Free Fall

by Fern Michaels

  Who the fuck was Harry Wong?

  Lyons was about to click on his cell phone when it rang. He looked down at the numbers flashing on the screen. Lucian Treadwell. Lyons frowned and scratched. He muttered something that could pass for a greeting.

  “What the hell is going on, Lyons?”

  “Since you reside in New York and I reside in California, how the hell do I know what’s going on? I’m not in the mood to play guessing games with you, Lucian. What do you want?”

  “I’ll tell you what I want, you son of a bitch! Some goddamn woman was just here named Mary Clare Peabody and she knows. She knows, you bastard! She gave me pictures! Are you listening to me, Lyons? Somebody cleaned out all my bank accounts. She’s sending these pictures to my family. They invaded my computer. How in the hell did this happen? She said they red-flagged my passport. Will you say something for Christ’s sake!”

  Lyons sat down, not caring that the pink lotion was smearing all over the chair. He was usually a fastidious man, but right now he didn’t care about anything except what he was hearing. “Who is Mary Clare Peabody?”

  “I don’t know. Everyone in the inner circle had visitors, too. This is going to hit the fan. I’m ruined. Royce Gardener called me and said they, whoever they are, only left him $64.22. He was always the weak link. I told you that. Did any of you listen to me? No, you did not. Newhouse is a basketcase. We’ll be on our way to California within the hour. We managed to scrounge up enough for airfare from petty cash but we will be arriving penniless. Send someone to meet us at the airport. Don’t even think about trying to run because you are too well known. We’ll find you no matter where you go. And you damn well better have a large chunk of money to divvy up among us. You’re the fucking ringleader of this little show so you better start acting like it.”

  When Michael Lyons hung up he forgot about his rash and how badly it was itching. His chest was pounding and he couldn’t breathe. He broke out in a cold sweat as he started to shake. The impossible had happened. He struggled to breathe, to get his nerves under control. He forgot about calling a doctor for a house call. Instead, he raced to his one operational computer to check on his finances. As he clicked and clicked he got sicker by the minute. His accounts here in the States all registered zero balances. One bank showed that one particular account was overdrawn by twenty dollars. Tens of millions gone with a few clicks on a rogue computer.

  Fifteen minutes later, his breathing more or less under control, he started to itch again. He needed to blame someone. Boatman! Boatman was the only one savvy enough to pull off something like this. Where the fuck was the computer wizard? He reached for the cell phone and called again. A tinny-sounding voice told him that the customer he was trying to reach was out of his calling area.

  Somehow Boatman must have teamed up with his daughter. It was the only thing that made sense.

  Michael Lyons started to pace. He had millions in his safe. And billions in off-shore accounts. He also had foolproof passports with identities and backgrounds to assure him safe travel anywhere in the world. He knew the others weren’t as fortunate, and they would be left behind. Stupid is as stupid does, he thought to himself. And he had another plus on his side. He was an actor and a master of disguise. Getting out of the country wasn’t going to be that much of a problem. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a problem at all. But, he needed to clear up this rash first.

  He knew he could, if he wanted to, fund and spirit those in the inner circle out of the country. Would it be better to do that so they wouldn’t talk or should he leave first and let them hold the bag? He simply couldn’t decide.

  How in hell did this happen?

  Where was he going to go? Would he still be able to control and monitor his other business or would it all come crashing down? He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to imagine the fallout in Hollywood and around the world. He knew he should contact his worldwide colleagues, but he wasn’t going to do that. The way he looked at it, it was every man for himself. He stomped his feet like a petulant child.

  Argentina might be a good jumping-off place. He’d always liked Argentina.

  The phone took that moment to ring. Lyons wondered if it was safe to answer it. What the hell. It might be an important call. It might even be that bastard Boatman. He rolled his eyes when he heard it was Anna de Silva. She said she was staying at the Beverly Hills Hotel and wanted to make arrangements to meet. Like he needed this right now. He tried to be civil when he said he was suffering from a severe case of shingles and wouldn’t be available till the following week. “You can count on me for a million dollars, Countess.” They spoke for a few more minutes and then he ended the call and promptly forgot about it. He wouldn’t be around when it was time to pony up the million dollars so what difference did it make?

