Payback (17 page)

Jack nodded.

“When you asked me to help you, I thought it was some kind of local stuff and I was just doing a favor for a friend. But this ain’t some kind of local stuff, Jack. These guys work with MI6, Interpol and all that heavy duty spy stuff that goes on all over the world, stuff we never get to hear about. Right now, I just want to forget I ever knew you. I like my job and I want to keep it. You’re bush league, these guys are the big league.”

Jack blinked but he didn’t say anything as he struggled to an upright position. In his life he’d never seen colder or deadlier eyes. What the fuck was going on? What did he stumble onto? More to the point, where did Nikki and Myra fit into this whole damn scenario?

“You can talk now, Mr. Emery,” one of the men said.

“That’s Assistant District Attorney Emery to you…
sir
.”

“That still makes you a pissant. Now, tell us what you’ve been up to and why you’re harassing those nice folks out there in Virginia.”

Jack’s mind raced. Common sense told him to opt for the truth. He told them in as straightforward a manner as he could. “I’m in law enforcement, I’m not paid to look the other way. Yes, I trespassed on Myra Rutledge’s property. But it was on my own time. I was trying to get enough evidence to do something about the Marie Llewellyn case and in the course of my search, I discovered those women who congregate out there are up to something else. I think they’re taking the law into their own hands. Vigilantes.” He felt silly as hell and he could see that the special gold shield guys weren’t buying his story.

“Mark has nothing to do with any of this,” he went on. “I asked him for a favor and he helped me out. You want to cut off my dick, go ahead, but leave him out of it.”

The men looked at one another. The first one shrugged. The second one smirked as he hauled Jack to his feet. “We’re going to be on you like white on rice from here on in, Emery. You get within a mile of those people at Pinewood and you’ll never be seen or heard from again. Remember, we answer to only one man. Right now that man doesn’t like you very much.”

Jack saw the fist coming but couldn’t duck in time. At some point during the beating, he blacked out. When he finally came to, the gold shields were gone and Mark was bending over him, his face furious because he hadn’t been able to help his friend. There was blood everywhere. He picked up the phone to call 911.

“No!” Jack croaked. “Help me up and out to my car. Then you can forget you ever met me.”

“Jesus, Jack, what the hell did you stumble on to? Let me patch you up first. You should go to the hospital.”

“No,” Jack croaked again. “Get me some aspirin and a couple of shots of whiskey. Were you telling me the truth about those guys? The president really has a goon squad? Damn, what would the American people think if they knew that?”

“Jack, leave it alone for God’s sake. Don’t move till I get back.”

In less than a minute, Mark dropped to the floor, and opened his first aid kit and cleaned up Jack’s face the best he could. “How are your ribs? Listen, Jack, I didn’t mean all that shit I was spouting before.”

“Yes, you did. Don’t apologize. They got me in the gut and my kidneys. I won’t be able to have sex ever again. Where’s the damn aspirin?”

“Here,” Mark said, holding out the bottle. “I’ll get the whiskey. I don’t think you’re supposed to take aspirin with whiskey, Jack.”

“Sez who? Help me up.”

“I can drive you home, Jack, and have a friend drop off your car tomorrow. Oh, shit, you aren’t going home, are you?”

“No, Mark, I’m not going home. You don’t need to know where I’m going. Look, I’m sorry I got you involved. I won’t call you again. Take my number off your speed dial and don’t bother to send me a Christmas card. I’ll see you around.”

Mark looked and felt like he was going to cry. “Listen, you crazy son of a bitch, you’re going to get yourself killed. How am I supposed to live with that?”

“By pretending you never met me, that’s how.”

Agent Lane’s eyes burned when the door closed behind his friend.

It could have been the Academy Awards with the glittering outfits, limousines, and hoards of reporters instead of a political turnout. The only thing missing was the red carpet and Joan Rivers. A light rain was falling when the parade of limousines from Pinewood drew up to the armory. The time was ten minutes past six when Myra Rutledge and Charles Martin exited the lead limo. The chauffeur held a huge golf umbrella over them as they scurried to the entrance, their invitation in hand.

