Collateral Damage (20 page)

Elias looked at the food on his plate. He moved the fork through it several times, stirring it this way and that way before he answered. “That weasel, as you call him, Dan Winters, called me one day recently and asked me to come alone to the White House. It wasn’t really a request but an order. So I went. Alone. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going but somehow it leaked out. Not that it was important at the time. I go to the White House on a regular basis, but Navarro is always with me. When they told me he was the mole that was helping the vigilantes, I lost it. I didn’t want to believe it, but they had all this…evidence. Winters is the one who wanted me to set up the task force to trap him. He said the vigilantes would come to his rescue. Winters cooked up this scheme with Baron Russell about the donor lists being stolen, the Connor campaign’s, too, and how all those rich donors were screaming for blood.

“He said the Bureau couldn’t take any more bashing or black eyes because it was reflecting badly on the administration. That part was true enough. Then he said he had a way to get the vigilantes back in town. I’m not wise in the ways of message boards and blogs and all that computer stuff. I let my people handle that. Anyway, they, and when I say
they
, I mean the White House, sent out feelers to see if the women would take the bait. Look, I’m not sure the president knew about this. I did ask but didn’t get an answer.”

“What was the bait, Elias?” Nellie asked coldly.

“A presidential pardon. They didn’t bite on it, Nellie. Even I knew they were too smart for that, but Winters is your typical power-hungry asshole. With everything going on in the world, the administration’s polling numbers are in the toilet. Donations have dried up. The country was about to turn to the Democrats, and Martine Connor seemed the likely candidate. It wasn’t pretty for Winters or his boss. They did their best to dig into Connor’s background, but she’s so squeaky clean it was a disaster. So they had to make up something to destroy her credibility. Who better than the vigilantes to help their cause? The one thing they didn’t count on was Lizzie Fox and her impressive Rolodex. That set them back, I can tell you that. Then they made Lizzie mad, and you know what happens when Lizzie gets her knickers in a knot.

“At that point they still didn’t have any confirmation from the vigilantes because the women wanted to see proof and a guarantee about the pardon, and Winters couldn’t come up with that. They ordered me, through Erin Powell, to sweat you all. For all the good it did us. That didn’t work, either. Then Winters hauled out my file and hit me between the eyes. He said he was going to go public with what was in the file unless I went along with what he wanted. You’re right, Nellie, he had me by the short hairs. Either way, my ass was fried. Tell me, how did you get Powell to take the hit?”

Nellie shrugged. “It’s a woman thing, something you wouldn’t understand. In case you’re worried about what you all tried to do to her, don’t be. She’s got the world by the tail now. You’ll never see or hear from her again.”

“And the Woodleys?”

“You’ll never see or hear from them again, either. Elias, you really have to get over the idea that this is a Mickey Mouse operation. Everyone is happy, happy, happy.” Nellie fired up another cigarette she didn’t want or need, but it was something to do with her hands, and stared through a plume of smoke at her dinner guest.

“Was it just the polling numbers or is there more to it?” Nellie asked as she watched a perfect smoke ring sail upward.

“Winters likes the power. He wants four more years. And, he doesn’t want a few things to become known, which could very well happen if the Dems unseat them. If Connor gets in, Nellie, she’s going to make a fine president. I know Marian would have voted for her. I will, too, if I’m not in jail. Look, that’s all I know. What is it you want from me, Nellie? You already have my silence. I never ratted you out, even though I knew and have known for quite some time that you’ve aided and abetted the vigilantes, just like I know about all the others—Lizzie Fox, Emery, Wong, and, yes, Bert. For Christ’s sake, Nellie, I’m the director of the Goddamn FBI. I’m supposed to know these things. What I do with what I know is something else entirely.

“You know what, Nellie, I’m tired, so I’m going to go home and try to get some sleep before the world caves in on me. I’m sorry I didn’t do justice to your dinner.”

Nellie got up and walked her guest to the door. “I’m going to need your help very shortly, Elias. Tell me I can count on you. We might be able to make this work for you and for the vigilantes. I want your word.”

“For whatever it’s worth, Nellie, you have it.” Elias reached down and wrapped Nellie in his arms. “Would you really have done the same thing?”

“In a New York minute. You want that pie to take home with you?” Nellie asked to lighten the moment.

