Payback (5 page)

“When I found out I was shocked. I couldn’t believe how Mitch had fooled the voters. To this day I don’t understand why a tabloid hasn’t homed in on this information and made it public. They feed on stories like Mitchell’s. If he does run with Cartwright, they’ll turn him inside out. Mitch and his public relations experts, if you want to call them that, said Mitch was adopted by a well-to-do Virginia family when he was thirteen, after spending thirteen years in and out of foster homes. I guess that was supposed to make him appear more sympathetic to his voters. I was his wife. You would’ve thought he would at least tell me the truth.”

“They say the wife is always the last to know,” Nikki mumbled.

Julia agreed with a nod and continued. “Finally, I hired a private detective. One of the best in New York City. Mitchell had his career. Despite all of my concerns, I didn’t want to cause trouble for him. Of course what Mitchell didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt him. I was overly paranoid. I guess I thought whatever my detective discovered he’d go public with it. Which, fortunately for me, and for Mitchell, never happened.” Julia looked at the women. She had their undivided attention.

“Mitchell’s adoption story was a lie. He was never in a foster home until he was sixteen. Evidently it was hard to place him at that age. Mitchell lived with his mother until he went to live with the Websters.”

“If he wasn’t adopted, how could he use their name?” Myra asked.

“He had his name legally changed when he turned eighteen. The Websters took him in when he was sixteen, then sent him to college. He was like one of their own, but they never formally adopted him. And they were not well-to-do by any means. Mrs. Webster’s name is Lavinia and she worked in a grocery store. Her husband, Carl, worked for the state. They were a hardworking couple. They never had children of their own. Mitchell filled that void for a while. Both of them died in a car accident in the early nineties. Voters do not like to be lied to.”

“And you never confronted him with this information?” Charles asked her, his voice registering shocked surprise.

“Never,” Julia said flatly.

“This detective told you all of this?” Nikki asked in a plaintive voice. She looked at Myra as she shook her head.

“Yes. I have the report in my office. I never brought it home for fear Mitchell would find it. I didn’t want him to know what I’d done. I felt in some crazy way that I had betrayed my husband by checking up on him.”

“I can’t believe a man with the senator’s power and position in the Senate hasn’t been exposed for the phony he is. I would bet my last dime that Senator Webster spends big bucks to keep his past out of the papers,” Nikki said as she looked at Julia. “If I were you I would get my finances in order. If you have anything left to get in order.”

“Mitchell’s life is about to fall apart, isn’t it? And I’ll be the one to bring it crashing down. He’ll kill me if he ever finds out what I’ve done.”

“Then we have to make certain your husband never finds out, don’t we?” Myra said to the room at large. “It goes without saying, this conversation is never to leave this room.”

“When do we start to leak this to the press?” Alexis asked. Relief at being out of the spotlight shone on her face.

“Shortly,” Charles responded as he scribbled on his own yellow pad.

“Be warned about Mitchell. He wants to control everything and everybody around him. He told me once that he loved the power being in the Senate gave him. He said he had the power to screw up lives if he wanted. Then he laughed. He thinks it’s all about him. And it is. If marrying Mitchell Webster is going to be the death of me, I’d at least like to know before I die that the son of a bitch suffered too,” Julia said vehemently.

All the women in the group centered their attention on Julia. If any one of them had a right to revenge, it was Julia. She would die because her husband was unfaithful. Her death, whenever it came, would not be in vain. The Sisterhood would see to it that Senator Mitchell Webster suffered before his death. Nikki would see to it personally.

Charles looked at the group of women. “Nothing that was said in this room today should be repeated. Not to your husband, your best friend or even your dog. You never know who might be listening. We must be very careful. This time we’re not dealing with a gang of bikers or insane neighbors. We are going to be up against the federal government in a sense and I for one know what they’re capable of. You don’t want to find out the hard way. Let’s call it a day. I will see you back here day after tomorrow at seven
A
.
M
. Does anyone have any questions? Is there anything else you want to add, Julia?” His voice was so kind, Julia found herself smiling.

