Collateral Damage

by Fern Michaels

  A tall, beautiful woman stepped forward. More than once Jack had heard her referred to as the sexiest woman alive. Jack almost blacked out when she approached Erin Powell and slapped a wad of paper into the agent’s hand. “Lizzie Fox, representing Jack Emery. These ladies behind me are my cocounsel, all twelve of them!”

  Lizzie turned to the media and announced in a loud, crystal-clear voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Lizzie Fox, Mr. Emery’s attorney. Call me for any and all interviews, and I or my staff will cooperate. Fully.” She looked directly into the camera and offered up a sizzling wink. The cameraman filming her looked like his pants were on fire. It was all Jack could do not to laugh out loud.

  The late news started off with a film clip of that sizzling wink as the anchor announced, “The Silver Fox is back in town, and woe to those who are hiding out in the Hoover Building.”

  Chapter 8

  The women were getting ready for bed when three sharp bonging sounds from the bell in the compound reverberated over the mountain. They stopped what they were doing, looked at one another, their expressions a mixture of excitement and dread. Three bongs of the bell meant drop what you’re doing and report in. Robes flapping in the evening breeze, slippers slapping at the ground, the women ran toward the Big House, each wondering what crisis warranted the call.

  Charles greeted the women at the door, Myra standing behind him. Both wore robes and were smiling from ear to ear. As one, the women relaxed.

  “What? What?” Kathryn demanded.

  “Something rather amusing, ladies. Or let’s say the vigilantes are one-up. I am referring to a breaking news cable special that ended a few minutes ago. I taped the episode, and later I’ll catch the D.C. eleven o’clock local news for fuller coverage.”

  Nikki gasped when Jack Emery appeared on the screen. One hand flew to her heart, the other to her lips as she watched the scene being played out on the large plasma screen.

  The women hooted and hollered, their fists shooting in the air as the unruly crowd shouted and bellowed.

  Nikki moved closer to the screen. “Oh, my God! Those are my lawyers! The whole firm is there! How’d that happen? What’s going on, Charles? Sweet mother, that’s Lizzie. Did she just say she’s representing Jack? Charles, say something and say it right now. Now!” she shrieked.

  The plasma screen went dark. Charles held up his hand to silence the women, who were, naturally, all talking at once. “Believe it or not, I just got a call from Nellie a few minutes before I rang the bell. As you could see, Jack was rather busy, as was Harry. Bert couldn’t get to a phone. He said he’s being watched like a hawk by Erin Powell. He did manage to alert Nellie, who, like I said, just phoned me.”

  “All well and good but what happened to cause that kind of meltdown?” Nikki asked, pointing to the blank screen in front of them.

  “It seems Ms. Powell sent the members of her task force out to bring in our friends. When it came to Harry, Agent Parks entered his dojo unannounced and without a warrant. Harry was closing up and thought it was an intruder and managed to…uh…take him out. Agent Parks is in the hospital as we speak. I seriously doubt if he will be returning to Ms. Powell’s task force. Harry’s security camera caught it all on tape. A copy is on the way to my mail drop.

  “As for Jack, Agent Akers showed up and asked him to accompany him to the Hoover Building. Jack agreed, then changed his mind and things went downhill after that. He managed to call Maddy, and she rounded up all the attorneys at your firm, along with Lizzie. They were waiting at the Hoover Building when Agent Akers arrived with Jack. Oh, yes, Maddy and Lizzie alerted the media, and that’s what the circus atmosphere was all about. I like it when my people are proactive.”

  “Where’s Jack now?” Nikki asked.

  “Inside the Hoover Building, I assume. Ms. Powell can hold him for seventy-two hours and deny him a lawyer, but I don’t think that will happen. Lizzie was front and center, it’s all over the news. Elias Cummings won’t allow anything to go awry. The Bureau does not need any more bad publicity. That’s all I know.”

  “I thought Lizzie had gone to ground with Justice Barnes. What’s she doing back in the District?” Annie asked.

