Agent Navaro, sensing trouble, moved just as quickly, his gold shield in his hand. He raised it high enough so everyone in the room could see the special emblem. “Don’t even think about it, gentlemen!”
To Jack, he said, “Take your prisoners and leave, Emery. I’ll stay here to oversee the…cleanup.”
Jack opened the door and the women filed out. Flashbulbs popped and cameras clicked.
Jack urged his group forward but stopped at Navaro’s car long enough to yank open the door. “Take a good look, asshole,” he said to Ted. “I hope you’ll be happy when that shield dumps you at your new home, which, by the way, you are not going to like. The LA Times scooped you, you crud. They have the pictures.”
“Jack…Jack, wait!”
“Don’t ever talk to me again, Ted. You, too, Maggie. I don’t ever want to see you again.” He slammed the car door shut and moved forward.
“Get in the car, ladies. We’re heading home. I engaged the services of a private jet. I sure hope one of you can pay for it. I don’t want you saying anything until we’re in the car and on our way. Tell me you understand.” Seven heads bobbed up and down.
The moment the car was in gear, the windows were closed, and they were on their way, Myra said, “What did Charles say?”
“He said not to worry about him. He said you all know what to do,” Jack said.
“What did we do wrong?” Alexis asked, anger ringing in her voice.
“We didn’t pay enough attention to those reporters,” Nikki said.
You’ll never have to worry about them again. Agent Navaro, who, by the way, is a very nice guy, has their future in his hands. I’m sorry about the cuffs, ladies, but they have to stay on till we’re airborne. I’ll have to cuff you again before we leave the plane. It’s going to be a circus so be prepared. You’ll have to spend the night in jail but you’ll be arraigned at eight tomorrow morning.”
The rest of the ride to LAX was made in silence.
The moment the rented Gulfstream leveled off at 30,000 feet, the women all started to talk at once. What was never supposed to happen had happened. They were now felons. They would spend the night in jail with criminals. No one had a clue what the next step was.
Nikki was sitting next to Jack. “I don’t know how to thank you, Jack. You always come through in the nick of time. God knows what would have happened to us if you hadn’t showed up when you did.”
“Krazy Glue, huh?”
Nikki smiled wearily. “Industrial strength, Jack. And, there is no known solvent to loosen or remove it. I’m going to lose my license to practice law.”
“I know,” Jack said quietly.
“You might want to distance yourself from us after the arraignment tomorrow. It won’t do your career any good to be seen with any of us, me in particular. It is going to be a circus, isn’t it? I hope Myra is up to it.”
“Nik, you have no idea. It’s going to be a free fall. Don’t worry about my career. I don’t think you have to worry about Myra, either. She’s a tough old gal. Alexis is the one I’m worried about. She already did a stretch in the slammer. I’m working on it, Nik. Relax. Try to get some sleep. It’s going to be a very long night. I’ll be right here.”
Jack looked around the luxurious cabin. Harry and Yoko were cuddling together. Alexis, Isabelle and Kathryn pretended to be asleep. He knew they weren’t. He also knew their brains were whirling and twirling. Myra and Annie were talking quietly. Neither seemed overly alarmed. In fact they looked peaceful and contented. He thought about that for a moment or two. He didn’t move until he was certain Nikki was truly asleep. He made his way down the aisle to where the two older women were sitting. Each had a glass of bourbon on the rocks in her hand. He joined them.
“We certainly owe you a debt of thanks, Jack,” Myra said.
“I was going on sheer guts. That piece of paper is pretty much worthless. I think it was Special Agent Navaro who paved the way for it to work. It’s not going to be easy, Myra. When we step off this plane it is going to be a free fall. Nothing in your life as you’ve known it can prepare you for what’s coming up.”
“I think we can handle it, young man,” Annie said.
“I sure as hell hope so because it will get ugly.”
“Then we’ll get ugly right back,” Myra said. “You’re supposed to be our enemy, Jack. I hope you can play the part when we go public.”
