"Why do I feel like I just did fifty laps around a track?" Jack said, lying down on the floor. "A baby is a lot of work. Twenty-six babies is a hell of a lot of work. How much time do we have before they wake up again?"
Authority ringing in his voice, Espinosa said, "Well, if they were in their own beds, in their own environment, I'd say three hours. Here, I'd say we're going to be lucky if they sleep for ninety minutes. I have all the bottles lined up on the kitchen table, since that's the warmest room in the house. We can fluff out the diapers now so they'll be ready for the next change."
"Yeah, why don't you do that, Espinosa?" Harry said, lying down next to Jack.
"I'm calling Maggie to see what's going on," Ted said, walking to the front of the house. He took one look out the front window and raced back to the living room. "Hey, Jack, you better come see this. Our transportation is here!"
Harry started to swear in all his seven languages. Jack started to laugh and couldn't stop. Espinosa continued to fluff open diapers. One by one the babies started to howl, until there was a crescendo of noise.
Chapter 16
Martine Connor swung her legs over the side of the bed, wondering what it was that had woken her. The silence that surrounded her told her there was nothing going on. Her throat was dry, and she needed a drink of water. She looked at the red numerals on her bedside clock, which glowed like beacons in the dark room: 4:10. She would have gotten up in another twenty minutes anyway.
Martine rummaged around on the bedcovers until she found her old robe, a chenille one that she'd had forever and a day. It was worn, frayed, an old friend she would never part with. It even had matching slippers, which were just as old and worn, and just as comfortable.
She brushed her teeth, then shuffled her way to the kitchen, where she made her own coffee. She'd always been an early morning, two-cups-of-coffee-and-one-cigarette kind of person. Just because she was the president of the United States didn't mean she couldn't remain that kind of person. It was this quiet time that she liked, "being alone with the universe time," as she called it. While she sipped at her coffee, she reflected and made decisions.
While she waited for the coffee to drip into the pot, Martine walked over to the huge window that overlooked the White House lawn. It looked like daylight outside. She blinked when she saw the blanket of snow that covered everything. She didn't think she'd ever seen anything quite as beautiful as what she was looking at right at that moment. And it had stopped snowing. She wondered if she'd be able to make the trip to Camp David after the children's Christmas party this afternoon. Right after Thanksgiving, she'd made the decision to go to Camp David to spend the holidays. She wasn't sure if it was a good or bad decision; she just knew she had made the decision and was stuck with it.
Where was the sleigh? Martine ran from window to window to look out at the winter wonderland but could see no sign of the sleigh that had been there when she'd retired for the night. Was it covered with snow? Surely not. A deep frown built itself between her eyebrows. The fine hairs on the back of her neck seemed to be moving. Without stopping to think, she ran to the door, opened it, and asked the Secret Service agent standing outside what had happened to the sleigh.
"I'm not sure, Madam President, but I did hear some talk early in the evening that a crew was coming for the sleigh to take it back to the horse barn so the wheels could be removed. The sleigh has to be put on a lift so the under-carriage can be taken off. Wheels won't work with all this snow, which--as you know--was unexpected. I can call down to the office to find out for sure. Do you want me to do that, Madam President?"
"No, that makes sense. I just don't want anything to go wrong for the children's party today. Some of the kids are already here from neighboring states, so we can't disappoint them."
"No, you can't disappoint children at this time of year, Madam President."
"Thank you, Agent Morales."
Martine closed the door and walked back to the kitchen, where her coffee was ready. She poured a cup and carried it back to a deep, comfortable armchair by the bay window. She curled her legs up under her and sipped at her coffee, her mind going in all directions. The fine hairs on the nape of her neck still seemed to be at attention, which meant all was not well. She immediately thought of Lizzie, then Baron Bell. Well, after today Baron Bell would be just a memory. And come the first of the year, her chief of staff was just going to be a memory, too. She should have given him his walking papers the minute he defied her regarding the pardons, but because it was the Christmas season, she'd convinced herself the beginning of the year would be soon enough. She'd always deplored businesses that fired or laid off people during the holidays all because of the corporate bottom line for the end-of-the-year accounting.
