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  Myra frowned as she got up to get the dishes out of the cabinet. “I’m still going to worry, Charles.”

  Charles laughed as he reached down to remove the turkey from the oven. “I know, old girl!”

  Twenty minutes later, Myra and Charles heard the air horn on Kathryn’s rig as she whipped through the electronic gates. The others followed close behind. The monster gates closed with a loud banging sound.

  Myra’s eyes lit up like stars. “They’re here, Charles! Even Annie. Our girls are here! Everyone is safe and sound! I hear Grady and Murphy barking. Here they come!”

  Jack Emery jerked at the collar of his overcoat as he walked against the wind. He was on his way to the last place on Earth he wanted to go. As he rounded the corner on his way to the Squire’s Pub he heard his name called.

  “Hey, Emery, slow down,” Mark Lane shouted to be heard over the wind. “I oughta kick your ass for calling me out on a night like this. I hope you know the roads are icing up. What the hell is so damn important that you arranged this little meeting? Why couldn’t we just have a conference call?”

  “Stop whining, Mark. So what if the road ices up? The roads are supposed to ice up in February. This is February. Why do you care, anyway? You walked here.”

  “I’m not whining. I’m pissed that you called me out on a night like this. I know I’m not going to like whatever the hell is going on. Days like this I wish I didn’t know you. You’re like a fucking magnet to disaster and don’t deny it,” he sniped. “How’s Nikki?”

  “As far as I know, she’s fine. Why wouldn’t she be?” Jack asked as he burrowed his neck deeper into the collar of his overcoat. “But to answer your question, no, you are not going to like what’s going on. Robinson and Spritzer are back in town. They’ve been meeting with the DOJ and the FBI.”

  “Oh, shit!”

  “Yeah, oh, shit!” Jack struggled to get his breath against the driving sleet. “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find out someone has a few questions about that last computer program you wrote for your ex-bosses at the FBI. You know, the one you can hack into whenever you feel like it.”

  “Oh, shit!”

  Instead of commenting, Jack slammed against the door of the Squire’s Pub and blasted into the steamy watering hole filled with lawyers and young women in short skirts sporting deep cleavage. As he craned his neck to see over the crowds, Mark wiped at his steaming glasses.

  “They’re in the back,” Jack said, shouldering his way through the laughing men and women who were looking to hook up for the cold night. “Just listen, Mark, and let me do the talking. Whatever you do, don’t get pissed off. Just look bored. Tell me you understand everything I just said.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Who’s paying tonight?”

  “Robinson, since he called this meeting. Eat hearty because he probably has an expense account.”

  Jack could tell with one look that the ex-Post reporter was in an ugly mood. His partner, Maggie Spritzer, looked like she was in the same ugly mood. The ugly moods didn’t seem to be affecting either reporter’s appetite as they chowed down on ribs, baked potatoes and coleslaw with a slab of hot bread that was a foot long and oozed butter.

  Both men slid into the booth the moment they removed their soggy coats. Mark immediately held up his hand to signal a waitress and ordered quickly. Jack shook his head and ordered a beer. “You have barbecue sauce on your nose, Ted.”

  Ted Robinson shot Jack a hateful look and ignored the comment as he clamped down on a dripping rib.

  Jack settled into the booth and decided to wait out the reporter. His gut told him coming here was a mistake.

  The Squire’s Pub was the kind of place where secrets were told, rarely kept, and assignations were the order of the day. The decibel level was at an all-time high, so secrets remained secrets. Waitresses in skimpy shorts and spandex tops hustled and flirted to ensure a good tip. Nikki had told him once that on a good night a waitress at the Squire’s Pub could earn three hundred bucks. She’d gone on to say every night was a good night at the pub. Nikki had explained she knew this because she’d represented several of the waitresses in a discrimination suit against the owners. A suit she’d won.

  It took a full ten minutes for Ted to finish his ribs, wipe his face and clean his hands with a moist Towelette before he leaned back in the booth and eyeballed Jack. “The fibbies are requesting your presence at the Hoover Building tomorrow at ten.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes. Like he didn’t know this was going to happen. “Really.”

