Upside Down Read online

  “And he has, with Lizzie’s help, set us up so that BOLO is more than solvent. His contribution far outweighs what all of us put in the pot to buy this building, and that includes the equipment and the prepaid taxes and insurance. I want us to vote to give him a share just like ours in this building. Raise your hand to vote.” Every hand shot in the air. Dennis’s chest puffed out, his face pink with excitement at really belonging to this secret one-of-a-kind group.

  “Now, to salaries. I’m the only one without a job at the moment. I plan to work out of this office full-time. I’m not looking for a salary—Nikki and I are financially set—but I would like an expense account. Actually, I think we should all have expense accounts, which are not to be abused. I think, and tell me if you agree, that we should all take a small salary of five thousand dollars a month. If we don’t need it, we can pump it back into the business. I know I said I don’t want a salary, but Lizzie is the one who suggested the salary in case of an audit and to keep things on the up-and-up. We’ve set up a special fund for Avery Snowden and his people. We all know how much that costs from the times that Charles showed us the financials back in the day. It goes without saying that Snowden and his group of retired spies are worth every penny. Are you all following me here? Raise your hands if you agree.” Once again, all hands shot into the air.

  “Okay, moving right along, the bottom line is that money will be no object thanks to Dennis West’s generosity. In my office, I have a box of contracts for everything under the sun that were delivered yesterday from Lizzie. Before you leave, I’m going to need you all to sign each and every contract per Lizzie’s instructions. Any questions?”

  There were questions. The first was posed by Dennis, whose face was still pink from his compliments. “Are we a secret . . . you know, like a club that doesn’t take on any new members? I understand what BOLO means, but are we going to be the male equivalent of the vigilantes and do the . . . ah . . . ladies know what we’re doing? How secret is secret, and did Mr. Snowden sign on?”

  “By my count, Dennis, that’s four questions,” Ted said. All eyes turned to Jack Emery.

  “I guess you could say we are the male counterpart of the girls. I more or less . . . alluded to . . . certain things where the girls are concerned but I did . . .”

  “In other words, the answer is no, the girls don’t know,” Espinosa said.

  “Right!” Jack sighed.

  “So are we secret or not?” Dennis demanded.

  “How about this, kid? We’re secret until we get found out. Then we’ll figure out how to deal with it. Does that work for you?” Ted asked.

  “Yeah, Ted, it works for me. I know how to keep a secret,” Dennis shot back. “But my mother always said you need to be up front from the git-go, so nothing comes back to bite you. I don’t like to lie.”

  “No shit!” Everyone turned to the voice coming from the webcam. It was Bert Navarro. “Everyone lies at some point. Even that guy House on the television program says so. We aren’t actually lying; we just aren’t blasting out our business for the world to hear. If Lizzie Fox is okay with all this, then we’re good to go. Speaking for myself here, I’ve put together a kick-ass security team that makes the Secret Service look like rent-a-cops. I can actually count on them, so my time is free to travel back and forth when you guys need me. You did say we all had the use of the WELMED corporate jet. Win-win!”

  “Let’s be clear on something,” Abner said. “For the most part, we’re just doing pro bono work, which means we aren’t charging anyone for our services. I get the part about us stealing funds from the bad guys and using it for the good guys, but does that sum it up? Are you saying we’re going to be modern-day Robin Hoods?”

  “That’s a nice way of putting it, Abner.” Jack grinned.

  Harry Wong took a slug from his green tea and looked around the table. “What about Charles Martin?”

  Expectant gazes turned to Jack, who merely shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. He’s been gone for a whole year now. I asked Avery Snowden to look into it a month ago. Two days ago, he said he came up dry. Don’t forget, Charles was the best of the best in the spook world. If he doesn’t want to be found, for whatever reason, he is not going to be found. Other than that sighting in Vegas last year over Christmas, no one has seen or heard a thing. I don’t even know for certain that it was Charles. Everyone has a double.”

  “Yes, but then there was Fergus Duffy right there with him at the second sighting. That’s too much of a coincidence. And I, for one, have never believed in coincidences,” Ted said.