Martine walked back to the kitchen, looked at the clock on the stove before she poured her second cup of coffee of the day. This was when she had a cigarette, something she was going to give up the first of the year. It was the only resolution she was willing to make. At this point in time.
Forty minutes later the president of the United States was sitting at her desk in the Oval Office, the fine hairs at the nape of her neck still dancing to their own tune. POTUS shivered.
Less than a mile away, at the horse barn in Georgetown, the missing sleigh was being raised on a lift as Avery Snowden's people prepared to remove the wheels that allowed the sleigh to move on asphalt. Waxed and oiled runners would be installed by competent hands. When the work was completed, the sleigh would be loaded onto a custom dolly, which would be wheeled out onto the snow so that the runners didn't touch the concrete floor of the barn.
The sleigh was huge, a beautiful, one-of-a-kind construction, specially ordered and crafted in Russia and shipped to Baron Bell some twenty-odd years ago. Once every five years, at his own expense, Bell paid to have one of the craftsmen come to the United States to repair the paint, redo the gilt, sand and wax the steel runners. They even tuned the bells that hung on strips of leather and adorned the horses' necks as they pulled the sleigh.
The inside of the sleigh held portable, battery-operated foot warmers. It was lined in plush red velvet; the seat covered in soft, buttery leather.
A sleigh fit for a king.
"How much longer?" one of the men shouted, the sound bouncing off the walls of the huge barn.
"An hour, tops. I've never seen bolts like these. Whoever did the work on this baby knew what he was doing. This sleigh is a work of art, that's for sure. It's big enough to hold ten people, maybe more. By the way, where are all the horses that live in this place? I counted sixteen stalls, and they're all empty."
"Out on patrol would be my guess," said a man bigger than an oak tree, who was busy on his BlackBerry, texting. The gist of the message was, what time do you want the sleigh to leave the barn? When will the horses arrive?
The text went to Charles Martin, who was sleeping, but it was Myra Rutledge who called for a break in Baron Bell's interrogation and responded by sending the text on to Jack Emery, who sent it to Bert Navarro, who sent it to Lizzie Fox, who stopped her Christmas-tree trimming to send the text on to POTUS, informing her the sleigh was ready for the Christmas festivities and would arrive on time. Then she sent the text on to Maggie Spritzer, not knowing Maggie was with the Sisters in the Post apartment.
The answer to the original text to Snowden's men was short and concise: Sit tight.
"We just got our orders, boys. We sit tight until told otherwise, so take your time with those bolts."
Maggie Spritzer looked down at her watch the moment she received the incoming text. She felt uneasy at the silence surrounding her. Even their captives were silent. Nikki motioned to the kitchen. Once again, the Sisters trekked into the kitchen to confer.
"It's almost six o'clock. We still haven't cracked Bell and Newsom," Nikki said. "We also need to make a decision on the two surrogates. Olsen was telling the truth. She didn't touch the money in the bank. It's been sitting there a few months. Davis, now, she bought a
high-end car, when a much cheaper model would have served her purposes. If we put that aside and just take the car, I think we can turn them loose. I'll have them sign confessions of their parts in all this. Knowing that it will be hanging over their heads, I think they'll both stick to the straight and narrow. I wish we had the others in our sights."
The Sisters agreed, but it was Myra who said the surrogates weren't to be turned loose until the Sisters were safely away from the apartment. Once again, everyone agreed.
Maggie looked up from her furious texting to say, "If Newsom doesn't have the list, then Bell does. Drag it out of him. This is a first!"
"What?" Annie asked, alarm ringing in her voice.
"Ted isn't answering me," Maggie replied. "I just tried Jack and Espinosa, and they aren't responding either. Harry never responds to anyone but Yoko."
Nikki laughed so hard, she had to hold her sides. "That's because they're taking care of twenty-six babies. Snowden's men didn't deliver the nurses. They dropped the babies off, along with their diapers and formulas, and left. It was left up to the guys to take charge. I don't think it's going too well. Maggie, what's the story on the adoptive parents? What kind of arrangements did you make for the pickup?"
