3. Vendetta Page 18

  “We’re wearing pajamas. Someone dressed us. Look, there’s my clothes. Yours are over there on the other chair. Did you hear me, Jack? Some one saw our…Oh, shit!”

  Jack got up, surprised that he was no longer light-headed or dizzy. He walked around gingerly, Mark right on his tail as he made his way through the small house. “I know whose house this is. It belongs to the Lewellens. Son of a bitch! Those goddamn women outsmarted us!”

  “So what else is new? It’s not the first time, Jack. I think it’s time we gave up on this shit. Every time you get a brilliant idea we get shot down by those women. How the hell did you fall for it?”

  “Fall for what? You saw me, I was sick as a dog when I left the apartment. I just got sicker and Nik…Nik…drove me home.”

  “Does this look like home to you, Jack? She brought you here.”

  “Then how did you get here, smart ass?”

  “That grungy guy with the dreadlocks must have brought me here. See, it was a plan, and Nikki was in on it. We’re here, so don’t even think of disputing my theory.”

  Jack sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. “Make some coffee, Mark. Jesus, look at all that snow! And we don’t have a car. How the hell are we going to get out of here? Wait a minute, where’s the damn nurse?”

  “You mean the nurse in your dreams? How the hell should I know? I never saw a nurse. It might be a good idea to find out what day today is. Is there a television or radio anywhere? What about a phone?” Mark asked as he filled the coffee pot with water.

  A small ten-inch black and white television sat on the kitchen counter. Jack turned it on. “We’ve been here for three days and nights — four, if you count today,” he said, his voice full of awe. “They needed all that time to…to…to do something. They had to get us out of the way. We’re fools!”

  “Watch it with that we stuff.”

  “I wasn’t the one who let some scuzzball shoot a drug in my ass — you were. If you were that dumb you deserve whatever you got,” Jack snarled.

  “Oh, no, you were just the guy who let an old girlfriend work her magic on you. Five bucks says she drugged your coffee or whatever you were drinking. Then she plays Florence Nightingale and brings you here. How’m I doing, Jack? Talk about dumber than dumb.”

  “All right, all right, you made your point. But where’s the nurse? When did she leave?” Not bothering to wait for an answer, Jack ran to the front door and opened it. There wasn’t a footprint or tire mark to be seen. He ran to the garage door and opened it. No footprints, no tire marks. “Did she fucking fly out of here or go up the chimney?” he bellowed.

  When Jack returned to the kitchen, Mark was leaning against the doorframe, coffee cup in hand. “They snookered us, Jack. We’ve been out of circulation for three days. This is just my opinion, but I would guess the nurse, and I use the term lightly, left after she drugged us up for the night. There’s at least ten inches of snow out there and it’s still falling. We’re grounded, buddy.”

  “Yeah, looks like it. This isn’t the end of it, Mark. Far from it.”

  “Famous last words, Jack.”

  Twenty-One

  A wet, freezing snow — in fact more sleet than snow — was cloaking the arthritic-looking trees in the English countryside. Inside the house, which doubled as a private hospital, a doctor and nurse, both dressed in sterile white, looked out the window, their eyes full of concern at the weather conditions. In the background, shrill screams and curses could be heard.

  The doctor-nurse medical team never speculated or gossiped about their patients. They did, however, discuss medical issues. For the first time in three decades, the nurse looked up at the doctor and said, “I can’t wait till he leaves. He’s driving me insane with his screams. You’ll have to have me committed if the plane can’t leave tonight.”

  The doctor’s face was grim, his lips pressed into a tight line. “They’ll be committing two of us if the flight is cancelled. He should have quieted down an hour ago. He’s fighting it and it’s working to his disadvantage.”

  The heavy-set nurse, who had huge breasts, steel-gray hair and a ferocious expression, stomped her foot in anger. “Christmas is in two days. I want to spend the holidays with my family. The man was supposed to leave a week ago. They made a promise to us.”

