20. Home Free

by Fern Michaels

  He felt sad and yet almost relieved that the girls were finding happiness at last. And they so deserved happiness after all they’d been through. Myra was the one—Annie, too—who worried him the most.

  He hated to admit it even to himself, but he was concerned about his own well-being. What would he do with his time? Cooking certainly wasn’t his main goal in life. He supposed he could dabble at writing a cookbook. The minute the thought popped into his head, he rejected the idea. He turned to look at the computer that had just given off a ping, signaling an incoming e-mail. He hit READ and almost gasped aloud. It was from Pappy, telling him Pappy’s father, Spiro, had passed away. Charles bowed his head and offered up a prayer for his soul. He read on:

  The powers that be finally granted me and my family immunity, but it was too late for Pop. We will be going back to my homeland so my family can see where Pop and I lived for so many years. It’s time for them to meet what’s left of my family. I’d like to lease, if possible, Annie’s mountain in Spain. Tell me if that is something she would consider. And then the mindblower. The last sentence of the e-mail made the fine hairs on Charles’s neck stand on end: Do you and your people want to buy Big Pine Mountain?

  Charles bit down on his lower lip. Thoughts of the years he and his chicks had spent on that mountain, perhaps the only safe place for them in the entire country, raced through his mind. He left his lair so fast that he almost tripped over his own feet. He flew up the moss-covered steps and into the living room, where the dogs, finally giving way to exhaustion, were sound asleep and Myra was seriously wrapping presents. He blurted out Pappy’s news and waited to hear her reply.

  “Oh, dear, how sad. Spiro was such a lovely man.” Myra bowed her head, much the way Charles had, and offered up a prayer. “But how wonderful for Pappy and Samantha and the children. One always wants to return to their roots. Do you think Annie will want to buy the mountain?”

  “Why don’t we call her and ask?” Charles said, tongue in cheek.

  Myra worried her lower lip. “Did he say how much he wants for the mountain?”

  “No, he didn’t, but Pappy is a fair man. And, old girl, as you know, everything in life is negotiable except death. First, we have to find out if Annie is interested. Perhaps the two of you could buy it together. You certainly have the money to do it, Myra.”

  “We were so happy on that mountain, weren’t we, Charles? We were so insulated and safe. Not that we aren’t insulated and safe here on the farm. Living on the mountain was just different. Personally, I loved it. Annie did, too. Even though the girls got antsy from time to time, they loved it, too. Knowing we owned it would make it a wonderful retreat for all of us. Hurry, Charles. Call Annie and see what she says. Do you think we should ask the price first?”

  Charles rolled his eyes. “Do you really think Annie is going to quibble about the price? Either she wants it or she doesn’t. If she expresses an interest, then I’ll go back to Pappy.”

  “Where . . . where is Spiro buried?”

  “On the mountain, but when Pappy’s immunity came through, he made arrangements to have Spiro’s body taken back to Greece. Pappy and his family are already back in Greece. I didn’t sense any urgency in Pappy’s e-mail.”

  “If Annie agrees, I have a feeling she’ll jump on it. So, are you going to call Annie or not?” Myra asked, impatience ringing in her voice.

  Myra’s fist shot in the air when she heard Annie’s squeal come through the phone. Charles grinned. He was still grinning when he hung up.

  “Annie wants to know when we’ll have our first reunion. Dinner will be in an hour, so you can wrap some more presents, and I’ll go back to my lair and send off an e-mail.”

  “Lovely, just lovely,” Myra said happily as she returned to the living room and the mound of presents still to be wrapped. The dogs looked at her to see if it was time to play, and she shook her head. They went back to sleep.

  Below, in the war room, Charles’s cell phone chirped. He listened to Maggie’s excited voice. When he could get a word in edgewise, he managed to say, “Unbelievable, and the information just fell in your lap, in a manner of speaking. Thank your young man for all of us. I’ll get right on it, Maggie.” He listened a moment longer as Maggie groused about the miserable weather. Then they both broke the connection.

