Hide and Seek (The Sisterhood: Rules of the Game, Book 1) Read online

Jack didn’t answer. He turned to Harry, who was standing next to his car window. “You hear anything?”

  “They landed safe and sound. They’re on the way. With no baggage to claim they should be here in forty minutes. I made coffee.”

  “Coffee?” Lizzie shrilled. “I need something stronger than coffee.”

  “Well, Counselor, we have that, too.”

  Lizzie hauled a backpack out of the SUV that looked like it weighed a hundred pounds while Harry backed a Dodge Dakota out of the opposite side of the garage. The SUV from Montana was now secure and out of sight.

  In the neat tile kitchen, Lizzie headed straight for the coffeepot. She looked around to see where the liquor was. She opened one cabinet after another, marveling at the canned and boxed food lining the shelves. When she found a bottle of Old Grand-Dad she opened it and swigged straight from the bottle. Eyes watering, she swallowed the hot coffee. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go, Jack.”

  Jack whirled around to see Lizzie Fox pointing a gun at his midsection. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m going to kill you if you don’t move your ass. We’re going to get the judge. Don’t even think about it, Harry. Now move!”

  “Lizzie…this is not…”

  Lizzie slid back the hammer. The sound was so loud, Jack flinched. “I thought I told you to move. Back away, Harry. I’ll shoot you right in the balls if you even breathe.

  Hustle, honey, I’m not known for my patience.”

  Jack hustled.

  Chapter 20

  The 747 landed smoothly with hardly a jolt to the passengers on board. They clapped loudly to show their approval of the smooth landing after the long overseas flight.

  The four hooded figures sitting in the back of the plane looked at one another. No one had to say a word. They were home. On American soil once again.

  “Showtime!” Kathryn hissed between clenched teeth.

  “We wait and are the last to disembark,” Myra whispered. “Heads down, hands inside our robe sleeves. Someone will be waiting for us once we go through customs.”

  Nikki tightened the corded belt around her waist just to have something to do. All she could think about was seeing Jack. Would the meeting take place within the hour or would it be many hours? She could barely wait for him to wrap her in his arms and whisper all the words she had hungered to hear these last long months.

  Annie was the first to stand up and adjust the heavy robe. “It’s midnight, you know. The witching hour. This is so exciting. Hurry, girls, there are people waiting to whisk us off to our next…gig. All right, Myra, our next assignment,” she said, seeing the scowl on her lifelong friend’s face.

  Twenty minutes later the women shuffled down the aisle and were on their way out to the terminal.

  Nikki led the way to customs, the others behind her. It was suddenly hard to breathe. Her gaze traveled everywhere, or as much as the hood to her robe would allow. No one said a word and it didn’t look like her little group was drawing much attention. Oh, Jack, where are you? I wish you were meeting us.

  Nikki stepped aside to allow Myra to be first in the customs line, passport in hand. Since they had nothing to declare, she hoped things would go fast and smoothly. The questions were simple, non-threatening, and then their passports were stamped and they were in the open. Waiting for them were two men from Harry Wong’s dojo. No words were spoken. They simply followed the men who were holding a placard that said PADRE MESSINA.

  The encrypted phone vibrated in one of the many pockets of Myra’s robe. She looked around to see if anyone was watching her before she clicked it on, even though a monk with a cell phone was not an unusual sight. How strange, she thought. She mumbled a greeting, then she listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line. When she clicked the phone shut she started to shake. Kathryn reached for one of her arms, Nikki took the other.

  “What’s wrong?” Kathryn grumbled.

  “A big problem.”

  “How big is big?” Annie chirped from under her hood.

  “Jack has to find a way to snatch Nellie and her four cats who are at this moment hiding in the tunnels at my farm. It seems Mitchell Riley does indeed have a plan to frame Nellie and Lizzie Fox. Lizzie is with Jack at Marie Lewellen’s house, which, by the way, is our final destination. We can’t go to Nellie’s now. In addition to that, the Fibbie director, Josh Carpenter, was involved in a near-fatal accident. He’s on life support and not expected to last till morning. But, that isn’t all. An anonymous woman called Jack and met him at Saint Theresa’s cemetery earlier this evening and left four huge boxes of Mitchell Riley’s files. Think shades of J. Edgar Hoover.”

