Razor Sharp (18 page)

“Nah, you just took my breath away in all of those fancy duds. Whatever is wrong with me? I bet you could pose for
GQ.
I feel the need to tell you that your suit calls for
shoes,
not open-toed sandals. No one will give you a loan if you don’t wear shoes. Shoes, Harry!”

“I have shoes, Jack. Look! Nine hundred bucks. Bally shoes.”

Jack pulled on a sweatshirt that said
GEORGETOWN
on the back. “Did you try them on, Harry?”

“No. The guy just picked them out.”

“You never wear shoes, Harry. That means you are going to get blisters if they don’t fit right, and I don’t give a shit how much you paid for them. You have to wear socks, too. How much did that personal shopper charge you?”

Harry had an ugly look on his face when he looked down at the shoes in the box he was holding. “Nothing, the service was free. They hand-delivered it. That was free, too.”

“My ass, it’s free. Nothing in this life is free. They build that service into the cost of what you buy. You could have hired me, and I would have gotten you the same thing. Okay, I’m ready. Are you calling Maggie, or am I?”

The ugly look was still on Harry’s face when he closed the shoe box and threw it across the room. “You call.”

Not liking the look on Harry’s face, Jack yanked out his cell phone and keyed in Maggie’s cell phone number.

“She said okay. Squire’s Pub. She’s buying. Hey, Harry, look at it this way, that suit will last you forever. If a funeral pops up, you’re good to go. If you decide to marry Yoko, you got a classy suit unless she wants you to wear a tux, at which point you’ll have to find a personal renter.”

“You are just too stupid for me to admit I know you,” Harry said as they walked out. “I’m going to sit in the backseat so no one will see me with you.”

“Oh, get over yourself. Put your ass in the car and shut up. I have a funny feeling in my stomach that something happened today, or else something is going to happen.”

“I hate it when you get those feelings, Jack.”

“You can’t hate it more than I do, Harry.” Jack turned on the ignition, then the windshield wipers, but he didn’t shift gears. Harry looked at him expectantly.

“I need to tell you something, Harry. I don’t want to, but…I need to say it out loud to…
someone.”

“What? Are you saying I’m good enough to tell or not good enough to tell? Or am I the only one you would consider telling whatever the hell that is eating you?” Harry asked, his tone surly.

Jack pondered the question as the wipers slashed back and forth across the windshield. “Yes. No. Hell, I don’t know. Will you just listen?”

“Yeah, sure.” Harry turned sideways, as did Jack, so they were facing each other.

“Look, maybe it’s more of a confession. Don’t say anything, just let me spit this out since I’m finally getting up the nerve to say it out loud. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I heard the Vegas madam was dead. No, don’t misunderstand. I don’t mean I wanted her dead, I just wanted her
gone.
Because if Lizzie represented her, that would mean I’d have to prosecute. Lizzie is the best of the best. She’s a legend in her own time. Me and every prosecutor in the office…We’re afraid of her. The minute she walks into a courtroom, she fucking
owns
the place. None of us have ever won a case she defended. One time I…Christ, I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but one time I actually, honest-to-God faked a ruptured appendix to get out of a case she was defending. The case was then assigned to Josh Maddox. That was seven years ago, and the guy has never spoken to me since. He lost. Lizzie not only chewed him up, she spit him out. I love Lizzie like a sister, and I know she feels the same way about me, but when she gets in the courtroom, she’s like no one you’ve ever seen. We aren’t brother and sister then. They don’t come any better than Lizzie. Yeah, I’m jealous.”

Harry cocked his head to the side and looked at Jack. “So, let me get this straight. You’re saying Lizzie can out-lawyer you? You, Jack Emery, you of the silver tongue, you who knows everything? You’re afraid of a lady lawyer.”

Jack looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, Harry, that’s what I’m saying.”

Harry unbuckled his seat belt, got out of the car, then opened the back door, climbed in, and buckled up.

Jack turned around. “Why are you sitting back there?”

“You dumb shit, now I definitely don’t want anyone to see me with you.”

Jack’s shoulders slumped. He shifted gears and started to back out of the small lot. His foot slammed on the brake when he felt a hand on his shoulder. A firm but gentle hand. A comforting hand. Harry’s cockamamie way of saying he understood and it was okay.