"It's been tricky since the cells went out," Maggie reported. "Before it happened, I did manage to get in touch with your firm's office manager. She did a lot of the calling. I did some, and there are only two sets of parents we weren't able to reach. We need a meeting place. Logically speaking, my house is the choice since the babies are already there. That gives me visibility, Jack as well, when everyone shows up at my house. The neighbors, for the most part, are a mind-your-own-business group, but something like this might whet their curiosity. Considering the current circumstances, I don't see us having much in the way of choices. What we need now is a time, so we can make our calls. Bear in mind the weather, the roads, and anything else that can go wrong. I don't care how busy he is. He should be texting me," she grumbled.
"Okay, girls, we've wasted enough time. Maggie is handling her end of things. Charles is sleeping, so let's get back to doing what we do best," Myra said.
The girls trooped back into the dining room. Both dogs barked as they released their prisoners to the women. While they both moved away, they remained alert and ready to be called to duty with a one-word command.
"Our guests don't seem to like obeying our orders," Kathryn said. "I find that rude, don't you, girls?"
"I certainly do," Isabelle said as she ripped at Adel Newsom's shirt. "The lady told you to strip, and you're suddenly going all prudish on us! What's up with that?"
"You're up, fat boy," Annie said as Bell tried squirming back against the wall. "I don't have any patience for this nonsense. Yoko, help this man out."
Yoko danced her way over to Baron Bell, leaned down, and squeezed his nose. He closed his eyes and went limp. Alexis and Nikki proceeded to undress him.
Kathryn eyed Adel Newsom. "We said to take everything off. That means the bra and panties. You can do it yourself, or we'll do it for you."
"What are you going to do to us? You have my records. I don't have anything else to give you. Please, this is so humiliating. What more do you want?" Newsom wailed as she removed her bra and panties.
"We want Bell's records," Kathryn said. "We want his bank accounts. If this was all his idea, you might get some leniency if you help."
"If I could, I would. For God's sake, why won't you believe me? I'm the one who was in his office. I have the combinations to both safes. I'm the one who left the puddles. I took some money, but there were no records. I swear to God, there were no files in either safe. That son of a bitch," Newsom said, jerking her head in Bell's direction, "left me stranded outside Rehoboth Beach. I had to hitch a ride with a trucker to get back here to town. I hate his guts. It was his idea, all of it. I did go along with it, I'm not denying that, but he got the bulk of the money. He even shortchanged the surrogates. We, the other lawyers and I, had to give him a percentage of everything we took in."
"So where does he keep his records?" Kathryn asked.
"I don't know. Probably home. Maybe a safe-deposit box. He led me to believe everything was in the safe built into the floor in his office. I know now that was a lie, like everything else he told me. That's why I took his money. Please, I'm freezing. Can I have a blanket?"
"No," Kathryn said.
Bell woke up in time to hear Newsom's last words. "You bitch, you stole my money! I hope you rot in hell!" Then he realized he was stark naked. He bellowed like a wild bull in heat. "Give me my clothes! How dare you do this to me! How dare you!"
"Will you please just shut up?" Nikki said.
"Don't you dare tell me to shut up. Who do you think you're talking to?"
"Who do we think we're talking to? For goodness' sake, isn't it obvious we're talking to a naked guy with an itty-bitty little dick," the ever-blunt Kathryn said. "Hey, it rhymes." She giggled.
"It's getting light out," Alexis said. "It's almost seven o'clock."
Myra dropped to her knees. "Mr. Bell, my name is Myra Rutledge. I am going to ask you this once and only once. Nod if you understand."
"Kiss my ice-cold ass," Bell said.
"That was really rude, Mr. Bell. We do not tolerate rudeness. So, we're going to suit up and work you over," Kathryn said.
Alexis dived into her Red Bag and pulled out latex gloves and clear plastic raincoats, the kind Disney World issues to their customers when an unexpected rain shower crops up.
