Chapter 32
“You guys finish up here and I’ll set us out a picnic in the lobby. Coffee, beer, or soft drinks?” Maggie mentally cataloged the order and left with the food. Fifteen minutes later, she had a picnic set up on the floor, using a blanket throw for a tablecloth. Colorful cushions served as chairs as they sat Indian fashion.
Dennis opened the plantation shutters so they could see the snow falling on the city. “This is just great,” he babbled. “We were all together on Christmas, and yesterday we were all together to make a miracle for Nikki, and today we’re together again with a plan to take down one of the most lucrative privately owned companies in the country. Someone for sure is watching over us,” he said, excitement ringing in his voice.
As the group munched and chewed their way through their winter picnic, they talked about mundane things just to lighten the mood as they watched the icy snow that peppered the windows in the front of the building.
“Charles would really pitch a fit if he heard us talking business while we’re eating,” Ted said.
“We are not discussing Charles, today or any other day,” Jack said, his face dark with anger at the mere mention of Charles Martin’s name.
“So, Dennis, are you still going to the Galleria to pick up the suits?” Maggie asked.
Dennis laughed. “I went on their website and ordered them. They will be ready for pickup tomorrow at eleven o’clock. Then it’s just the haircuts, and we’ll be good to go.”
“When Dennis told me where he was going for his haircut, I nixed that and made an appointment with my hairdresser for all three of you guys to get your hair done. Michael’s Salon on Fern Terrace. He gave me a hard time when I explained what I wanted. Michael is a stylist and doesn’t like high and tight haircuts, but he’s going to do it as a favor to me. Your appointment is at noon. Don’t embarrass me; make sure you guys tip well. Then we’re good to go, and not one minute before.”
“Has anyone given any thought to how we’re even going to get into the Andover Building, much less to these guys’ offices?” Espinosa asked. When Jack and the others had discovered that none of the Andover siblings had left the area for vacation, they’d changed plans to deal with the possibility that they would all be going in to work, and, if they did, they would beard them in their own den, so to speak, hence the concern about getting into the Andover Building.
Jack burst out laughing. “Since when does the FBI need an appointment for anyone? That shield is all you need to gain entrance anywhere in this country. Speaking of FBI, Bert and Sparrow were supposed to call in. Guess Annie and Myra are keeping them busy. Anyone think we should call them, or are we good?”
“I think we’re good,” Maggie said. “Am I the one who stands by the desk in the lobby when you guys enter so whoever is behind said desk doesn’t alert our . . . prey?”
“A gold star to you, Miss Spritzer.” Ted grinned. “We’re looking for total surprise.”
Maggie waved her arms. “I did all this so you guys can clean up.” She looked over at Cyrus, who was sitting and waiting patiently for his dinner. Maggie had carefully picked all the meat off the side of the roast chicken that Jack had ordered especially for him. She added some vegetables and some roasted potatoes and set the plate down in front of the big dog. He looked up at Maggie, then at Jack, before he moved closer to the plate.
“He’s not used to anyone else feeding him, which is a good thing. It’s all yours, Cyrus, go for it,” Jack said. Cyrus followed instructions and was finished within seconds. He nosed the hard plastic plate toward Maggie, not for a refill but to tidy up. Jack had taught him well.
“You got anything for us, Abner? You said you only needed an hour, so what do you have?” Jack asked.
“I’m pretty sure I have everything we need. At least on the financial end. I just have one more thing to do, and it will only take twenty or so minutes. I’ll meet you in the conference room. Do you want printouts for everyone, or will a show-and-tell on my part work, for now at least? If you want copies, then I’m going to need forty minutes.”
“Copies would be nice. So we’re all on the same page,” Jack said.
Maggie got up and closed the plantation shutters. “It’s really going to town out there. Can’t see anyone on the street. It’s getting dark, too.”
“I’m going to walk Cyrus, but we’ll stay in the alley. We won’t be long because he hates getting his feet wet. How’s about someone making coffee?”
Dennis volunteered to make the coffee. Maggie sauntered off to the ladies’ room, while Ted and Espinosa finished cleaning up the picnic and bundling all the trash. They both looked around. Neat as a pin, no sign that a picnic had even taken place.
The snow that seemed to be coming sideways beat at Jack as he watched Cyrus meandering up and down the alley, looking for just the right spot. The snow was drifting, and the wheels of Harry’s Ducati were almost covered. Knowing how Harry loved and babied his cycle, Jack decided to wheel it into the BOLO Building. He whistled for Cyrus to get a move on, then had him put all his weight against the door to hold it open so he could wheel the cycle into the back of the building. Satisfied that the cycle was now safe, Jack held the door while Cyrus beelined for the kitchen, where he lay down and rolled over and over on the carpet by the sink to get the snow off his back. Jack spread a ton of paper towels around the cycle to catch all the drips, then took more and dried it off. He hoped Harry appreciated all the trouble he was going to for him.
Jack smelled the coffee and grinned at Maggie, who had taken over coffee-making duties from Dennis. Maggie did make good coffee. “Need any help?”
“Got it covered. This is going to work, isn’t it, Jack?”
Jack hated it when Maggie looked and acted worried, because she was always so optimistic.
“I am ninety-nine percent sure. Nothing is a given in this life; you know that, Maggie. Are you worried about something in particular or just worried?”
Maggie looked up at Jack, who towered over her. “Well, maybe one little itsy-bitsy thing is troubling me.”
“And what might that be, oh my intrepid reporter turned . . . what is it you are at the paper these days?”
“It doesn’t matter what I am. Where are we going to get FBI credentials?”
“They are on the way as we speak, courtesy of one Jack Sparrow and one Bert Navarro. It seems in Vegas you can get anything for the right price. And Sparrow got us genuine, authentic, as-real-as-they-come creds. Clips and all. They are supposed to be here in the morning, but with the storm, I don’t know. We don’t move without them, that’s a given. If Sparrow says they’re golden, then they’re golden.”
Maggie pretended to wipe sweat off her brow. “Whew. I was concerned, Jack. I won’t deny it.”
“I think that what you’re trying to say without saying the actual words is that you are comparing our little group to the sisters, and we’re coming up short. How am I doing so far?”
“Well . . .”
Jack laughed. “Don’t worry till we get to the finish line. If we don’t cross it, that’s when you can worry. It’s not how we get there that matters, it’s that we get across it. Feel better now?”
“Not really,” Maggie said, chewing on her thumbnail. Jack threw a wadded-up dish towel at her. She caught it and tossed it right back. “You carry the sugar and creamer, and I’ll take the pot. And just for that, you can come back for the cups and spoons.”
“Okay.” Jack looked over at the clock on the range. Abner’s forty minutes were almost up.
Jack timed his second trip just right. Abner, his arms full of papers, held the door with his back so Jack could enter.
“We are in business, lads and one lassie, as Charles used to say,” Abner said, dropping the stack of papers on the long, polished conference table.