M
yra clicked off her cell phone and turned to Annie and the girls. “That was Maggie, and she had a startling piece of information to share with us.” Seeing that she had everyone’s attention, she continued. “Cosmo Cricket received a phone call a while ago from the Vegas madam, one Crystal Clark. She is alive, safe, and well, and supposedly out of the country. She told Cosmo she logged on to the Internet, and, I would assume, the Nevada papers online, and read about her own demise in a car accident. It seems she stopped to say good-bye to a friend before she left Vegas and while she was visiting with the friend her car was stolen. The friend rented a car for her under the friend’s name and Ms. Flowers, as we know her, continued with her journey to the safe place where she is now residing.

“Bert was there in the office with Lizzie when the call came through. He stopped only to tell them he was closing the case at the request of the White House. Lizzie called Maggie to give her a phone number for one of Crystal Clark’s…working girls, and then said her work is done and she’s going on a short honeymoon with her new husband.

“Bert will take a seven o’clock flight back to D.C. Maggie is meeting up with Jack and Harry as we speak to share this new news. I find this all beyond bizarre.”

“What does it mean, Myra—is our mission off or on?” Isabelle asked.

“The mission is on. We were never concerning ourselves with the madam, only her clients. I guess the question is, are we clear on everything? Should we go over it one more time before we leave the mountain?”

The Sisters looked at one another and shrugged.

“It won’t hurt to go over it one more time,” Alexis said.

Annie stepped forward. “From the moment we arrive at our target area, our window of time is two hours and thirty minutes. That time is carved in stone via Lizzie and POTUS. Don’t confuse our thirty minutes of prep time with the actual mission time.

“As we speak a heavy-duty Dumpster is being delivered to Paula Woodley’s house. Within the next hour, even though it is night, a delivery of roof shingles is also being delivered. Earlier in the afternoon a tree truck arrived. The tree people left their truck with the cherry picker and wood chipper. Around five thirty a
FOR SALE
sign was posted in Paula’s front yard, with an extender that says there will be a two-and-a-half-hour open house tomorrow. And all the renovations and price reductions will be discussed at that time in order to boost the sale of the house. Those neighbors who haven’t seen the Dumpster, the sign, the tree truck, and the shingles will see them first thing tomorrow morning.”

Myra looked down at her notes. “Four, possibly five, White House cars will be picking up the neighbors for the Middle America Main Street luncheon that President Connor is hosting. It’s been played up big on the news all day today. The pickup is scheduled for eleven o’clock. A half-hour ride to the White House will get the neighbors there at eleven thirty, give or take a few minutes. There will be a photo op with POTUS that will take anywhere from thirty to forty-five minutes. Possibly an hour. Then a two-hour lunch, with a short speech by President Connor, some more handshaking, a little personal conversation, then the neighbors will be taken back to their homes, each of them carrying a personal White House memento signed by the president. Hopefully, if all goes well, we’ll be in and out by then and on our way back to the mountain.”

“An open house and all those fake home repairs! We might have boxed ourselves into a real mess,” Nikki said. “Our…uh…guests might be a little shy about being seen at that house with so much activity going on.”

“But they’ll be afraid not to show,” Alexis said. “Are we still going to do half and half?”

“Yes,” Kathryn said. “Half will come through the kitchen and half will come through the front door. It’s going to be interesting to see how many show up. We’ll round them all up and work out of that huge family room. The boys will be watching our backs. Ted and Espinosa will just be themselves, human interest in the neighborhood that got picked to be the first of many to be invited to Main Street luncheons at the White House.”

“And where will Avery Snowden’s people be?” Yoko asked.

“Inside in one of the bedrooms. Supposedly they’re the tree and roof people,” Nikki said.

Their orders understood, everyone left the room.

Ahead of the girls, Myra and Annie huddled, whispering to each other.

“They’re up to something,” Kathryn said as she pointed to Annie and Myra and whispered to Nikki, “I can feel it.”

“I know,” Nikki whispered in return.

Kathryn leaned closer to Nikki so her voice wouldn’t carry. “Do you really think the vice president is going to be able to ditch his security detail and come to Kalorama under his own power?”