  As Lyons stalked off to check on the money in his safe, scratching and digging at himself, he knew he was living a bad dream. When he woke up he wouldn’t have shingles, and the members of the inner circle would be at home and not on their way to California, and his bank accounts would still be as robust as they were a few days ago.

  If he wasn’t so scared and miserable he would have cried.

  Ted Robinson grabbed his duffel bag off the carousel at LAX and then waited for Maggie’s to appear. “If this turns out to be a wild goose chase, I’m going to strangle you, Maggie.”

  “Look, you made the decision to come with me. I was prepared to come alone but you insisted on coming along. You better not even think about blaming me if this doesn’t work out. And, no, I don’t want to talk about Alan Nolan. We talked him to death on the flight here. He’s gone. He’s not coming back. You agreed with me when we went back to his apartment to scout around. He took everything with him. He snookered me just the way I snookered him. He doesn’t give a good rat’s ass if the cybercafe and bakery shut down or not. He just threw that in to make me think…whatever it was he wanted me to think. He did give up the name Lyons and that was on the money. He was bragging and trying to impress me. Now, shut up and let’s find a cab and a hotel.”

  Muttering under his breath, Ted followed Maggie, who was dragging her suitcase on wheels. He didn’t know if he felt like a fool or not. He was the idea person, Maggie was the follow-along person. He took a few seconds to wonder how she knew that the Ladies of Pinewood were on their way to Los Angeles. When he’d asked her, she’d sniffed and said, “Woman’s intuition.” He’d shut right up after that. No way was he going to tinker with or question woman’s intuition. Not in this lifetime, anyway.

  As they lined up to wait for a cab, Maggie whispered, “I don’t want you to look right now but at three o’clock there are two ladies waiting. Guess who they are, Mister Robinson?”

  “You told me not to look,” Ted hissed. “Who?”

  “Myra Rutledge and Anna de Silva. Now, why do you think they’re standing here at LAX? They’re waiting for the others. I guarantee it. No, no, don’t look. Just get in the cab. They aren’t paying attention to us.”

  Inside the cab, their sunglasses in place, Maggie said, “Do not ever question my intuition ever again.”

  “Okay, okay. Good work, Spritzer. You sure you didn’t sleep with that guy Nolan?”

  Maggie laughed.

  As the cab rolled by, Myra Rutledge looked right at it. “You know what really bothers me, Annie?”

  “No, what?”

  “Young people seem to think because you’re old that you’re deaf, dumb and blind. Those two thought we didn’t see them. Are they stupid or are we stupid? When someone tries so hard to be invisible, I always wonder why. Like sunglasses and baseball caps will alter their features. They must think we’re doddering old fogies. I’m so glad we spotted them even though it means our job just got harder. Forewarned is forearmed. I cannot wait for the girls to get here. They’ll have some ideas about those two reporters and how to deal with them.”

  Annie peered at Myra over the top of her sunglasses. “Does our job getting harder mean it will get more
exciting?”

  “My dear, I think you can count on it,” Myra said. “Oh, look, here comes Alexis! The others will be here soon.”

  “Myra, you should have come to Spain earlier and dragged me here. My adrenaline is really kicking up. I’m loving every single minute. It’s like you turn a corner and something beyond your dreams happens. Then you turn another corner and something even more unbelievable happens.”

  Alexis came up to the two women and hugged them, her eyes bright. “Boy, do I have a story for you.”

  “I’ve got one for you, too, my dear,” Myra said. “Those two reporters from the Post just rode away in a cab. They thought we didn’t see them but we did.”

  “Oh, shit!”

  “Oh, poop, is right,” Myra said as she clutched at the pearls around her neck.