Annie reached for a screwdriver as Nikki spread clear plastic tarps all over the floor.
"Since I own this building, I don't think we have to worry too much if we make a mess, but tar is the dickens to get off, I'm told," Maggie said.
"Tar?" Bell bellowed.
"Oh, my God, what are you going to do with tar?" Newsom wailed pitifully.
"We're going to paint your entire bodies with this black tar, and then we're going to...Myra, dear, since he talked so rudely to you, do you want to tell him what step two is?" Annie asked.
"Thank you for allowing me to speak, Countess. We're going to use this hair dryer to blow these feathers all over the wet tar," Myra said, motioning to a pile of feather pillows under the dining-room table. "Nikki, dear, do you want to tell Mr. Bell what step three is?"
"I'd love to tell him, Myra. Thank you for giving me the chance to speak," Nikki said. "Step three, Mr. Bell, is we're going to hang you up on the specially reinforced shower rod we installed earlier until you dry. Oooh, this tar really smells."
"Jesus Christ, you can kill us doing something like that! You're insane!" Bell shouted.
"Of course we're insane. We wouldn't be here otherwise," Annie said cheerfully. "You do know it is almost impossible to remove tar, don't you? Tar with feathers attached is impossible to remove. Why else do you think they put tar on roads?"
Adel Newsom squealed, then fainted dead away.
The women put on ski goggles, snapped their plastic raincoats into place, then pulled on their latex gloves.
"Last chance, Mr. Bell," Kathryn said as she removed the lid from a twenty-five-gallon can of coal black tar. She poured some of the tar into a bucket and picked up a paintbrush. "Where are the records? We want the account numbers for all your bank accounts. Give us what we want, and you're free to go."
After being revived so that she could appreciate what was about to happen, Adel Newsom was doing her best to crawl into herself. She fidgeted and squirmed until her back end made contact with the clothing the Sisters had removed from Bell. She saw his keys, his wallet, and his money clip lying on the floor, by his socks. She tore her gaze away from her lover's belongings long enough to cry out, "For God's sake, Baron, tell them what they want to know." Then she started to sob, her thin, scrawny shoulders shaking.
"Maybe he needs some incentives," Kathryn said.
"And that would be what, dear?" Annie asked curiously.
"Well, if we...uh...paint over his rectum and
his...you know, that little thing, how long before things...you know, back up?" asked Kathryn.
The Sisters conferred. The final consensus was, not long at all. Newsom squealed again and fainted for the second time in a few minutes. The two surrogates sat huddled together, holding hands, as they tried to grapple with the craziness surrounding them.
Maggie was still texting, but she kept one eye on what was going on. She was grinning from ear to ear.
"We don't have a whole lot of time here, girls. We need that information, and we need it now," Nikki said. "It's obvious he was born stupid and never corrected the situation. Start with his thighs, Kathryn, and work upward. Alexis and Annie are going to start on Newsom. Wonder how those fake boobs are going to hold up under all that tar."
"Well, dear, this is just a guess on my part, but I assume they'll go flat. They use this stuff on roads for a reason. Cars go over it, and it packs down and becomes flat," Annie said with all the authority she could muster.
"That makes sense, Annie," Yoko observed, pointing to her own magnified breasts, which had come with a code number.
Resigned to the inevitable, Adel Newsom lay quietly, staring at her lover's things next to her. She sniffed. Everything smelled like the after-shave and cologne he drenched himself in, believing more was better. Even now the scent was almost overpowering. "Why don't you call his wife and ask her if Baron has a safe at home? I never believed she was the dimwit he made her out to be."
"Shut up, Adel, and leave my wife out of this. I do not have a safe at home."
"Like we're really going to believe you!" Kathryn said as she slapped a hefty amount of tar onto Bell's right thigh. "This goes on soooo easy. Shucks, we'll be done in no time. You enjoying this, Mr. Bell?" Bell flinched when she slapped another glob onto his left thigh. "We're getting there, sweetie. Next glob hits the mark."
"Maggie, dear, do you have your camera ready?" Myra asked.
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