  “The cemetery! Lordy, Lordy, this is just like in the movies,” Annie said as she climbed into a battered burgundy-colored van. “What’s our next move? Who is Marie Lewellen and why are we going to her house? Why am I out of the loop on these details? Shouldn’t someone have told me about this person, whoever she is?”

  “She shot and killed a man who killed her daughter. She did it right on the courthouse steps,” Kathryn said with an edge to her voice.

  “Well, I would have killed the son of a bitch myself. Is her house safe these days? Charles is big on safe houses. They always have safe houses in movies. That way everyone stays safe. Going right to the scene of a crime. How original.”

  Myra adjusted her hood as she looked at her friend. “I’ve decided that I really am going to kill you. Do not say another word, Annie. Not one word.”

  Nikki struggled to make sense of what she’d just heard. Something teased at her memory, but she couldn’t bring it to the surface. “Did Charles say what was in the boxes?”

  “No, he just said Jack had them,” Myra said. “But I’ll bet they are incriminating files about everyone in Washington. I’m sure there are extensive files on all of us. Who could hate the man enough to copy his files? Then you have to ask yourself how close that person is to Mr. Riley to even have access to those files. Charles seems to think Mr. Riley gets a seed of information and then creates a dastardly profile on the person he’s interested in keeping for his files. In other words, a recipe for blackmail. Remember those infamous files J. Edgar held over everyone’s head. People in this town were petrified of Hoover and his power. Charles is very concerned about what Riley may have on Nellie. Someone must have a very big hate on for that man. I wonder who it is,” Myra whispered.

  “It could be anyone close to him. Maybe a trusted agent who works under him. Since the files are in our possession I bet we could sell them to the highest bidder and make millions,” Kathryn said.

  “It has to be someone he trusts. Someone who is playing a devious game,” Nikki said. “I’ve heard he’s a womanizer. He had a fling…” Whatever else she was about to say came to a grinding halt when the driver of the van started to jabber in a foreign language into a cell phone. The passengers of the van turned mute as they huddled together.

  The driver’s companion turned toward the women and said, in accented but perfect English, “We will arrive at our destination in exactly one minute. This van will be backed into the garage and you will get out. We will then leave. You must be very quick. Do you understand?”

  “Of course we understand, young man, we’re not idiots. We’re very agile for our age, aren’t we?” Annie asked.

  In another minute, Nikki was going to see Jack. She sucked in her breath in anticipation.

  Their arrival went like clockwork. Annie leaped down from the truck like a gymnast, Myra right behind her. Kathryn went next, with Nikki being the last one out of the van. They were in the kitchen just as the door to the garage slammed downward.

  Nikki and Jack looked at one another, neither moving, nor saying a word. Then the world tilted and they were in each other’s arms in the suddenly empty kitchen. The kiss was soul burning.

  When they finally drew apart, Nikki gasped. “Oh, Jack, I missed you so much. God, how I love you!”r />
  Jack drew her to him again, too choked up to speak. She smelled like spring rain and summer sunshine even though she was disguised as a fat monk. He loved her more than life itself. He finally found his tongue to tell her so. “I can’t let you go again, Nik. I just can’t.”

  “I know, I know,” Nikki whispered. “It’s a good thing you’re here. We would have walked right into a trap. What’s going on? Has anything new happened? Who is picking up the others? There’s something I’m missing in all of this, something I can’t remember. I don’t know. It’s bothering me.”

  “Don’t dwell on it and it will come to you. Some little thing will trigger it,” was Jack’s advice. “Look, don’t be surprised when you see Lizzie Fox in the living room. She’s got a story but I’ll be damned if I know what it is. She’s as ornery as ever.” Linking their arms, they waltzed into the living room where the others were waiting for them.

  The four huge cartons containing Mitchell Riley’s files were piled up in the center of the living room. They looked intimidating to the four women staring at them.

  Lizzie Fox waved airily from a chair by the fireplace. A clear indication that she wasn’t really a part of the group.

