Chapter Six
It was three minutes shy of seven o’clock when Jack Emery opened the door of the BOLO Building. He stepped aside to let Cyrus enter first. He waited for the massive door’s hydraulics to fall into place before he headed to the kitchen to turn up the heat and make coffee. He’d been up since the crack of dawn because he had to drive his wife to the airport. Nikki was headed to Boston, where she and Alexis were scheduled to talk to a group of surgeons concerning a monster malpractice case. She’d said her best guess was that they would be there for a week at the beginning, and then they would have to commute to and from Boston for another month to six weeks, getting home for weekends. He missed her already, but the possibility of this new mission would take the edge off being alone because he knew he’d be spending most of the next week here at the BOLO Building.
Cyrus barked, a reminder that he’d had no breakfast. There had been no time, so now he had to make do.
“Tell you what. I’m going to call Ding and have our breakfast sent over.”
Cyrus barked again to show he approved of his master’s decision. Five minutes later, their breakfast of scrambled eggs, hash browns, extra-crisp, snap-in-two bacon, and raisin toast was in the works. If Ding ran true to form, in fifteen minutes there would be a knock on the front door, and he and Cyrus would be chowing down.
“Conference room, big guy. Bring your gear. I need to tidy up before the others get here.” Gear meant his security blanket; his one-eared, no-tail rabbit with only one eye; and a stuffed duck whose beak, when pressed, played “Rocka-Bye Baby.”
Jack eyed the messy conference table. He winced, wishing he’d had the energy to clean up before he left last night, but he’d been too tired. He and Cyrus had been the last ones to leave, at ten minutes to two. Then the forty-five-minute ride out to the farm before he fell into bed, only to get up two hours later for the drive back into town and the airport.
Jack gathered up the yellow legal pads and pens. They were all old school, preferring to write, as opposed to keeping notes on their tablets and laptops. He was the biggest Neanderthal of them all, followed closely by Maggie and Ted. All the trash went into the shredder. He looked at his watch. Three minutes until Ding’s son, his main deliveryman, banged on the front door. Always in tune with his master, Cyrus beelined for the front door, where he settled down on his haunches to wait.
“Someday, I want you to tell me how you know exactly when something is going to happen,” Jack grumbled as he fished around in his pockets for the money to pay the tab.
From his position at the window, Jack had a clear view of the Bagel Emporium across the street. The moment the door to the establishment opened and young Ding stepped out, Cyrus was on his feet, tail quivering a mile a minute. Seconds later, Jack had the door open before the young man could bang the brass knocker. Money changed hands.
“Dad said to tell you the rest of the order will be delivered at ten sharp, piping hot.” Jack pretended not to see the treat young Ding handed to Cyrus.
Jack closed and locked the door. Cyrus was patiently waiting for his food, which Jack fixed before he sat down to eat his own. Cyrus always came first. Always.
Jack’s thoughts were all over the map as he worked his way through his breakfast. His adrenaline was pumping through him at an all-time high. Dennis was onto something; he could feel it in his bones. The kid’s intuition was something he’d learned to pay attention to over time.
On his way to the massive coffee urn to refill his coffee cup, he heard the hiss of the back door. He made a silent bet with himself that it was Dennis, the intrepid reporter.
“Morning, Jack, Cyrus! Didn’t expect to see you here this early. I thought I was the only early worm,” Dennis said so cheerfully that Jack had to fight the urge to smack him.
“I had to drop Nikki off at the airport for an early morning flight to Boston. No sense going back home just to have to turn around and come back at ten. Did you hear from your friend last night?”
“I did, and he said he pulled it off to perfection. He also said he’s a nervous wreck for more than one reason. Seems Mia Grande kissed him like she was in love with him. All part of the act, of course, but he said he felt strange things.” Dennis giggled to show what he thought of that.
In spite of himself, Jack laughed out loud.