  The others agreed that they didn’t believe in coincidences, either.

  “We can’t worry about Charles. It was his decision to leave, so he has to deal with the fallout on his own. In case any of you are thinking that Avery Snowden is on Charles’s side, get that idea out of your head. Snowden goes where the money is. He is not unethical. He is as good as Charles is when it comes to clandestine affairs. We got to him first, so that means that whatever Charles is up to or doing, he has not recruited Snowden.”

  “So, how is this going to work?” Espinosa asked. “Do we report in each morning, what? Where are our cases going to come from? That sign outside our door doesn’t exactly imply we’re open for business or let passersby know what kind of business we’re in.”

  “Wait here, guys. Give me two minutes, and I’ll tell you.” Jack left the room and returned with a banker’s box full of files. “I . . . ah . . . borrowed these from the D.A.’s office before I left. They’re copies.” Jack removed the cover and pulled out twelve files. “These cases were all tried, two of them by me. I won both, but both are on appeal, and the scum will get off. I know it as sure as I know that I’m standing here. Ditto for the other ten. But for our first case, there is no file. I came by it via Harry, who got it from some of the FBI agents who train with him. It meaning a case if we want to take it on. If not, it will get swept under the rug because the guy is big-time. These other twelve are cases we need to check out to see if we think we can make it right for the good guys. Questions?”

  “I think Sparrow needs to tell you guys something,” Bert said from the webcam. “Go for it, buddy, and don’t be shy.”

  All eyes turned to Sparrow, who promptly stood and looked around the table. Then he laughed, a great booming laugh that was a surprise to everyone in the room. “Okay, here goes. Jack, I know you wondered why I’m dressed in my only good suit with a shirt and tie that actually match. Just for the record, they’re all new. Because . . . when I leave here”—he looked at his watch—“thirty minutes from now, I am meeting up with Lizzie, who will accompany me to . . . the White House!”

  “Whoa! Whoa!” Ted exploded. “I thought Lizzie wrapped that all up and got you beaucoup bucks when she sued on your behalf and won. For being wrongly imprisoned when those skunks you worked with at the FBI framed you. I wrote the damn article, telling about how the president herself personally apologized to you in front of the whole world, pardoned you, and made that big splash and asked you to go back to the Bureau. You turned her down. Are you saying that this president is going to rescind all of that?”

  “Nah, this president wants me to head up the FBI.” Sparrow laughed. Bert joined in the laughter from the webcam.

  “Oh, jeez, holy cow, and we just spilled our guts here! So now you’re going to arrest us all or blow the whistle on us?” Dennis exploded.

  Sparrow walked over to Dennis’s chair and patted him on the back. “On the contrary, young man. Think of me as your inside source. Think of me as a friend in a high place. Think of me as your ace in the hole. Think of me as the guy who will save your ass if you ever get arrested. But, I didn’t say I was going to take the job if it is offered to me. The president went through Bert to pave the way because, as he put it, he knew how I felt about the FBI after I put in twenty-five years of loyal service to have them turn on me, frame me, and send me to prison. Bert then went through Lizzie, and they arranged this meeting. So,
what I want to know from all of you is this. Do you want me to take the job, so you’ll have someone on the inside, or do you want me to pass on it? Makes no never mind to me one way or the other. A lot of the old regime is still there, so it’s not going to be a day at the beach for me, but I’m willing to do it for the cause. Your call, guys. In the interest of full disclosure, I feel I should tell you that back in September, I had a personal visit in Vegas from a VIP, and Bert can back me up because he sat in on the meeting. Scotland Yard sent an emissary to ask me if I would be interested in heading up the Yard. Both Bert and I were dumbfounded, so I told them I would give them my answer by the first of the year. I’m thinking the president got downwind of that offer, so he made his offer.

  “Before you can ask, I am Scottish. My mother was from Glasgow. My father was from Edinburgh, and my grandparents lived in Dundee. We moved to the States when I was ten years old. Other than that, I have no clue why they would pick me of all people. I was up front and told them about being framed and being in a federal prison. They said they already knew that.”