  The tall, slim doctor’s face took on an expression of annoyance. “We’re healers, Maxine, not killers. He hadn’t shed all his scabs last week. His new skin needs to be treated. He’s screaming and cursing us because he itches. We’d be doing the same thing if we were in his position. The truth is, I doubt either one of us could deal with what that man is dealing with. I know I would be a raving lunatic by now. He refuses to accept the fact that we’re helping him.”

  The phone behind the couple began to ring. They looked at one another before the doctor walked across the room to pick it up. “Hospital,” he said curtly, and then listened. He gave the nurse a thumbs up, meaning the patient would be leaving as scheduled.

  The doctor broke the connection. “It seems our employers found a daredevil pilot who is willing to transport our patient. For a huge sum of money, I might add. Someone will be here to pick the poor guy up,” he looked down at his watch, “in exactly one hour from now. I have to get his paperwork ready and then I’ll help you to dress him. They want him unconscious when they arrive. We have to work quickly, Maxine.”

  “Where…where are they taking him? Do you know?” the nurse asked.

  The doctor looked up from the papers he was shuffling on his desk. “I don’t know and I don’t care. Nor should you. We’ve kept the man alive. He’s virtually healed, which means we did what we were supposed to do. If you want my guess, I’d say he’s headed for his homeland, China, and we’re headed home for the holidays.”

  That was the most personal conversation the medical couple had ever had in their long years of service together for Her Majesty.

  John Chai struggled with the restraints that bound him to the narrow hospital bed. He stopped cursing and shrieking long enough to stare at the nurse in her starched white pants outfit. “Give me something to stop this itching! I demand that you help me. What kind of medical person are you, you fat pig?”

  “I’m the kind of fat pig who is not going to give you anything to stop your itching. You need to be quiet. I suspect you’ve already harmed your vocal chords. Be a good lad and lie quietly and the itching will lessen.”

  “If it takes me the rest of my life I will find you and kill you. You and all those women who did this to me. Do you hear me, you fat pig?”

  “Yes, I do hear you. You don’t even know where you are or where you’ve been. So, how are you going to go about this?” the nurse asked as she opened the locked medicine cabinet.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll find you. My father’s people will find you. I never forget a face. I will kill you.”

  The nurse turned around, a hypodermic in her hand. She tapped the top of it. A small squirt of liquid shot out. “You big silly,” she said, a smile on her face. “You can’t scare me.”

  “Then you’re a crazy old fool. All women are fools. I’ll get even with every last one of you. That’s what you have to look forward to.”

  “If you don’t lie still, this will hurt. It’s your choice.”

  John Chai closed his eyes. He’d had enough pain. They weren’t killing him, and the nurse told the truth when she said they’d kept him alive. That had to mean that at some point he was going to be freed. Then it would be his turn for retribution. The Americans had a saying. What was it? He struggled to remember as the drug started to take hold. Oh, yes. What goes around, comes around.

  The nurse stood by the gurney in the entrance hall but her eyes were on the doctor who waited by the window, a manila envelope containing John Chai’s identity papers in his hands. There were two sets of papers — his real ones, under the name of John Chai, and a new set, compliments of Charles Martin’s people. Chai had left China under the name of Gan Jun and was return
ing under the same name. When he reached his final destination, he would be carrying his real papers, which would not show any entry or exit stamps of any kind. Further proof that he’d never left his country.

  The doctor moved quickly. “The ambulance is here, Maxine. Our car is right behind. It looks like you’ll be able to go to that sale at Harrods after all.”

  The nurse sighed. Until now, she hadn’t actually believed the ambulance would ever arrive. She took a quick look around. “Doctor, where is the package that Mr. Jun arrived with?”

  “Good Lord, I almost forgot about that.” The doctor sprinted over to a cabinet that contained office supplies and withdrew a package wrapped in shiny silver paper and a huge red velvet bow. A Christmas present, he surmised. He was glad he didn’t know the contents, for he was certain it wasn’t the kind of present he and Maxine would put under their Christmas trees. He placed it at the foot of the gurney.

  A blast of freezing air swept through the foyer. Two men dressed in heavy white snow gear entered, handed over a sheet of paper that the doctor scanned before he scrawled his signature at the bottom. He in turn handed over the manila folder and then pointed to the silver package. “Don’t lose that in transit. I think it’s important.” Both men nodded as they wheeled the gurney through the doorway and down the path leading to the ambulance.