“I sent him a text before I got here, but he hasn’t responded yet. He was to go running with Mia early this morning. If we’re sticking with her legend, she will have to go to Georgetown for a class or two to keep it all straight. The other female operatives will swoop in. He should have responded by now,” Dennis said, fretting. “I just keep worrying he’s going to blow it somehow. What we do is not even close to the way Toby thinks or does things.”
“Well, he’s going to have to learn real quick. I think he’ll be okay, Dennis.”
“Has anyone else checked in this morning?” Dennis asked as he stared down at an incoming text from Toby.
“Not yet. I just told everyone to be back here at ten this morning. We were all whipped when we left last night. Ding is going to be delivering bagels shortly. Is that text from your friend?”
Dennis let his head bob up and down. “I’m thinking we might have a wee problem here. At least Toby thinks we might. He says he got a phone call—not a text, mind you, which he says is Pilar Sanders’s usual method of getting in touch—to tell him to meet her at the Dog and Duck for lunch. He is telling me this is a first, so, of course, he is jittery now. He wants to know what he should do and say. And he wants to know if Mia should go with him. Seems Pilar did not specify if he should come alone or bring his friend. He is certain that the house mother has notified Pilar of his performance by now. What should I tell him, Jack?”
“Nothing right now. We need to talk to the others first.”
“Someone is here,” Dennis said just as Cyrus got up and ran from the room. “How does Cyrus know, Jack? I didn’t hear a thing. Do you think my hearing is going?”
“All dogs have extraordinary hearing and a keen sense of smell. I think Cyrus got an extra dose because of his size. We’ll never know, so don’t stew and fret about it, kid.”
Abner was in the lead, followed by Avery Snowden, Charles, and Fergus. All looked tired and cranky but somehow still alert. Just then, the front door knocker sounded so loud, Jack clamped his hands over his ears as he tried to outrun Cyrus to the front door. He lost the race.
It was Ding at the door delivering the rest of the bagels from Jack’s earlier order. By the time Jack and Cyrus made it back to the conference room, the rest of the team was in place, seated and talking over everyone else to be heard.
Cyrus barked, and Jack whistled sharply for silence. “While I set these bagels out and make fresh coffee, Dennis has a bit of an emergency he needs to discuss with all of us. One at a time, people, so we can actually hear what everyone is saying, okay? Dennis, the floor is yours.”
Dennis rushed right into it, reading Toby’s texts in a firm, hard voice. “Toby needs to know what we want him to do. Remember now, he’s not an operative, he’s new to this game, and he is not as fearless as we all are. Always remember that about him, okay? He is not a person we want to traumatize. So, let’s hear it!”
Jack smiled to himself as he measured coffee into the giant urn. The kid had some chutzpah, and he valued loyalty, which was understandable where his friend was concerned.
“I’ve already taken care of that, people. Our story is that Mia had a class she didn’t want to miss. Her friends, my operatives, will be waiting at the Dog and Duck before Toby and his boss arrive. They’ll play it by ear. Rest assured, your boy will be fine. We have his back,” Snowden volunteered.
Dennis nodded as his fingers tapped out a response to Toby’s last frantic e-mail.
Jack took his place at the head of the conference table. Maggie settled the plate of bagels, which were fully loaded, along with napkins, in the center of the table. Ted filled coffee cups, which everyone gratefully accepted.
“We can’t stay, Jack. Ted, Espinosa, Dennis, and I have to be in Alexandria at noon. Myra and Annie’s orders. They want a full-court press on the temporary VA clinic that opened to the veterans this morning. Media will be all over the place. We stand a chance of getting a Pulitzer for our reporting on the VA. Make sure you guys turn on the TV so you can see it all going down. Annie sent me an early morning text saying that the White House is really miffed at her for taking matters into her own hands. Not that she cares. When Annie and Myra set their mind to something, there is no changing it, as you all know,” Maggie said.
“Man, they got that up and running quickly,” Jack said. “How did they do that?”
