Hide and Seek (The Sisterhood: Rules of the Game, Book 1) Page 5

“Where he always is at this time of the day, in the command center,” Yoko said, her voice as icy as Nikki’s.

  It was obvious to everyone in the room that neither woman had forgiven Charles for sending Jack and Harry back to the States. This frigid state of affairs had been going on for some time now, unnerving all the women.

  Kathryn, always the most brash and outspoken of the group, looked around. “There isn’t much to command these days. Isn’t it obvious that he’s hiding from us? He only appears for meals or when he wants to issue an order. This whole thing is taking a toll on all of us. We have to make some decisions or it’s all going to fall apart and then where will we be?” She tossed down the coffee-laced brandy in one long swallow and held out her cup for a refill.

  “By the way, Myra, where are you sleeping these days? Whose side are you on, anyway?” Kathryn continued to bluster as she downed her second cup. Murphy threw back his head and howled at his mistress’s tone of voice.

  Myra flushed. “On my side of the bed, dear. I’m on our side. Charles is not our enemy. Yes, he made a decision none of us liked, but he is…uh…running our little show. It wasn’t Charles’s fault that we got caught. I ask you all to please remember that. We willingly put our lives in his hands and he did the best he could under unbelievable circumstances. Emotions have been running high among us all and it has to stop. Charles sent Jack and Harry away for good reason, mainly their safety, and who better on the scene than Jack and Harry to keep us all up to speed. We have no other choice but to accept our circumstances. If any one of you feels you want to leave, that’s your choice. I, for one, trust Charles and I feel terrible that we’re treating him like a pariah. I would be remiss now if I didn’t tell you I am getting a little sick and tired of tiptoeing around all of you, weighing my words and trying to make things work. I really don’t mind telling you I dislike your…your…”

  “Pissy attitude,” Annie chirped as she came up with what she thought was one of Kathryn’s favorite words. She took a healthy gulp from the padre’s brandy jug to seal her statement.

  “Ah, yes, that pretty much sums up what I was trying to say.” Myra reached for the jug and took not one but two belts of the fiery homemade brew. Tears rolled down her cheeks but that didn’t stop her from taking a third swig. What little coffee that remained in the pot was ignored as the jug made the rounds and the wicked storm outside continued to rage.

  Two hours later, when the storm had abated a little, the sky had grown light and the padre’s jug was bone-dry, the women made their way to what in happier times they had called Charles’s Lair, or the command center, to make peace with their fearless leader.

  Charles looked up from the keyboard where he was typing out an encrypted message. He flinched at the sorry look on his beloved Myra’s face. He was certain she was the ringleader of this little expedition to the command center. A niggling voice warned him, “When in doubt, say nothing.” He waited.

  Kathryn offered up a sloppy salute of sorts before she flopped down on one of the padded swivel chairs. “We’re reporting for work,” she said, slurring her words.

  “Yes, dear, we’re…tired of studying and training. We want…we need—” Myra stammered.

  “Action!” Annie said. “Where we”—she bent over to whisper in Kathryn’s ear and then said triumphantly—“kick ass and take names later.”

  The women all giggled and clapped their hands.

  Charles mustered his courage and finally found his tongue. “So, am I to understand you all came down here to apologize for your surly attitudes for these past months?”

  Nikki tried to focus her gaze on Charles. “Don’t flatter yourself, Charles. We are not here to…ap…a-pol-o-gize.”

  Kathryn waved her arms about as Murphy whimpered under the table. “What that means, Sir Charles Martin, is this. We are done crawling under razor wire, we are done with French and German verbs. We are NEVER going to go on another five-or ten-mile hike. Never, never, never. We decided…What did we decide, Isabelle?”

  “To go our separate ways and take our chances with the authorities.”

  “After we kill you,” Yoko said simply.

  “Oh, my dear, that is so harsh. Do we really want to do that?” Myra asked, hiding a smile.

  “Hell, yes,” Annie said spiritedly. “We’re more than capable of running this operation ourselves. We’re women.”

  They hooted their pleasure at their newest recruit’s words and high-fived each other.