  Jody Jumper! Who in the bloody hell is Jody Jumper?

  Charles debated a moment before he made the decision to text Isabelle. If Myra’s intel was correct, Isabelle was camped at Abner Tookus’s place of business. Weren’t they going to be surprised when Charles came up with the name ahead of the best-known hacker in the country. He was almost giddy when he typed off the name.

  Within minutes he sent off nine different e-mails to people who would, as Kathryn was fond of saying, have the skinny on Jody Jumper. He knew replies would take awhile, so he composed an e-mail to Pappy and told him Annie agreed to purchase Big Pine Mountain and what was the price and when did he want to close the deal?

  The reply, when it came minutes later, stated an astronomical price that made Charles blink. The e-mail said the closing could be at Annie’s convenience. Before he committed further, he called Annie again, who didn’t have any problem with the price for Big Pine Mountain, but she came back with a lease amount for her own mountain in Spain that made Charles chuckle. He wasn’t so sure that Pappy would chuckle, but he sent off Annie’s offer and again waited.

  The return e-mail was even quicker than the last one, saying Pappy agreed to Annie’s ten-year lease and to notify him of the closing on Big Pine Mountain. He included the routing numbers for a wire transfer to an account in Greece. As far as Charles was concerned, it was a done deal all the way around.

  Belatedly, he sent off an e-mail to Lizzie and asked her if she would handle the closing. With nothing else to do, Charles kept his eye on the e-mail and waited. How long, he wondered, would it take for someone to get back to him on Jody Jumper? He decided nothing would come to him until tomorrow, so he closed up shop and went upstairs in time to see Myra packing up all her Christmas wrapping materials. A neat, tidy row of presents, each box prettier than the next, sat under the Christmas tree. He breathed in the scent, then exhaled. There was something about a Christmas tree that he absolutely loved.

  “Old girl, how would you like to have dinner here in front of the fire so we can see the tree? I know you want to talk all this to death, and I do have other news that just came through.”

  “Am I going to like your news?”

  “I think so. I’ll finish up dinner if you set up the card table and take the dogs out.”

  Myra strained to see through the window. She knew she’d have to bundle up, and the dogs might not even go out, but she was game. She whistled for the dogs, who stared at her. A second whistle meant business, and all of them bounded through the room to the kitchen, where they waited for her to put on her outerwear. “Okayyyy, let’s go!”

  The dogs beelined out the door, ran to the nearest spot under a dripping hemlock tree. They ran back inside, shaking the sleet and snow from their coats all over the kitchen floor. Melted snow on Myra’s rain gear trickled onto the floor. Charles looked at the puddles with a jaundiced eye. Myra sighed as she walked into the laundry room for an old towel. Charles handed out his rewards, and the dogs ran back to their beds in front of the fire.

  “You do the eleven o’clock outing, dear,” Myra said as she threw the towel in the washer. “I’ll set the table.”

  An hour later, Myra sighed happily. “It was a wonderful dinner. Actually, Charles, it was a wonderful day all the way around except for the weather, and we’re snug here inside, so I guess the weather really doesn’t count. Now tell me your news.”

  He did.

  “Jody Jumper! It rings some kind of bell, but I can’t put a face to the name, and I can’t truthfully say I ever heard the name. But for some reason I think . . . Oh, I don’t know what I think, Charles. Maybe he’s the invisible man who controls the invisible money fu
nd no one knows about. I guess Isabelle hasn’t gotten back to you, eh?”

  “No, not yet. I have my people working on it. All it is, is a name, Myra. The fact that a four-star general just popped it out for a fellow soldier really doesn’t mean he is our elusive JJ, even though he told Mr. Sullivan he didn’t hear the name from him.”

  “And Maggie?”

  Charles shrugged.

  “Knowing Maggie as I do, I am sure that she is, as we speak, on Ted Robinson’s case to go through the archives to see if there is any kind of background on a Jody Jumper. With a strange name like that, you would think people would be lining up to volunteer information on the man. It might even be a woman, for all we know. I do believe there are film stars with the name Jody. They might spell it Jodie or not. I’m babbling, Charles.