“I can do it, Myra. I’ll be going up against Liz Fox. The man or woman hasn’t been born who can outthink, outwit, out-lawyer Lizzie Fox. Nikki told me she contacted her as soon as the dark stuff hit the fan. She’ll be waiting for you all when we land. Whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not open your mouth to anyone but Lizzie. Don’t even talk among yourselves because someone might be listening. From here on in you’re all the media’s new darlings.”
“We understand,” Annie said.
Jack stood up. He couldn’t remember when he had felt this tired. He made his way back to his seat. Nikki was still sleeping soundly. He wondered if he would ever be able to sleep again. Sooner or later, someone was going to get downwind of his involvement with the Ladies of Pinewood. He closed his eyes and was instantly asleep.
As the rented Gulfstream sliced down the runway at Dulles Airport, a team of twelve detectives, warrant in hand, broke open the door of the Pinewood farmhouse. They worked industriously for the next four hours. When they left the farmhouse with nothing in their hands, they fixed a padlock to the door and locked it. Grumbling and complaining among themselves, they made their way back to the station to file their report. The report read simply:
Nothing out of the ordinary found. There were no occupants in the house.
The passengers aboard the Gulfstream gasped when they looked out the windows. Hundreds of people with microphones and cameras stood against the metal barriers waiting for the passengers to disembark. Several dozen police officers walked the perimeter, their hands on their gun butts.
Jack stood up. He helped Nikki to her feet. “Listen to me. Your lawyer is out there waiting for you with the hordes of reporters. You’re big news now. Do not try to hide your face. Let them see the flexi-cuffs. Hold your heads up and, if possible, look defiant. Nikki, lead the way. I’ll bring up the rear. No talking. The officers will lead you to the police van. Get in calmly, say nothing.”
“We know what to do, Jack. Let’s just get this over with.”
” What about me?” Harry asked.
“You leave with me, Harry. Everything I said applies to you, too. Don’t open that yap of yours, understand?”
“I got it, Jack. Tell me this is going to be okay.”
Jack took a moment to look into Harry’s eyes. “Only a fool would tell you something like that.”
“Aw, shit!”
The pictures appeared on the six o’clock news. By midnight the photos had whipped around the world, claiming the Virginia Vigilantes were under arrest. Web sites appeared instantly. Viewers were asked to vote guilty or not guilty.
Chapter 24
Charles Martin stepped from the recently installed cable car, locked the gears and looked around. Even from where he was standing he could see the sparkling blue Mediterranean below the mountain, and the beautiful refurbished monastery that was now his new home. To his left he could see the recently installed pool, the tennis court, the helicopter pad that was still being worked on. His heart heavy, his step weary, he made his way to the old monastery that had been Anna de Silva’s home for so many years. He felt guilty, and he knew he shouldn’t feel that way but he did. Here he was, safe and sound on this beautiful mountain while the women he loved with all his heart were sitting in jail.
It wasn’t that he was a coward, far from it. But every member of the Sisterhood, himself included, knew this very day might come at some point in their lives. It had been Myra and Annie’s idea to make this mountain fortress a getaway. He’d vetoed the idea in the beginning but eventually they’d worn him down.
Charles thoug
ht about the endless supply of money it had taken to make this mountain safe and secure. It was supposed to be for all of them should the authorities ever close in on the group. The best-laid plans of mice and men, he thought sadly. He was the only one to walk on the mountain while the others fought for their lives across the ocean. A lump settled in his throat. How was he going to carry on alone? Who would he cook for? Who would he plan for? He missed them so. Ached with feeling for Myra.
If there was anything to be proud of it was that everyone had followed his orders to the letter, even Myra, who he thought might balk at the eleventh hour. And here he was, all alone to carry on.
Charles looked down at his watch, calculated the time difference between Spain and the United States before he raced into the monastery. Time to turn on the television to see what was going on in the States. He picked up his feet and ran the remaining distance to the heavy wooden door that would take him to the main part of the monastery that was considered personal quarters. Fifteen thousand square feet of personal room.