  If Ted had hoped for a better reaction, he was disappointed. He tried again. “The DOJ wants you in their offices at two tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I’m busy tomorrow. I’m busy the day after and the day after that. Look at me, Robinson, you don’t want to go where you’re going with this.”

  Ted settled his lanky frame more comfortably in the booth. One of his long legs brushed against Jack’s ankle. Jack kicked him hard. Ted winced but ignored the kick. “Don’t shoot the messenger, buddy.”

  Maggie was busy sucking on a bone, as was Mark. They appeared to be oblivious to the conversation but Jack knew their ears were tuned to every word.

  “Hey, Mister Reporter, what are you doing back in the DC area? I heard you were banished to the Big Bad Apple. As in New Yaak City,” Jack said, his eyes glinting dangerously. He watched as Maggie tossed her bare bone into a bucket on the table. She licked at her sticky fingers before she reached for a Towelette.

  “How about I missed your ugly face, you son of a bitch. You and that herd of criminals out there in McLean were the reason Maggie and I went to New York. It wasn’t like we had a choice, as you well know. It took us a whole year to realize we hate New York. We love Washington, DC, so we decided to come back. In order to do that we had to get ourselves some protection. As in FBI protection.”

  Mark stopped eating long enough to guffaw at the statement. It was his one contribution to the evening’s festivities.

  Maggie was digging at her fingernails with the moist towel, her head lowered. Jack thought he saw a tremor in her hands. He noticed a momentary spark of fear in Ted’s eyes. It was gone almost immediately but he relished what he’d seen.

  Jack tilted his beer bottle and swigged. “Are they any match for the shields? Those guys never go away. There’s a whole new crew these days and they are bad-ass mean. You maybe want to think about that a little.”

  Ted’s facial muscles tightened. “I told them everything!”

  Jack’s stomach tied itself in a knot. “Did they give you the magic decoder ring for your efforts or did they just promise 24/7 protection for you and the little woman?”

  “Go ahead, be a wiseass. When they throw you in the slammer you’ll be begging me to write your side of the story and I’ll tell you to go fuck yourself.”

  Jack finished his beer and plunked down the bottle on the wooden table. Then he leaned across the table and grabbed Ted’s shirt with one hand and a hank of Maggie’s hair in the other, yanking them toward him. His face was mean and ugly when he hissed, “Cause me one moment of grief and I’ll kill you myself. I know how to do it, too. That 24/7 protection of yours will be worth shit. I’m leaving now. Give my regrets to your buddies. Watch your back, Robinson. That goes for you, too, Maggie.”

  Mark already had his coat on and was threading his way through the swarm of bodies that was six deep around the bar.

  It was still sleeting outside. Jack drew a deep breath. He looked up at Mark. “Well?”

  “I think they got your nuts in a vice, Jack. If Ted spilled his guts, and there’s no reason to believe he isn’t telling the truth, they’re going to go after you. Look, I’ve been out of the Bureau for a while now. I’m just a programming geek. No one is going to listen to me. If I could help you, I would. Ah, shit, you want me to hack into their files, is that it?”

  Jack hiked up his wet collar around his ears. “You told me yourself you wrote the programs, installed the firewalls and created a
back door that no one would ever find because you’re so goddamn smart. Now’s your chance to prove it. Robinson has no hard proof. None. Call me tomorrow and let me know what you find out.” He watched Mark walk off into the dark night. Now, he could shiver and cringe. The FBI he could handle. The DOJ was something else entirely. Maybe it was time to have a little heart to heart with the shields who were still dogging him night and day. Sometimes he almost forgot about them. Other times they were front and center, a reminder that he was breaking the law right along with the Ladies of Pinewood.

  Jack moved away from the entrance and looked into the steamy pub. The crowd around the bar had shifted to be closer to the three-piece combo that was belting out something he’d never heard before. He had a clear view of Ted and Maggie arguing. He watched as the redhead belted him on the arm, her mouth going a mile a minute. Ted appeared to be sucking up her abuse, his face miserable. Satisfied that things were going to get ugly in reporter land, Jack hiked back to the office to get his car.