  Charles removed his glasses and looked over at Annie. “Actually, I called her in. She’s here to oversee the final details of your purchase of the Post, Annie. Of course, no one knows that. Her cover story is she’s been on a sabbatical, but she’s back in the game again. Of course, we’re the only ones who know that.”

  “That makes me feel a lot better,” Annie said. “Lizzie you can trust.”

  “Does that mean Maggie Spritzer is back in town, too?” Isabelle asked.

  “That’s what it means, Isabelle,” Charles said. “As a matter of fact, Ms. Spritzer will be in a position of power when the sale becomes final.”

  “Very clever, Charles. How did you manage all of that?” Nikki asked.

  “With a great deal of help. That’s another way of saying, we have it covered.”

  “What’s going to happen now, dear?” Myra asked.

  “Well, for one thing, Lizzie has more than a nodding acquaintance with Martine Connor, the presumptive Democratic candidate for the presidency. She handled some of Ms. Connor’s legal business in the past. Both women belonged to many of the same organizations. She also knows Pamela Lock quite well. When the three of them were together, it always made the news. Speculation ran rampant about three high-powered women getting together. Invariably something political happened that got laid at their respective doorsteps. Fortunately for all of them, and us as well, no hint of scandal was ever attached to any of them. I don’t think I’d be out of line or off the mark if I said that if Martine Connor goes to the White House, Lizzie Fox will end up being the new White House counsel, if not the attorney general. I’m not certain where Ms. Lock will end up, although, as I indicated earlier, my personal guess is that she would be the new president’s chief of staff. But even if I’m wrong, she’ll be someplace high in the new administration.”

  Nikki’s eyes narrowed. “This is getting complicated, Charles. Too many agendas, is my thinking. The only person who hasn’t reared his ugly head is Ted Robinson.”

  “Wait five minutes,” Charles quipped. “When I replay the tape for you, you’ll see that he is right in front of the pack, along with his pal Joseph Espinosa.”

  Just as Charles was about to press the remote to rerun the tape, his cell phone rang. The women waited, whispering among themselves.

  Myra’s whisper was the loudest and held the most concern. “I do hope Nellie is okay with all this. She tends to get jittery when her little world is rocked.”

  “Yes, but when it comes to crunch time, Nellie comes through,” Annie said. “Don’t forget, she is personal friends with Elias Cummings. The truth is, I think each one of them is afraid of the other. For them it works.”

  Myra chewed on her lower lip, wishing she knew what was going on with her old friend.

  Retired Judge Cornelia Easter, Nellie to close friends, settled herself in her favorite chair hoping for some welcome sleep. It had been a busy, stressful evening. She stared down at the encrypted phone in her hand that had started the ball rolling earlier. She closed her eyes in the hopes she could forget what had just transpired. She shuddered as she thought about the message she’d just gotten from Special Agent Bert Navarro. She stroked the cat on her lap, a yellow tabby named Jasper, and calmed almost immediately. A second cat, Miss Patty, wiggled and squirmed and clawed her way to the headrest on the recliner. She nuzzled into Nellie’s neck and immediately started to purr. Nellie smiled. She loved her cats, all ten of them, and a new litter was on the way out in the barn. New life. She rejoiced in it even if it was an animal life.

  Just three hours ago—or was it four hours?—her phone had chirped to life…

  She hated to disturb the two cats, but she had to get up and go out to the kitchen so she could see the security monitors. According to Agent Navarro, Special Agent Pete
Mangello was about due to appear on her monitor. “Play hardball, Judge,” had been Bert’s parting comment before the connection was broken.

  Nellie started to twitch again as she sat down at the kitchen table. She got up almost immediately to fix herself a stiff drink. She carried it back to the table and sat back down, her eyes on the monitor above the kitchen door, all compliments of the federal government when she had retired. As her security detail said, she was buttoned up tight. No one could get onto her property unless she opened the monster security gates. On top of that she had a secret weapon, well, two secret weapons. Two magnificent German shepherd guard dogs that were trained to guard her with their lives, again, compliments of the government.

