Chapter 38
It was a tense ride to the home of Martha Gellis. While Jack and Maggie marveled at Dennis’s expert driving on the slippery road, they also knew he was at the mercy of other drivers, who weren’t as cautious as he was. And then there was Mother Nature, who didn’t seem to care who was driving what kind of vehicle. The wind whistled sharply, sending the swirling snowflakes into a sideways avalanche. The windshield wipers fought valiantly, but it was a losing battle, so all Dennis could do was keep his eyes on the tiny pinpoints of red taillights in front of him and hope that the driver knew where he was going.
“You’re doing good, kid, just take it easy. Take deep breaths. This truck is like a tank. We’re good here, so don’t panic. According to this blabbering GPS, we’re only a mile from our destination.”
Dennis clenched his jaw so tight he thought it would crack. Somehow, he managed to get the words through his clenched teeth. “Okay, Jack.”
“Maggie, what are the others saying?”
“Abner said they are two miles out. Their ETA at Otto’s home, he’s thinking, is about another hour. Very slow going, and Harry is like a wet cat on a hot griddle, according to him. But he did say he’s a good driver.
“Espinosa said they are a half mile from Philip’s home. He said it’s snowing heavily, but they managed to get a few cars behind a snowplow and are holding steady. That’s the good news. The bad news is, I don’t know if we’re going to be able to make it out to Pinewood after our snatch and grab. We might need an alternate location to . . . um . . . do our thing. And here is more bad news, in case anyone is interested. Snowden is not responding to my texts.”
Jack pondered all of this as his cell phone continued to vibrate in his pocket. All he could think about was Nikki calling around to hospitals and the police, not that the police would care about his disappearance with the storm going on. Crap! He shifted his thoughts to what Maggie was saying. An alternative. Where? His mind raced. The only place he could think of was Maggie’s Georgetown house, which was two doors away from his own. Crap again! The constant vibration of the phone in his pocket was making his thigh numb. Such a problem.
The robotic voice on the GPS continued to give directions.
“Her name is Gisella,” Dennis said.
“Who?” Jack asked.
“The voice on the GPS. I wouldn’t buy the car until they told me. They thought I was nuts. Hey, if someone is going to talk to me constantly, I want to know who it is. It’s a personal thing. You know what else, those voices get paid big bucks to do that. You have a problem with that, Jack?” he demanded. His voice stopped just short of being shrill, indicating he was stressed to the max.
“Not one little bit, kid. Gisella it is. She’s talking again; listen.”
“Turn right one hundred feet ahead,” Gisella instructed.
Jack lowered the window and was rewarded by a gust of stinging snow to his cheeks. “I think I can see a green sign; slow down, Dennis.”
“I’m crawling, Jack. If I go any slower, I’ll be at a full stop.”
“I see it! I see it! Quick, make a right. Easy now; can you see, Dennis?”
“A little.”
Gisella spoke again. “You are a quarter of a mile from your destination. Stay on this road; make no turns.” And then, finally, they could see houses and pinpoints of yellow light. There were lampposts and Christmas lights twinkling in the swirling snow. Gisella spoke again. “You have now successfully arrived at your destination. Thank you for allowing me the pleasure of helping you.”
Dennis slumped against the steering wheel. All he wanted to do was get a cup of hot cocoa and go to sleep, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. “You’re driving on the way back, Jack.”
The trio climbed out of the Humvee and didn’t bother to lock it. Up ahead, they could see a structure that looked just like every other house on the cul-de-sac. There was a light over the door that displayed a Christmas wreath bare of any ornaments other than a red bow that looked to be soaking wet. On close inspection, the wreath turned out to be artificial.
Shivering and stomping their feet, Maggie and Dennis huddled close together as Jack gave the door knocker a resounding thump. They waited, hardly daring to breathe, for someone to open the door. When it opened, they saw a plump, pink-cheeked woman wearing granny glasses wrapped in a bright red bathrobe. She immediately became aggressive, demanding to know who they were and why they were knocking on her door in the middle of a storm. “If you’re stuck, call AAA,” she snapped.
“FBI, Mrs. Gellis,” Jack snapped in return. “Stand aside so we can enter the premises. We have a warrant. I am Special Agent Anthony Lupine, the man to my right is Special Agent Donald Ryder, and the lady is Special Agent Lucinda Collins.” When the woman refused to move, Jack repeated, “I said, step aside, ma’am.” She finally backed up a step as she clutched the cherry-colored robe around her throat.
“FBI? What do you want with me? I didn’t do anything. If you want to question me about my neighbors, I have nothing to say. I barely know them other than to wave when I see them. What do you want?”