  “Dear, I know you want to get back downstairs, so I will clean up and feed the dogs. Run along. I can handle this. I also want to call Annie to congratulate her on buying the mountain. I wonder if she called the girls to tell them.”

  “Babble away, dear one. I do want to go downstairs to see if any more e-mails have come through.”

  “Take your time, dear. I might even wrap some more presents after I clean up. Then again, I think I might want to watch some television for a little while.”

  Charles kissed Myra’s cheek; then he kissed her lips.

  “Ahhh.” Myra smiled. “I like it when you find the right spot.”

  Charles chuckled all the way back to his lair, arriving there just in time to hear his computer pinging away. And the evening was still young.

  Chapter 22

  Isabelle looked at the sea of white littering the floor in Abner’s workroom, a look of pure dismay written all over her face. “What can I do to help, Abner?” she whispered. When Abner didn’t respond, she backed up when her cell phone chirped. She continued to move backward as she clicked on the phone to hear Charles’s voice. She moved farther back into the hallway to guard her conversation, her gaze on a befuddled Abner as he stirred and moved the papers on the floor.

  “Okay, Charles, I will tell him. Is there anything else?” She listened again before she broke the connection. What did it all mean? She hesitated before she advanced into the room again.

  Isabelle squatted down next to Abner. “What is all this?” she said, pointing to the mountain of discarded papers.

  Abner grimaced as he stroked his chin. “This,” he said, waving his arm about, “is the thirty-seven thousand four hundred fifty-six men and women who live within a fifty-mile radius of Washington and have the initials JJ. As far as I can tell, and I’ve been poring over this for hours, there is not one name out of the thirty-seven thousand four hundred fifty-six names that fits the criteria your people gave me. Not a single one.”

  “I think I can help you out here. JJ stands for Jody Jumper.” She relayed Charles’s message.

  “There is no Jody Jumper on this list. I can do a hundred-mile perimeter and see if it pops up,” Abner said as he scrambled to his feet and started to beat at the computer keys. He hit the PRINT key and waited. Nothing. He looked over at Isabelle and shrugged. “If there was a name like Jody Jumper in this database, it would have popped out by now. I ran one from the FBI and the CIA. There is no Jody Jumper.”

  Seeing his distress, Isabelle winced. “Maybe it’s a code name or a nickname. Would that show up?”

  “Not really. A name has to be an identity. This is mind-boggling. Who came up with the name?”

  Isabelle sucked in her bottom lip, debating whether she should tell Abner what she knew. Finally, she said, “Maggie has a source who got the name from a four-star general.”

  Without missing a beat, Abner said, “Then have Maggie go back to her source and ask that source to call the general and ask him if it’s a code name or a nickname. Can you do that now?”

  Isabelle swallowed hard. “I can do that.” She yanked out her cell phone, scrolled down, and hit the number three on her speed dial.

  Maggie picked up after one ring. She listened to Isabelle and mumbled something that Isabelle took to mean she was on it.

  Isabelle powered down, looked at Abner, and said, “She’s on it.”

  Gus Sullivan listened to Maggie’s voice mail and winced. How in the hell was he going to call a four-star general and actually get to talk to him? There was no doubt in his mind that he would give it his all, but would he be successful? Maggie was not the kind of person who took no for an answer, and he now knew Maggie didn’t know the meaning of the word defeat. Maybe he could sweet-talk the general’s therapist. He knew for a fact the therapist had the general’s number in case of an emergency.

  Since it was after hours, he had to call his own therapist at home, something he didn’t relish doing. But if Maggie needed him to do it, he would do it. He’d never complained, never bothered his therapist after hours, so maybe he would accommodate him this once and do him the favor.

  When he finally reached his own therapist and told him what he wanted, John Long whistled. “Gus, I can’t do that. Listen, what I can do is call Jerry Brantley and ask him to call the general and have the general call you. I don’t know if Jerry will do it, but I’ll give it a try. I’ll tell him the general is helping you with your book. Swear to me, Gus, that this is on the up-and-up. I don’t want to mess with a four-star by invading his privacy and get written up or even lose my job.”

