Читать книгу Fast Track - Fern Michaels - Страница 11

The women looked at one another as they trooped into the Big House, where Charles was waiting for them. They chatted among themselves about how different it was here on Big Pine Mountain. In the beginning when they first formed the Sisterhood, meetings were held in the tunnels beneath Myra’s farmhouse in McLean, Virginia, because it was essential that the meetings be kept secret. Then, when they moved to the old monastery in Barcelona, the meetings were conducted in the same manner, in the catacombs beneath the monastery.

Here on Big Pine Mountain, the meeting they were about to attend was held in Charles’s computer room. The physical room looked different from the tunnels and the catacombs, but as usual, the equipment was so high-tech it would have been the envy of the CIA or the White House.

The windows afforded a clear view of the pine forest and the helicopter pad. The chairs were deep and comfortable, the plasma televisions huge, and the temperature on the cool side because of the special computers Charles worked on around the clock.

The women settled themselves in the chairs, their eyes on the bright red folders in Myra’s hands.

Time for business.

The women slid their chairs closer to the table as they steeled themselves for what was to come. The rule was, Myra handed out the folders, but they were never opened until Charles gave the signal. First came an update, then the monster TVs were turned on so that Lady Justice could oversee the meeting.

It was always a sobering moment when Lady Justice appeared because the women knew what they were doing was illegal. When the legal system failed those in need, when there was nowhere else to turn, the Sisterhood stepped in and served up their own brand of justice.

They were about to break the law. Again. This time for money. It was a first for them. They’d carried out nine missions with funding from Myra and Annie’s vast store of wealth. While they were accepting money to do this particular mission, they weren’t keeping it. Or as Kathryn had said, “We’re playing the role of modern-day Robin Hoodettes.”

It was Annie who’d said that simply taking the money meant they had crossed the line and become guns for hire. Then she went on to say, “And why not? We’re the best at what we do, and if we can rectify a wrong with our expertise, why not take payment? Then, by giving the money away it makes it a win-win situation for the Sisterhood.” Before she finally stepped off her soap-box, she’d said, “And screw anyone who doesn’t understand.”

The women offered up a standing ovation. Even Charles clapped his hands in approval.

The women now waited expectantly for Charles to end the call he’d just taken. They eyed the red folders now resting on the table in front of Myra. All of them noticed that they were thick folders.

Murphy and Grady got up and paced the room. The women frowned. The dogs were picking up on something. Possibly the tension in Charles’s shoulders. The dogs had been fine before Charles’s special phone buzzed to life.

As one they knew it was a glitch. A problem of some kind. And the mission hadn’t even started.

The moment Charles snapped the phone shut, the women sat up straighter. Myra picked up the folders. Nikki looked around, expecting a starter gun to pop announcing the beginning of a race. All she could think of was seeing Jack again. Within days. Just days. She closed her eyes, imagining how it would feel to be wrapped in Jack’s arms and to kiss him with all her pent-up hunger. She almost swooned at the thought.

“Ladies!”

Nikki and the others snapped to attention as Myra slid the folders across the table. Charles pressed the remote control in his hand. Front and center on the plasma screen was a life-size picture of Maxwell Zenowicz, the president of the World Bank. He was tall, with a swarthy complexion and an impressive comb-over. He wore sunglasses that were too small for his hawklike face. Whoever had taken the picture had captured him in midstride. He was nattily dressed, his shoes buffed to a high shine. The Halliburton briefcase held tightly in his hand. It looked like he was about to enter the World Bank.

The next picture appeared to be of Zenowicz exiting the building. The sun had moved off to the west, so it was later in the day but still daylight. He still looked just as nattily dressed, but he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. He had small, hooded eyes.

The third picture was of Zenowicz entering the Fast Track watering hole.

Charles cleared his throat. “Mr. Zenowicz likes to socialize after work with the little people. Complete with his security force. He enjoys…uh…bellying up to the bar and buying rounds for all the lovely ladies who are gathered there. Prior to the opening of the Fast Track, Mr. Zenowicz walked several blocks to an establishment called the Capitol Grill. He orders a scotch on the rocks. Sips a little, never finishes his drink. He smokes but not in public.

