Razor Sharp (19 page)

Snowden wasn’t finished. “Hey you, Mr. Reporter, and you with the camera, take this picture, will ya?”

Espinosa whirled around and managed to capture the ugly look on the Secret Service agent’s face, his fist raised, his badge clearly visible.

The homeowners started climbing into the cars that had pulled up as two of the agents posing as drivers made their way to the Woodley doorway. Ted held out his digital recorder and captured the lively dialogue that ensued as Espinosa clicked away.

“Give me that goddamn camera,” one of the agents snarled.

“Make me,” Ted said, dancing out of the way.

Harry stepped out of the bathroom and walked to the front door. He managed to wiggle his way between Snowden and the agents. He took his time looking from one to the other before he reached up and out. The agents dropped to the ground. Harry shook his head from side to side. “I hate it when these guys try to interfere with free enterprise.”

Espinosa stepped forward for a better shot of the “sleeping” agents. The two remaining agents rushed forward as the homeowners piled out of the cars, the better to see what was going on.

“Hands up, you’re all under arrest!” one of the agents shouted.

“Why?” Harry asked. He sounded like he was asking if it was going to rain. He eyed the drawn guns and smiled. “You want to put those back where they belong, or do you want me to take them away from you?”

“On the ground and spread ’em.”

Harry dropped to a half crouch, and, quicker than lightning, his hands up, the fingers splayed, hit both men in the crotch. They dropped instantly.

“Now what?” Jack asked from the doorway. “Oh, oh, here come the homeowners, and they don’t look happy. Their ride to the White House just went to sleep. Harry, Harry, what am I going to do with you? I hope you have a solution to this little mess.”

Harry looked over at the Dumpster and shrugged. “Snowden, get your men out here so they can drive those irate people to the White House. Make sure they use their sirens and blue lights. Ted said they’re in the trunk, and, no, I don’t know how he knows that.”

Ted rushed forward with Espinosa, who announced that he wanted pictures of all the homeowners for the
Post,
along with names and which house they lived in.

One of them, a lady with blue hair and sharp eyes, wanted to know what was going on and why their drivers were on the ground. “Who is that foreigner?” she then demanded indignantly.

“The Russian?” Ted asked, feigning surprise. “This all has to do with White House security and you are not supposed to ask questions.”

“He wasn’t Russian, he was Oriental,” the blue-haired lady protested.

“No, ma’am, he’s not Oriental, he’s Russian and his name is Vladimir Rusky,” Ted said. “Trust me, we have his picture on file at the
Post.”

“Well, he looked Oriental to me.” The woman sniffed. She looked to her neighbors, who had heard the exchange and who now all agreed the man in question was Russian.

Back across the street, Avery Snowden was venting. “Emery, this was not in the plan. I’m being reminded of a truckload of pumpkins right now.” He whistled sharply, two blasts, and his men appeared dressed in the same gear that their leader wore.

“Change of plan, men. You will be driving all these dressed-up people to the White House. You will then return here with the vehicles. Move!”

The homeowners scrambled back across the street and climbed into their assigned cars. The moment the last vehicle backed down the street, Snowden, Jack, and Emery prepared to deposit the agents in the Dumpster.

“How long are they going to be out, Wong?” Snowden asked, his tone clearly saying he didn’t care one way or another.

“We need two hours, Harry,” Jack said.

“In that case, I can grant your wish.” Harry leaned over first one agent and then another as he touched a spot behind each man’s ear. “Done!”

“Espinosa, just get the guys’ backs. We don’t want any frontal shots of our people.”

“What, you think I’m stupid? We’re thirteen minutes behind schedule, Ted.”

“I know, I know. Here comes the bus.”

When the Federation bus backed into the driveway, the Vigilantes piled out and raced into the house. “We’re running late, Jack. Is everything under control?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘control.’” He quickly briefed the girls, then stood back to see what they would do. They burst out laughing as Yoko pinched Harry’s cheeks, and cooed, “You’re the man, Harry.” Then she kissed him until his teeth rattled.

Alexis opened her Red Bag and started pulling things out. Jack, Harry, and Snowden marveled at how well the women worked together. The TV was on, the videos in place. Hypodermic needles were laid out in a neat row on the coffee table along with vials of clear white liquid. The clock on the mantel ticked off the minutes.

Outside, next to the Dumpster, Ted cupped his hands under Espinosa’s foot so that he could get a leg up to shoot the contents.

“It’s not pretty, Ted.”

“Maggie’s gonna love it. You know what she would love even more, Espinosa?”

“I’ll flip you for it, Ted. Heads!”

Ted flipped the coin in his hand. “Okay, but how the hell am I going to get out?”