“We want you to get dressed and come with us. Special Agent Collins will accompany you, but first we want you to turn over your cell phone to us. Is there anyone else in the house?”
“My husband is somewhere. Probably in the basement, working on one of his stupid birdhouses. Why? Did he do something?”
“We ask the questions, you answer them. Do you understand that?”
“No, I don’t understand that. You invade my home, so I have the right to ask why.”
“Right now you have no rights,” Jack said. Already he didn’t like this woman and knew he would never grow to like her. He jerked his head at Maggie, who took the woman’s arm and led her across the room.
“Special Agent Ryder, check the basement. You know what to do.”
The plump woman jerked free of Maggie’s grasp and spun around. “I said I want to know why you’re here. I refuse to be violated. Do you hear me, I refuse.”
Jack sighed. He waved the warrant in one hand and the small checkbook he’d taken from her office. Martha Gellis turned pale. “That’s . . . that’s the company checkbook! Where did you get that?”
Jack waved the warrant again. His eyebrows shot upward, daring her to ask another question. She was too furious to more than sputter. Maggie moved her jacket to the side to let her see the gun in her shoulder holster. Of course, Mrs. Gellis did not know it wasn’t loaded. Maggie motioned the nasty woman forward.
Jack meandered through the house as he waited for Maggie and Dennis to return. It looked to him just like any other house. The Christmas tree was nothing special; artificial, with ornaments that could be bought in any department store. There were no pictures of family members to be seen, but there were wall-to-wall bookshelves in almost every room. Every shelf was filled with romance novels. He thought he could smell fish. Maybe they’d had fish for dinner.
Dennis was the first to find him in the kitchen. He held Mr. Gellis’s phone in his hand. “I explained the situation to Mr. Gellis. His comment to me was, ‘What took you people so long?’ He does not care, I repeat, he does not care that we are ‘taking’ his wife, as he put it, ‘into custody.’ He also said we did not need to worry about his calling anyone because he doesn’t care and would be happy to see his brothers-in-law sent ‘up the river’ for the rest of their lives. Those were his exact words: ‘up the river.’
“He makes really nice birdhouses and wanted to give me one. I said that would constitute a bribe, and he laughed. He sells them on the Internet.”
Maggie appeared out of nowhere. “We’re ready, Agent Lupine.”
“Did you tell my husband you were arresting me?” Martha Gellis asked.
“I did. He said he didn’t care. Your husband makes very nice birdhouses.”
Martha had to be prodded toward the front door. “Where are you taking me? To FBI Headquarters? I know some powerful people. I want you to know that. When my brother Otto finds out you arrested me, heads will roll, I can tell you that.”
“Your brother Otto is at this moment in the same position you are, Mrs. Gellis, as is your brother Philip. Those powerful people you mentioned will not be able to help you,” Jack said. He crossed his fingers the way he had when he was a child and had hoped that he was telling the truth, at least for the moment.
They were back on the road, with Gisella leading them to the address Dennis, who was riding shotgun, had entered: Maggie’s house. With the aid of a small light under the dashboard, Dennis sent out text after text. He whooped in delight when he saw that Avery Snowden finally responded. He typed at the speed of light, explaining, then asking questions. The time was coming up on six-thirty.
“Everyone is on the road back. Little to no resistance, except Otto tried to go for the gun in his study. How stupid is that? Going up against the FBI like that.”
“My brother is not stupid,” Martha Gellis shrilled from the backseat.
“Yeah, he is. Otherwise, why would you be sitting here right now, Mrs. CFO, and why would your brother, Mr. CEO, be in the same position you’re in?” Dennis shot back.
Martha Gellis clamped her lips shut as she tried in vain to peer out the window at the snow-filled night. A feeling of panic was engulfing her. She wanted to lash out, to kick and scream, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She didn’t know what, if anything, she could do. What she felt in her bones was that her life was never going to be the same again. She wanted to cry. She tried then to remember the last time a tear had escaped her eye and couldn’t come up with a time, date, or place. Maybe she was one of those people who didn’t have tear ducts. Finally, she blurted out, “You’re kidnapping me. I don’t care if you are the FBI or not, you cannot go around kidnapping innocent people.”
“You aren’t innocent,” Dennis said, loud enough to be heard in the backseat as he continued to text furiously.
“We’re making better time; the plows are out. They’ve sanded the road since we came through. What’s our ETA?” Jack asked.
“Gisella says it’s ninety minutes to the address I punched in. Give or take thirty, and everyone should be arriving on schedule.”
“Good to know. Snowden?”
“In place. Just waiting for our call.”