“Mr. Zenowicz does not like to be called Max. His wrath is quick to be displayed if some friend or underling refers to him by any abbreviation of his name. It’s a well-known fact that he likes to be called Mr. President. As you can see by the pictures, he dresses impeccably. He wears an impressive watch and his college ring. Married once. Ugly divorce. Wife will be more than cooperative if you feel the need to speak with her. Children, grown, lead their own lives. He is not included in their lives. He likes to socialize as long as he’s the center of attention. He particularly likes young ladies. Early twenties. He showers them with gifts, flowers, trinkets. He drives a Bentley. He bought it brand-new last year for $300,000. He doesn’t drive to work. He takes public transportation. The Bentley is kept in a heated garage, and he takes it out on the weekends. On occasion, if there is a VIP in town, he will pick them up personally at the airport in his Bentley. Any questions, ladies?”

“How old is he?” Alexis asked.

“Fifty-nine. He had a birthday two weeks ago. He threw himself a huge birthday party. The guest list was long and distinguished. Cost $50,000. It’s a known fact that people in Washington don’t like the man but they attended the soiree to get their names and pictures in the paper. I’m quoting now from the Post.”

“Does he have any other residences aside from the Watergate?” Isabelle asked.

“Actually, he does. He has a condo in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. He also has an apartment in the Dakota in Manhattan, and there’s a chalet-type getaway he visits from time to time in Hilton Head, South Carolina. His wife got the house in the Hamptons and the boat. Excuse me, the yacht. She also received an impressive settlement that ran into the high eight figures. Mr. Zenowicz did a bit of snapping and snarling, I’m told, when the judge awarded Mrs. Zenowicz a handsome alimony. He pays it on time but grudgingly. Mrs. Zenowicz is what we in England used to refer to as ‘top drawer.’”

“Where did the money come from?” Myra asked. “I’m assuming all this happened before he took the office of president of the World Bank? If the man has that kind of money, why does he have to pilfer the money earmarked for poor, starving countries?”

Charles shrugged. “To some people a hundred dollars is a lot of money. To other people a million dollars is the end of the rainbow. Still others think a hundred million isn’t enough. But to answer your question, he inherited a small fortune, which he turned into a very large fortune in the stock market. He was heavy into the dot-com area and got out in time but that’s basically where he became a multimillionaire. He also had the good fortune to be an only child.

“If there are no more questions concerning Mr. Zenowicz, then we’ll move along to our next series of pictures. Open your folders and turn to page five.”

The women opened their folders and flipped the pages.

“Whoa!” seemed to be the consensus when they looked down at the glossy photo staring up at them.

Annie pursed her mouth like she’d just bit into a lemon. Then she sniffed. “Obviously, the woman has been surgically enhanced. None of what I’m seeing could possibly be real.”

“From top to bottom,” Yoko said.

“An easy seventy grand,” Nikki said.

Myra gasped. “That much, dear?”

Nikki grinned. “Yes. She’s too chiseled, too sculpted, too perfect. The boob job alone is about seven grand, maybe more, depending on the reputation of the plastic surgeon. Maybe some liposuction. Full face-lift. Eye job. The teeth are a dentist’s dream. All caps. At least forty grand for that smile. Collagen in the lips. Nose job. Take a good look at the picture in the folder. This woman is not young. I put her in her mid-forties.”

“Why would someone pay that much money to be sliced and diced?” Myra fretted.

“Earth to Myra,” Annie said, waving her hand up and down in front of Myra’s face. “To look like that is the reason. You’re missing the point, she didn’t look like that before she went under the knife. I think you’re wrong, Nikki, I think she’s closer to fifty, perhaps a little older.”

“Is she Zenowicz’s main squeeze? If so, I guess he paid for the…enhancements,” Kathryn said.

Charles tried to hide his smile. “She’s one of several…main squeezes, as you put it, Kathryn. But she’s the only one he pays the bills for. This particular woman used to be a dancer in Las Vegas. She…uh…migrated to Washington after a meeting with Mr. Zenowicz last year. She now works as a liaison at the World Bank. The European Commission in Belgium, to be precise. She travels back and forth. She’s well paid. Her hobby is shopping.”

“What does that mean, ‘well paid’?” Yoko asked.