“Do you know anyone who can say no to those two women?” Abner asked. “Plus, they used a very large portion of the Sisterhood’s black funds. They ordered top of the line, the best of the best in medical equipment. They paid double time, triple time to people to set up the lab and the MRI and CAT scan machines. Then they shamed people—doctors and nurses, physician’s assistants and nurse’s assistants—into volunteering. Annie has got four full-time doctors, four full-time PAs, and seven nurses to help the vets. No one is going to get turned away. Everything is going to be done in-house, and they’re going to be open round the clock until every last vet sees a doctor. The doctors, the PAs, and the nurses are being paid, and Myra said others are standing in line to help.
“Forty thousand square feet of help is how Annie explained it when she bought that old warehouse in Alexandria. The owners cut her a deal when they found out what she was going to use it for. Oh, one other thing. You remember that Medal of Honor–winning dog? His name was Gizmo. He’s appearing at noon to welcome the vets. Like I said, a full-court press.”
“None of us can top that. Rest assured we will have the TV on at noon. Now to business,” Charles said as he withdrew a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. “On the drive here, Bert got back to me via text. He is on board and even thanked us for our sterling idea. He immediately accessed the Supper Clubs’ Web site and sent them an e-mail, then sent his offer via overnight mail. What he meant by ‘overnight mail’ is this. A guy he knows who works at the Wynn was flying back to the States via private jet, and he gave him the envelope to deliver. His friend promised to deliver it in person when he landed in D.C. The Sanderses should get his personal invitation by the time the clubs go live tonight.”
“Wow!” Maggie said.
“You know what I always say, Maggie. It’s not what you know. It’s who you know,” Ted said, cackling. “Hey, where’s Sparrow? Isn’t he supposed to be here?”
“He called Charles and me early this morning to say he got a last-minute call to be at the White House this morning. He said there is no way he could blow that off without causing a ruckus. He thinks it might have something to do with the VA thing. We’ll have to make do without him and clue him in later,” Fergus said.
Jack looked around the table. His gaze settled on Abner. “Any luck with the couple’s finances?”
“Yes and yes and yes again. I’m double-checking it all. I’ll have a printout for you soon.”
“Espinosa, what did you dig up from the archives on the clubs?” Jack asked.
“I have a whole parade of pictures for you all to view. On the surface, it looks just like what they are, supper clubs with live entertainment, with a few sidelines, like the shows they put on in Miami and LA every July and December. There’s a ton of their ‘do-gooder’ projects. There are some pictures of the guys, the dancers, but not what you would expect. You know, normal, everyday pictures as they go about their lives. Most of them look pretty preppy. Blazers, pressed khakis, no jewelry, no piercings. Normal young guys. I have to admit, that in itself was a bit of a surprise.”
Ted said, “I’m beating a dead horse here with the background checks on the dancers. As dancers, do they use their real names, or do they give themselves names? We forgot to ask Toby. They get paid by check, so they pay taxes and have health insurance. But under what names? I didn’t have a master list to go by. Abner is going to have to hack into their records before I can get anything else.”
Then it was Snowden’s turn. “The boy was right. He does have a tail. I even know who the agency is. Third rate at best. Obviously, they lost Toby yesterday and, with no other recourse, staked out the house he lives in, waiting for him to get home last night. Mia said two guys were already staked out when she picked Toby up at six this morning. The boy was spot on. He is definitely under surveillance. He is not paranoid.”
“Then that has to mean we now have an active mission, right? We’re taking Toby’s case, right?” Dennis asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
“It’s good enough for me,” Charles said. “We can vote on it to make it legitimate if you like. Raise your hand for taking on this new mission, people.”
Every hand in the room shot upward.
“It’s okay to tell Toby, isn’t it? I know he’s anxious.” Dennis was already pulling out his phone before Charles even nodded.
* * *
A few miles away, in Rock Creek Park, Toby and Mia walked hand in hand up one path and down another, speaking softly to each other as they continued their pretense of being lovers.
“They’re behind us, pretending they belong. How stupid is that? Who wears sweats and leather-soled shoes? They must be new to the game. You didn’t notice that, did you, Toby?”