  Jack felt like he should look to see if his jaw was on the floor and needed to be picked up. “Man, that’s about the last thing I was expecting to hear.”

  Harry asked, “How do we know we can trust you?”

  “Because I said so. I also said it’s your call. I can step outside if you all want to talk about this. Or I can just leave now and promise you that whatever was discussed here in this room will never pass my lips.” Sparrow waited, his gaze expectant.

  Jack looked around at the others. “I’m okay with everything he said. Raise your hands if you agree.”

  All hands shot upward.

  “There’s your answer, Sparrow. As you said, in the interest of full disclosure, check this out,” Jack said, pointing to a minicam on top of the window treatment.

  Sparrow laughed. “I spotted that the moment I walked into this room. Why else do you think I picked this chair. It sure wasn’t because I’m photogenic. I wanted you all to know you have nothing to fear from me. Hell, I gave you a bundle of money. You have me dead to rights.”

  Harry leaned forward. “Or we could just kill you right now.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’m on your side. Look, I have to leave. As you all know, Lizzie does not like to be kept waiting. So, we’re good?”

  To everyone’s surprise, Harry spoke first. “We’re good. I think I speak for all of us.” The others nodded.

  The webcam came to life. “Good decision, guys. Gotta go; some high rollers just blew in. Have to get the red carpet ready to roll out. Time is money. See ya!”

  A round of hand-shaking followed, and then Sparrow was gone. The conference room stayed quiet for a few minutes. Dennis broke the silence. “I like that guy.”

  Jack pushed his chair over to the window, reached up, and removed the disk in the camera. “This goes in the safe. I’m sure we’ll never have to use it, but, like they say, never say never.”

  “Then how about we secure it in the safe at the Post?” Ted said. “Under seal.”

  Jack looked to the others, who were nodding. “That works,” Jack said. He handed the disk to Ted, who secured it in his backpack.

  “Okay, boys, let’s get down to business,” Jack said.

  Chapter 3

  After meeting with the president, Sparrow didn’t say a word until he was behind the wheel of his rental car. Lizzie Fox, his lawyer, sitting next to him, was humming under her breath. “Say something, Lizzie,” he said as he cleared a dark sedan to pull out of the lot where the Secret Service had told him to park.

  Lizzie waved her index finger around and smiled. She commented on the snow flurries and the ominous dark clouds overhead. Sparrow got the message instantly. Damn, he should have gotten the message before she did. Of course the Secret Service might have bugged the car. Safe conversation only. Like he didn’t know that. Crap, what was wrong with him this morning?

  An adrenaline rush was all he could come up with by way of explanation. It wasn’t every day a lowly civilian got to sit in the Oval Office with the president of the United States. Hell’s bells, never mind every day. Try like never, Sparrow thought to himself, his eyes on the road to see if any of the dark sedans favored by the Secret Service had pulled in behind him.

  Sparrow forced his thoughts in another direction. “I think we have time for me to take you for a quick lunch before we head to the airport. It’s the least I can do. There’s a great chili dive not far from here. When I lived here years ago, I hit it at least twice a week. Gotta tell you, though, you’re going to need a pile of antacid tablets after you eat it. They keep the antacid bottles by the cash register. I think they make as much money selling them as they do from selling their chili. You game, Counselor?”

  Lizzie nodded as she busily tapped away on her cell. “Flight’s on time. My husband Cosmo said he’ll be waiting at the airport. He misses me. Said Little Jack has a sore throat. I need to get home. Kids need their mothers when they get sick.”

  The conversation for the rest of the fifteen-minute ride to Red Hot Chili’s consisted of tales of Little Jack that made Sparrow laugh out loud. He was relieved when he swung into the parking lot and brought the rental to a stop. Always the gentleman, he hopped out and ran around to open the door for Lizzie.