The others followed within fifteen minutes of each other. Julia was last to arrive. Her husband was waiting inside the doorway to guide her into the vast area filled with orchids and every flower and green plant known to man. Colorful balloons were tied to the rafters and to the backs of chairs to add to the festivities. There was even an ice sculpture of the American flag on the buffet table. Julia thought it matched the one on her husband’s ass except his was in living color. She said so, sotto voce.

Having lived in Washington all her life she could pick out the Secret Service, the FBI and all the other security. She mentioned that, too. Tonight, though, they were equal. She, too, wore the tiny microphone on the sleeve of her gown. All she had to do was pretend she was touching her nose and speak into the gizmo on her wrist, just the way all the security spooks did. Even the little buttons in their ears were so hightech they couldn’t be detected. The sound was short of phenomenal, allowing them to hear a whisper from ten feet away.

Mitch ignored his wife’s barbed comments. “Baby, you look sensational.” He looked around at the other women in the room. He appeared stunned for a moment. His wife was the best-looking woman in the entire room. She seemed to have picked up several pounds and in all the right places.

“Don’t call me baby, Mitch. Save that kind of talk for your bimbos. I heard on the way here that the press is set to leak more info on you in the
Post
tomorrow. Back out now before it’s too late.” Her voice was colder than ice. Mitch opted not to notice.

“That’s all garbage. It’s politics at their worst. But, if I ever find out it was you who is doing the leaking, you’ll regret it.”

“Is that a threat, Mitch? If so, you might want to retract those words right now. By the way, I’m leaving you. Excuse me, I have to circulate. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Don’t even think about touching me or I might scream in pain with my cracked ribs. And, by the way, the leak in tomorrow’s
Post
is about that phony background story you made up on your life because you were ashamed of your own family.” She shivered inwardly knowing Mitch’s eyes were boring into her back.

Julia started to gingerly make her way across the vast room only to see Isabelle and Alexis at her side to run interference as they jostled their way toward the buffet table.

“There’s more security here than guests. I can spot those spooks a mile away,” Julia murmured. “Have you seen the Monarch family?”

“Not yet,” Isabelle said.

“Good God, Alexis, you really do look like Diana Ross, right down to that wild hair. From some of the looks you’re getting, I think the guests think so, too,” Julia said.

“Well, that makes my day. The flowers are beautiful. Where in the hell did Yoko get all those wild orchids? By the way, where is she?”

A roving waiter appeared with a tray balanced on one hand filled with plastic flutes of champagne. The women each accepted a glass and pretended to drink. No more than a few sips, Charles had warned. You need your wits about you tonight with all the security.

“Myra is to initiate contact with the Monarchs and then she’ll introduce them to Yoko. That’s when it’s all going to come together. I saw Nikki a moment ago and I know she’s on the lookout for Jack Emery. I hate parties like this,” Alexis grumbled. “Ah, we made it to the buffet. Some big bucks went into this spread,” she said, smacking her lips.

Music could be heard from a small combo. Typical “oldies” fare which meant warbling by Sinatra, Crosby and Como for the older crowd. The crowd with the open checkbooks. The acoustics were horrendous. Isabelle moved off to chase down Kathryn who was talking to a fat lobbyist ogling her bosom. Alexis guided Julia to a less congested area on the far side of the buffet.

“Here comes my husband,” Julia told Alexis. “Stay as close as you can. Pretend you’re eating or eat, just don’t leave me alone with him.”

“There you are, darling,” Mitch said. “Come, I want you to meet Mrs. Crawford.”

“Later, Mitch.”

The senator clamped his lips shut but somehow managed to say the words, “Now, Julia.”

Julia ignored him. “Oh, look, there’s Myra Rutledge. Now Mitch, that’s someone you want to meet. She has a war chest that just oozes money. Excuse me, I see our hospital administrator. I have to say hello. We have the whole evening ahead of us,” she called over her shoulder as she moved away, Alexis behind her. The senator was left with no other recourse but to smile and reach for a plate.

“You did good, Julia. Your husband is sweating up a storm. I caught a glimpse of Governor Crawford and he does not look like a happy man. Do you suppose he’s heard about the next leak?” Alexis whispered as they continued their trek through the crowds.

“Looks that way to me, too.”

“Mrs. Crawford looks pretty young to me,” Alexis said.

