Bike Week Blues (27 page)

The medic flashed the light in her eyes
several times and shook his head. By then, the stretcher had
descended with another backboard, neck brace, and blankets. “Bring
me a blanket, I think she’s going into shock.” Seconds later they
had her on the backboard, covered in the blanket and on the
stretcher.

“I hate heights,” Penny Sue wailed.

Ruthie rushed to her side and stroked her
forehead. “Say the mantra
Om-m, om-m
, over and over. That’s
the highest vibration of all the mantras, it will protect you.”

Penny Sue looked up, a tear sliding from the
corner of her eye. “Okay, I’ll say it for me and Rich.”

The medic gave the signal, and Penny Sue
started to rise. The higher she went the louder the Om-m’s became
until she was safely in the helicopter.

The basket came down, and the medics
prepared to leave. “Wait, where are you taking them? I need to call
Penny Sue’s father,” I said, catching the arm of one of the
medics.

“Halifax Trauma Center in Daytona
Beach.”

The basket rose, and we stared at Sidney.
“Now what?”

As the chopper plop-plopped into the
distance, Sidney’s tall pal, Frank, and a slew of park rangers
swooped in on All Terrain Vehicles. We quickly filled them in on
our rescue operation and the fact that we’d left Red and Spike in
the palmetto scrub.

“Tunnels in the scrub?” a burly ranger
scoffed. “Impossible, we’d have seen them.”

“They’re virtually invisible. We had a hard
time finding the entrance with GPS,” Ruthie said.

“If they’re so well hidden, how did you find
them in the first place?”

“Infrared,” Fran replied tersely.

The ranger shook his head, but motioned for
three others to follow him down the beach to search for Red.

We headed north in the ATVs. A half-hour
later, we were standing next to Saul’s truck, which was surrounded
by a bunch of cars and jeeps.

“How did you find us?” I asked Sidney as he
held out his hand for the key to Saul’s truck.

Fran dropped relinquished it sheepishly. “I
have good insurance,” was all she said.

Sidney smiled at Fran. “I’ll bet you do.”
Then to me, “I put a GPS transponder on the truck bumper.” He
pointed at a black disc on the back of the truck.

“When?”

“When you stalled at the light on
Peninsula.”

“That was you?” Frannie May said. “I thought
it was the kid who lives next door.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you since
Vulture killed my partner, Sammy.”

“The guy behind Penny Sue’s car?” I
asked.

He nodded.

“I’m sorry. But, why were you following
us?”

“Rich asked me to. He knew Penny Sue might
come looking for him and feared for her safety. He’d also found out
you,” he looked at Ruthie and me, “were responsible for Vulture’s
brother being jailed on your last visit.”

Ruthie and I stared at each other. My gawd,
it was—we didn’t have to say the name.

“All Vulture knew was that the snitch was a
rich bitch from Georgia who drove a yellow Mercedes. With Penny
Sue’s car, it didn’t take much to put two and two together.”

“Vulture was the person taking shots at
Penny Sue’s license plate?”

“Yeah, he noticed the car when he nailed
Sammy. Pure coincidence—same with Penny Sue’s weird encounter with
Red. We were watching both you and Red at the Pub that night. We
couldn’t believe it when you ran into each other.”

“Penny Sue thought you were Sidney Poitier’s
son.”

Sidney chuckled. “I wish.” He handed the
truck key to Frank.

“Are we going to jail?” Ruthie asked, her
voice shaky.

“You trespassed and destroyed government
property, among other things. I doubt you’ll do hard time if you
make restitution,” he said blithely.

“What does that mean?” Fran snapped
anxiously.

“Pay for the damage.”

Our Italian friend held up her hands. “No
problem, I have good insurance.”

“We’re taking you to the Ranger Station for
questioning. That’s the closest Federal facility.”

“What about my son? Do you know anything
about him? Are the boys all right?”

Sidney stepped away and spoke into his
radio. After several minutes, he came back. “Agents on site think
they have everyone sorted out. Your Klingon and Seal buddies will
be brought to the station, too.”

“Is everyone all right?” I asked
anxiously.

“A couple of minor injuries were treated on
the scene. Medics will check them out en route. If anyone needs
additional treatment, they’ll be taken to the hospital.”

“Did your contact mention Carl Annina?”

“Your son?” Sidney asked Fran.

She nodded solemnly.

