Chapter 17
Arthur Forrester came out of a deep sleep and bolted upright, his corkscrew hair standing on end, his eyes glazed as he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing in his bedroom. It was a bad dream gone really bad. He felt like he’d swallowed a mouthful of cotton. Damn the sleeping pill! He never should have taken it, especially after drinking two beers. It took a while for him to get his tongue unglued. He uttered a string of expletives that would make a grown man blush.
“What in the goddamn hell . . . ,” he blustered as he stared at eight black figures, dressed in ninja attire and circling his bed, staring at him. Ninjas! Forget a dream gone bad. This was the kind of nightmare Hollywood made into movies.
“Cursing is not allowed, Mr. Forrester. Do not make me tell you that again,” Myra said in a conversational tone that belied the circumstances in which it was said.
“Who are you? Is this a home invasion? I don’t have anything. I’m retired. My wallet is on the dresser. Take it. There’s no jewelry here. My wife left me and took all her jewelry. Get out of here. You must have me mixed up with someone else.” He hoped his voice sounded reasonably optimistic.
Forrester tried to burrow deeper into the bed. He grabbed for Nala’s pillow and clutched it to his chest. He smelled her shampoo. He wished now that she were here.
Kathryn yanked at the comforter and threw it on the floor. “Get up! Now!”
Annie stepped closer and looked down at the man on the bed. “You are a scrawny little man, aren’t you?”
“We don’t want your money. Well, that’s not quite true, we do, but we want the bank accounts, not what’s in your wallet. And we do not have you mixed up with anyone else. You are our quarry. We can do this the hard way, or we can do it the easy way. My colleague told you to get up,” Nikki said. “Oh, one other thing, you are not dreaming. This is as real as it gets, Mr. Arthur Forrester, attorney at law and a disgrace to the legal profession.”
Son of a bitch. They even know my name! Forrester shoved himself violently back against the headboard. The glaze in his eyes was fast disappearing as he finally began to come to terms with what was happening in his very own bedroom. This was no dream. Nor was it a nightmare. This was reality.
I have to do something. But what?
They want me to get up. Like that’s going to happen.
His cheeks started to itch. Scratch or not to scratch? His face felt like it was on fire. What the hell is going on? He jerked his head upright, wishing he had his glasses on. “Who are you?” he managed to croak.
“We’re whoever you want us to be,” Nikki said in a singsong.
“What do you want?” Forrester asked, his voice sounding so strange that he could hardly believe it was his own. “They’re women,” an inner voice warned him. He wondered why that would matter to him.
“We want you! And we want your house in Hilton Head, your car, your bank accounts, and your brokerage account. Oh, and your interest in that craft brewery you are so hot to acquire full ownership of. Plus, we want you to drop your lawsuit against Garland Lee. We also want you to sign off with your old law firm. It’s against the law to blackmail one’s former employer. It’s against the law to blackmail anyone, as a matter of fact. Since you’re a lawyer, you should know that,” Nikki said. “Then again, it is a violation of professional ethics to cheat one’s client by double-dipping. But that did not stop you, did it?”
“You’re working for Ballard and Garland Lee?” Forrester barked. “I should have known. Well, screw you and the horse you rode in on. I’m not giving up anything!”
The sisters took a step closer to the bed. Annie held up her hand. On cue, the scabbards attached to each sister’s waist belt came alive as they pressed a button that released long, vicious-looking blades, which hit Forrester’s body like a well-practiced choreographic move. Eight pinpricks of blood glistened on his chest under the overhead lighting.
Arthur Forrester fainted.
* * *
“Crap!” Maggie said. “Now we have to wait for him to wake up.”
“No, we don’t,” Kathryn said as she reached down, grasped Forrester’s corkscrew hair in her fist, and dragged him from the bed. He landed with a loud thump. She kicked him to get up. He rolled over, gripping his stomach. Then he almost retched.
“You puke, and you’re cleaning it up!” Alexis barked as she pressed the button for the blade to retract into the scabbard. The other sisters did the same thing.
“This guy is a hot mess,” Isabelle said.
“No problem. We’ll cool him down so quick, he won’t know what happened to him,” Myra said.
Kathryn yanked him upright and slammed him against the wall.
“Get dressed! Now. If you don’t, we’ll take you as you are, in your boxers and bare feet. Doesn’t matter to us one way or the other,” Annie said.
“I’m not going anywhere with you! You can’t kidnap me! That’s against the law!” Forrester squealed as Yoko kicked the clothes he’d been wearing closer to where Kathryn was still holding him pressed up against the wall. The sisters burst out laughing.
“You wanna bet?” Nikki asked. “Like I said, you are not dreaming, Mr. Forrester. You are not having a nightmare. You are not going to wake up later thanking God this was all just a bad dream. Nightmarish as it is, this is as real as it gets. Get dressed now. You have five minutes.”
Arthur Forrester’s shoulders sagged. The damn ninja is right, this is no dream. I’m being kidnapped. He eyed the black-clad figures through narrowed eyes. There was suddenly no doubt in his mind that these women, and they were all women, would cut him down in a nanosecond. But maybe if he stayed alert, he could find a way to get out of this predicament with his skin intact. Once again, for some inexplicable reason, he wished his wife were here with him.
Resigned, he pulled on his messy, wrinkled clothes and stepped into his boat shoes. Whatever was coming next, he was ready. A thought suddenly struck him. His shoulders straightened imperceptibly. The cameras in the hallways. Someone will see these crazy people kidnapping me. By the time they got him to the garage, he figured, the police would be there.
“Okay, everyone, listen up. We need to find the listening devices. We need to pack up his gear, at least some of it, so it looks like he walked away of his own free will. We need his files, his computer, his cell phone, his iPad. And the kitchen needs to be tidied up. Are we taking the car or not?” Nikki asked.
Though she knew the answer already, Kathryn asked, “Is that fancy Mercedes in the garage leased or do you own it?”
Forrester knew better than not to respond. “It’s leased.”
“We knew that. Just checking to make sure you were not going to lie to us,” Nikki said. “Who has the eye?”
“I do,” Isabelle said. “Fifteen minutes, people.”
The sisters scattered, leaving Kathryn in charge of Arthur Forrester.
“What listening devices?” Forrester asked with a catch in his voice.
“We had them planted a week or so ago. We know everything you’ve been doing, everything you said. We also planted one at Ballard, Ballard and Quinlan, in the conference room where you had your meeting. By now, you should realize this is not a Mickey Mouse operation. We know exactly what we are doing.”
“How . . . how did you get in here?”
“We were ready to pick the lock and walk in, when, to our extreme delight, we found that you had left the door open. Shame on you, Mr. Forrester. No more questions.”
“Ask him what medicine he needs!” Nikki called from the bathroom.
Forrester’s shoulders sagged. This was too real. “Everything on the counter.” His voice came out as little more than a whisper.
“Everything on the counter,” Kathryn yelled, relaying Forrester’s response.
“There are twenty-two bottles of vitamins in the kitchen,” Myra called out. “Ask him, where do they deposit the trash?”
Forrester rubbed his temples. “Leave the vitamins. The trash chute is two doors down from this apartment.” He wasn’t going to get away. He just knew it, and the thought devastated him. He was so close. So close! He’d been stupid enough to celebrate last night. Still, he had to try. “Who’s paying you to do this? I’ll double it, whatever it is, if you walk away now.”
Kathryn laughed. The effect was so eerie, so evil-sounding, coming through the black ninja mask, Arthur Forrester felt his insides crumble. “You can’t afford us. But I’m going to answer your question, anyway. No one is paying us. This is pro bono. You being a lawyer, you should know what that means, even if you have never done anything pro bono in your entire life, you greedy money-grubber. We’re all about justice. Something you obviously know nothing about or choose to ignore. You are one bad-apple lawyer, Mr. Forrester.”
Forrester absorbed Kathryn’s words. He wanted to lie down and die. No, there has to be a way to get out of this. He wasn’t going down without a fight. They are women. Dressed up in costumes. How stupid.
Kathryn tilted her head to hear Alexis say she had left something in her red bag. “Ask him where he keeps his.”
“What?” Kathryn bellowed.
“Duct tape!” Alexis bellowed in return.
Before Kathryn could get the words out of her mouth, Forrester said, “Bottom drawer, next to the sink.” They must need it to tape up boxes, he thought. Little did he know, it was to tape his mouth shut for the journey down to the garage.
“Five minutes and counting!” Isabelle shouted.
The sisters responded and were side by side, black rucksacks on their backs loaded with Forrester’s belongings. Yoko tossed a bag of trash toward Kathryn, who caught it deftly with one hand.
“Who wants the honor?” Maggie asked, holding up the roll of duct tape.
“What are . . . What . . . No, no!” Forrester yelped, finally realizing the women’s intent. And I damn well told them where the frigging tape was. How stupid was that?
“You need to shut up. You talk too much for someone who has nothing meaningful to say,” Kathryn observed as she cuffed him upside the head.
“Give me the tape,” Annie said.
Annie ripped at the bright purple duct tape. A long strip. The sound was like thunder in the quiet room.
“That’s a pretty big piece of tape. His mouth isn’t that big,” Maggie said.
“I know. I’m going to wrap it around his whole head so when we pull it off, his hair will come with it. Roots and all,” Annie said gleefully. “If I tore off a big-enough piece, I might be able to run it down his nose. Then he’ll have a cross on his head and face.”
The sisters stomped their feet and hooted their approval.
Arthur Forrester sagged in Kathryn’s grasp. He’d always been proud of his full head of curly hair, which he wore to below his ears. His brothers were bald. Even his two sons were partially bald.
Annie went to work. Within minutes, Arthur Forrester looked like he was ready to star in a horror movie.
“Good show! I like your technique. Do you practice much?” Myra giggled.
Annie bowed low. “No. This was my first time. If I have to do it again, I’m certain I can shave four seconds off my time. Are we really going to leave his arms free? I have lots of tape left.”
“Then, by all means, shore him up,” Maggie said as she shifted her rucksack more firmly on her shoulders. Annie obliged.
Arthur Forrester was so light-headed, he would have toppled over if Kathryn hadn’t yanked him upright by the collar of his IZOD shirt.
“Time to go, ladies. Did we get everything?” Isabelle asked as she looked around.
“We’re good,” Myra said.
“Look around, Mr. Forrester. Take a last look. You’re never coming back here. Just so you know.”
Tears of anger and frustration burned in Arthur Forrester’s eyes. He stared straight ahead.
Yoko opened the door. “Clear!” she said.
The sisters sprinted in pairs of two down the hall to the EXIT door.
Kathryn and Nikki were the last to leave, with Forrester between them. He didn’t make it easy, digging in his heels and forcing them to drag him between them.
Both sisters were winded with their effort as they finally pushed the lawyer through the EXIT door. At this point, Nikki shoved him up against the concrete wall and hissed in his ear, “Try that again, buster, and my foot will be so far up your ass, you’ll be able to pitch a tent. Nod if you heard and understand what I just said.”
Arthur Forrester knew when he was beaten. His head bobbed up and down. She jerked him forward. This time, he cooperated.
By the time they reached the door leading into the garage on the fifth-floor level, Maggie had the Post van idling at the door. Nikki looked around to make sure there was no activity to be seen. The garage was quiet. She looked out over the half wall to see that it was still raining. She stepped to the side as Kathryn shoved Forrester into the van. Isabelle and Yoko hauled him inward, then dragged him to the back of the van and tossed him in a seat.
“Do we buckle him in, or don’t we care?” Yoko asked.
“We don’t care,” Alexis said. Yoko shrugged as she sat down across from him.
The van moved; then they were out of the garage.
Yoko chirped up again: “Do we care if the gate remains up?”
“I don’t think we care about that, either,” Annie replied.
The moment the van hit the street and headed out to the boulevard, the sisters’ fists shot high in the air.
“Avery Snowden who?” Annie shouted. The women’s fists hit the air a second time.
“Take us home, dear,” Myra ordered.
“With pleasure,” Maggie replied.
* * *
A few hours later, with only one pit stop for bathroom use and a gallon of coffee to go, the Post van blasted through the open gates at Pinewood. Even inside the van, the sisters could hear Lady and her pups barking a welcome-home greeting.
The kitchen door opened. The dogs rushed out. Not so Charles and Fergus, who waited inside, not knowing what to expect by way of a greeting, which didn’t happen. Both men watched as the sisters exited the van, then held what looked to be an intense discussion. No one even bothered to look in their direction.
“This doesn’t look good from where I’m standing, Charlie.”
“You’re right, mate, it does not look good at all. I’m not seeing the prize they went after.”
“Trust me, he’s in there,” Fergus said, his voice sounding sour. “Stands to reason he’ll be the last one out.”
Both men continued to watch as the sisters stepped aside to allow Kathryn and Yoko to drag Arthur Forrester from the van. He crumpled to the ground and had to be jerked upright.
Fergus glued himself to Charles’s side. “They did it. I’m actually seeing him. Are you seeing him, Charles?”
“Of course I am. Step aside, mate, this is one of those times the ladies will not want our help, so do not even bother to offer. Don’t even ask them any questions. We’ve been scorned, so act humble. Not that it will work, but it’s worth a shot.”