“Well, there is one other thing. For any of you who are
really
interested, Mitchell has the American flag tattooed on his ass.”

Charles choked and looked away. Kathryn guffawed and slapped her leg. The other women just tittered.

Kathryn managed to stifle her laughter. “What about the rest of us, Charles? Are we going to sit by and watch you have all the fun?” Kathryn asked.

Charles fixed his gaze on Kathryn. “I’m surprised you asked, you have barely said a word this morning. Yes, I have something for all of you to do. You’re not going to get off that easy.” He smiled at her and wiggled his eyebrows at the same time. Yoko, Isabelle, and Alexis laughed.

“As we know, Alexis is a master at disguise, having learned the art in college and Little Theater work. If the need arises, and I’m not sure at this point if it will, you will do what you do best with your big Red Bag.” He watched as she slid her notes across the semicircular table in front of her.

Charles looked down at his own scribbled notes. He held up his hand. “I made some changes since we’re going to be running a dual mission this time around. Tell me if it’s going to be a problem.”

“Do I stay or leave?” Alexis asked.

“You can leave, but remember, be back in forty-eight hours.” Charles admonished.

“Yes, sir!” She saluted quietly before she walked out the door.

“Yoko, you will assist Kathryn. I’m quite comfortable saying you both are going to be quite busy. I have a contact at Governor Cartwright’s mansion in Maryland. They are in charge of decorating the armory where Jefferson Cartwright plans to announce his running mate. It’s a good guess it will be Senator Webster. They will want floral arrangements for all the tables as well as the stage where the podium rests. I’m thinking somewhere around five hundred arrangements. Can you handle this, Yoko? That means no delivery of oranges to New Jersey for Kathryn. We’re going to need her rig.”

A look of panic settled on Yoko’s face. “How do I explain all of this to my husband?”

“I don’t think you’ll have to explain anything, Yoko, I rather imagine your husband will thank you for securing such a large flower order.”

“I can do a lot of things, but arranging flowers isn’t one of them,” Kathryn grumbled good-naturedly.

“And you won’t have to learn, my dear. As it stands, Yoko and several of you will have one van for deliveries. It wouldn’t do for Yoko to borrow the van as he will need it. It would take all day just to load the flowers and drive them to Cartwright’s headquarters. With your semi you can do it in one trip. You’ll be helping to unload the flowers. Our friend Mr. Emery may be watching so it will all seem quite natural.”

“How can you be so sure Yoko will get the flower order? What a silly question.” Kathryn grimaced as she remembered how Charles had pulled strings and arranged her mission down to the last detail. When one had powerful friends in powerful places as Charles did, anything could be accomplished.

Charles’s voice rang with confidence, leaving little doubt that he could do what he said he would do. “Leave the details to me. If I say it will happen, it will happen.

“Isabelle, you will be working here at Pinewood with Myra. Nikki will assist me here in the war room. At this point it may seem like a walk in the park but don’t be fooled. We’re about to destroy a man’s political life as well as his personal life. We have to be extremely careful so that we don’t destroy our own lives in the process.”

When the war room door closed behind the women Charles sat down in Myra’s chair and looked around. His insides started to kick up a fuss at what he was contemplating on behalf of the Sisterhood. This was so unlike Kathryn’s mission. This mission could, if not conducted properly, land all of them in prison. During his long and distinguished career in Her Majesty’s Secret Service he’d been comfortable with his role of super spy because everyone he worked with knew his or her job. Their very lives depended on one another. The women of the Sisterhood were in no way professionals but they were women and in his opinion, women had an edge with their intuitive senses. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone except perhaps Myra, the one true love of his life.

His mind raced in all directions. He had to sit and think quietly to find the best way to conduct this new dual mission with a minimum of risk for the women he now thought of as his family. He looked around at what Myra called his lair. Everything in this room was state-of-the-art, so high-tech no one but government agencies knew about it and here it was, sitting in a secret room in Pinewood. Of course this could never have happened without Myra’s wealth. When she said money was no object, she meant money was no object. His stomach crunched at the millions he’d spent in outfitting this room and she hadn’t blinked an eye. He knew she would spend every last cent of her vast fortune to avenge her daughter’s death.
Their
daughter. He couldn’t wait for the day it was Myra’s turn to be vindicated. That mission would be a mission of love with the Sisterhood.