  Gus took a huge deep breath. He was committed now. He was going to have to write a damn book whether he liked it or not. “It’s on the up-and-up, John. It’s important, or I wouldn’t have called you. I don’t want to have to wait till next weekend, when he comes in for therapy.”

  “All right, I’ll call you when I know something.”

  Gus struggled back to his room, flopped down, and yanked out his cell. He relayed John’s information and said he would call again when he knew something more.

  An hour later Gus’s phone rang. It was his therapist. “I have bad news and more bad news and a smidgin of good news. You ready, Gus?”

  “Yeah, give it to me.”

  “It’s taken me this long to really track down the information to make sure it was true. When the general left us after his therapy, he slipped on some black ice, knocked himself out cold, and blew out one of his new hips. He had to have emergency surgery, and he’s four floors up. You could try to visit him. I don’t think the nurses will fight you. Hell, most of those women on that ward were the ones who took care of you when you had your surgeries. Sweet-talk them.”

  “Damn,” was all Gus could think of to say. He thanked his therapist, struggled to his feet, and went out to the hall, where he eased himself down into one of the wheelchairs.

  Minutes later, he was on the surgical floor and schmoozing with the nurses on duty. He stated his business and waited. “I can wait if he has visitors, or I can come back, but it’s not easy. I just need to ask him a question if he’s awake.”

  A chubby nurse with fire red hair laughed and said, “Oh, he’s awake, and he’s been cussing up a storm since he came out of recovery. His wife said she wasn’t listening to him anymore and left. He might be glad of the company, but you know the rules, Gus. I have to ask him first.”

  Gus slouched in the wheelchair as the nurse walked away on her rubber soles. He hated the squishing sound they made. To him, the sound was the same as nails scratching a blackboard. The nurse stepped to the door and beckoned him forward. Gus sent the chair down the hall at a fast clip. He couldn’t believe his good luck.

  “He’s a little groggy, but he’s up to speed. He wants some Jack Daniel’s, and if you are packing some, hand it over right now.”

  “Sorry. I came empty-handed,” Gus said as he sailed his chair through the doorway. The nurse laughed as she closed the door behind her.

  Inside, the general looked smaller than he did when he was in the rehab room. Gus hated seeing all the tubes and monitors. “Hi, sir. Sorry to see you back here.”

  “No sorrier than I am, son. O
ne minute I was upright, and the next minute I was kissing the ground. Didn’t even see that patch of ice. Enough of me. What are you doing up here? Didn’t you spend enough time here? How’d you find out I was even here? Never mind. News travels fast in a hospital, just the way it does at the Pentagon. They’re going to kick my keister out now.”

  “I hope not,” Gus said sincerely.

  “They will. I should have retired last year, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk away. The board will just tell me to leave, and I won’t argue. Now, did you just come to visit, or do you need my help on something?”

  “Both, sir. I’m sorry I don’t have any Jack Daniel’s. Maybe tomorrow I can get a friend to smuggle some in. I was going to start on my research, and I can’t find anyone who knows anyone named Jody Jumper. I tried Googling it, but nothing came up. Is it a nickname?”

  “That’s been his name for as long as I can remember. He works in some dark, strange places, was the story I got. In the bowels of buildings where no one goes, and he’s free to do whatever the hell he wants. That’s called real power, son, when you don’t answer to anyone but yourself. The story I was told was, when he crawled out for air, he would jump all over the place. Stupid, if you want my opinion, but there you have it. He’s worked everywhere, State, Treasury, and I think he did a stint at the Office of Management and Budget. I told you previously this guy knows where all the bodies are buried. He’s your Alan Greenspan, Ben Bernanke, and Tim Geithner, and then some, all rolled up into one. The son of a bitch is a sneak. No one likes him. He doesn’t answer to anyone, not even the president, and do not ask me where he got his power, because I don’t know.”