  Fifty minutes later, slipping and sliding all over the road, Jack parked and walked the three blocks to Nikki’s house in Georgetown. He spotted the dark sedan two doors up from the house. He stopped, rapped on the window and said, “No, no, don’t get out, it’s nasty out here. Tell your buddy Charles or whoever the hell pays your salary that Ted Robinson is back in town. Funny how you guys missed that. Anyway, Robinson issued me an invitation to meet with the boys in the Hoover Building and the DOJ offices tomorrow. Now, I know you guys don’t want me spilling my guts to every Tom, Dick and Harry who issues invitations, so squelch it. If you don’t, things could get a little rough, if you get my drift. By the way, what’s with this 24/7 protection our government is offering those two reporters? I have a good mind to write or call my congressman and complain. You need to take care of that, too, otherwise I’m going to have to shoot the son of a bitch myself. Have a nice night. See you in the morning, you big lug.”

  “Listen, Emery, who the hell…?”

  But Jack was already sprinting up the steps to Nikki’s house and was out of earshot.

  Chapter 2

  They were a happy group as they hugged and kissed Myra and Charles. The dogs barked happily, delighted to be in the kitchen with all the tantalizing aromas and belly scratching afforded them. Within seconds, the young women were mashing potatoes, setting out the salad and making the gravy while Charles carved the delectable bird and Myra poured wine. Within minutes the feast was on the table. Charles offered up the blessing before the dishes made their way around the table at the speed of light. They all talked at once, manic about how good it was to see everyone after a year’s absence. Myra positively glowed. Annie soaked in everything like a sponge, a smile on her face. Even Charles had a twinkle in his eye.

  There was no doubt about it, the Ladies of Pinewood were a united family.

  And then it was time for dessert, a creation called Bananas Charles that he’d doused in brandy and set on fire with a minitorch, then spooned into crystal dishes.

  Yoko stood up and clapped her hands for attention. “Alexis is going to have a new suitor very soon. He plays football! That’s my news.”

  It was all the women needed to hear as they pummeled the lady with the Red Bag of magic tricks. Alexis blushed furiously as she shook her fist in Yoko’s direction. Finally she gave up and said, “Girls, this guy is so hot, my toes curled up! He said he’d call. I met him at a filling station when I was getting gas.”

  Myra winked at Annie, who was so mesmerized that her mouth dropped open.

  Isabelle focused on Yoko and said, “And how is the romance with Harry Wong going, little miss?”

  Yoko groaned. “He is in Japan for trials. He will return with much money and many trophies. The romance is…is…”

  “What? Give it a name, girl! We want the full year’s worth of details,” Kathryn said.

  “He is very…athletic.”

  “What exactly does that mean?” Isabelle demanded in her most motherly voice.

  When Kathryn asked if “athletic” meant doing it while swinging from a chandelier, Charles, his face a rosy pink, excused himself.

  Nikki giggled. “Be precise, Yoko.”

  Annie looked around the table knowing that the others expected her to say something. She’d been welcomed into the little group but she knew she was on probation. She wanted desperately to fit in, to make Myra and the others proud of her. “Sex is wonderful. I remember one time…”

  When the tale was finished, the others gasped.

  “Way to go, Annie! You are my kind of gal!” Kathryn said, getting up and walking around the table to slap her on the back.

  Annie glowed like a beacon remembering what Myra had told her earlier—which was, if Kathryn welcomes you with open arms, you are in. At that moment she felt like she could take on City Hall and come out the victor.

  In thirty minutes the kitchen was tidied, the dogs fed, the dishwasher purring. Arm in arm, the women made their way to the living room and the magic bookshelf that opened to reveal a set of stairs that would take them to what they called the Underground War Room.

  Today Julia Webster’s chair no longer sat in the corner. Today it rested next to Myra’s chair. Annie waited for the others to sit. Myra held on to her chair and said, “Welcome to the Sisterhood, Annie.”