  “Well, Charles?” Alexis demanded.

  “Might I make a suggestion, ladies?”

  “Suggest away. It doesn’t mean we’ll follow your suggestion,” Kathryn said.

  “It’s obvious none of you is in any condition to absorb what I want to tell you at this moment. What I suggest is this…Take a nap. Come to me when you are clearheaded. I have our next mission in the works. It will mean we have to covertly sneak back into the United States. And, yes, you will see Jack and Harry, and I understand there is a gentleman who is most anxious to meet up with you, Kathryn. Agent Navarro. It seems when he met up with you in California, your eyes mesmerized him. He also said you were ‘all woman.’ Very refreshing in his line of business. It seems he is enamored of you. Now, that’s all I’m going to say. Run along, girls, and let me get back to work.”

  Myra forgot how angry she was with her true love. She asked, “Are we really going to go home again? Is it safe?”

  Charles didn’t respond to the question. Instead, he made shooing motions with his hands as the women formed a single-file line and left the command center, mumbling among themselves.

  “He better not be blowing smoke up our butts,” Kathryn said. “Would you really kill him, Yoko?”

  Her curt response sent shivers up Kathryn’s spine. “Yes.”

  On the other side of the world, Judge Cornelia Easter was doing what she always did on the first Monday of every month for years and years: take her two younger sisters and two cousins, all of them Benedictine nuns, to lunch at the Dog and the Duck restaurant near the courthouse. Two priests from St. John’s parish would join them shortly. She always made sure her court calendar could accommodate this private time that she cherished.

  As she ushered her guests through the wide double doors, she smiled and waved to friends and colleagues. The hostess made small talk with the nuns as she led the way to the reserved table at the back of the restaurant.

  These four nuns had opted to retain their black “penguin habits,” preferring them over the modern dress that was now optional for nuns. A practicing parishioner, Judge Easter approved of their decision. She held court now, catering to her guests, asking them what was going on in their lives and what if anything she could do to help them. She encouraged them to order shrimp, scallops and lobster, knowing they didn’t eat such luxurious foods at the convent.

  The “penguin parade,” as Judge Easter referred to her little party, was a staple in the nation’s capital. It was not at all unusual to see all of them at the movies, at the ice skating rink, visiting art galleries, shopping in the malls, and taking long walks and picnicking in Rock Creek Park. Often, if time and everyone’s schedule permitted, it was not unusual to see twelve or so nuns and four or five priests enjoying the judge’s hospitality and generosity.

  The perfect cover.

  Two hours later, the judge presided over the departure of the religious folk, making sure the nuns were safely settled in a taxi that would take them to Catholic University where they were attending an afternoon seminar. The priests from St. John’s said they were stuffed and would walk back to the parish house. There were fond hugs, kisses and arm waving before the judge walked in the other direction, back to the courthouse.

  All were oblivious to the presence of the Post’s roving reporter, Maggie Spritzer.

  Two hours of hearing motions and Judge Easter could head out to the farm. She could hardly wait, knowing a phone call from across the world would be forthcoming.

  Tomorrow court was
dark, so she would have a day off to do nothing or to do something. The phone call would let her know which.

  Chapter 8

  Jack Emery eyed the numerals on his watch as he willed the special cell phone in his hand to ring. At two minutes past five, the phone buzzed. He immediately clicked it on, knowing it was Nikki. “God, I miss you!” he blurted.

  “I miss you more,” Nikki said sadly. “This is so hard. We’re coming back, Jack, but not for good. Something is going on. Charles is on top of it but he hasn’t shared the details. A week from tomorrow. I’ll be in touch again to arrange things before we leave.”

  “Jesus, Nik, is that wise? I want to see you so bad, but if you’re going to be in danger, don’t even try for a comeback. I was going to try to make it over there at the end of May for a few days. Is there something I should know? Don’t keep me out of the loop.”

  “Charles hasn’t seen fit as yet to tell us. All I know is it has something to do with Lizzie Fox.”

