Authors: Fern Michaels

Home Free (22 page)

BOOK: Home Free

5.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

“Yep, that was news.”

Nikki leaned across the table and hissed, “So, share. What's your news?”

“I really don't have any, Nik, unless you want to hear all about Harry's idiosyncrasies. He wears boxers. He sleeps on the floor. He eats crap. He's lost weight, but we're putting it back on him. We have him on such a tight schedule, all he does is curse us. Bert actually bought earplugs. We train for two hours, and then we make him shower and eat a small protein meal, wait thirty minutes, and go at it again. It's paying off. He's got more stamina than ever. We call it quits at seven thirty, when Yoko gets home. Like it or not, he has to go upstairs with her. He's getting ten hours' sleep a night. He's looking good. Actually, Nik, I'm so proud of the three of us, I could just bust.”

“That's hardly newsworthy, Jack. That's it!”

“Well, Ted Robinson stopped by a few days ago with a very pretty young lady on his arm. I think he wanted to show her off. She's a real-estate broker in Arlington. Late thirties, early forties, nice-looking. Definitely in shape, and she was hanging on to Ted for dear life, and he was loving every minute of it. Her name is Rachel Ryan. Never been married, no baggage, as Ted calls it. We all liked her. Sweet personality, just right for Ted. And speaking of Ted, which makes me think of Maggie for some reason, what's up with her hacker? Is he on the job?”

“Oh, good Lord, how could I have forgotten to tell you about
that
? Not only is he on the job, but he is on the job with Isabelle. They are now an item, as in a couple, as in love. Annie said she has never seen Isabelle this happy, but yes, they are working on what . . . you know . . . what he does. We should be hearing or seeing results in the next few days.”

Their food arrived just as Nikki finished talking, and they dug in. They chatted about the weather, the law, and nothing important during the meal. When they were finished, Nikki said, “This was a good idea, but I am stuffed. Dinner tonight will be a salad and some soup.”

“That works for me, but what about dessert?”

“Let's go home and make some peanut butter fudge and hit the sheets.”

Jack leered at his wife. “As in . . .”

“You want a diagram?”

“No, ma'am, I figured it out.” Jack stuffed some bills under the saltshaker, got up, held Nikki's chair for her. They both raced to the door and bundled up.

Outside, the precipitation was a mixture of sleet and snow. Laughing like two kids, they made their way home, slipping and sliding and giggling the whole time.

Gasping for breath, they climbed the few steps to the front door. While Nikki fumbled with her keys, Jack said, “I love you, Nikki Quinn Emery.”

“Not as much as I love you, Jack Quentin Emery,” she said, thrusting the door open. They both barreled through the door at the same time and headed for the stairs.

“I thought we were going to make peanut butter fudge?” Nikki grumbled.

“Are you nuts! No pun intended,” Jack managed to blurt out.

Giggling, Nikki sprinted up the steps, Jack hot on her trail.

Chapter 21

C
harles Martin stood at the back door in the kitchen, straining to see the weather outside. Sleet crashed against the windows and even found its way to the panes in the kitchen door, even though there was a protective overhang. For sure, winter was here. And early this year, in his opinion.

In the background, Charles could hear Myra laughing and the dogs barking as she did her best to wrap Christmas presents in the living room. He'd peeked in earlier, while he was readying a prime rib to put into the oven. So much food for just the two of them, but Myra said she was in the mood for prime rib, so prime rib it was. He turned and walked to the door leading into the living room. Myra was actually rolling across the floor, a skein of scarlet ribbon in her hand, which one of the pups was intent on getting. A mountain of gaily colored paper and ribbons were strewn everywhere. As fast as Myra fixed a bow, one of the dogs snatched it from her. Charles smiled as he listened to his beloved's hysterical laughter. He knew at some point she would have enough, at which point she would whistle and say, “Enough!” and the dogs would retire to the fireplace, where their beds were lined up. Of course, she would have to bribe them with chew bones, whereas all he had to do was give a command, and the dogs fell into line. The dogs knew who was boss and whom they could trick.

Charles did one last check of the kitchen for tidinessâhe did sooo hate a messâas well as looked at the banana cream pie he'd baked earlier. Satisfied that he had a good two hours before it was time to serve dinner, he headed for the war room. He decided to make his way through the dining room, out to the hall, then to the hidden opening behind the bookshelves that would lead him to the dungeons under the old farmhouse. No sense in disturbing Myra; she was having too much fun, something that was sorely lacking in her life these days.

Charles took a moment to look around what the Sisters called his “lair,” the place where they said he made things happen. That was back in the day, he thought ruefully.

These days, the upstarts were showing him up. He hated to admit it, but his sources simply hadn't kept up with the times. But, he did have the manpower.

He touched a few keys to see if he had incoming e-mails to go to the printer and was disappointed that there was nothing there for him to analyze. He stared down at the round table where his chicks, as he thought of the Sisters, had sat so many times, plotting a revenge to right some wrong. He focused on Julia's chair, Annie's chair now. He said a little prayer for Julia, the way he always did when he got in one of his moods. Julia might be gone, but she would never be forgotten.

He thought about the wager he'd made with himself, a wager he hadn't even told Myra about. When this, for lack of a better word, mission, this elusive something or other the Sisters were supposed to tackle was completed, he thought they would finally pack it in and get on with their lives. He'd seen all the subtle changes: their personal lives and happiness were starting to be more important than missions and righting wrongs. They had been flattered, even excited, when Lizzie had brought the gold shields and dispersed them. But . . . they had been
more excited
at seeing the video and pictures of Little Jack.

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 oneâAnnie, tooâwho 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 fund 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.

BOOK: Home Free

5.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads