Chapter 16
The sisters were tense as they tried to while away the hours until midnight, at which time they planned to make their move. They alternated between their suites, muttering and mumbling among themselves, as they stared out at the early-evening rainy day. All four televisions in the suites were tuned to various channels: Fox, QVC, the shopping channel, and a station carrying reruns of Castle. No one was paying attention to anything on the screens, even though they were staring at what was playing out in front of them. Only Maggie was off by herself, busily tapping away on her laptop.
The time was two minutes to eight and it was almost dark outside. On cue, as if some unheard bell had rung, the sisters all moved as one. They met up in the middle of Annie and Myra’s sitting room, where Alexis was pawing through her red magic bag of tricks for what she called the evening’s upcoming festivities. Only Maggie remained outside the circle, still tapping furiously on her laptop.
“I wish I had a magic wand so I could move time forward,” Isabelle complained. The others agreed.
“We could tidy up here and get rid of all our trash from the two meals we ordered in. We can’t leave anything behind because we are not coming back. If you like, we can do another rehearsal, girls,” Myra said.
“What’s to rehearse, Myra? We’re going in blind and will be winging it. How do you rehearse something like that? We’re going to take the stairs while Kathryn scouts out the utility room, where the main electrical breakers, or whatever you call them, are. At least that’s the plan for now. It could change. Annie is going to pick the Forresters’ lock with the aid of a penlight. How do you want to rehearse that?” Nikki asked, irritation ringing in her voice.
“Well, dear, when you put it like that, I guess there is nothing to rehearse,” Myra said. “We’re all on edge, so let’s just try to calm down since we still have hours to go.”
A whoop of sound ricocheted through the room as Maggie literally catapulted into the room. “Wait till you hear what I have! I should get a medal for this!” she continued to shout.
“Well, damn, girl, share,” Kathryn said.
“Okay! Okay! Do you all remember my telling you about Carlie Mason, my colleague at the Sentinel? She got us coverage for the Garland article. I e-mailed her and asked her if she could dig out some information on the building where Arthur Forrester lives. She came through in spades. I just uploaded the schematics to your phone, Kathryn. You’ll know exactly where to go when we get there to do whatever you have to do on the power grid.”
“That’s great, Maggie. Going in blind does have its disadvantages.”
“What else did your friend tell you, dear?” Myra asked.
“Plenty. I have the skinny on the whole building. It has sixteen floors. Five of the sixteen have seven condos. Those are floors three, six, nine, twelve, and fifteen. The other eleven floors just have six condos, because the seventh space is used for a laundry room, a room with a huge ice machine, and a third room for a utility room. Arthur Forrester lives on the ninth floor, one of those that houses seven condos. Carlie managed to dig out the ownership records, and I have them right here. In addition to that, she Googled all the owners and was lucky enough to Facebook all of them. It’s all right here!” Maggie said, pointing dramatically to her laptop. “She was good enough to compile a summary of each tenant from what she got off their Facebook pages. Believe it or not, the Forresters are the only ones who do not have a Facebook page. Guess they are not into social media.”
“Are we going to like what you tell us?” Annie twinkled.
“Oh, yeah,” Maggie drawled. “You ready for the good news?”
“We are soooo ready, you cannot believe,” Yoko all but screamed. “Just tell us!”
“Okay, here goes. First I’ll tell you who the condo owners are. And then I’ll give you their Facebook histories. Inga Kitchel is an airline hostess for British Airways. Mimi Davis is one of the owners, and she’s retired. Jacob Little is also retired. Martha and Clement Carlton are a married couple. They’re also retired. Angela Evers is also retired, and the last owner is a guy named Kurt Meyers. And, of course, Arthur and Nala Forrester. Jacob Little, Mimi Davis, the Carltons, and Angela Evers all paid cash for their condos. The others have mortgages, including the Forresters.
“Their Facebook pages are interesting. According to Carlie, the retirees spend a lot of time Facebooking kids, grandchildren, friends in other parts of the country. Inga Kitchel spends, if she’s lucky, two nights a month in her condo. She bought it for tax purposes, according to what she told friends. She has several boyfriends in different parts of the world. She’s young, thirty-three. Pays her mortgage on time. She has a snappy little BMW sports car she keeps in the garage.
“Mimi Davis is a grandmother. She spends a lot of time on Facebook with her kids and grandkids. She appears to have something going on with Jacob Little. She just alludes to it. She wears two hearing aids. Her grandkids tease her about not calling because she can’t hear on the phone. It seems Mr. Little also has two hearing aids, so maybe that’s what drew them together. Both are in their late seventies. Mimi tells her kids that she goes to bed at eight o’clock at night, except the nights she and Jacob Little play bingo at their church. Little likes to play poker on the Internet and spends a lot of time at it. He goes to sleep early, too. I do not know if the two of them are sleeping together. It doesn’t say anything about that on Facebook.” Maggie giggled.
“The Carltons are world travelers. That appears to be their job in life. They return for the Christmas holidays to spend time with their kids. They leave again right after the New Year and don’t come back till the next Christmas. Their Facebook page is full of pictures of their travels. As of two days ago, they were in Russia.
“Then there is Angela Evers, who spends some of the year in Florida. From her Facebook page, she’s single, but has tons of friends. She is a retired schoolteacher. She comes back around Easter and stays through Christmas, then leaves to go to Florida to spend the winter in a warmer climate.
“The last owner is a thirty-eight-year-old bachelor with ‘bookoo’ girlfriends. He is rarely at the condo he owns. He’s a pharmaceutical rep and on the road five days a week. He bragged on Facebook that last month he did not spend a single night in his own bed.
“What all this tells us is tonight should be a piece of cake. Talk about lucking out here. It looks and sounds to me like the only people who will be on the floor are Mr. Little, Ms. Davis, and Arthur Forrester. Maybe Kathryn won’t have to turn off the power. Think about it, the two seniors go to bed early. No one else is there unless the bachelor happens to be spending one of those rare nights at home, which sounds most unlikely. His last post was last evening, and he said he was in Rhode Island for the next few days. It’s not Easter yet, so Evers is still in Florida. The Carltons are wherever they are, someplace in Russia, according to their last Facebook posting, and won’t be back till Christmas. That leaves Kitchel, and she’s in Denmark, or at least she was as of yesterday morning. That’s it!”
“What a wonderful treasure trove of information, dear. Thank your colleague for us. It would appear we will have no interference this evening. But bear in mind, one never knows, the young yuppie man might suddenly decide he wants to sleep in his own bed for a change. Ms. Kitchel might be landing at the airport right now and looking forward to an evening in her own home. Any number of things could still go wrong. I don’t think we should assume anything at this point,” Annie admonished the others. The sisters all agreed.
“Did your colleague share anything else about the building?” Alexis asked.
Maggie looked down at her computer. “It was built in the fifties. Very well maintained. It was originally apartments that were converted to condos. Maintenance fees are on the high side. Security is so-so. Nothing elaborate. You need a Medeco key to get in the front door. There is a reception area with someone at the desk twenty-four/seven. The mailroom is on the first floor. Small seating area, that’s about it. It’s not top of the line, but nor, by any stretch of the imagination, is it shabby. I guess the Forresters felt they fit in there.”
“So, do I turn off the power or not?” Kathryn asked.
“Off the top of my head, I vote no,” Nikki said. “What about security cameras on the different floors? If they have them, who monitors them? Who owns the building?”
“According to Carlie, there has never been any kind of reported incident at the building. There was/is a security camera on each floor, located by the EXIT sign. But most of them do not work, and that is supposed to be the main topic of conversation at the next condo association meeting, a meeting that virtually no one goes to. No one ever shows up, because the meetings are always about being assessed for some improvement or other. I guess it’s something they don’t consider too important. Carlie got that information from Mimi’s Facebook page. Of all the people on the ninth floor, she seems to be the most vocal. Guess it doesn’t matter that she can’t hear, as long as she can talk.
“Carlie was unable to dig up information about who owns the building on such short notice. I don’t see that it matters one way or the other, do you?”
“No,” Yoko said. And the others nodded in agreement.
Alexis patted her red bag, which was sitting in front of her on the floor. “Just to be on the safe side, we can still spray-paint the lens of the camera. Sounds to me like we’re good to go.” The others concurred.
“Good work, Maggie. At least now we won’t be going in blind. We will have to be quick, though. And stealthy,” Nikki said.
“And how are we going to get him out and down to the garage? What did we decide to do about the garage opener?” Kathryn asked.
“We didn’t decide. If it’s like most underground garages, like the one we have at the Post, you can walk around it, and it’s a tight fit, so Yoko, who is the smallest of us all, will have to do it. There’s a button on the bottom you can press that will keep the bar open in case a truck making a delivery has to pull through. I don’t foresee a problem, especially that late at night,” Maggie indicated. “Oh, one other thing. I remember seeing something in one of Avery Snowden’s reports that the Forrester condo would go silent, meaning the television would go off after the eleven o’clock news. That has to mean Forrester goes to bed at that time. I think our timing is spot-on, all the way around.”
“I am seriously starting to get excited,” Annie whispered to Myra, who was staring down at the vibrating cell phone in her hand. It was Charles.
Myra held up her hand for the sisters to go quiet. She pressed the SPEAKER button so the girls could hear both ends of the conversation.
“Hello, dear.”
Charles cut to the chase. “What is going on, dear?”
“Not much, dear. We’re all just sitting here listening to the rain. We still have some time till zero hour. Did you call to tell me you miss me?” Myra asked, tongue in cheek.
“I’m calling to tell you I’m worried about you girls. Fergus is worried, too. We are both upset that you . . . terminated Avery. That was not a wise move on your part, Myra. And just so you know, Avery handled the termination better than I thought he would. You girls need to give some consideration to how invaluable he’s been to all of us over the years.”
“Really. He should have thought about that before he left us to fend for ourselves. Well, I am happy to report we have it all under control, and we even found someone to replace him. His fees are on par, and he comes highly recommended. You might even know him, dear.”
Charles chuckled. “Myra, you know as well as I do that there is no one out there who can replace Avery and his team. He’s the best of the best. The queen still calls on him from time to time. So who is this mysterious person you think can take Avery’s place?”
“His name is Nigel Bly. I have to go now, dear. It’s time to leave. Do not call me, because I’m turning off the phone the way we always do as each mission gets under way. The way you taught us to do it.”
Kathryn’s fist shot high in the air. “Way to go, Myra!” The sisters clapped their hands in glee. Myra beamed.
“We still have a few more hours to while away,” Annie said. “Whatever shall we do?” she asked dramatically to ease the tension in the room, which was so thick you could slice through it with a butter knife.
“Back to the boob tube,” Nikki said.
Finally, three hours later, blessedly, as Annie put it, it was time to leave.
“Last check, everyone!” Maggie called out.
“We’re good,” Yoko responded.
“Okay, everyone, you know the plan,” Nikki called out. “We leave in pairs. Maggie is going ahead to get the van and will pick us up down at the end of the driveway. Alexis can handle the red bag, since she had wheels put on it. Go!”
Maggie shifted her backpack more comfortably over her shoulders and sprinted from the room. She slid the van to the curb at the end of the driveway within fifteen minutes, the windshield wipers swishing furiously back and forth. She brought the van to a smooth stop and opened the door for the sisters, who were drenched to the skin, even though they were huddled under a leafy, umbrella-like tree.
The decibel level inside the large van increased to a dull roar as the van started rocking back and forth as the sisters started to shed their clothing to put on the outfits Alexis was handing out.
“Three minutes and counting,” Maggie bellowed to be heard over the clamoring sisters. “I’m going to need time to change,” she continued to bellow.
“Not a problem, dear. We have all your things ready for you!” Myra shouted.
Annie let loose with a shrill whistle, calling for silence. “We’re almost to the gate. Quiet, everyone! You’re up, Yoko. We’re beneath the overhang, so you won’t get wet. Please do not hurt yourself when you squeeze through.”
“Who said anything about squeezing through? I’m going to vault over the gate. It’s the first thing you learn in ninja training,” she quipped. A second later, she was out the door and cartwheeling over the sturdy black-and-yellow bar. A minute after that, Maggie barreled through the wide-open space. Yoko hopped in, and Maggie tore off down the center aisle to the ramp that would lead to the fifth-floor parking area that the Forresters’ vehicles were assigned to.
Annie nudged Myra, and whispered, “Even on our best day, back when we were young, do you think we could do what Yoko just did?” Her voice was so fretful, Myra almost laughed out loud.
“And show our bloomers! I don’t think so!”
“I so love your witty repartee, Myra.” Annie giggled.
Maggie cruised up the winding ramps that would take them to the fifth-floor parking level. “We shouldn’t have a problem finding a parking space, since each owner is assigned two spaces. Forrester’s wife took her car, so we’ll just park right next to that luxurious Mercedes, whose lease is paid for with Garland Lee’s money. Yep, there it is!” Maggie said gleefully.
“And I see a big security camera over there to your left. What should we do about that?” Nikki asked.
Alexis was out of the van before Nikki stopped speaking. She held a container no bigger than a prescription bottle in her hand. She ran, dodging between cars, until she came up right alongside the mounted camera. She reached up, and then the lens was covered with black paint in an instant. She ran back to the van as the others climbed out.
“How do we look?” Isabelle asked.
“In a word, awesome!” Alexis said, laughing. “If I woke up out of a sound sleep and saw us, I think I’d die on the spot.”
“We’re taking the steps, right?” Yoko asked.
“It’s just four flights,” Kathryn said. “Short flights,” she clarified. She held the door. Yoko was the first one through; the others followed, with Annie and Myra bringing up the rear.
“I can’t wait to get my hands on that weasel,” Annie hissed.
“Forget that for the moment. Do you have your picklock in hand?”
“Right here!” Annie said, holding up her right hand. “I hope it’s not one of those complicated locks.”
“What I hope for is that there is no alarm system,” Myra said. There was an edge to her voice.
“As a rule, men do not turn on alarms. It’s women who usually require that safety feature. At least that’s what I’ve read. With Mrs. Forrester gone now, I’m thinking he wouldn’t bother,” Annie said. “Still, we should have given more thought to Kathryn’s turning off the power to the ninth floor. We’re winging this, as it is.”
“Too late now,” Myra said, heaving a deep breath as the sisters huddled in a group outside the door that would lead them onto the ninth floor and Arthur Forrester’s condo.
Kathryn held up her hand for everyone to go quiet. “No talking, once we go through the doors. Hand signals only. Annie, you’re up as soon as Alexis sprays the camera that is right outside this door. Are you ready?”
Annie inched forward, Myra right behind her.
“Wait! Wait!” Nikki hissed. “We need to turn off the overhead light in the hall. It’s right outside the Forresters’ door. Open the door, Kathryn, and take a peek. I remember seeing it on the plans. The ceilings are relatively low. You’re the tallest of us all, so let Yoko get on your shoulders and just twist it off. The EXIT sign at the end of the hallway will give you more than enough light. Go! Go!”
Both sisters returned breathless from their exertion. “You’re up, Annie.” Kathryn opened the door for Annie to step through.
Annie immediately backed up. “It’s too dark. I’m going to need more light than what my penlight provides. Does anyone have a flashlight?”
“I have a mini Maglite,” Alexis said as she fished around in her pocket. She handed it to Myra. “Good, good. Let’s go, Myra. Make sure someone is watching both ends of the hallway. Dressed like we are, we certainly don’t want to scare the life out of any of the other owners if they suddenly show up.”
“We have your back,” Kathryn said. “Pretend there is a rattlesnake on your trail. Move already!”
Both women moved faster than greased lightning. Annie dropped to her knees. “Hold the light steady, Myra.” Annie let out her breath in a long swoosh of sound. “Thank God, Myra, this is just a standard lock. A piece of cake.”
“Make it snappy, then, Miz Wizard, and do your thing,” Myra said, looking over her shoulder to where the sisters were huddled in the dim doorway.
Annie reached for the doorknob to steady herself, for she was on one knee. She turned slightly to get into a better position, now that she had a good grip on the door. When it moved of its own volition, she almost toppled over.
“That was quick! Damn, Annie, you really are a wizard!”
“Shut up, Myra! I didn’t do anything. The door opened by itself.”
“Oh, dear God! He knew we were coming and set a trap for us! Run!”
“You run! It’s not a trap. The sack of pus probably forgot to lock the door. There is no way he could know we were coming here tonight. Fetch the girls, Myra. Like now would be good!” When Myra didn’t move, Annie hissed, “You waiting for a bus, Myra?”
Myra turned and ran down the hall. “The door was open! Do you believe that? I think it might be a trap, but Annie says no.”
“It’s not a trap. There’s no way that weasel could know our plans. No way. Ready, girls! Slow and stealthy. Hug the walls,” Kathryn said, leading the way.
Annie held the door open wide so all the sisters could slip through. Kathryn immediately homed in on the keypad next to the door. She twirled her finger in the air, the sign that all was okay. The alarm was off. Annie closed the door. Alexis pointed her mini Maglite at the floor and turned it on.
Kathryn made a wide circle with her hand, which meant take stock, get your bearings. She led the way down the short hall to a long, narrow living room. She stopped again. She pointed left. Alexis pointed the Maglite in the direction Kathryn was pointing. The kitchen. Kathryn pointed to a short hallway. The light cast enough light so they could see what looked like an office, which was now totally dark, and what also looked like a bedroom, also dark.
The sisters crept forward silently, with Alexis pointing the mini Maglite at the floor for light.
Kathryn held her arm straight in the air. Stop. The door to the master bedroom was halfway open. Her arm still upraised, she moved forward. Alexis waved the mini Maglite around till the light it shed came to rest on the sleeping form in the king-size bed. Kathryn’s arm came down, to be replaced with a circling motion. The sisters circled the bed. No escape. Kathryn pointed to the wall switch. She held up three fingers. On the count of three, Nikki would turn on the overhead light.
Kathryn’s index finger went up. One.
Kathryn’s middle finger went up. Two.
Kathryn’s ring finger went up. Three.
The overhead light came on in Arthur Forrester’s master bedroom.
“Rise and shine, you sack of pus!” Kathryn roared.