  Nellie turned her head to look in the laundry room, where the two shepherds were lying, nose to nose. Sisters, trained from puppyhood. Jam and Jelly. Her saviors. The best, though, was that they adored all ten cats and romped through the big old house until the rafters shook. It was not uncommon for one or two of the old cats to snuggle up next to both dogs for long winter naps.

  At first she’d been leery about having two dogs, but once she became involved with the vigilantes, she knew it was a good idea, and she had no regrets. She whistled softly, and both shepherds padded out to her side, waiting for her to scratch them behind the ears. They licked at her old gnarled hands and looked at her with bright eyes as though to say, “I know you’re in pain.” For a few brief moments Nellie felt like she was in a cocoon of safety, her guardians all at her feet.

  The moment was shattered a few seconds later when the hair on the back of both dogs’ necks stood on end. Nellie looked up at the monitor and saw the dark sedan sitting at the entrance to the gate. She waited for the audio to kick in and heard the man announce himself as Special Agent Peter Mangello. “I would like a few words with you, Your Honor.”

  Nellie got up and walked over to the intercom. “About what?” she asked curtly.

  “I’d like to discuss the matter inside, ma’am, if you don’t mind.”

  “But you see, Special Agent Mangello, I do mind. I’ve retired for the evening, and, had you called ahead, I could have saved you the trip all the way out here. I never see unauthorized visitors. That’s why I make appointments.”

  Both dogs pawed the floor, growling softly deep in their throats. The cats, all ten of them, were like a little herd as they scurried to and fro, not liking their mistress’s tone of voice.

  “Your Honor, I’m here with Director Cummings’s approval. Call him if you have any doubts. I really need to speak with you, and I don’t want to have to come back with a warrant. I can simply plow down these gates, and see where that gets us. I’m an FBI agent, the F stands for federal…”

  Nellie’s hackles rose. Like she needed to be apprised of the law. “And I am a retired federal judge. Did you just threaten me, Special Agent Mangello?” Nellie heard the aggrieved sigh at the other end of the intercom.

  “No, ma’am. Please, call Director Cummings. If you don’t have the number, I can give it to you.”

  “Call him yourself. I told you, I have retired for the evening. Good night, Special Agent Mangello.” Nellie clicked off the intercom, then shut down the security panel. She looked down at the dogs, who looked like they were ready to feast on someone’s legs or buttocks. She spoke soothingly and led them back to the living room, where they took up their positions on either end of the sofa. They remained alert, their eyes bright and shiny. The cats were still scurrying and leaping from couch to chair, to the floor and up to the tables. Finally, they lined up on the sofa between the two dogs as though they were waiting to get their pictures taken. In spite of herself, Nellie laughed.

  She then checked the time at the bottom of her TV screen. She’d been watching The Shopping Channel. She would never admit it to anyone that she was addicted to it. She corrected the thought almost immediately. In a weak moment she’d confided to Myra about her shopping mania. She couldn’t remember if she’d told her to keep it a secret or not.

  While her thoughts raced, Nellie’s eyes were glued to the screen, where a pretty young thing was trying to convince the viewing audience that their lives wouldn’t be complete if they didn’t immediately order the stainless steel slow cooker with nine different bells and whistles even people in outer space would be clamoring for before the hour ran out. She decided to pass on the extraordinary offer.

  Nellie figured it would take Elias Cummings at least eight minutes to call her. Why had Mangello neglected to mention that he was a member of a special task force? Why had he said Elias was his boss? Technically, Cummings was Mangello’s boss, but according to Bert Navarro, a young woman named Erin Powell was heading a designer task force. Mangello, Navarro, and three other agents were currently reporting directly to her.

  Nellie continued to watch the digital numbers tick over at the bottom of the screen. She almost whooped with pleasure when the house’s landline rang. Nellie reached down into the work bag attached to her chair and pulled out the phone. “Good evening, Elias,” she said, before the director could identify himself. “Why are you and your people bothering me at this time of night? I’ve retired for the evening. You need to call and make an appointment if you want to talk to me. Isn’t that what you do, Elias? Now you can say something, Elias.”

  “You never sleep, Nellie,” the director said. “You told me that yourself.” The director’s voice was calm, and he sounded amused.