“They’re all young,” Julia said, sadness ringing in her voice. “They look good in photo ops. It’s a trade-off. They like the prestige, the glamour of the White House and all the crap that goes with it. They lunch with their friends, grouse about their
old
husbands and have little flings on the side. They never think they’ll get caught. The first Mrs. Crawford was a lovely woman, but she was plain, and she wouldn’t allow them to
fix her up.
If I remember correctly, her home in Maryland was known for the rosebushes she planted. She was active in PTA. A Mom. She was a real mom until they used her up and the governor found the present Mrs. Crawford. Everyone in this room has a story and none of them are family reading.”

Towering at six feet, the Diana Ross look-alike surveyed the crowd. “Kathryn looks stunning. Do you think she’ll ever fall in love again? She took her husband’s death so hard,” Alexis said, hoping to wipe the sadness from Julia’s eyes.

“I certainly hope so. She’s too young to go through life alone. I can’t see Yoko or the Monarchs. Help me out here, Alexis. Do you see them?”

Frank Sinatra was warbling about a summer wind as the women finally approached Yoko who was chatting it up with a female congresswoman from Virginia. As they approached they could hear that the discussion was about orchids. Julia smiled at the congresswoman as Alexis steered Yoko out of earshot. “Have you seen those creeps?”

“If you mean the Monarchs, no. Myra was supposed to corner them and steer us in their direction. Maybe they decided not to attend. Is Julia all right?”

“Julia is holding up just fine but her husband is trying to put the squeeze on her. However, she isn’t biting. She’s one tough lady. The Monarchs are here, we just haven’t seen them yet. You doing OK?”

“My feet are killing me. People keep staring at me.”

“Suck up the pain, my friend, and people are looking at you because you’re a knock-out. Head for the buffet while I try to corner Myra and Charles. Have you seen Nikki?”

“A few minutes ago. She didn’t say so but I think she’s on the lookout for Jack Emery. Look, there she is! Over by the middle EXIT door.”

“OK, see you later. Eat something, Yoko, you’re going to need your strength for what’s to come later.”

“Is the food any good?” Yoko queried.

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I ate a shrimp. Tasted like shrimp. I want to talk to Nikki. Don’t look right now but I see Myra at three o’clock and she’s talking to three people who can only be the Monarchs. Give them ten minutes before you make contact, and don’t forget to eat.”

“Yes, Mama.” Yoko giggled just as an announcement blasted through the armory via a man in a tuxedo with a microphone in hand on stage. The huge room quieted almost immediately as the governor of Maryland, the Democratic candidate for the presidency of the United States, hopped on stage followed by Mitchell Webster.

Nikki whirled around, a crumpled note in her hand. Should she stay or should she go outside? Her stomach tightened into a knot. Charles said everything had been taken care of, and yet, here was Jack sending her notes right under the eyes of the FBI, the Secret Service and God knew who else. The decision was taken out of her hands when she grew light-headed. She needed air, not this canned stuff she was breathing in great gulps. She elbowed the door and stepped outside, but didn’t release her hold on the door. It was an EXIT only door. If it closed, she’d have to walk all the way around to the front.

She saw him hobble toward her holding a lopsided umbrella. In the dim yellow light over the EXIT door she could clearly see Jack’s battered, bloody face. Her heart thumped in her chest. He looked to be in excruciating pain. She wanted to run to him, to say something, but she couldn’t move. He stopped two feet away.

“I just wanted you to see what they did to me. Take a good look, Nik. This is all your doing. They said they’d kill me if I didn’t drop my investigation. Who are
they
? Well, dear Nikki, let me tell you who
they
are. The president’s goon squad sicced on me by your very own Charles Martin and Myra. They probably will kill me. You live with that because no way in hell am I going to knowingly allow all of you to break the law. You used to be a lawyer. You swore to uphold the law like I did. Now you can go back in there with all your high powered rich friends. And when they do kill me, you damn well better not show up at my funeral.”

Tears rolled down Nikki’s cheeks. “Jack, wait…”

Jack stopped, the lopsided umbrella tilted so that it covered his knees. “Go to hell, Nicole and don’t make any stops on the way down.” He let go of the umbrella and it slid across the parking lot. He didn’t seem to notice.