  The nurse shut the door and said the same thing that she’d said thousands of times over the years when a patient left their hands. “Is the house secure, Doctor?”

  The doctor responded to the question the same way he’d always responded. “The house is secure, Maxine.”

  The old nurse looked up and twinkled. “Then let’s burn some rubber, Doctor. Harrods and my personal shopper are waiting for me.”

  Fourteen hours later, a cute-as-a-button Chinese nurse with an infectious smile wheeled her patient through Chep Lap Kok airport to customs. People stared and she smiled. She handed over her passport as well as Gan Jun’s. She giggled like a schoolgirl when the attendant moved the gurney to lead the way the moment the Christmas present, still at the foot of the gurney, was X-rayed and the gurney searched. In less than ten minutes, the gurney was loaded into a private ambulance. It roared off, sirens wailing.

  John Chai slept soundly as the driver raced to the countryside. On their arrival, the gurney was wheeled into the simple farmhouse. John Chai was transferred to a comfortable bed and covered with a thick down comforter. His papers, along with a wad of money secured in his own personal money clip, were placed on a wobbly nightstand along with the gaily-wrapped package. A fresh set of clothing, a shaving kit, toothbrush and cologne were placed in the makeshift bathroom. Enough food and drink to last three full days were in a cooler in the small kitchen.

  The little nurse, who wasn’t really a nurse, stripped off her latex gloves and stuck them in her pocket. “We’re secure, Billy. Time to leave. We have some calls to make. Mr. Chai will sleep around the clock. When he wakes he will have a major headache but will be none the worse for wear. By that time, I’ll be back in Washington and you’ll be back in New York.”

  The hospital attendant, who wasn’t really a hospital attendant, grinned. “Is it true the man hasn’t seen a mirror since his…accident?”

  The nurse shrugged. “I would assume that to be true since we were told to dispose of all mirrors when we rented this house. If you notice, there are no mirrors around. I just follow orders like you do. Personally, I couldn’t care less. It’s time to go, Billy.”

  The private ambulance was now transformed into a fish truck complete with decals on both sides. The drive back to Chep Lap Kok airport was uneventful as the nurse made call after call on her cellphone. At the terminal, Billy wiped down the fish truck. They separated when they reached the terminal.

  Neither agent looked the way they had on their arrival just a few short hours ago. Billy was dressed as a cleric. The young nurse was now a schoolgirl, complete with white socks, glasses, a ponytail and carrying a colorful backpack on her shoulders. She skipped along, following the crowd, blowing bubbles with the gum she was chewing.

  John Chai was back in his homeland.

  “Oh, this is so beautiful,” Kathryn said, as she eyed the elegant table in the dining room. “And the house smells heavenly. It’s all so perfect, Myra. I think I speak for all of us when I say thank you for everything. I don’t know what else to say. I never had friends like all of you.”

  Myra’s cheeks pinked up as she held out her arms to the small group of women who were now like daughters to her. “Merry Christmas to all of you! And there is no need for thanks. It is I who should be thanking you. And I do, from the bottom of my heart. Now, if you’re all as stuffed as I am from Charles’s wonderful dinner, let’s adjourn to the living room and that beautiful tree you all helped to decorate. Charles has a bottle of 1920 Dom he wants to share with all of us. And then I want to take some pictures of our little group. I knew you were all beautiful, but tonight proves it. You all glow and sparkle. Everything is so festive. You all look so festive.”

  Julia laughed, a genuine sound of mirth. “I think you’re trying to tell us something, Myra. We don’t exactly glow and sparkle when we’re in our work duds, and you’re right, we dressed up for you and Charles. It was the least we could do after all you’ve done for us. Christmas is always so special at Pinewood and it brings out the best in all of us.”

  “Let’s get to that Dom and the presents,” Nikki called out.

  “You haven’t changed a bit, darling. You and Barbara used to say the same thing when you were little. I always wanted the formality of a drink, wine for Charles and myself and Shirley Temples for the girls. It never worked.”