“Pile them up and climb out.”

“Smart-ass.”

“Think bonus on top of bonus. Five will get you ten Maggie will reward you tonight.”

“This thing stinks,” Ted said as he rifled through the agents’ pockets. He laid all the badges out in a neat row. He clicked away with great abandon. “Ask Maggie if she wants the badges. What about the guns?”

A minute passed, then another. “She said take them all.”

“I’m gonna need a sack or something.”

“Take off your shirt. Like I carry a sack around with me.”

All Espinosa could hear were grunts coming from inside the Dumpster as Ted piled the agents one on top of the other. And then Ted was over the top and on the ground. He quickly dumped the IDs and the guns into the trunk of his car.

“Maggie said good work.”

Ted slipped into his shirt and buttoned it. “Okay, we’re outta here. We’re driving one street over and returning on foot through the backyards. Let’s go!”

“We could go to jail for this,” Espinosa said fretfully.

“Nah. We have powerful friends, Joe. Hey, this is just a guess on my part, but I think somehow, some way, those IDs and the guns will find their way back to the White House.”

“They got a look at Harry, Ted.”

“Harry who? I was standing right there, I didn’t see anyone named Harry. Did you, Joe? Those homeowners were all wearing glasses. I convinced them the guy was Russian. Like I said, what good is having powerful friends if they can’t come to your aid from time to time?”

Espinosa brought his phone to his ear. “Lots of traffic coming this way. Six cars at the bottom of the hill. Stay alert. More stragglers farther back.”

Ted relayed the message to Jack as soon as Espinosa clicked his phone closed. The two men sprinted toward the backyard, which would lead them to the Woodley yard and the back door.

“They’re on the way,” Ted said breathlessly.

M
aggie Spritzer was busier than a queen bee in a hive and loving every minute of it as she scanned the road with a powerful set of binoculars, a gift from her predecessor. She was text messaging Ted with her left hand while using her hands-free cell phone to talk to Lizzie. Her mind raced as she ran through the possibilities. So much to do and so little time. She ended her call to Lizzie, saying she was on top of it and would take care of the matter. Then she punched in Ted’s number. She just knew she would have raccoon eyes when she finally laid the binoculars to rest, that was how tightly she’d had them pressed to her eyes.

“Listen up, the parade has started. I can guarantee there was a run on baseball caps and wraparound sunglasses in every store in the District today. Five more minutes, and your guests should be at your doorstep. Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit! Guess who just whizzed past me? That guy you hate from the
News.
The squirrelly one. What’s his name? Oh, yeah, Zack Tyson. This is not good, Ted. Traffic is picking up. I count eight. And I think this is the vp bringing up the rear. He’s in a maroon Saab. Yep, it’s him. Two more behind him. Ooops, traffic light! I see three bringing up the rear. You all set, Ted? Ted? Talk to me. Tyson should be hitting the Woodleys’ street about
now!”

Inside Paula Woodley’s house, chaos reigned. Ted relayed Maggie’s news to the group assembled in the kitchen. In the blink of an eye, Harry had one of Snowden’s men stripped down to his underwear. In the next blink of an eye, he was dressed in the man’s tree gear and out the front door, hitching up the too-long pants as he went.

As a group, they all rushed to the huge bay window in the living room just in time to see Harry approach the reporter. A second later the
News
reporter was on his shoulder, after which he joined the other guests in the Dumpster, and Harry was back inside dusting his hands dramatically.

“Before you can ask, Jack, he’ll wake up the same time the others do.”

“Oooh, Harry, I saw that. It was masterful,” Yoko said, nibbling on his ear as Harry stripped down again, to everyone’s delight, especially Yoko’s.

Harry blushed. He was glad he was wearing his new Calvin Klein underwear.

“This was not in the plan, Emery,” Snowden growled.

Jack shrugged. “You know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men, Avery. We’re all intact, and it worked.”

The Vigilantes clapped their hands in approval.

Outside, the man in the cherry picker looked down as the first guest arrived. “Back door, mister.” He continued to give cheerful directions with airy waves of his hand as guest after guest parked and walked up the driveway. He smirked to himself when he saw that none of the guests looked up, the billed caps so low on their faces they almost touched their respective noses.

Snowden talked into his sleeve. “Make sure no one blocks the driveway, the Federation bus has to get out of here in one piece. Over and out.”

Over and out, my ass,
Jack thought as he took up his position in the dining room behind the swinging door. Only Myra and Annie were in the kitchen to welcome the guests, then herd them into the great room. He looked over at Harry. “I could have sworn you were a boxer kind of guy. Calvin is cutting them kind of skimpy these days, doncha think?”

