the chairs sleeping. She thought about Alan then and how nice he’d been to her. Then she thought about Ted who was waiting for her back in the apartment. She wondered if he was worried about her. She probably should have called him earlier but that would have blown her cover with Alan so she’d turned off her cell phone.