Vendetta (15 page)

Charles waited, tapping his foot and kneading his hands together. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what the women were gathering up inside the house. He gawked, stepping backward as they entered the war room dressed in hooded black cloaks. Each of them had their arms full of bags.

“We’re ready, dear,” Myra said.

Charles led the parade out of the war room and down the steps that would take them to the tunnels and John Chai. Charles reached for one of the Maglites that Nikki was carrying. He stuck it up on the wall next to the other light. The blinding white lights shone directly into John Chai’s cell. The women set the gear they were holding on the ground before they formed a straight line in front of the cell. John Chai looked at them, fear shining in his eyes.

“What are you going to do?” he screamed. “Let me out of this hellhole! My father will find you and kill you if you harm me in any way.”

“No, your father won’t find us. He won’t find you, either,” Julia said quietly. The words were said with such quiet authority that Chai backed up until his legs hit the metal bed.

Chai started to stutter. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Myra’s voice was just as quiet and commanding as Julia’s had been. “You were drinking. You were driving too fast. You didn’t stop; you left the scene of the accident and then you left the country,” she said. “You have to pay for your cowardice.”

“Money! My father is very wealthy. I am wealthy. How much money do you want? What are you going to do to me? This is barbaric!”

“Barbaric? You ain’t seen nothing yet, Mister Chai!” Kathryn said.

“Who are you?” Chai snarled.

Nikki stepped forward. She knew the hooded black robes frightened the man behind the bars. “We’re your judges. We’re your jury. We’re your —”

A string of venomous Chinese words ricocheted off the earthen walls. The women looked at Charles for a translation.

“You don’t want to know what he said. This might be a good time to tell our guest what he has to look forward to.”

Myra walked over to the cell and reached for the bars in both hands. “Tomorrow is a holiday for us. Thanksgiving. Nothing will happen to you until the following day, when we all come back down here. You will be caned, Mr. Chai.”

Chai leaped forward just as Charles drew Myra away from the cell.

“That’s inhuman!” Chai snarled.

“Tell that to your people who do it on a daily basis to prisoners in your country. When asked about it, your father said he approved of the punishment. I can show you the actual interview where your father made that statement. Enough time, it’s late and tomorrow is a holiday. We need to get some rest, as do you, Mr. Chai,” Charles said.

The women got busy. The large clock from Myra’s kitchen was hooked on to the bottom of the Maglite. Nikki set up a folding table while Isabelle put bowls of food on it. Alexis checked the CD player and the long-playing rap disc. She cranked it as loud as it would go. Myra hung up thick quilts on the pegs jutting out from the wall. Everything was out of John Chai’s reach.

“We’ll be back in exactly thirty-one hours,” Nikki shouted. “Count the minutes and the seconds, you son of a bitch!”

“You can’t do this! What kind of people are you? I told you, it was an accident! You have no right to take the law into your own hands. You have no right!”

Kathryn ran back to the cell. “No right? No right! Listen, you slimy bastard, we have every right in the world! You killed Barbara Rutledge. Women brought you to this point, so you just think about that when you try to sleep tonight — you just think about that! By the way, the rats down here are very skinny. We aren’t behind those bars begging for our life, you are. And to think you were brought down by a bunch of women. Oh, well, you won’t have any face left to save when we’re done with you.”

The women clapped their hands in approval.

“Girls, don’t you think it was clever of me to stop at the costume shop for these hooded robes while we were all driving around Washington? The young man looked at me so strangely when I bought those rap CDs at the music store. I said I was having a party. I don’t think he believed me. That man is worse than I thought. He won’t freeze down there, will he, Charles?” Myra asked.

“He has a blanket. He’ll be so busy watching the rats eat all the food you left on the table that he won’t be able to sleep. Of course, eventually he will sleep. Goodnight, ladies. I still have some work to do.”

“But, Charles…” Myra said.

“Forty minutes, that’s all, Myra. I’ll join you by the fire. Will you wait for me?”

Myra stopped, turned around and walked back to where Charles was standing. “You don’t ever have to ask me a question like that. I will wait for you forever. Don’t you know you are the light of my life, the wind beneath my sails? Maybe we should forgo the wine and the fire and get right to the
good stuff
.”