Harry offered up his favorite expression where Jack was concerned. “Eat shit, Jack.”

It looked to Jack like Harry was about to tweak his fingers in his direction, so he danced away, but not before he got in the last word. “Bite me, big guy!”

In spite of himself, Harry laughed. The little discourse was nothing more than a stress reliever and both men knew it.

The two heard the front door open, then close. Both knew it would be Nikki and Kathryn who would greet the vice president.

“Game’s on, boys and girls. Take your positions,” Snowden said. He snapped off a sloppy salute in everyone’s direction, one that no one returned.

Jack just rolled his eyes before he flipped him the bird. Harry laughed again.

Snowden went to the front of the house, where he checked something with Nikki and Kathryn, then, after Kathryn took her position by the front door, held a whispered conversation with Nikki.

When they were finished, Kathryn looked over to Nikki and raised her eyebrows to ask,
“What’s up?”

Nikki shook her head, and mouthed,
“Later.”

In the kitchen, Myra and Annie stared at the politicians “cluttering up Paula Woodley’s kitchen,” as Annie later put it. The politicos all started talking at once, blustering, threatening, as they shook their fists at the two women. It was Ambassador Kierson who looked closely at Myra, then reached out to grasp the kitchen counter for support.

“I see you recognize me, Harvey. The next question I suppose is, do you recognize me as Myra Rutledge, your wife’s old friend, or do you recognize me as a member of the Vigilantes? I guess this is a trite question, but does Julia know you’re here?”

The junior senator from New York said, “Oh, sweet Jesus!”

“Hats and sunglasses off, gentlemen. Such pathetic disguises,” Annie said. “And to think you people make decisions for the country. “
NOW!”
she roared, when none of the men made a move to do as instructed. Ball caps and sunglasses flew in all directions just as Ted and Espinosa entered the kitchen.

“Say ‘sex’ six times real fast.” Espinosa grinned as he clicked away.

No one did.

“Someone really should say something,” Myra said. “Unless you want me to do all the talking. You might feel better if you get it off your chests.”

When she still had no takers, she motioned the men forward. Ted led them to the great room where the other Sisters waited.

“Son of a bitch!” a fat congressman from Nebraska bellowed. “What’s going on here? You’re the Vigilantes!”

Nikki pretended to look puzzled. “Congressman, what was your first clue? What gave us away?” Not bothering to wait for a response, she said, “Sit down and put your hands behind your backs. Girls, you know what to do.”

A senator from Delaware and a congressman from New Jersey tried to make a run for it, but Harry wagged his finger at them. He then waved that same finger to a spot where the two men should sit. Without being told, they put their hands behind their backs. Yoko slipped on the FlexiCuffs.

All eyes were on the hypodermic needles and the vials on the coffee table.

“Do any of you know why you’re here?” Kathryn asked. “Well, speaking strictly for myself, I can certainly understand your reticence. Having said that, let me clear it up for you. You all participated in a rather unsavory event, not once but twice. You also placed the president of the United States in a very untenable situation. So untenable, she could be forced out of office. We’re,” she said, motioning to the Vigilantes, “all thinking it’s maybe because she’s a woman just like Crystal Clark is a woman. And while you all like to use and abuse women, you don’t really like the commander in chief or the woman who arranged the unsavory events you all participated in. The way things are going, or the way you all thought they would go, is that the president would bow out gracefully so as not to besmirch the presidency. Miss Clark would go on trial, and end up in jail. And the worst thing that would happen to the lot of you is a slap on the wrist, a few days of bad publicity, and you’d all go about your lives not caring that your families were damaged, possibly beyond repair. Everyone nod if this is all true.”

An aging congressman from Alabama started to cry. “What are you going to do to us?” he sniveled into the shoulder of his shirt.

“That depends on your answers. Here’s the question,” Yoko said. “First one who gets it right gets to go home. Was my fellow Sister right in her summary of what went down? Was that the game plan? And, most important of all, who was the person who arranged the campout? We want a name.”

Ted was text messaging Maggie so fast, his fingers were a blur on the small keypad. Espinosa was sending off his pictures at the speed of light.

The handcuffed men all started to talk at once. The moment the door to the great room opened, a sharp, shrill whistle ricocheted around the room. Standing in the doorway was the vice president.

“That’s him! That’s the son of a bitch!” Ambassador Kierson shouted. “It was all his idea. He had a thing with the madam. It went way back. Ask him. He’ll probably lie like the devil he is, but I damn well taped him the day he came to my office. Can I go now?”

“Do you have to use the bathroom?” Alexis asked. “No! Well, that’s the only place you can go. For now.”