  “Well, this is your lucky day, Nik. Lizzie tracked me down at the gym this morning and told me someone was trying to kill her. I thought she was pulling my leg but I did listen to her. Special Agent Bert Navarro just happened to be at the gym at the same time. What do you suppose that means? Lizzie called yesterday but I didn’t return her calls. I played the game. She said she knew I was one of you and pretty much said the same thing about Judge Easter. She scared me, Nik. What the hell is going on?”

  “The FBI has been watching her. That means they now know she was talking to you. For all any of us know, she could be one of them. Watch your back, Jack. Listen, as you know these calls are limited so I have to hang up. I love you, Jack, more than you will ever know.”

  Jack wanted to cry when the line went dead.

  A week and he would see her. Seven days. He wished he were a mathematician so he could compute the hours, minutes and seconds in his mind. Maybe he’d do that tonight when he got home. With a calculator. That was later, though; right now he needed to call Harry.

  He picked up the office phone and called Harry’s dojo. “Hey, short stuff, can I come by and get a workout? I got sidetracked this morning and only got a few minutes on the treadmill. I’m kind of stiff. See you in fifteen minutes.”

  Jack raised his right hand and flipped the bird to anyone who might be watching him. Go ahead, you bastards, listen to my phone calls, follow me and then kiss my ass.

  In the middle of the lobby, his garment bag over his shoulder, his gym bag in hand, he ground to a stop when he saw a woman approaching him.

  Jack glared at Maggie Spritzer. “You!” he spat.

  Judge Easter, a double bourbon in hand, two of her four cats in her lap, leaned back into the easy chair that hugged and caressed every bone in her arthritic body. The chair had been a gift from Myra, made especially for her. There were many nights when she slept in the chair to wake more refreshed than if she’d slept in her own bed. She looked at her watch and then at the special phone that had come in the mail months ago. A gift from Charles.

  Nellie Easter leaned back and closed her eyes. Never one to doubt herself or her decisions, she let her mind wander. Since the death of her daughter in a fatal head-on car accident, she’d barely managed to get through the days. Now, though, she had a purpose, a reason to get up in the morning. When Myra recruited her, over a year ago, she’d agreed willingly to join the Sisterhood, agreed to try to right wrongs, agreed to break the law, all in the interest of justice. She’d also willingly agreed to delay her retirement so she could keep her hand and ears in the game. So far, it was working out perfectly.

  She had been stunned the day Myra and Charles had brought her here to what was then called the Barrington Farm and told her it was all hers. Myra had handed her the deed tied like a scroll with a bright red ribbon. How she’d cried that day.

  She’d always been the poor one. Myra and Annie both had fortunes of their own while she’d had to work for everything. A judge’s salary didn’t necessarily allow for a life of luxury. Still, she’d managed to put her only daughter through college and law school without incurring any debt. She had a savings account that was far from robust but enough to let her live comfortably.

  Nellie knew that her financial situation never entered either Annie’s or Myra’s mind. They were friends. That was all that had to be said. Both women had been such a comfort to her when her daughter was killed. Without their help she knew she would be in some mental hospital. Yes, she owed Myra a lot, and Annie, too.

  The special phone buzzed to life and Nellie’s eyes popped open. The cats in her lap stirred and began to purr. Myra sounded like she was speaking from the next room, not from the other side of the world.

  “It’s good to hear your voice, Myra. Has something happened?”

  “We’re coming back home. Just for…just to…You know what to do, Nellie. Make the arrangements, perhaps a special birthday surprise, something along those lines.”

  Nellie’s gnarled hand that was stroking one of the cats started to shake. The cat stopped purring and jumped off her lap. His partner followed suit. “Are you sure, Myra?”

  “Charles is sure. One week from today. He said you were to go to the farmhouse and turn on the computer if you aren’t there now. Be careful, Nellie. Please tell me you aren’t having second thoughts.”

  One of the cats leaped back up on the chair and then to the headrest where she nuzzled her little head on Nellie’s shoulder. The judge calmed almost immediately. “No second thoughts, Myra. How are things over…? What I mean—”

  “Tense. A little stressful. Annie, bless her dear heart, is having the time of her life. The girls are…Well, what they are is—”

  “Pissed to the teeth?”