Myra was the first one through the kitchen door. She looked around, not knowing quite what she expected to see, but whatever she did see seemed to satisfy her. “Good morning, Charles. Give us an hour, then we’d all like some breakfast. The works. Maggie wants some of everything, so please outdo yourself,” she said sweetly.
Annie stepped forward and pecked Fergus on the cheek. “Did you miss me?”
Fergus was all over himself as he said how bereft he had been with her gone. Then he made a mistake and asked Annie if she missed him.
“Not one little bit, dear. I was too busy.” Fergus hung his head in shame as Lady pawed at his leg for a treat. Charles would take him to task the minute the girls were out of sight for asking such a stupid question.
And then both men did a double take when they saw Kathryn and Yoko dragging their prize through the kitchen door.
“This . . . um . . . person will be our guest for a short while. His name is Arthur Forrester. We’re going to take him . . . um . . . down to the lower level to his new accommodations,” Myra said.
Charles knew he shouldn’t ask, but he bit his tongue and asked, anyway. Maybe it was the steely glint in his beloved’s eyes that made him go for the gold. “May Fergus and I help?”
“I think we have it covered. Annie?”
“Oh, we do have it covered.” She ran into the laundry room and returned with the ironing board. “Slap him on there, girls, and we’re good to go. Use his belt, so he doesn’t slide off. Alexis, dear, quick, open the secret panel.”
With their eyes wide, jaws drooping, the two men watched as Kathryn and Nikki secured Arthur Forrester to the ironing board. Forrester, his eyes frantic and full of tears, stared up at Fergus and Charles, imploring them for help.
“Let’s go, so we can get this over with!” Maggie yelled. “I am so hungry!”
“Careful on the steps with all that moss!” Alexis shouted as Nikki and Kathryn hefted the ironing board to follow the sisters. Lady and her pups barked and howled at these strange goings-on.
Arthur Forrester prayed that he would die on the spot as he felt himself going down a steep incline that smelled wet and moldy.
Back in the kitchen, Fergus and Charles looked at one another. “I don’t know about you, Charles, but I don’t think I would ever have come up with that ironing-board solution. Ah . . . I’ll make the pancake batter while you do . . . whatever you want to do. We are soooo in the doghouse here.”
“Do not say another word, Fergus Duffy, or I will clobber you with this frying pan.”
* * *
Down below, in the dungeon, Annie ripped the purple duct tape from Arthur Forrester’s hands. He flapped them back and forth to get his circulation moving. His eyes begged them to take the tape off his head and mouth.
Kathryn gave him such a shove he literally fell into the hard bunk inside the spacious cell. The sisters gathered around him, still in their ninja gear. One by one, they removed their head masks. “Doesn’t matter now if you see us or not, since you aren’t going anywhere,” Yoko said.
Forrester struggled to sit upright on the hard bunk. He waited for whatever was to come next. Kathryn didn’t make him wait long. She ripped at the tape. Skin from his lips stuck to the purple tape. Hair came out, roots and all. His scream was so primal, the sisters had to cover their ears. Small drops of blood trickled down his neck. Myra held out a bottle of water. Forrester’s hands were shaking so badly, he couldn’t hold the bottle.
“Open your mouth, and I’ll pour it in,” Myra said, not unkindly. Forrester obeyed as his eyes rolled back in his head. He toppled over onto the bunk. “He’ll come around in a minute or so,” Myra said. “He sort of looks like a skinny monk, the way the hair came out, don’t you think?” The sisters leaned over to better observe Forrester’s head.
A long discussion followed as to whether they should or shouldn’t put ointment on his head. The vote was eight to one for No.
“Can we hurry this up? I’m starving,” Maggie said.
“Now that you mention it, I’m hungry myself,” Annie said. “Maggie, turn on the music. Nikki, turn on the overhead lights.”
“Done, and done,” both sisters said.
“He’ll be listening to Garland Lee at full decibel level twenty-four/seven, with five hundred watts of light shining on him for the same amount of time. I’m thinking by tonight, he might, I say might, be willing to give us what we want. We need nourishment and a few hours’ sleep right now. Forrester is safe and sound. Who has his medicine?”
“I have it,” Alexis said. “I’ll just leave it here on the stool.”
Out of sight of the dungeon cell, the sisters high-fived one another before they scampered up the moss-covered stone steps like sure-footed billy goats.
“We did good, girls! Real good. We can be proud of ourselves today,” Nikki said.
“Truer words were never spoken, my dear,” Annie said.
“Amen,” the others chorused.