  Annie nodded and said, “I want to thank all of you for welcoming me to the Sisterhood and allowing me to participate in whatever way I can.”

  The women reached across the table to take Annie’s hand, their show of acceptance.

  “Ladies, ladies, it’s time to get down to business. Is there any old business we need to discuss?” Myra asked, calling the meeting to order.

  Nikki twirled a pencil in her fingers. “I hate to sound like a broken record but is there any news on the Barringtons? They were, after all, my mission that we had to abort.”

  Myra looked at the young lawyer, her adopted daughter, and said, “Actually, dear, there is news and it’s tragic. Three weeks ago Charles received a communiqué from Germany. It seems Miss Barrington and her companion were killed in a car crash on the Autobahn. She was driving at a speed of 130 miles an hour. It was a fiery crash and both parties could only be identified by their dental records.”

  Myra wasn’t surprised when no one looked pained or in grief over the two deaths. Then again, why should they be surprised? The Sisters considered the Barringtons scum of the earth for mistreating and then leaving a herd of horses on their ranch to die. The Barringtons had been Nikki’s mission but the ugly couple disappeared before her mission could get under way. No, there was no remorse at the Barrington’s demise. “There is other news. Judge Easter has moved into the farm right on schedule. At this moment in time, we are the only ones who know this. Nellie,” she said, using the judge’s nickname, “is keeping her apartment in town and does stay there occasionally. And Isabelle is going to be written up in Architectural Digest. Of course the day they photograph the farm, Nellie will be in town. I just thought you’d all like to know about Isabelle’s achievement.”

  The women all clapped their hands the way they did each time one of their own was singled out for praise. Five minutes of congratulations worked wonders for Isabelle, who preened like a peacock.

  Myra took center stage again. “Before we get down to Yoko’s mission, Charles has a few things to tell us. I know you’ve all been wondering why we had to postpone Yoko’s mission for a whole year. There was a very good reason but I’ll let Charles explain it all to you.”

  Charles stepped down from his perch high above them where he reigned as king behind a solid bank of computers. He carried a bright yellow folder in his hands.

  Nikki felt a sense of fear as she stared hard at the man she considered a father. She knew he was going to say something that she and the others weren’t going to like. She risked a glance at the others and decided they felt the same way. She turned her eyes away and looked up at one of the 60-inch monitors where Lady Justice overlook
ed them all.

  Charles cleared his throat. “It’s been an incredibly busy year, ladies. But so much was accomplished in that time frame that I think you will all forgive the delay. But before I get to my overseas ventures I need to apprise you all of a few things. The two reporters from the Post, Maggie Spritzer and Ted Robinson, are back in the District. Much to my chagrin, I might add. That particular situation is more or less under control for the moment. Mr. Robinson obviously had a lot of spare time on his hands while in New York and diligently worked his computer. On his return, he paid a visit, along with Miss Spritzer, to the NSA. I’m sure you all remember him. Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing what went on during that visit. However, a few days later, Mr. Jack Emery was called into the Hoover Building and the DOJ offices. Mr. Emery flat-out denied any and all allegations that the two reporters put forth. It turned out to be a case of he said versus they said. The National Security Advisor, as I understand it, is backing up the two reporters. Mr. Emery was left to swing in the wind on his own.”

  Charles walked over to stand behind Nikki’s chair. He put the yellow folder on the table and then placed his hands on her shoulders. “We are not, I repeat, we are not going to allow Mr. Emery to swing in the wind. If you like, we can all pretend we don’t know Jack has been Nikki’s informant but I say we bring it into the open and work from there. I also want to say at this moment that love, trust and loyalty are wonderful things.” A second later the thin chain around Nikki’s neck and buried under her sweater was in his hands. A small diamond winked in the overhead light. “No more pretending. Put the ring on your finger where it belongs, Nikki.”

  Nikki burst into tears as she removed the ring and slid it onto her finger. “The others know, Charles. I told them. We would have gotten caught twice if Jack hadn’t helped us. Oh, God, he’s lying to the Department of Justice and the FBI. We have to do something.”