  “You weren’t listening, Elias. I didn’t say I was sleeping. I said I had retired for the evening. That means I am dressed in my sleeping attire, I am buttoned up, so to speak, security-wise. I am sitting here with my animals drinking my one allotted drink of the day. Make an appointment.”

  “Stop being such a curmudgeon, Nellie, or I’ll haul your butt in here and do it the hard way.”

  “That sounds suspiciously like a threat, Elias. I will not tolerate that. Your man threatened me before, too. And if you try to, as you put it, haul my butt to your offices, what do you think I’ll be doing?”

  “God only knows,” Director Cummings grumbled. “C’mon, Nellie, my guy just wants to ask you a few questions. If you don’t cooperate, I mean it, I will haul you in here.”

  “Oh, all right,” Nellie agreed. “I’ll give him exactly fifteen minutes. I’m going to make a few calls to ensure that your person leaves on schedule. Are we clear on that, Elias? Guess you got your balls in the wringer again, eh?” Nellie added, just as she broke the connection. Sometimes you just had to say what was on your mind.

  To the animals’ dismay, Nellie hauled herself to her feet again, trundled out to the kitchen, clicked on the intercom, spoke briefly, then pressed the button that would open the iron gates. Next she called Charles, who promised to call Bert and anyone else he could think of.

  “That’s bullshit, Charles. I want you to call Lizzie Fox. I like the way she kicks ass and gets right in everybody’s faces. If he isn’t off my property after the allotted time, I’ll shoot him. Just so you know. Do you hear me, Charles?”

  “I do, Nellie. Relax and go back to The Shopping Channel. I’ll take care of things.”

  Nellie was miffed. “How do you know about The Shopping Channel?”

  “You told Myra who told Annie who then told me. They said you’re addicted. Are you saying it was supposed to be a secret?”

  Nellie broke the connection. Obviously no one could keep a secret, herself included.

  Chapter 9

  Erin Powell was more than a little frazzled and hoped it didn’t show. Her people were looking at her strangely. Then again, maybe that was just her imagination. She looked at the huge clock hanging on the wall, a reminder that she’d had no dinner. A PowerBar hardly qualified as one of the major food groups.

  Nine o’clock. And her people were standing around staring at her with pity in their eyes. She licked at her dry lips. “Someone better tell me right now how that circus in front of the building happened. The director called and chewed out my ass, so now
I’m going to chew you out. Charlie, what happened?”

  “Emery pulled a fast one. You said to be polite. I was polite. The guy is slick. He is, after all, the deputy district attorney for D.C.,” Akers said, as if that was explanation enough. “It’s not like he’s simply some private citizen who’s intimidated by agents of the federal government.”

  “Where is he?”

  Akers shuffled his feet. “Room 3.”

  “And Doug is in the hospital. That never should have happened. Is there an update on his condition?” she asked.

  Joe Landos smirked. “He’s okay. That means he’ll live, but he’ll be on disability for about six weeks. Let’s be honest here, Doug did it all wrong. Wong has a sterling rep, and the locals are on his side. Cummings likes him a lot. There’s a video bearing out everything Wong said. We took a big black eye on that one.”

  “Are you telling me Doug acted like a rookie? What the hell was he thinking?”

  “I guess you’ll have to ask Doug that yourself. I just got an update from the hospital. I didn’t personally talk to him,” Landos said.

  Erin hated the self-satisfied look on the agent’s face. They were all getting off on the fiasco that had gone down. And she didn’t see one iota of respect for her in any of their faces. Her back stiffened. “Why isn’t Lizzie Fox in Room 4, Joe?”

  “Are you kidding? You can’t be serious if you think I should have hauled her in in front of that mob out there. It was a judgment call. Come morning, I’ll serve her up with your breakfast.”

  Erin knew Landos was right, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. She turned around and homed in on Pete Mangello. “Well?”

  Mangello glared at the woman standing in front of him. “I had to fucking threaten a federal judge. Then I had to have Director Cummings call her. She refused to cooperate,” he explained, defensively.