Charles looked down at his watch. He chewed on his lower lip, something he did when he worried, and he was worried about Jack Emery. Strong measures might have to be taken where Assistant District Attorney Emery was concerned. How that would affect Nikki was something he didn’t even want to think about.

From his perch, high in an oak tree, Jack Emery trained his binoculars on the vehicles leaving the Pinewood compound. He watched as the women hugged one another before Dr. Julia Webster climbed behind the wheel of her brand new Mercedes. Even from this distance Jack thought she looked thinner than the last time he’d seen her. She also looked pale to his trained eye. He shrugged; women were forever dieting.

Kathryn Lucas, the truck driver, was next. The huge black dog hopped into the cab and settled himself while Kathryn talked to the Asian woman. They hugged, too. Lucas left first in the rig and then the Asian woman followed her. That left the tall, long-legged African-American beauty. He watched until the Mini Cooper sailed through the gates. He could hear the clank of the gate closing from his perch high in the tree. He had operatives waiting along the stretch of highway to follow the women to wherever they were going.

That left Nikki, the Flanders woman, Myra Rutledge and Charles Martin, Myra’s major-domo.

When Jack was sure there would be no further outdoor activity, he climbed down from the tree, dropping to his haunches. Something was going on, he was sure of it. For one thing, two visits by all the women in two weeks was one visit too many. Then there was the addition of the six Doberman dogs that arrived at five o’clock every afternoon and stayed through the night. Yes, something was definitely going on.

Jack dusted off his jeans as he started toward his car. He was so damn tired. How much longer could he keep this up? He was lucky to get three hours sleep a night. He knew he was obsessed with this place, these women, and Nikki in particular. Long ago he’d learned to pay attention to his gut instincts and those gut instincts said these seven women were up to their pretty necks in something covert. And whatever it was, Myra Rutledge was bankrolling the project.

He knew that somehow, some way, Myra and the women had managed to spirit Marie Llewellyn, her husband and children to a place of safety. He’d prosecuted that woman for killing the man who had killed Myra’s daughter. He hadn’t wanted to do it but it was his job. The law was the law. He’d looked like a fool to his superiors when he couldn’t figure out how Marie and her entire family dropped off the face of the earth on a wild, stormy night. To this day, there was not a single clue as to what happened. Nikki knew what happened, he was sure of it.

Jack opened the door of his car, climbed in and started the engine. His cell phone was in his hand a second later as he called his operatives for reports.

Damn, he was so tired he could hardly hold up his head. When he turned the power off on the cell phone he started to think about Nikki. He knew in his gut he was one of those guys who would only love once. Nikki was that love. He should never have given her that ultimatum. Ultimatums never worked. Someone always won and someone lost. Nikki had chosen Myra over him. It was the bitterest pill he’d ever had to swallow.

The war room buzzed with the hushed voices of the women seated at the table. Charles, busy on the computer, only half listened to their conversation. What he was doing right now was solidifying the plans for Julia’s revenge. He was tired but exhilarated. He’d called in favors from other retired operatives who were only too glad to offer their expertise in their chosen field. He held up his hand and shouted to be heard over the fax machine that was spitting out paper at the rate of twenty-six pages a minute. Overhead the television monitors came to life.

Charles stood high above the floor on a specially built dais. The king of all he surveyed. When he had the women’s attention, he pressed a button on the huge monitor next to where he stood. The scales of justice came into view; Lady Justice in all her glory lit up the room. As always, when the women saw Lady Justice they became subdued.

“First things first. I want to apologize for the late hour,” Charles said, motioning to one of the clocks hanging on the wall. It was eleven o’clock in the evening, time for the late news. The sound was muted. He would turn up the volume in exactly ten minutes for the sound bite he wanted the sisters to hear. Now, though, he spoke quickly and concisely.