“No, but thanks for asking. Where’d you buy it?”

Nellie laughed. “Safeway bakery.”

Nellie could hear the director chuckling all the way to his car.

T
he Sisters watched Myra as she did a little jig the moment she clicked off her cell phone. They waited impatiently as she called Charles to report in before she said, “Nellie did it! She stepped up to the plate and by the time the director left, she had him eating out of her hand. Nellie was…She was…
giddy.
Cummings is on our side, girls. I don’t think it gets any better than that.”

“That’s not wishful thinking on Nellie’s part, is it Myra?” Kathryn asked, suspicion ringing in her voice.

“No, dear, it’s not. Elias is from the old school and a dear friend to Nellie. But he’s also director of the FBI. He doesn’t like the capital’s politics any better than we do. It goes without saying he will protect the institution at all costs, but he will close his eyes to…certain things. At least for now. I think I recall Nellie telling me a while ago that he would be retiring next year. Shortly after the election, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Just tell me Bert’s safe,” Kathryn said.

“As safe as if he was in his mother’s womb, dear.” Myra smiled.

Kathryn grinned from ear to ear. The others smiled indulgently.

“What did Charles say, Myra?” Nikki asked.

“Actually, dear, he’s said quite a bit. We’ve kept him hopping with all our moves, then Erin’s departure, not to mention the Woodleys. He’s very happy that Nellie was able to, as he put it, pull our buns out of the fire. Right now it seems that messages are coming in by the dozen on that…that board or blog or whatever it is. He said he now has confirmation on something called the IP about who the person is. It’s just who he thought it was, Daniel Winters, the president’s chief of staff. We now know his agenda, thanks to Nellie and the information she got out of Elias Cummings. Winters, who still thinks he’s anonymous, wants a meeting with the vigilantes. An eyeball-to-eyeball meeting before he commits to the pardon. If we were stupid enough to agree to something like that, that’s when he would have Cummings and all his agents swoop in and arrest us. That isn’t going to happen,” Myra said.

“As we sit here talking, Justice Barnes is on the phone with Winters trying to set up a private meeting with him and Baron Russell. I think it goes without saying that Pearl will do everything in her power to make it happen. It will be her way of thanking us for getting her out of that sticky mess she found herself in a while back. She said she misses Maggie and Lizzie but understands that her way of life is not for them. They were invaluable to her when she made the transition from the Supreme Court to…uh…to shoring up her underground railroad to save women and children.

“She promised to call, no matter the hour and no matter the outcome. She can be very persuasive, and she is extremely well connected in town. I’m certain Winters will agree to meet with her. Pearl can be every bit as tenacious as Nellie when she puts her mind to it.”

Nikki’s cell phone rang. She looked down at the name appearing on the small screen. Maggie Spritzer. As Nikki listened, she motioned to the others to power up their laptops. She hung up a moment later. “The
Post
is online now. The paper was just put to bed a little while ago. Maggie said she wants a gold star and to please let her know Martine Connor’s reaction.”

Nikki booted up her own laptop and started to read. She smiled, she grinned, she laughed out loud, as did the others who were reading over her shoulder. Finally, she sat back and hugged her knees as she looked around at the Sisters. “Tell a woman what to do, and she damn well does it. Think about what we did today, girls. Nellie reeled in Director Cummings. Pearl Barnes is going to give us Daniel Winters and Baron Russell on a gold plate. Maggie and the
Post
just endorsed the woman who is going to be the most powerful woman in the land. Lizzie Fox is our secret weapon. Do you see one single man in this scenario? No, you do not. I’m not discounting Jack, Harry, or Bert. But
they
didn’t make this happen. Even Charles didn’t make it happen.
We
made it happen. Us. Women.”

“And we take no prisoners,” Annie shouted as she smacked her hands together and whooped with pleasure at what they’d accomplished.

Nikki looked over at Kathryn, who was laughing as hard as she was.

“You’re thinking about the punishment we’re going to visit on those men, aren’t you?” Myra asked as she joined in the laughter.

“You know it,” Kathryn said.