“Only that he and his friends were smart and
gutsy.”

Fran beamed.

* * *

It was a little after four in the afternoon
when we got back to Fran’s place. To say we were exhausted is an
understatement. But, it could have been worse, we could be sitting
in jail. Actually, at that point, I was so tired, I didn’t much
care.

Sidney took the lead in the interrogations,
which weren’t so bad, even with all the snickers and grunts from
the park rangers. Fortunately, the tale was so outrageous, the Feds
agreed we couldn’t be making it up. And Sidney said he sure as hell
didn’t want to go before a judge and explain how a bunch of
Klingons with lasers and paintball guns had accomplished what they
should have done—stop the attack. And, the rangers didn’t want to
admit that a bunch of geeks, as they put it, discovered tunnels
that were built right under their nose.

Roger, Saul, and Bobby got the worst of the
tongue-lashing. “You should have known better,” Sidney yelled.
“You’re grown men, trained professionals. You could have gotten
these kids,” he motioned to the Klingons, “killed.”

There was also the issue that Bobby and his
friends were carrying real weapons, such as assault rifles.
Thankfully, they’d had the good sense to ditch it all when the
security forces arrived, making it impossible to prove what
belonged to whom, considering the huge arsenal Vulture had stashed
at the site. Finally, there was the problem of the pontoon boat and
whether Bobby had stolen it from the Marine Center. Joseph, the
director, was an ex-Marine who loved trading war stories with
Bobby. So, when Joseph heard what had happened and that the boat
had not been damaged, he stated forcefully that he’d given Bobby
permission to use the pontoon.

Case dwindling, Sidney and the park rangers
conferred, eventually coming to the conclusion that charges would
not be pressed against Bobby or any of us—provided, Rich’s computer
was returned and all the damage was paid for.

“No problem, she has good insurance,” Ruthie
and I said in unison, thumbs cocked at Frannie May. Everyone
laughed.

In fact, Sidney obviously had real
admiration for Bobby, Saul, and especially Roger, who’d gotten
nasty cuts on his cheek and arm from Vulture’s switchblade. In
spite of his injuries, the big guy tackled the missile launcher in
time to divert the Stinger from a direct path, giving the Atlas
added seconds to get out of range. The Stinger fell harmlessly into
the ocean.

Our interrogation finished, Frank insisted
on taking Roger to a hospital to confer with a plastic surgeon
about the slash on his cheek. Several of the park rangers slapped
the Klingons on the back and asked if they could join in the games.
Bobby and Saul headed out to check on his truck.

“Don’t worry, Saul. I’ll pay for the buggies
and all the damage,” Frannie May called.

Sidney offered to drive us home, which we
gratefully accepted. We rode in silence until we turned into Fran’s
driveway. He stopped the car and got out to open our doors. He had
on a serious FBI face. We thanked him profusely for his help and
understanding, and his face cracked into a wide grin. “You ladies
are a real piece of work. Try to stay out of trouble from now
on.”

We waved as he pulled out of the driveway.
As soon as he turned onto Peninsula, Ruthie poked Fran on the arm.
“Open the door, I have to go to the bathroom.”

Ruthie flew into the half bath off the
foyer, Fran went straight to her suite for a shower, and I poured a
glass of wine and prepared to check our messages at the condo. I’d
contacted the judge from the ranger station and suspected he was
already in Daytona Beach at Penny Sue’s side. I’d also called Zack,
but couldn’t get him, so left a message. I’d debated calling Ted
from the ranger station, but didn’t. It was a call from him that I
feared might be on the machine. I took a big gulp of the wine and
hoped he hadn’t heard about our little escapade. It would
definitely be better if he heard it from me, so I could gloss over
the details.

I dialed the number of the condo, punched in
the remote code, and waited with bated breath. Instead of a peeved
Ted, Ann’s voice sounded. “Mom, I called Dad about the frequent
flyer miles, and he told me what happened. Are you all right? What
about Penny Sue? I’ve called your cell phone a hundred times.

“I talked to Patrick and he agrees our
meeting can wait, that I should fly home to be with you. He called
the Ambassador, who gave special permission for me to take some
time off. Daddy will pay for the ticket. His secretary checked, and
I can fly straight from London to Sanford, Florida. His secretary
said that’s close to New Smyrna Beach.

“Mom, call as soon as you get this. I’m
frantic to hear from you!”