  Chapter 19

  Nikki Quinn spun around so quickly, she lost her footing. An elderly man caught her in midspin and set her firmly on her feet. Nikki blushed, thanked the man, and raised her eyes to stare at the arrival and departure monitors overhead. Was she crazy or had she just seen Royce Gardener as he perused the baggage area at LAX? Did he see her? She didn’t think so. He appeared to be looking for someone, maybe the other members of Michael Lyons’s inner circle.

  Nikki fished around in her pocket for her sunglasses. Everyone’s idea of the ultimate in disguise. She continued to make her way to the baggage area, stopping long enough at a kiosk to toss forty dollars on the counter for a wide-brimmed straw hat. She didn’t bother to wait for change. She ripped off the tag, pulled her hair on top of her head, and plopped the bonnet on her head. Another sure-fire disguise. She walked a little faster now, confident that she would be the last person Royce Gardener expected to see in this particular airport.

  There he was, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited. He didn’t appear to be waiting for luggage. Most likely he was waiting for someone. She recognized Lucian Treadwell, Kathryn’s man, immediately as he approached Gardener. You didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to know they were probably meeting up to make their way to Lyons’s house. Where were the others? Arriving on different flights just the way she and the other sisters were doing.

  Kathryn! God, where was she? She racked her brain as she tried to recall who was getting in at what time but couldn’t come up with the information. She was rattled and she knew it.

  Nikki moved through the milling passengers as she headed for the doors leading outside to ground transportation. If everything was on schedule, Myra and Annie should be waiting for her at the taxi stand. She grew light-headed when she saw them. She ran up to them, careful to keep her back to the doors. “We have a problem. Gardener and Treadwell are inside by the baggage carousel. I have to get out of here before Gardener sees me. Where are the others? Myra, where are the others!” God, she hated the panic she was seeing on her mother’s face. “What’s wrong, Myra?”

  Myra’s grip on her pearls was fierce. “We just saw Maggie Spritzer and Ted Robinson. They saw us, too, although we all pretended not to see one another. They were trying to be invisible just the way we were but Annie and I saw them. Alexis arrived just as they drove off. We have to call Charles. Nikki, you make the call but wait till you get in the cab with Alexis. Annie and I will try to head off Kathryn, Isabelle and Yoko. Yoko won’t be a problem since those people don’t know her. This is beyond urgent so hurry, dear.”

  “What can I do?” Annie asked, her face alight with anticipation.

  “This is not good, Annie. In fact, this is disastrous. We have to act like nothing is wrong. We have to look harried like everyone else. You’ve seen the pictures of the men just the way I have. Let’s see if we can spot them. Nikki said they were by the baggage carousel. Ah, there they are. They don’t exactly look like captains of industry, do they?”

  “No, they don’t. I think they look like they’d pass out if one of us came up behind them and said, boo! Slow down, Myra, there’s a man joining them. I think it’s that retired general. Do you want me to stay here and watch them? I can…uh…tail them if you think it’s advisable. I’ll just hop in a cab and do what they do in the movies.” At Myra’s look of skepticism, she said, “I’ll just say, ‘Follow that car!’ Then I’ll flash a wad of money. It always works.”

  “Annie, we know where they’re going. Where else could they go but Lyons’s house?”

  “Not necessarily. Maybe they’re going to have a meeting someplace else. Maybe Lyons won’t want them at his home. It could be a secret place where they won’t be recognized. Think about it, Myra. Someone has to keep tabs on them. Give me all the cash you have in case I have to bribe the driver. They always do that in the movies. Wads of cash.”

  Myra suddenly spotted Kathryn and rushed forward. She pretended to bump into her, at the same time spinning her around. “Those men are here, three of them. Treadwell, Gardener and Tappen. They’re by the baggage carousel. Go back the way you came and try to head off Isabelle. And if you see Yoko, clue her in. Don’t leave the airport until the men leave. Take a cab to the Beverly Hills Hotel and wait for us in the lobby.”

  Kathryn didn’t say a word until Myra ran out of steam. “This is not good.”

  “No, dear, it is not good. I didn’t tell you the worst part. Maggie Spritzer and Ted Robinson are here, too. Annie and I saw them getting into a cab. They saw both of us.”