Charles riffled his papers. “Her salary is $240,000 a year. She has a limousine at her disposal when she is in town. It’s a perk she insisted upon. It’s my understanding the lady has a very pleasing personality. She could very well be a nice person caught up in something she didn’t anticipate. Be kind in your thoughts until you can prove otherwise.”

“And what does she do to earn that astronomical salary?” Isabelle queried.

Kathryn uttered a very unladylike snort. “Well, it’s obvious what she does. Kinky stuff. I’d like to see her résumé.”

Charles had a hard time keeping a straight face. “Turn to page twelve.”

The sound of the flipping pages was the only noise in the room.

“She speaks three languages besides English!” Kathryn said in awe.

Alexis burst out laughing. “Yeah, Brooklynese, Southern Belle, and kitchy coo. It says right here in her résumé she was born in Brooklyn. She moved to Atlanta for a while, then Vegas. No college degree. Where did she learn those three languages if it’s for real? I stand by my assessment.”

“Maybe she takes shorthand and types,” Myra said.

Nikki looked at her adopted mother with disdain. “With those nails! They’re like spikes.”

Myra looked properly chastened. “So, dear, what you’re saying is she earns that rather large salary being Mr. Zenowicz’s…paramour, is that correct?”

“Oh, yeah,” the women chorused.

“Ladies, ladies, enough of this jocularity. Miss Rena Gold is your access to Mr. Zenowicz. It would behoove you to make nice. Mr. Zenowicz has some top-notch security, which he pays for himself. Those rather large men who followed him into the Fast Track establishment are his daytime security. He has a total of eight guards, who rotate every other day. Pictures of each guard are in your folder along with what is known about each man. I want you to familiarize yourself with all of the guards. Each one of the men is licensed to carry a firearm. I can’t as yet confirm this, but there is every possibility that, unbeknownst to Mr. Zenowicz, Miss Rena Gold has had several dalliances with one of the security guards. As yet that has not been proven. What is proven is she has no female friends. At least none that we’ve come across.”

Kathryn snorted again. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Several more pictures of fresh-faced college girls appeared on the screen. Each one prettier than the next. In a word, wholesome, girl-next-door looks. “Two of the girls go to Georgetown University, two go to Catholic. At the moment, none of the four is of major importance.”

Charles cleared the screen on the plasma TV and took a deep breath. “What I’m about to show you next is not pretty, so all of you, take a deep breath. What you are going to see are pictures of the two countries that never received the funds Zenowicz promised.”

Picture after picture appeared on the huge screen, making it all the more horrendous. Starving babies, hollow-eyed mothers, emaciated fathers, dying grandparents. Naked toddlers eating dirt, their stomachs as huge as watermelons.

The women looked away, tears streaming down their cheeks. Charles wiped at his own eyes as he pressed his remote, and, blessedly, the screen turned black. “If you have even one qualm, one iota of distress that you’re doing the wrong thing by taking on this mission, those pictures should allay all your fears. What say you all?”

Nikki was the first to speak. “I’ve always thought that we here in this great country should take care of our own first. I still believe that. Ten million dollars is a vast sum of money, so let’s take a vote right now. Five million dollars stays here so we can do what we originally planned. The other five million goes to the World Food Bank with proper supervision. Or we could build schools. Any number of things. Five million dollars in countries like that will go a long way. If our mission is successful, then the monies earmarked for these two countries will get the people the help they need. Our contribution will be like icing on a cake. Do you all agree?”

A chorus of ayes resonated throughout the room. Not to be outdone, Murphy and Grady barked their approval.

“When do we start?” Annie asked.

“As soon as I get everything in place,” Charles said. “Manpower is crucial in this mission. I need a full day, possibly a day and a half, before I’ll be comfortable sending you into the lion’s den.”

“How are we going to get into D.C.?” Kathryn asked.

Charles smiled. “You’re going to drive, but first I have to secure a base of operations. In order to do that, we need vehicles that are untraceable, and we need new identities that are foolproof. It all takes time, ladies.”

The women muttered and murmured among themselves as they accepted their dismissal and left to go outdoors into the bright sunshine.