“No, I didn’t, but I’m not a trained investigator, so why would you expect me to notice something like that? Does that mean you probably won’t be chewing anyone’s ear off today while in my company? Was there a lot of blood? How did you handle that?” Toby asked in a jittery voice that somehow stopped short of being angry sounding.
“None of your business. Trade secrets. Pay attention to your surroundings. Look. There’s a bench up there. Let’s fake them out and sit down and pretend to make out.”
Pretend. He planned to give it his all to see if he was man enough to rock her boat. Carrie said he’d rocked her boat a few times before she went all earthy on him. He immediately knew it was a bad idea. He had to remember that none of this was real. This was his life, his safety he was dealing with. Getting it on had no place under the current circumstances. She was a hottie, though, he had to admit. He wanted to ask her if she was involved with anyone, but knew that was also a bad idea. Just go with the flow, Toby.
Once they were seated on the bench, facing each other, Mia leaned in and whispered, “Nibble on my ear like you mean it.”
Ear? Oh, man, that was so not going to happen. “How about I just lick your nose or something? I’m . . . um . . . um . . . not into ears.”
“Then, damn it, do it now. Here they come. Remember to paw me.”
“You want me to do that all at one time? Lick your nose, grope you? What are you going to be doing?” Toby gasped as he tried to comply.
“This!” Mia giggled as she plunged her hand onto his crotch.
“Oh myyy Goddd!” Toby bleated just as two joggers in mismatched sweat suits and leather-soled shoes whizzed by. He almost rolled off the bench when he saw one of the joggers look over his shoulder and shout, “Get a room already!”
Toby retaliated like any red-blooded twelve-year-old would. “Up yours, buddy. You’re just jealous!” He made sure his tongue was securely locked behind his teeth before he muttered, “Too much, huh?”
Disgust ringing in her voice, Mia said, “What was your first clue?”
Toby squirmed from side to side, hoping his junk would at least go to half-mast. “The business with the ear. Look, I know you’re a real smart-ass, and you think I’m a dumb ass, so let’s just leave it at that. What do we do now, o Fearless Leader? Do we sit here and wait for them to come back, or do we split, and I head to the Dog and Duck to meet up with the Dragon Lady? What?”
“We’re going to sit here, hold hands, and stare into each other’s eyes like we’re in love. Trust me, those two yahoos are just around the bend, probably hiding in the bushes, waiting to see what we’re going to do. Eventually, they’ll head back this way. So we talk. Tell me about your ex-girlfriend, the one who dumped you. You still in love with her?”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t we talk about you and this business you’re in?”
“See, now, that doesn’t work for me. In order for me to protect you, I need to know everything there is to know about you, so I can anticipate trouble on the horizon. I already told you I am razor sharp and can take care of myself and you, too. So talk! How does it feel when all those screaming women are staring up at you when you bump and grind. Is it a turn-on? How many have you hit on? Or are you still true blue to the one who dumped you for some gray-haired lobbyist with major money? That is so not good, if that’s what you’re doing. You need to move on with your life.”
“My personal life is none of your business, and I do not need any advice from you. I’ve decided I really don’t like you, Mia Grande, or whatever the hell your name is. You are too full of yourself. Oh, one last thing. I know in my gut that when push comes to shove, and it will happen, I’ll be the one saving your ass, not the other way around. We’re done here. I’m going to the Dog and Duck. Do whatever the hell you want. Like report me to that scary-looking dude who is your boss. Go for it. Then I’m going to report you to . . . to Cyrus. Just so you know, that monster dog can fold towels.”
Before Mia could blink, Toby kissed her full on the mouth, putting on a lip-lock, and screamed, “Race you back to the car!”
Mia was on her feet a second later, but she was too late. Toby was so far ahead of her, she knew she’d never catch up. Avery was not going to be happy with this turn of events. A dog that folded towels. That was a new one on her, and she thought she’d heard it all. She decided right then and there that she liked the brainiac, even though he’d said he didn’t like her. That was now. Later . . . Who knew what the future held?