  “Oh, shit!”

  “I have to go now, Kathryn. Nikki is calling Charles. We’re going to have to fall back and regroup.”

  Kathryn nodded as she walked over to the arrival and departure monitor. She hoped she could head off Isabelle and Yoko. She started off, her stomach in knots.

  Myra headed back to the baggage carousel, her thoughts in turmoil. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that the three men were gone and there was no sign of Annie so she headed for the door. She gasped when she saw the three men outside smoking and Annie standing nearby, chatting with another woman who was also waiting for a cab. Myra motioned her over.

  “I think they’re waiting for the fourth man and transportation,” Annie said. “They could have gotten a cab earlier but waved it off. I checked flight arrivals from Atlanta. I assume they’re waiting for Adam Newhouse. There’s a flight due in from Atlanta in twelve minutes. What do you want to do, Myra? If we don’t follow them, we might never be able to find them again. Do we even need them?”

  What Myra wanted to do was go back home to McLean, Virginia, but she knew that was impossible. Along with the others, she was committed to Yoko’s mission. “I guess we follow them. If they go to Lyons’s house, then we can either go back to the hotel or call the girls to alert them and we stay and do surveillance. Everything is going to hinge on what Charles tells us to do.”

  “But, Myra, what if they do go there and then leave again? How will we find them?”

  Myra took a deep breath. “The authorities will deal with them. Our mission is Lyons. He’s the one we have to keep in our sites.”

  “What if Lyons leaves with the four of them? Since they have no money to speak of, it’s logical to assume they came here to make a getaway with Lyons’s help. What makes you think he isn’t running scared right now just the way they are?”

  “Because the man is too cocky. He never thought he would get caught. I don’t know a lot about people like him, but my instincts tell me he doesn’t care about those four men. He’s only interested in saving his own skin. He’s buying time. He probably agreed to help them so they’d keep quiet until he can make his own plans.”

  “You could be right, Myra. I’m just a novice compared to you. I think this might be a good time to commandeer a taxi so we can be in place when they leave. How much money do you have on you?”

  “A little over a hundred dollars. How much do you have?”

  “About the same. I rarely carry cash. Two hundred dollars isn’t much of a wad. They always flash a wad in the movies,” Annie fretted. “I’ll go back into the terminal. I saw an ATM machine. Give me your card and pin
number. That will give us another six hundred. You always get twenty-dollar bills so all those twenties will make a nice little bundle of money. Don’t get your panties in a wad, Myra. I have four minutes till the plane lands. Another eight to ten minutes for Mr. Newhouse to disembark and make his way here.”

  Myra sighed as she handed over her money and ATM card. “And to think just months ago you were sitting on a mountain in an old monastery watching the Weather Channel on satellite television. I should have left you there. Charles is not going to like this.”

  Annie laughed. “No, you don’t wish any such thing. They’re lighting another cigarette. It takes five minutes to smoke a cigarette. I read that somewhere. That means I have time.”

  “Just go already. I’ll keep my eye on them. Make it snappy, too. Don’t stop to talk to anyone. Don’t buy anything. I know you, Annie, you can be diverted.”

  Annie glowered as she stalked off.

  Myra wished she smoked so she could light up. She wondered if anyone was paying attention to her. She played with her pearls and watched the taxi line as she tried to imagine which one they should commandeer. She wondered what the brash, go-for-the-gusto Kathryn would do. She smiled when she thought of Kathryn’s response. She’d say money talks and bullshit walks. “That works for me,” Myra mumbled as she envisioned the wad of cash Annie would have on her return.

  Myra continued to watch the three men as they finished their cigarettes and started looking around. Tappen walked off, his gaze on the string of cars inching their way alongside the row of waiting taxis. Gardener walked over to where she was standing outside the door and peered inward. He looked down at his watch. The door whipped open and Annie walked through. Gardener muttered something as he stepped out of the way.

  “Oh, my dear, how nice to see you again!” Annie gushed as she wrapped her arms around Myra. “He’s right behind me. Let’s get a taxi.”