They headed toward the pool and the shaded patio, where they all sat down. Annie offered to fetch ice tea. Before starting to talk about the mission, they waited for her return by discussing the gerbera daisies that lined the pool area.

The moment Annie returned with the ice tea, they got down to it.

“The way I see it, we’re outta here in around thirty-six hours,” Kathryn said. “That cuts down our time. We all know we’re going to hit a few snafus along the way, so I say let’s get down to the dirty end and make some plans.”

“And we have to come up with a suitable punishment. One that fits Zenowicz’s crime. I’m really going to enjoy making that weasel squirm,” Nikki said, the light of battle in her eyes.

They talked of other things then as they waited for Annie to return with a second tray that held glasses and a plate of brownies.

“I wonder how Lizzie and Maggie are doing,” Alexis said.

“What really surprises me, knowing Washington the way I do, is that there was no big ruckus in the media when Pearl Barnes resigned and her longtime lover disappeared,” Isabelle said. “Perhaps ‘disappeared’ is the wrong word. I guess the politically correct verbiage would be to say they moved on with their lives. Lizzie’s resignation, as well as Maggie’s, should have stirred up some kind of controversy. And let’s not forget that scummy ex–son-in-law of Pearl’s.”

“As individual cases it would mean nothing except to a few close friends,” Myra said. “Taken as a whole, if anyone was astute enough to put it together, like, say, Ted Robinson, it could mean trouble for all of us. Nellie is in the clear and minding her own business.”

“Jack and Harry say nothing is going on in town. Washington in the summer is pretty much deserted except for tourists. If there was trouble brewing, Jack would know,” Nikki said.

The others watched as Annie poured ice tea generously into crystal glasses that matched the pitcher. “Did you all say anything exciting while I was gone?”

“Only that Ted Robinson is a pimple on our asses.” Kathryn grinned.

“Why don’t I buy the Post? Then we can fire him,” Annie said.

The women stared at Annie until she flushed a bright pink. Her voice was defensive when she said, “I have enough money to buy the paper. The price is no object, if that’s what it takes to get the man out of our hair.”

“You’re a fugitive, Annie. You can’t go around buying up newspapers,” Nikki said.

Annie sipped at her tea. “There are ways around everything,” she responded airily. “Isn’t that right, Myra?”

Myra’s right eye started to twitch as she fingered the pearls around her neck. “Yes, there is a way around everything. At least that’s what Charles has been saying since we formed the Sisterhood. Although Charles has been known to be wrong once or twice,” she said vaguely.

“This tea is very good. Not because I made it, girls, but because I made it with simple syrup. My husband taught me how to make proper ice tea the way they do in the South. I really think my idea is a good one.”

“You’re brilliant, Annie,” Kathryn said. “I need to think. What if we started a rumor that the Post was going to be bought up by…let’s just say for now, an undisclosed buyer who wishes to remain anonymous. Wouldn’t that be a hoot if in the end, when things got down to the wire, it gets out that somehow, some way, the vigilantes own the paper. Just think about that! That’s providing Annie and Myra are right, and there’s a way for Annie to buy the paper.”

Myra’s hands fluttered as she grappled with her pearls. “My goodness, imagine all that free press! Should we tell Charles about Annie’s brilliant idea?”

The women as one jumped at her words. “Why?”

“As a courtesy,” Myra said lamely.

A wicked gleam appeared in Annie’s eyes. “There’s a lot to be said for the element of surprise. I think that’s a no.”

To Annie’s delight, the women high-fived one another.

“So, Nikki, dear, perhaps you should call Jack, who can then call Mr. Robinson and plant the rumor. By the time we get to Washington, that will be all the big news. In the meantime, I will call my people to see if anything can be done. If not, we’ll still have fun with the rumor,” Annie said, beaming from head to toe.

“Annie, you are a genius. An absolute genius,” Kathryn chortled.

Nikki started to laugh and couldn’t stop. Finally, she asked, “Can you just see all those political types, all those D.C. social climbers, going berserk wondering if the new owners will be on their side? Priceless. Kathryn’s right, Annie, you are a genius. I’m going to call Jack right now and tell him to start the rumor. Remember now, mum’s the word where Charles is concerned. At least for now.” She doubled over laughing again as she punched in the numbers to Jack Emery’s cell phone.