  “It’s not going to work this year either, Myra. Charles plays Santa and hands out the gifts. C’mon, girls, hike up those long, glittering skirts and take your places by the Christmas tree,” Nikki said gaily.

  They were like little children, even Myra, as they all picked a spot around the twenty-foot balsam tree and sat down. Charles, wearing a Santa hat, clicked his camera again and again before he set the timer and crouched down in the center of the women. “I’ll have copies made for everyone. Now, I must complete my duties and hand out the presents. Merry Christmas, everyone! May we have many, many more just as happy as this one!”

  They laughed, they cried, they poked and prodded one another as the gifts were opened. It was Alexis and Isabelle, however, who held the spotlight. Alexis wept when she opened a small square box that held a set of keys and the deeds to the house she’d lost when she went to prison.

  “Isabelle described the inside of your house and Charles and I did our best to duplicate it. I know, I know, there’s one thing missing. Murphy!” Myra called. “Please bring in our guest!”

  A golden blur streaked across the room and literally sailed across a pile of presents to land in Alexis’s lap.

  “Grady! Oh, my God! It is you! You didn’t forget me!” She looked up, her eyes full of tears. “How…Why…Oh, you dear, sweet people. Isn’t he beautiful? I never thought…How?”

  “We lucked out, dear. The officer who took him when you went to prison is being transferred. He wanted to give him back to you but didn’t know where you were. We’ve had him for a whole week,” Myra said, tears rolling down her cheeks at Alexis’s happiness.

  “Isabelle, it’s your turn,” Charles said, handing over a long, tube-shaped present.

  Isabelle tore at the gold wrapping and opened the tube. “It’s…it’s my license! How?”

  “Shhh. The how isn’t important. You’ve been reinstated. Congratulations!” Charles said.

  “Now, I think we’re ready for the Dom. I’ll get it,” Myra said, heading for the kitchen. “Charles, take more pictures.”

  In the kitchen, Myra set the crystal flutes on a silver tray.

  “Way to go, Mom. You’re some kind of Santa Claus. Merry Christmas, Mom.”

  “Oh, Barbara, now my Christmas is complete. How I wish you were here. I bought you a br
ight yellow snowmobile.”

  “I know, thank you. I was riding with Nikki when the girls took them out. That was so much fun. You look wonderful, Mom. I mean you look happy and contented.”

  “Life isn’t perfect, dear, but, yes, I’m happy and contented. I miss you terribly. Will you stand by me at the piano when we start to sing the carols? Nikki is going to play.”

  “I’ll be there, Mom. I’m always close by. Go ahead, they’re waiting for that bubbly.”

  Myra reached up as she felt something touch her cheek. Had she felt a stray breeze from when Charles opened the kitchen door? Or did her dead daughter kiss her cheek?

  “We’re waiting, Myra. I thought you got lost out here.”

  Myra smiled when she heard her daughter’s light laughter. Her first Christmas kiss. She looked up at Charles. “The only place I ever get lost is in your arms, dear.”

  “Now, that, old girl, is the best news I’ve had all day.” He patted her rump as they sashayed their way back to the living room.

  The others were waiting by the piano. Nikki was flexing her fingers. “This is the way we do it at Pinewood. First comes ‘Silent Night,’ then, ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ and we wind up with ‘Jingle Bells.’ If you don’t know the words, pretend you do.”

  Outside in the cold, Jack Emery stood behind the electronic fence. He could hear the piano and the sound of the Christmas carols. He’d never felt more lonely in his whole life.

  “Merry Christmas, Nik,” he said in a husky, choked voice.

  Thousands of miles away, in a rural farmhouse, John Chai prowled about like a caged animal. His new skin shivered in the cold, so he quickly dressed in the clothes that were laid out for him. He saw the Christmas present and the manila folder at the same time. He quickly shuffled through the papers and money, stunned to see that they were all in his name. He stuffed everything back inside the envelope before he turned to the glittering package. He opened it cautiously. The only thing in the box, nestled in among the folds of tissue paper, was a mirror. He picked it up and looked at himself.