“Yeah, I do. If we’re right—that this was his plan all along to destroy Martine Connor—he’ll be there. Being a heartbeat away from becoming the president is all the impetus he needs to meet up with the madam to try and keep her quiet. He hasn’t, at least I don’t think he has, considered that the other campers are going to be in attendance. He’s toast,” Nikki said.

“Do you think he knows the real madam is still alive?”

“No, Kathryn, I don’t think he does. Isn’t he going to be surprised? At this time yesterday, he thought he was just a hair away from having Martine Connor stepping aside. I would guess that he thinks he’s ready to step right into her shoes without missing a beat. Well, maybe not today literally but as soon as he can leak or anonymously call the media and mention names, and then the tsunami begins.”

“Mr. Snowden is on board?” Yoko asked.

“He’s one of the uh…roofers,” Annie said. “Jack and Harry, properly attired, will be Realtors and will be driving a van with a fictitious logo on the side. Ted and Joe Espinosa will be just who they are,
Post
reporter and photographer. Keeping the reading public informed.”

“What if people show up for the open house?” Kathryn asked.

“I don’t see that happening, but if it does, Mr. Snowden’s people will divert them.”

“I don’t know if I am one hundred percent comfortable using Paula Woodley’s house a second time. In my opinion, that’s just inviting trouble,” Isabelle said.

“I can see why you would think that, but nothing will happen,” Kathryn said. “No one will expect us to return to the same place a second time. We can’t allow ourselves to think along those lines. It’s too late to have second thoughts. We’re on, so to speak.”

“And the johns, or the clients, whatever you want to call them—what if they don’t show?” Nikki asked.

“That is also being taken care of as we speak. Just about now Maggie should be,” Annie said, looking down at her watch, “calling Miss Brandy, who will then have the other working girls call all of their clients, thanks to Martine Connor giving Lizzie the Happy Campers’ personal cell phone numbers. Lizzie even gave me the president’s private cell in case something goes awry. That was so generous of her. Each of Lily’s girls will explain about the real estate open house, mentioning the roofing people to prove to them they’re serious about a meeting. They’re going to tell the campers to show up or they’ll go to the media. A diversion as well as a command performance for their safety and security, so to speak. I think we can be certain attendance will be a hundred percent.”

“And the vp’s arrival? That might prove a little tricky,” Kathryn said.

“Maggie is making that particular call herself. Not as Maggie Spritzer, of course, but as Crystal Clark’s very good friend,” Myra said.

The Sisters looked at one another, then shrugged as one.

“Then I guess we’re good to go,” Nikki said.

“I hear the cable car,” Yoko said. She strained to see out the window. “It’s two of Mr. Snowden’s men.”

“With everything going at breakneck speed, I guess I forgot to tell you I had Avery send two of his people to see to the dogs and to guard the mountain while we’re away. I do believe they are the same two who took care of the mountain and the dogs when we left for Utah,” Annie said briskly. “Alexis, you have your Red Bag?”

“I’m good to go,
Mom.”

Annie laughed. She absolutely loved it when the girls called her that.

The Sisters trooped out to the cable car. The two men saluted smartly as they strode past the departing women. Murphy and Grady, knowing the drill, turned and followed the two men. Myra held open the gate to the cable car while Annie and the girls stepped inside.

A minibus with lettering that said it belonged to the Northeastern Fellowship Federation, which didn’t exist, would be at the bottom of the mountain. It would carry the women to Washington, with Kathryn doing the driving.

“We should get to D.C. about two in the morning,” Yoko said. “We park, we sleep till the sun comes up, then we ride around and hope we don’t get caught until it’s time to go to Paula Woodley’s house. Do I have that right?”

Annie and Myra listened indulgently to the girls’ grumbling as the cable car descended. Neither Myra nor Annie liked the idea of sleeping on the bus either, but kept their opinions to themselves.

“You do have it right, dear,” Myra said cheerfully as she hopped into the bus and took her seat.

“I’m excited,” Annie said just as cheerfully as she climbed in beside Myra.

The Sisters settled back for the long ride to the nation’s capital.