Charles laughed. “Now, that’s an offer I wouldn’t even think of refusing. You’re on, old girl!”

Myra giggled all the way into the house. The girls watched her as she giggled her way to the second floor. Then they grinned and winked at one another.

“I think Myra has more sex than all of us put together,” Kathryn grumbled. “We all have to stop waiting for the White Knight to find us. We need to start
searching
for him
.
Actively.
Really
actively.”

“And when they want to know what we
do
, assuming we find someone who is enamored with us, what do we say?” Isabelle asked.

“You’re raining on my parade, Isabelle. Night, everyone,” Kathryn grumbled again.

“Night,” said the others.

The women of Pinewood clustered around the back door and kitchen window to admire the winter wonderland. Eight inches of new snow covered the rolling hills of Myra’s estate. “It’s beautiful!” they said as one.

Myra looked up at Charles. “Should we tell them now?” she whispered.

“I can see you are chomping at the bit to tell. I thought you said you could keep a secret,” Charles teased.

Myra leaned into Charles. “That was then; this is now. All that glorious whiteness might be gone by Christmas and then the presents will be worthless. They’ll just sit in the barn.”

“Then, my dear, by all means tell them.”

“Girls! Girls! Charles and I want to give you all an early Christmas present. After breakfast, of course. Snowmobiles! One for each of you! Kathryn’s has a side seat for Murphy!”

They were like children again as they whooped and hollered, high-fived and hugged.

It was the ever practical Yoko who said, “But Mr. Chai’s thirty-one hours are about up. Are we delaying his punishment or do we frolic afterward?”

Myra looked at Charles. She shrugged. “Mr. Chai can wait a little longer. I can wait a little longer. Charles has cooked a magnificent breakfast for all of you. Kippers and sausage — and don’t ask me where he got the kippers. The man is a total mystery to me at times. We have crispy bacon, eggs Benedict, banana and macadamia nut pancakes with maple syrup, and all the coffee and juice we can drink.”

“You dear, sweet man,” Kathryn said as she snatched two pieces of bacon, one for her and one for Murphy. “Are the snowmobiles primed and gassed?”

“Charles did it all before he left for China. When you get back from your playtime, we’ll have hot chocolate with those little marshmallows and ginger cookies waiting. Nikki and Barbara always looked forward to that little treat when they came in from sledding.”

Nikki smiled. “All we did was think about the marshmallows while we were out in the snow. Myra,” she explained, “was a stickler about our teeth and sweets, so marshmallows were a real treat. There was never any candy in the house either. Try and figure that one out.” She knew in her gut that there would be one extra snowmobile in the old barn. For Barbara. A machine that would stay bright and shiny forever. She also knew it would be sunshine yellow, Barbara’s favorite color.

Myra beamed as she threw her hands in the air. “You see, I never knew that. Oh, well!”

Charles served breakfast and the women gobbled their food so they could go outdoors to play in the snow.

“Julia…”

“I’m fine, Myra. I’m up for it. I have to confess, I never drove a snowmobile, but I’m willing to learn. It can’t be half as hard as those motorcycles we all drove on Kathryn’s mission. I’m excited. I want my hot chocolate
loaded
with marshmallows!”

“I’ll personally take care of it. Run along, girls. Charles and I will clean up here. Then we’ll see to Mr. Chai’s comfort. Not that we really care about his comfort. It’s just something Charles and I will do to look busy. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Charles just laughed as he stacked the dishwasher.

“Dress warmly, girls, especially you, Julia,” Myra said in a motherly tone. “Have fun but don’t stay out too long.”

The girls barreled out the door like children and raced to the barn. Within minutes all Charles and Myra could hear was shrill laughter and the high-pitched whine of the snowmobiles.

Myra looked down at her watch. “I have this insane urge to speak with Mr. Chai. Oh, dear, put
more
food on that platter. A little of everything. There are so many rats down there. What are we giving Mr. Chai?”

Charles looked around at the bright kitchen. “Something nourishing, I think. Maybe a few slices of banana and a piece of bread. Half a bottle of water.”