Eyes brimming, I clicked off. If there were
other messages, they could wait. This was the most important one. I
wiped my eyes. Geez, maybe I needed some of that black cohosh, too.
I took another sip of wine and went to the doorway of Fran’s suite.
“Do you mind if I call Ann in London?”

The shower door clicked. “Hell, no. Be my
guest.”

My eyes went round. A profane word passed
through Fran’s lips!

Since I was talking on Frannie’s nickel, I
gave Ann the abbreviated version of the story. She didn’t need to
know the details—it would only worry her. I did make a point of
mentioning how brilliant and rich Fran’s son, Carl, was several
times. How he’d almost single-handedly saved the East Coast. Slight
exaggeration, but hey, I was stressed myself. Besides, the
important thing was that Ann was coming to visit me next weekend!
Zack (or his secretary) had gotten her a seat on a plane to Sanford
and she could stay for four days.

What do you know? Zack did have a kind
streak left, after all.

“Baby, I’m fine and can’t wait to see you.”
I struggled to hold back tears. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We need to
check on Penny Sue.”

Ruthie emerged from the bathroom at the same
time Fran appeared from her bedroom, clean, dressed, with full
make-up. She winked at my juice glass of wine, snagged a new bottle
from the wine rack over her sink, and took stemmed glasses from the
china cabinet in the dining room. “I think we should toast
ourselves in style.”

We clicked the glasses together, which
emitted the unmistakable ping of expensive crystal. I quickly
filled them in on Ann and we toasted again.

“We should go see Penny Sue,” Fran said.
“After what she’s been through, we don’t want her sitting in a cold
hospital alone.”

“You’re right. I suspect the judge is there,
but if he’s not ... I need to shower and change.” Ruthie nodded
agreement and stood up.

“You take a quick shower. I’ll call the
hospital and florist,” Fran said.

In thirty minutes, Ruthie and I were clean,
dressed and waiting downstairs. Ruthie, sweetheart that she was,
had even packed a small bag of a gown, underwear, and make-up for
Penny Sue. “You know she’s fit to be tied if she doesn’t have her
lipstick.”

Fran entered the foyer with her purse hooked
over her arm. “They’re holding Penny Sue overnight for observation.
Rich is in stable condition. Apparently, they’re sharing the same
room at Penny Sue’s request.”

“You’re kidding?”

“That’s what the hospital said.”

Ready to go, there was a moment of
indecision about whose car to take. Fran’s was at the Marine
Center. Mine was available, but small. So was Penny Sue’s, which
had remained parked because of Vulture’s potshots. With Vulture in
the slammer somewhere—hopefully, far away—we decided to take Penny
Sue’s Mercedes.

An hour later we stood outside Penny Sue’s
room where Frank, Sidney’s tall sidekick, sat on a bench next to
Ted.

“Ted,” I said sheepishly. “I guess you
heard.”

He stood and pulled me close. “Yep, you
ladies are the talk of the town again.”

I buried my face on his shoulder, feeling
teary-eyed, as the fear and trauma of the last twenty-four hours
washed through me. Ted must have sensed it, because he brushed his
lips through my hair, then held me at arms length and grinned.
“What am I going to do with you?” He released his hold and turned
to face Ruthie and Fran. “What am I going to do with all of you?
You’re magnets for trouble. You’re like Lucille Ball and Ethel
Mertz times two. I wasn’t trained for this at the academy.” He
turned to Frank. “Were you?”

The big guy stretched his legs and lounged
leisurely. “Nope. A course on wacky women wasn’t part of the
curriculum.”

“Wacky?” Fran repeated with a frown. “Try
gutsy, kick-ass patriots.”

Chuckling, Frank did a palms up. “Whatever
you say. Your tactics were
unusual,
but you got the job
done.”

“How’s Roger?” Ruthie asked.

“Downstairs waiting for a plastic surgeon.”
Frank chuckled. “You know, Roger thinks he’s a Klingon.”

“We had an inkling of that.”

“He wanted to keep the battle scar. I
finally convinced him that the one on his arm was enough. No sense
ruining his sweet baby face for womankind.” Frank laughed again.
“That guy’s a trip. I’ll bet Vulture messed in his pants when Roger
came after him ... I might have. Vulture got in a lick or two, but
Roger only needed one punch. Word is, Vulture has a bad
concussion.”