  “Well, uh, yes, that would about sum it up. Have you seen Jack, Nellie?”

  “In a restaurant. We said hello but not too much more. Did something happen that concerns him?”

  “In a manner of speaking. He was seen talking to Lizzie Fox. It’s my understanding she followed him to the gym where he works out in the morning.”

  Nellie sucked in her breath. “And you know this…how? Never mind, I don’t want to know. Why would I even ask such a silly question? Living on top of a mountain thousands and thousands of miles away in Spain should be a walk in the park as far as gathering information in the United States goes. Are you all right, Myra? I worry about you. At night I find myself looking out the upstairs windows hoping to see lights on in your house. I miss you, old friend.”

  “I’m fine, Nellie. I will admit I am worried about the girls. They’re cranky and they’re picking at each other. A revolt is imminent. I tried to tell Charles you can’t tamper with young love but he didn’t listen. I’m sure we’ll be able to deal with it all. Let’s go over it all one step at a time. This is what you have to do and you cannot deviate one little bit. Tomorrow you will…”

  It was a slow day in the Post newsroom. For some reason spring didn’t bring much in the way of news. Maggie Spritzer swivelled around to eyeball Ted Robinson. “I hate this inactivity. It’s your fault, too. I hate everything today, Ted, even you.”

  Ted eyed his running shoes. Not that he did much running these days. These days he was relegated to the position of gofer. All the good assignments were going to more senior reporters, his boss’s way of punishing him and Maggie for screwing up the scoop on the Sisterhood’s capture.

  Ted raised his eyes to stare at the woman he loved and hated. He didn’t bother to respond. He’d said it all before, just as Maggie had said it all before. He wasn’t about to rock any more boats. He needed this job. If he had to suck wind for a few more months, that’s exactly what he would do. Sooner or later he’d get downwind of a big story and he’d go back to being a real reporter again.

  “Did you hear what I said, Ted? I hate you.” When there was still no response, Maggie countered with something she knew would drive him nuts. “Have you heard from Jack lately?” She waited and was disappointed. “C’mon, Ted, talk to m
e.” She nervously picked at her cuticles and her nails that were bitten to the quick. No response.

  Maggie swivelled around, her eyes full of tears. Their relationship was going to hell and nothing she did or said was helping them get back on their old footing. Maybe it was time for her to move on. The thought saddened her unbearably.

  Her slumped shoulders jerked upright when Ted said, “Jack used to be one of my best friends. I should have given him a heads-up that we were going to scoop the arrest of the Sisterhood. I owed him that much. But, you said no. Everything went sour after that. When you play fair, things work out, and if for some reason they don’t, you at least know you did it the right way.”

  “And this is all my fault. Is that what you’re saying?”

  Ted sat up straighter in his chair, his gaze circling the newsroom. He hoped to see a friendly face, but no one would look at him. No one wanted to associate with a loser, and he and Maggie were both losers in his colleagues’ eyes. He cursed under his breath.

  “Yeah, Maggie, I’m saying it’s your fault.”

  Maggie was glad she wasn’t facing her roommate, her lover, her best friend. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. Somehow or other she managed to make her head bob up and down to show she’d understood. As soon as she could get herself under control, she’d head back to the apartment she shared with Ted and his two cats, Minnie and Mickey. She’d gather up her stuff and move back in with her parents until she could find an apartment of her own. She wondered if Ted would even notice that she was gone.

  Maggie looked down at her weekly schedule and wanted to barf: covering the local Brownie cookie sale, the Boy Scouts’ dog show, checking out a new brand of peat moss the garden club swore was the reason for the bumper crop of azaleas this year. Real heavy-duty reporting. Ted’s schedule was worse than her own. She wiped at her eyes, blew her nose and turned around to offer up a smart-ass response, but Ted’s chair was empty. She blinked away more tears as she reached for her backpack and jacket. She wished now she had told Ted about seeing Judge Easter the other day. She didn’t know why she thought it was worth repeating to Ted. Maybe it was her reporter’s instinct kicking in. All she could remember was a shiver of excitement at seeing the judge in such a civilian situation.