It wasn’t quite home. Perhaps in time…
He didn’t bother to slow down or look around. He just wanted news of his girls. He knew Isabelle’s blueprints had been followed and no questions had been asked by the local contractors, who were glad of the work. Later, he would check out everything because he knew certain things still needed to be done.
Sanctuary.
As ugly as it was, Charles loved seeing the satellite dish outside the kitchen window. Sitting high on the mountain like this should give him excellent television reception. He was delighted when he turned on the television set in the kitchen to CNN and the picture exploded onto the screen. The reception was beyond belief, the clarity magnificent. A pity he had no one to share this moment with.
A second later he was glad he was alone.
His jaw slack, his eyes wide, he watched as his ladies walked down the stairs of the Gulfstream that had brought them from California to Dulles Airport. They looked tired and disheveled but their heads were high, their hands handcuffed in front of them. They walked in single file, police officers alongside. Reporters shouted questions they ignored. He saw Jack Emery and Harry Wong bringing up the rear of the parade. So far, so good, he thought. He continued to watch as the women were herded into a police van. He flinched when the van door slammed shut. He continued to watch as the excited television reporter took that moment to recap what he’d probably been saying for hours.
Charles propped his head in his hands on the countertop and watched, all signs of weariness gone. The reporter with thinning moussed hair looked down at his notes before he spoke.
“The two reporters, Maggie Spritzer and Ted Robinson of the Post, filed their story right before the infamous Seven Vigilantes, as they’re being called, were arrested. Within hours the women have become household names. They have managed to push Michael Lyons, Hollywood’s Golden Boy and nominee for Best Actor at this year’s Academy Awards, and four associates to the back pages. We know there is a scandal brewing, but at this moment we’re waiting for the head of Lyons’s studio to hold a press conference. Rumors have filtered out that the Seven Vigilantes used industrial-strength Krazy Glue to glue the five men to Lyons’s floor. We’re told there is no solvent that can extricate the men and the entire floor had to be dismantled and transported to an undisclosed destination by a tow truck whose company we are not privy to at this time.
“The two Post reporters who filed the story are among the missing and a spokesperson for the Post said they are doing everything in their power to find their two employees.
“For those of you just tuning in, the infamous Seven Vigilantes include socialites Myra Rutledge, heiress to a Fortune 500 candy company; Countess Anna de Silva, whose bank balances rival those of Bill Gates; lawyer Nicole Quinn; architect Isabelle Flanders; Alexis Thorn, a personal shopper; Kathryn Lucas, a long-distance truck driver; and Yoko Akia, owner of a nursery and flower shop. The Post ’s star reporters linked them to several unsolved crimes, one having to do with the home invasion of the National Security Advisor here in the nation’s capital where he was beaten so severely he had to be hospitalized and resign from his office.
“I was shown the front page of the morning Post whose headline reads:
FEMALE VIGILANTES TAKE THE LAW INTO THEIR OWN HANDS!
“We’ve also been told that Elizabeth Fox will be representing all seven women. For anyone in the area who doesn’t know who Elizabeth Fox is, let me be the one to tell you: More than a few of her colleagues have called her a female Clarence Darrow. Her track record is impeccable. That means she’s never lost a case. Several prosecutors have told me they lose sleep when they’re forced to try a case against her. In this case, the prosecution will be handled by Jack Emery, whose credentials are just as impressive as those of Miss Fox. He’s been called a barracuda while Miss Fox has been called a shark.”
Charles turned down the volume and sighed. He was bone weary, jet-lagged, worried sick and yet he was hungry. He didn’t know how that could be, it just was. He looked around at the kitchen Myra had helped Isabelle design. It was beautiful—with the ancient brick, the stone floor, the diamond-pane windows, the fresh flowers on the window-sills, the colorful crockery sitting on the shelves that had been carved into the brick walls. The table was huge, with twelve chairs. Charles wondered who would sit in them. A yellow bowl in the center of the table was filled with fresh fruit. Charles opened the refrigerator to see a fully baked ham, a roast chicken, a bowl of salad, assorted cheeses, soft drinks and some delightful Spanish beer. He wondered if he had the energy to eat.