  Harry Wong looked Myra in the eye. “What about Yoko and the others?” His voice and demeanor were every bit as intimidating as the four boxes in the center of the room.

  “Charles didn’t say anything to me so I assume everything is all right,” Myra said in her best motherly voice. “If changes have been made since we arrived, he hasn’t told me. I’m thinking they will be joining us right here in Marie’s house. Yoko will be fine, Harry.”

  Harry wasn’t buying it. “She better be.”

  Myra did her best to hold Harry’s bitter gaze. In the end she had to look away.

  “That’s what I thought. This is all screwed up,” he said.

  Jack finally released Nikki’s arm and moved toward the martial arts expert. “Ease up, Harry. We’re going to make this work. Right now you and I have to go get the judge.” He looked over at Lizzie and mentally apologized for karate chopping her.

  “I say we park out on the main road, hike in and go in like we belong. I’m clean and so are you, Harry. We can say we’re there to retrieve something or other. A letter, backdated by Myra, should cover our asses. I can get us in and out, Harry. I spent weeks up in a tree in the dead of winter with nothing to do but look around and watch.”

  Myra dithered as she tried to figure out what she could give Jack. “My Mercedes. The keys are in the kitchen drawer. The title to the car is in the top drawer of my little desk in the den. You can say I wanted you to have the car and now you need it because your car was stolen. Will that work for you, Jack?”

  “It will have to work. Why am I picking the car up in the middle of the night?” Jack asked.

  Myra pondered the question. “To avoid anyone seeing you and thinking you’re tied into the vigilantes. I don’t know for certain they aren’t monitoring my farm but if they are, they’re probably doing it from a distance, unlike the surveillance on Nellie’s house. There’s a lot to be said for being bold and brazen.”

  “Then when you leave the premises, burn rubber,” Annie said.

  “It’s a dark night so that will work to your advantage,” Myra told him. “The weatherman said it’s supposed to rain before dawn. We heard that on the radio on the drive out here. The rain will be good cover. Hurry, Jack, Nellie is probably frightened out of her wits. We’ll peruse these boxes while you’re gone. Wait, wait. I have to do the letter.” From the desk in the corner of the living room, Myra found paper and pen, scrawled a short note and dated it twelve months earlier.

  Harry followed Jack, but reluctantly. He looked ferocious. In Kathryn’s opinion, Jack looked even more ferocious.

  “I’m hungry,” Kathryn said once the men were out the door. “The food on the flight sucked.”

  “Fix us something, dear, if you don’t mind,” Myra said. “Be sure the coffee is strong. I’m going to call Charles. I hope we can discard these disguises. I’m very uncomfortable.”

  Nikki and Annie sat down cross-legged in the middle of the floor. Myra paced the living room as she spoke with Charles. When she finally clicked off the connection, the others looked at her expectantly.

  “The girls will take a taxi here. That will appear normal. People do take taxis at the airport. This house has gone through the real estate market three different times. The current owner of record is a woman named Carmen Matis, who travels more than she’s home. What that means is we’re safe here. There’s clothing upstairs in the closets. The pantry and the freezer, as well as the refrigerator, are stocked. The worst thing that can happen is we might have to sleep in shifts. Charles said Alexis’s red bag is on the way and should arrive early tomorrow. He waived the signature on delivery so the driver will leave the package by the front door. That means we can discard our disguises as of right now.”

  “That makes me feel better,” Annie said as she patted a cushion next to her for Myra. She started to tug on the latex molds on her feet and hands.

  Kathryn came out from the kitchen with a platter of sandwiches and coffee and set it on the coffee table before she turned on the television set to CNN. The women munched and sipped as they waited for word on the FBI director’s medical condition. A clip of Mitchell Riley standing outside the ICU with his hands pressed against the glass was probably heart tugging to some but not to the four vigilantes.

  “He’s good-looking,” Kathryn said, biting into her third sandwich.

  “He’s power hungry,” Myra said.

  “He’s an asshole,” Lizzie Fox said quietly from her chair next to the fireplace.