The Alabama congressman was sobbing steadily by then.

The vice president, his hands cuffed behind him, blustered. “If you would all just use your brains and shut up, we can square this away, and we can all go home. Lying, Ambassador Kierson, will get you nowhere.”

Jack gave the vice president a shove that sent him skidding across the room. He landed between the Alabama congressman and the senator from Delaware. Both men struggled to move away from him.

Annie walked to the center of the room, Myra at her side. “Allow me to introduce ourselves, gentlemen. We,” she said, waving her arm around, “are the Vigilantes. These other gentlemen are our…helpers. If you like the word ‘enforcers,’ we can go with that. It makes no never mind to us. Now, we have you dead to rights. Ms. Crystal Clark was a very thorough lady. She had all your fingerprints, including yours, Mr. Vice President. The lady kept impeccable records. And pictures. Fantastic videos. We have them all. As you may have noticed, we’re women. We do not like, not even one little bit, what you all tried to do to the president and Ms. Clark. Having said that, we are now going to show you a video. Don’t blush like that, gentlemen, you aren’t in this particular video, but I’d wager to guess you will be, sooner rather than later. Look alert, gentlemen, I don’t want you to miss anything. Kathryn, show these fine men where they’re going.”

The film that appeared on the monster screen was crystal clear in HD. The colors were vibrant, the foliage lush and thick as the photographer panned the area where the documentary had been filmed. The voice-over sounded British. Then the camera homed in on a large, ramshackle building. Here, the lush foliage and vibrant colors were gone. Everything looked drab and brown. There were no crystal pools, no fruit trees or flowers to be seen. There were no cars, only mule-drawn carts.

The screen turned black. The silence in the room was total, so total, the click of the remote being turned off sounded like a thunderclap.

Then the room came alive with sound as the men struggled to their feet, their faces masks of horror and disbelief.

“You can’t do this!” cried Ambassador Kierson. “Hunter, stop this goddamn crap and tell these people the truth. Do you hear me, you piece of scum? I’m not going to end my days in some…male brothel in—Jesus Christ—Thailand! These women can make that happen. Will you look at them? Look at their faces; they look goddamn gleeful. Tell them what they want to know.”

Hunter Pryce looked sick. He licked at his lips. “Let’s make a deal; you let me go, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” He jerked his head in the direction of the others, and said, “They were all for it. They wanted the risk, the thrill, and they were willing to pay for it. Yes, I made promises to them. I would have kept them, too. So, do we have a deal or not?”

The women pretended to confer.

Annie stepped forward. “Well, you are the vice president. I guess we have to treat you a
little
differently from these other offenders. Okay, we have a deal. Now answer this question. Did you love Crystal Clark?”

“Yes.”

“What about Martine Connor? Did you start up your affair with her to advance your career? I guess I want to know if you loved her or if you used her.”

“She was pleasant enough, but, no, I didn’t love her, and, yes, she was part of my plan.”

Annie snapped her fingers. Alexis rummaged in her Red Bag and came up with a small notebook and pen. She handed them to Annie, who waited until Pryce’s cuffs were removed. “Now write exactly what I tell you. Make it clear and legible. If you don’t screw up, you can go.”

The only sound that could be heard was the scratch of the pen on paper as Annie dictated the words. Once or twice Pryce looked up at Annie, then at the other Vigilantes, with raised eyebrows and a smirk on his face. When he was finished he handed the notebook to Annie and turned to go. Alexis replaced the pad and pen in the Red Bag.

“I said you could go, I didn’t say where,” Annie said, as Jack and Harry forcibly held the vice president for a new set of FlexiCuffs.

“Time for our shots, gentlemen. You can’t travel to a new country without your shots. Which ones, Annie?” Myra asked.

“They each get two.” Annie giggled as she picked up two syringes and went to work.

Jack and Harry had their work cut out for them as the men tried to fight the needles coming their way.

“Tsk-tsk, politicians shouldn’t talk that way,” Jack said as Annie jabbed the congressman from New Jersey. “What are your constituents going to say when they see this on the evening news?”

“Audio is perfect, Jack,” Ted said. “The networks will bleep it out, but what the hell, the viewing public is pretty astute at deciphering what isn’t said.”

“Who’s watching the time?” Nikki shouted.

“Me,” Yoko said. “We’re okay.”

“Who’s moving the cars?” Kathryn shouted.

“The guy in the cherry picker. He’s been moving them around the corner for the past fifteen minutes,” Isabelle shouted in return.

Snowden and his men, who had just returned from the White House, entered the room and immediately surrounded the politicians, guns drawn.