“I think we need to start planning our departure, girls,” Myra said. “Charles said he would get back to us by first light. It’s late now, so I think this might be a good time to call it a night so we can be up and ready to leave on a moment’s notice. Our new vehicles will be arriving sometime soon, but we don’t have to worry about that. If Pearl calls, I’ll hear it, since I’m a light sleeper. Then I’ll wake you all up.”

The girls headed for the loft of the cabin while Annie and Myra stayed to tidy up and pack everything into their cases and the boxes.

They chatted quietly so their voices wouldn’t carry to the loft overhead.

“A lot can happen in a six-hour ride, Annie. I admit I’m a bit jittery.”

“Don’t be. Bert, Jack, and Harry have our backs. Think about it, Myra, we’re going to be doing this right under the noses of the CIA. Look, Charles sent us a map of the terrain, we rehearsed, right down to the last nanosecond. I know, I know, what can go wrong will go wrong, but the guys will be there, too. Great Dismal Swamp, here we come,” Annie said.

“Charles is the one who came up with the location, so I guess…Sometimes I think he is more daring than we are. He said the CIA used to do all their advance paramilitary operations there. They call it The Point. We have to trust him that even though the CIA is there, practically in our faces, that it’s the way to go. He said Winters won’t think twice about meeting us there and will be able to convince Russell to go along with it.”

“Harry and Bert are going to be tailing Pearl, so if it turns out to be a setup, they’ll spot it, and we abort and go on to Plan B,” Myra said. “Timing is going to be everything.” Myra looked around the cabin. Everything was neat and tidy, all their gear piled up by the front door.

Annie sat down on the sofa, leaned back, and closed her eyes. “The nights are the worst, aren’t they, Myra?”

Myra joined Annie on the sofa. “Yes, dear, the nights are the worst. When the girls were little, you listened to their prayers, all those God blesses, then you tucked them in and thanked God for another good day. As they got older you sat up and waited until they came home. Motherhood is such a joy and such a challenge. I’m sad, Annie, that our girls are past the childbearing stage. Well, they aren’t, really, women have babies today when they’re over forty, but I don’t know if that’s going to happen to our chicks.”

“C’mon, Mom, don’t be sad.”

Myra and Annie both bolted upright. Annie looked around, her eyes wider than a Frisbee. “Myra, did you just hear that?”

Myra smiled. “Hello, darling girl! I’m not sad. Well, I am a little. Is everything all right? Are you here to tell me…something?”

“Yes and no. I brought someone with me tonight. Aunt Annie…Elena is here.”

Annie looked wild when she whirled and twirled, her gaze sweeping the room to find where the voices were coming from.

“Mom, it’s me, Elena.”

“Oh, dear God!” was all Annie could say. “Am I dreaming? Myra, do you…Where…is your brother…your father…?”

“Everyone is fine, Mom. Daddy said to tell you he’s proud of you. Jonathan said mothers can do anything. He said he remembers you telling him that a thousand times.”

Myra moved off, hoping Barbara would continue to converse with her while allowing for Annie to talk to her own spirit daughter. “Darling girl, is this going to work out all right?”

“Mom, you have to stop worrying so much. I’ll be right there with you tomorrow. Stay alert and do your share.”
A tinkling laugh erupted and seemed to ricochet around the room.
“How does it feel being a Democrat?”

In spite of herself, Myra laughed. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me. Gotta go, Mom. I want to say good night to Nikki.”

Myra nodded as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

In the loft, the Sisters stood at the railing as they tried to figure out what was going on down below. Nikki winked. “Someone stopped in to say good night and to ease a few doubts. That’s all.” She turned, and whispered, “Thanks, Barb.”

“No problem. Be careful, Nik. Those guys have a lot at stake. My money is on you, though.”

Nikki smiled as her hand batted the air, her way of signing off with her spirit sister.

Down below, Annie fell back onto the sofa, her breathing ragged. “Tell me that wasn’t a dream, Myra. Tell me we…talked to our spirit daughters.”

“We did, Annie. Shhh. We don’t talk about it afterward. Elena will come to you now that she’s broken through. But, only when you need her the most. That’s usually how it works. At first I was just like you are now. I thought I was crazy. Then I switched up to believing that I was dreaming because I needed…Oh, God, I needed her so badly. I guess…I want to believe she knew that and came to me. We don’t ever have to talk about it again, Annie, if that will make you feel better. It’s such a deep, personal thing, I like to go off by myself to just think about it. I feel better for weeks after a little chat with my darling daughter.”