“Excellent, Charles! A pretty dish, but not one of my heirlooms. I think the pink one from the Pottery Barn. I can always order more. You don’t think he froze to death during the night, do you, Charles?” She said this last as though she was discussing the weather.

“I doubt it. The man is too mean to die. We did give him
one
blanket. I’m ready, Myra.”

Carrying the pink dish, Myra led the way down through the tunnels. She reached up twice to ring the bells, but knew Chai wouldn’t be able to hear them with the rap music blasting all along the tunnels. She shuddered at the horrible sound.

The moment John Chai saw Myra and Charles, he rushed to the iron bars and screamed at the top of his lungs. “Let me out of here, you bastards!”

Charles calmly reached up to turn off the CD player.

“Good morning, Mr. Chai. Name-calling is not a nice thing. Oh, look, dear, the food is all gone. No matter, we brought more,” Myra said.

“I’m freezing! My feet are blue! I’m starving! That goddamn light is blinding me! I can barely hear. You’re inhuman. Damn you, let me out of here!”

“Do you really want to get into a discussion on human rights, Mr. Chai? You need to be quiet. We just came down here to tell you that your punishment has been delayed a few hours. We could give you another blanket, I suppose. What do you think, dear?” Myra asked.

Charles shrugged. “We could.”

“But we won’t,” Myra said. “If you step away from the bars, Mr. Chai, I’ll give you some food. If you don’t move, it stays right here for your other roommates. By the way, they’re going to feast on kippers, sausages, bacon, banana-macadamia nut pancakes with warm butter and syrup, plus eggs Benedict. Doesn’t that sound scrumptious? Oh dear, the man simply doesn’t follow instructions.” Without another word or glance, Myra let the pink dish fall to the ground. “I have to leave now, Mr. Chai, but I’ll be back.”

Charles turned on the CD player again. Myra walked over to the cell but stood away from the bars. “I spent years hating you. Until the day before yesterday, I didn’t have a face to match to that hatred. My hatred hasn’t lessened now that I’ve seen you. In fact, my hatred has increased. By the way, no one in your country is looking for you. Tomorrow we will have some newspapers to prove it. I’m sorry you didn’t want any breakfast.”

“Stop with the lies! My father will have the government, the military and all his people looking for me. He will leave no stone unturned until I am home safe and sound. That man Li is already dead, I can promise you that.”

Charles turned off the CD player again. The sudden silence was deafening. He spoke quietly but distinctly. “You should never make a promise you can’t possibly keep, Mr. Chai. No one is looking for you. No one. Mr. Li is safely out of your country. I spoke with him earlier and he is probably sitting down to an early luncheon — in another country, of course,” Charles lied with a straight face. “You are not important enough, even to your own father, to warrant such a search. You’re what we call a bad penny, a disgrace to your family. No one cares about you, Mr. Chai, so get used to the idea. We’re all you have going for you at the moment. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to think about what I’m going to serve for our own lunch.” He reached up to turn the CD player to full volume. Chai’s curses followed him all the way back to the mouth of the tunnel. Just for fun, he rang the cluster of rusty bells. The merry sound stayed with him all the way up the steps that led to the ground floor of the farmhouse.

Jack Emery woke to the shrill ringing of the phone in the apartment. Bleary-eyed and disgruntled, he made his way to the living room, picked up the phone and barked a greeting. He listened as he padded his way to the window where he gasped in surprise.

“OK, OK, I heard you the first time, Moody. Yeah, yeah, I understand Conover can’t do his surveillance with the snowplows out. I said you could go home, what the hell is your problem, Moody?” Jack listened, his eyes murderous as the operative continued. “I know about footprints in the snow. You’re right, Moody. Either Mark or I will be in touch.”

Jack stalked his way to the kitchen where Mark was making coffee and toast. “Well, even the weatherman is against us. He didn’t say one word about that goddamn snow out there. He said
flurries
. Does that look like flurries to you?”

Mark spread butter on the toast when it popped up. “Looks to me like about eight to ten inches. That means we have to shovel out our cars. Listen, Jack, even you can’t expect some dumbass dick to sit in a tree with all that snow. Get real here. As for Conover, give that up, too. The plows will move all that snow to the side of the road and there’s no place to park there, even if it is a country road. We need to fall back and regroup. Want some toast?”