The dead-end street that included the Woodley house was alive with activity. When Jack and Harry rolled up in a white van that said
ADNOLINI REAL ESTATE
on the side, they saw Ted and Espinosa leaning against a dark blue sedan that belonged to the
Post.
A huge green-and-white sign that said
PRESS
could be seen on the dashboard. Press tags hung on chains around their necks. Both were dressed casually, in creased khakis and button-down shirts, the sleeves rolled up. Both wore boat shoes and had backpacks. They looked bored out of their minds, but the truth was, they were more alert than they’d ever been on a stakeout.

Jack felt silly when he reached into the back of the van and came out with a bundle of balloons he quickly tied to the
OPEN HOUSE
sign on the front lawn. He looked up at the man poised in the cherry picker, who was pretending to inspect the limbs of a monster maple tree that was misty green with leaves not yet in full growth. As Jack headed for the front door he risked a glance at the Dumpster sitting at the far side of the property. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he knew what was going to go into it.

Ted whistled sharply.

Jack looked up and brought his wrist up to his mouth. “Talk to me, Ted.”

“Caravan two-and-a-half blocks out. Five vehicles, I’m told. Maggie is sitting on the corner three streets over. I’m seeing people walking out their doors now. Snowden has six men in the house. They entered through the back door. Except for the guy in the cherry picker. He makes seven.”

Jack pretended to fiddle with the lockbox attached to the Woodley front door. “Where are the girls?”

“They were cruising Independence Avenue and should be here in about fifteen minutes, according to Maggie. No sign of the other guests, but it’s still early. So far it’s lookin’ good, Jack.”

Jack stepped aside to allow Harry to enter the house first. “Yeah, right, it always looks good at first, then the shit hits the fan. Tell me the truth, Harry, if you were one of those johns, would you show up here?”

“Hell, no, Jack. I would have split a long time ago at the first whisper.”

“And just left your family behind?”

“No, I would have sent them off somewhere. Would you show up?”

“No. And if I did and saw that mess outside I would probably wet my pants, turn tail, and run. Politicians are a whole other breed so it’s a crapshoot. I don’t see the vp showing up either. It’s almost impossible to shake those Secret Service guys.”

“How desperate all those guys are will determine whether they show or not. Yoko said they will be here. All of them. Maybe the girls know something they didn’t share with us.”

“Emery, nice seeing you again,” Avery Snowden said from the kitchen doorway. He offered up a crisp salute that Jack envied. “We’re on target, Emery. Your people aren’t going to screw this up, are they?”

Jack wanted to kick his ass to the moon, but he just shook his head. Snowden, after all, was responsible for the removal, be it trees or bodies.

Snowden was dressed in what Jack recognized as tree-removal gear, a harness with clanking chains and boots with spikes in their soles. He was carrying the boots. Though Jack knew nothing about tree removal gear, he thought that Snowden looked the part.

“Ted?”

“The caravan is turning the corner now. Oh, man, the lead driver is pissed with all the commotion on the street. He’s getting out. He looks like Secret Service to me. The other drivers are getting out, too. The lead driver is heading for your doorway. Jesus, Jack, get the hell out of sight. Espinosa is snapping away. The residents are lining up to get in the cars. Oh, shit, Maggie says the Federation bus is down at the bottom of the hill. She’s waving them off.”

Jack and Harry ducked into the hallway bathroom as Snowden tripped and clanked his way to the front door. He opened it with a flourish. “Yeah, who are you?” Without waiting for a response he said, “The open house don’t start till one.”

The man standing in the doorway whipped out a folder with a badge.

“Yeah, I got one of those, too. What?”

“You have to move that truck out there.”

“No, I don’t gotta move that truck. I got a permit to be here. What’s your problem? You have a whole goddamn road out there, a circle in the bargain, and you want me to believe you can’t drive your car out of here! Where’d you get your driver’s license—Walmart? I don’t have a key, hotshot. My driver went out to bring back lunch, and he has the key.” Snowden peered out the door, and said, “Back up. Use
REVERSE,
and you’ll go backward. Now, get out of my face, I have a job to do, and you’re interfering with that job.”

Inside the bathroom, Jack muttered, “Oh, shit!”