  God, she was beautiful. Lizzie looked like a winter ice princess, with her long silver hair and long white coat. There was nothing lustful in his thoughts. Looking at Lizzie Fox was like looking at a rare, beautiful painting. The word perfection came to mind. He was glad he could count her as his friend as well as his attorney, all thanks to his boss, Bert Navarro. Sparrow gave her a quick hug, and said, “You were great. I don’t think I could have handled it on my own. I hate to admit it, but for the first time in my life, I was intimidated.”

  Lizzie laughed. “You would have done just fine, Jack. Was it the White House or the man himself? You know, President Quintera puts his pants on the same way you do. He brushes and flosses just the way you do. And I happen to know he orders takeout from the very same restaurant we are going to dine in. Martine used to order here, too. She told me she left a note for President Quintera telling him which restaurants were the best in the area for takeout when she left office. As for the building itself, well, you have as much right, possibly more, to roam those halls as he does. You pay his salary the same way I do. Martine Connor, by the way, gave me the very same speech when I first went there to work for her.”

  Sparrow held the door for Lizzie. A warm blast of air from a vent over the door shot downward. He looked around and realized he had his choice of tables. He ushered Lizzie toward the back, so that he would have a clear view of the door, just in case anyone was tracking them. It was a ritual he still practiced from his years of being a Special Agent for the FBI. Lizzie nodded her approval as she allowed Sparrow to help her off with her stunning white cashmere coat.

  Seated across from her at a round table covered in a pristine white tablecloth, Sparrow said, “You don’t order here. All they serve is chili, ginger ale, and crusty bread with homemade butter. Dessert is a special homemade blackberry cobbler served with vanilla ice cream, also homemade. You can get as many refills for free on everything as you want.”

  “My kind of place.” Lizzie giggled. “Cosmo would love this. Okay, down to business. The prez wants you, Jack. The job is yours. He’s already smoothed the path and rounded up the votes, so you are a shoo-in. I know you said you wanted some think time, but do you really want to wait two whole weeks before you say yes?” She held up her hand to have him wait until she was finished with her little speech. “I know that, for forever and a day, you will remember those three years you served in a federal prison for something you didn’t do. You can’t hold the president responsible for what a few rogue agents did to you. He’s trying to make it right, just the way Martine Connor did.

  “All the good guys are on your side, Jack. You can make a difference. But in order to do that, you have to
let the past go. Really let it go. Start fresh. Clean house. Right now, the Bureau is tainted; even the president said so. You can turn it around, I know you can. And that offer to head up Scotland Yard has everyone’s knickers in a knot. That alone has to tell you what you’re worth. So, why’d you tell President Quintera you wanted two weeks to think it over?”

  “Just being ornery, I guess. I like to start new projects at the beginning. January second will work for me. Besides, I didn’t want to appear too eager. I called the Yard early this morning and thanked them for their offer but said that I was passing on it.”

  Sparrow felt the special phone Jack had given him when he left the BOLO Building vibrate inside his pocket. He decided to ignore it since he didn’t know how much Lizzie was privy to.

  “Does that mean you want me to tell them you accept and will be ready to walk through the doors at 935 Pennsylvania Avenue, Northwest, on January second, or that’s when you want me to tell them you’ll take the job? POTUS does have some protocols he has to observe, but you heard him say they won’t pose a problem.”

  Sparrow looked down at the fiery bowl of chili a waitress had put in front of him. “I’ll report for duty on January second. God help us all,” he said, dipping an oversized spoon into a bowl that was as big as a Frisbee. He smacked his lips as his eyes started to water. Looking across at Lizzie, he couldn’t believe she had no reaction to the red-hot concoction.

  “I grew up eating chili like this. But this is nothing like what my dad used to make. His chili would singe your eyebrows off, that’s how hot it was. This is good, though. Anything else you want to get off your chest, Jack?”

  Sparrow looked across the table with watery eyes. Shit, she knows about BOLO. What to say, what not to say. He shrugged as he dabbed at his eyes with the cloth napkin in his lap. “Like what?” He ripped off a chunk of bread from the miniloaf and dipped it into his chili. “Do you mean am I going to stay here or head back to Vegas to wait out the time? I haven’t decided yet. Do I need to make a decision right now?”