While he was airborne he’d called ahead to the padre at the bottom of the mountain to have his nieces ready the house for his arrival. He knew when he got to his room there would be fresh sheets and flowers on the nightstand.
In the end, Charles decided he was too tired to eat. His shoulders sagging, he walked out of the kitchen and down a corridor that would take him to the room meant to be shared with Myra. The bed looked incredibly inviting. He’d been right about the flowers, too. The windows were open, a gentle breeze blowing the sheer curtains inward. He kicked off his shoes and fell back on the bed. It was supposed to be fail-safe but something had gone awry.
He had failed to protect the sisters.
Jack Emery entered the courthouse through the basement. When he’d said it was going to get ugly he hadn’t known just how ugly until he saw the circus outside the courthouse. His heart beat furiously in his chest as he rode the elevator up to the courtroom where Myra and her gang of vigilantes would be waiting. Which judge was he going to draw? His stomach heaved at the thought, then heaved again when he saw Lizzie Fox ahead of him. She waved as she headed for the restroom. She’s probably going in there to apply her war paint, Jack thought.
Jack slammed through the courtroom doors and took his place at the prosecution table. His second chair was a gutsy young guy who looked like Adonis and flaunted it. He was sharper than razor wire and Jack liked working with him.
The courtroom was filled to overflowing. He’d had to fight his way down the hall to get to here. He’d successfully managed to ward off questions and get into the room all in one piece. He was frowning when he looked down at Spiro Artemos, who was looking at him curiously. “Is it my imagination or are those people on the side of those women?”
“You got that right, Jack. The tide turned during the night, thanks to the media. Women all over the world woke up to start their day hearing about those vigilantes. Fox is going to shred us.”
“No one is going to shred us so stop talking like that. We have them dead to rights. They were caught red-handed.”
“Oh, yeah, turn around and take a look at what’s coming in the door.”
Jack turned and gawked. Lizzie Fox was so gorgeous, so sexy, Jack felt his mouth start to water. She didn’t walk, she strutted on legs so long they looked like they went all the way to her throat. She was dressed in a skimpy suit whose short skirt could have been
stuffed in her ear, a blouse open way too far. That blouse beckoned every man in the courtroom. She positively reeked of power, money and beauty. A trifecta.
“Whatever you do, don’t look her in the eyes or you’re dead,” Spiro said. “She’s going to strut herself and we’re dead. We’re dead, Jack.”
“If you open your mouth again, you’re going to find my foot in it.”
“All rise!” the bailiff shouted. Everyone in the courtroom stood. “The Honorable Judge Cornelia Easter presiding.”
Jack gripped the edge of the prosecution table. Son of a bitch! He risked a glance at Lizzie Fox, who was frowning. Oh, lady, you should only know we’re both on the same side.
Judge Easter rapped her gavel so the buzzing would stop. A door opened and all seven women were led into the courtroom to stand next to Lizzie Fox. The women in the back of the courtroom cheered with calls like, “You go, girls! We’re on your side!”
Jack didn’t want to look at Nikki but he had to. She looked so cold, so distant in her orange jumpsuit and manacles. He wanted to run to her, to tell her he’d do anything in the world to make this go away. Instead, he turned away, his eyes burning.
Judge Easter banged her gavel again. “One more outburst like that and I’ll clear the courtroom!”
Judge Easter wiggled her hand.
“Jack Emery for the prosecution, your honor.”
“Elizabeth Fox for the defense, your honor.”
“This is a simple arraignment, counselors. Let’s keep it simple. How do you plead?”
One by one, in clear, high voices the seven women responded, “Not guilty.”
“The State asks for remand, your honor.”
7. Free Fall Page 20