  “He looks like he’s crying but I think he’s acting. He’s probably praying for Mr. Carpenter to die so he can take over,” Annie said.

  The four women looked at Nikki to see what her opinion was. She frowned as she poked around inside one of the boxes. “It’s not just Riley. There’s something I can’t quite put my finger on. I agree he looks like he’s about to lose his best friend. I think these boxes hold the key to who he is and what he’s all about. Who hates the AD enough to give Jack all this stuff? Who? And why Jack? What does that person stand to gain by whatever is in these boxes going public? If we can figure that out, we might get a bead on what’s going on. It can’t just be capturing us, though that would definitely give Riley a gold star. He’d be the Bureau’s golden boy if he could haul us in. Lizzie, look alive here! Do you have any thoughts on the matter? Now’s the time to share them.”

  Lizzie looked from one to the other. “Well…”

  Chapter 21

  The doors locked, the draperies drawn, the sisters sat down in the middle of the living room floor. Kathryn brought in a cake and another pot of coffee and placed them in the center of the circle. The women dived in and didn’t come up for air until the last piece was gone and the coffeepot was empty.

  They were now minus their disguise and dressed in casual sportswear. All were in their bare feet. They were anxious and weary but knew there was work ahead of them and this was no time to relax. The alternative simply didn’t bear thinking about.

  Myra tapped her spoon against her empty coffee cup for attention. “I think we all know what’s in these boxes but we’re going to go through them, anyway. There should be a copy machine here in the house, probably the basement. We can’t have just one copy. If we’re compromised, and these files fall into the wrong hands, this city will implode. And, we’ll be locked away for the rest of our lives. It’s ironic that we’re the recipients of these boxes, but let’s start going through them. Kathryn and Annie can start copying them as soon as we finish a file. When we’re finished, we’ll have to find a way to get these files to Charles as soon as possible. If we have to charter a plane, then that’s what we’ll do.”

  Annie turned on the television, the sound level low. “In case there’s a report on the director’s condition,” she said.

  The ti
me was 2:10 AM.

  A light drizzle was falling when Jack parked the vehicle he’d driven from Marie Lewellen’s house deep in the roadside shrubbery. “We hoof the rest of the way,” he said, locking the car door. He tossed the keys to Harry. “Follow me and don’t talk.”

  Harry nodded as he swatted at branches and brambles. The drizzle escalated to a steady, chilling, soaking rain. He cursed in three languages under his breath. Jack grinned as he yanked at the collar of his windbreaker.

  Thirty minutes later, Jack held up his hand. “Okay, see that orange strip of plastic on that pine tree? That means we’re on Pinewood property now. Who the hell knows if the Fibbies have any surveillance out here, so stay alert. That dumb bastard Riley wouldn’t think twice about spending taxpayers’ money to keep watch on this place even though he knows in his gut the vigilantes are long gone.”

  The two men walked for another ten minutes, their sneakers making squishing sounds on the pine-needle floor of the forest. “See that tree? I spent weeks up in that goddamn tree with binoculars, watching the comings and goings of those women. I had shifts of guys doing the same thing. I used up all my personal savings paying them, in the hopes of catching those women in the act. Nothing worked. Now, we climb the tree and then leap over the fence. Yeah, yeah, I know it’s got the razor wire on it and it’s electrified, so unless you want to fry your ass, jump high and wide. The branch is strong so it will hold your weight. You can do it, right, Harry?”

  Harry growled something that sounded like, “Yeah, I can do it. The big question is, Can you do it?”

  Jack shook his head to clear off the rain from his already-soaked head. He wished he’d worn a cap of some kind. “Guess you didn’t hear me, Harry. I lived out here. I know these grounds like the back of my hand. I will say one thing: the minute I activate the electronic gates to drive Myra’s Mercedes through, an alarm of some kind is going to go off and Riley will know within minutes so, like Annie said, we burn rubber once we leave here. I’m not going to be able to slow down so you head for the bushes and run to the car we came in and drive it out of here. You’ll be in the clear. About five miles down the road there’s an auto body shop. Pull in there and we’ll mud up the license plates or switch them up. Whatever it takes to get clear of this place. Ready!”