Annie struggled for words. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. Perhaps later. Elena said my husband is proud of me. Oh, God, Myra, I am so…I don’t know what I am right now.”

“Let’s go with happy and go to sleep. I’ll take the recliner, and you stretch out there on the sofa. Sweet dreams, Annie.” Myra looked over at her old friend, but she was already asleep. She sighed as she stretched out on the recliner and closed her eyes. “Thank you, God, for what you just did for Annie and me.” A second later, she, too, was asleep.

Retired Supreme Court Justice Pearl Barnes dressed carefully for her early-morning breakfast meeting. She wore a copper-colored Vera Wang suit. Lustrous pearls, much like the kind Myra Rutledge wore, adorned her neck, with matching pearl studs in her ears. At the last second she’d slipped on several magnificent diamond rings. She carried a Prada purse that held more junk than her kitchen drawer did, but it was junk she was never without. She teetered a bit on her heels, but once she got the hang of them, she was okay. These days she didn’t get dressed up very often and had given up heels for Birkenstocks.

Pearl looked down at her watch. The sun would be up in another hour. If she left for the District, she could make it in forty-five minutes. She smiled, but it wasn’t a smile that reached her eyes. Actually, it was a grim, angry smile, if there was such a thing.

She marched out to the powerful black Hummer that sat in her driveway. She loved the vehicle, and it was perfect for transporting people to places they weren’t supposed to be. She particularly loved the blackened windows. By driving it, she was making a statement, and it had all been Lizzie Fox’s suggestion.

She’d called Daniel Winters at two minutes past five, the moment she finished dressing. He’d answered on the first ring. She’d stated her business quickly and concisely, ending with, “I’ll be in the back booth at the Hound and Hare at six thirty, I will wait exactly five minutes, not one minute longer. I owe it to the president to pass along what I know.” This last was said so virtuously, Pearl felt herself cringe at the lie she was telling. “If you aren’t there, I will leave, and you’ll regret missing out on the information I have for you concerning the vigilantes. I’ll go to the
Post
instead.”

As Pearl tooled along in the Hummer, her thoughts were all over the map. While she was clear on her part and what she was to do, she had no idea how or where Baron Russell was going to come into play. Myra and Annie had said she wasn’t to worry. How could she not worry? While she’d been fooling people for a good many years and covering her tracks while working at being an associate justice on the United States Supreme Court, somehow it didn’t compare to what she was about to do.

Back then, it had been her own skin she’d had to protect. This was another can of worms—one that she had almost no control over. All she could do was her best, and if that wasn’t good enough, then the vigilantes would have to step up to the plate and take over. She started to talk to herself to ease the stress building between her shoulders. “I can do this. I can do this. I can really do this. I have to do this. If I don’t do this, terrible things are going to happen. I
can
do this.”

Pearl sucked in her breath. She didn’t feel one damn bit better. Her foot pressed down on the accelerator, and the Hummer plowed forward.

The sky was just growing light on the horizon when Pearl parked the Hummer, taking up two parking spaces. She dropped money in both meters to cover herself. Her government license plate should do the rest in case an aggressive traffic cop decided to ticket her.

The early bird gets the worm,
Pearl told herself as she yanked at the door and walked into the Hound and Hare. When she was sitting on the bench, she’d been a regular here. Twice a week she’d have breakfast with Nellie or other judges to talk over legal matters or just to shoot the breeze. She wished she was here to have a shoot-the-breeze breakfast with Nellie. She wished it so bad she wanted to cry.

She was greeted warmly by the staff and shown to her favorite table. A cup of coffee appeared as if by magic. Then a crystal decanter of freshly squeezed orange juice was set in the middle of the table, along with a covered basket of warm croissants. A perky waitress rushed up to Pearl’s table and poured the juice into a small goblet. Pearl drained it in one long swallow. The waitress poured a second glass. Pearl was sipping it when Daniel Winters waltzed through the door with a minute to spare. He strode purposely to the table, made a point of looking at his watch. Pearl looked down at her own Patek Phillippe and nodded, her features cold and controlled. “Sit,” she said.