in front, Jack. Make sure everyone is out. Some of those cop friends of yours are stragglers. I locked some guy in two weeks ago who was diddling around in the shower buffing his toenails or something. He was stuck in here all night. D.C.’s finest!” Harry snorted to show what he thought of his own comment.
“That’s the one, but I forget what it’s called. Do it, Harry. You buying?”
“Hell no. You invited me, remember?”
Ten minutes later the building was clear, and both men were outside. Harry slid onto his Ducati motorcycle, Jack behind him.
They made it to H Street in seven minutes, windblown but exhilarated.
Both men elbowed their way through the swarming crowds at the Fast Track. Harry was right, it was a gold mine for whoever owned the joint. The plus was that the food was supposedly wonderful, and everything was reasonably priced. At the moment it was standing room only. Jack left his name at the hostess desk. They walked back outside with a beeper that would buzz when it was their turn to be seated.
Jack fired up a cigarette, to Harry’s dismay.
“You told me you were quitting. You lied.”
“Yeah. I’m under lots of pressure. It’s my pacifier. This is only my third one today, so stop nagging me.”
“Are you going to tell me now, or do you want to be carted off to the hospital?”
Jack walked twenty feet to the curb, out of earshot of some of the other people smoking by the entrance. He turned so that his back was to the doorway.
“Charles called before I got to the dojo. I would have told you then, but you were holding a class. Something’s up. Right here where we’re standing.”
Harry looked around, his Eastern eyes almost widening. “Here? At the Fast Track?”
“Not exactly,” Jack said, blowing a perfect smoke ring. “Try widening your vision.”
Harry turned completely around as he viewed the street and the buildings. His gaze went from left to right, then up and down. Jack almost laughed when he saw his friend swivel around to face him, dark questions in his eyes. “Are you saying…?”
“Yep.”
“Son of a bitch! So, that’s why you wanted to come here.”
“Yep.”
“No. No. I mean no, Jack. My nerves are still twanging over that last mess with the G-String Girls. And that asshole Mitch Riley at the FBI before that. Are you crazy? We’re at the top of the FBI’s watch list. No. When are you going to get it through your head we’re both too old for this shit? No.”
“Looks like the girls will be here next week,” Jack said as he fired up a second cigarette from the butt of his first one. “I guess you could call Yoko and tell her you don’t want any part of it this time around. I’m going to ask Nikki to marry me. When it’s over.”
“I really hate you, Jack.”
“Enough of this male bonding. We have to get things ready. At the moment, I don’t know what those things are, but I have a few clues. I need you on this, Harry. I also have other news. Guess who else called me today?”
“The president?” Harry asked sourly. “You better not be telling me God called you.”
“Not even close. Mark Lane, my old buddy from the FBI. As you know, he went private. But he has all these great contacts. He called me just as I was getting out of court. Ted Robinson hired Tick Fields, the private dick who advertises on TV. He plunked down a five-grand retainer at three o’clock this afternoon. A personal check. Mark does work for Tick from time to time. And they’re personal friends as well. Fields wouldn’t disclose what he was hired to do, ethics and all that. All he would say was Robinson hired him.”
“Don’t tell me he’s downwind of this,” Harry said, jerking his head in the direction of the World Bank’s headquarters. “If you just found out, how the hell could he scoop you? You must be slipping, Jack.”
Jack blew another smoke ring, not as perfect as the first one. He tried still another, his gaze sweeping the street in front of him. “I don’t think it has anything to do with this. I think he’s trying to figure out where everyone went all of a sudden, including his old girlfriend, Maggie. He knew what went down a while back. He got slapped down at the Post. He’s still smarting over that. Let’s face it, Harry, we did rub the guy’s nose in it. He’s going to be on us like white on rice because he knows we’re the key to it all. So that means we both keep a sharp eye out. Don’t give him anything to feed off.”
The beeper in Jack’s hand went off just as he crushed out his cigarette on the curb.
“I knew I should have killed the son of a bitch,” Harry said, trailing behind Jack.
“Sounds good, but we aren’t in the business of blowing people away. You wouldn’t do well in prison, Harry.”
A sound that could have been mistaken for laughter escaped Harry’s lips. “Who said anything about me going to prison? I would have framed you to take the rap.”
“Oh,” was all Jack could think of to say.
Harry emitted the funny sound again as he shouldered his way past the crowds to follow a leggy blonde hostess leading them to their table. She slapped down two menus, winked at them, and left. Neither man seemed to notice because they were too busy eyeing the three men at the next table: Ted Robinson, Joe Espinosa, and Tick Fields.
Chapter 4
The women looked at one another as they trooped into the Big House, where Charles was waiting for them. They chatted among themselves about how different it was here on Big Pine Mountain. In the beginning when they first formed the Sisterhood, meetings were held in the tunnels beneath Myra’s farmhouse in McLean, Virginia, because it was essential that the meetings be kept secret. Then, when they moved to the old monastery in Barcelona, the meetings were conducted in the same manner, in the catacombs beneath the monastery.
Here on Big Pine Mountain, the meeting they were about to attend was held in Charles’s computer room. The physical room looked different from the tunnels and the catacombs, but as usual, the equipment was so high-tech it would have been the envy of the CIA or the White House.
The windows afforded a clear view of the pine forest and the helicopter pad. The chairs were deep and comfortable, the plasma televisions huge, and the temperature on the cool side because of the special computers Charles worked on around the clock.
The women settled themselves in the chairs, their eyes on the bright red folders in Myra’s hands.
Time for business.
The women slid their chairs closer to the table as they steeled themselves for what was to come. The rule was, Myra handed out the folders, but they were never opened until Charles gave the signal. First came an update, then the monster TVs were turned on so that Lady Justice could oversee the meeting.
It was always a sobering moment when Lady Justice appeared because the women knew what they were doing was illegal. When the legal system failed those in need, when there was nowhere else to turn, the Sisterhood stepped in and served up their own brand of justice.
They were about to break the law. Again. This time for money. It was a first for them. They’d carried out nine missions with funding from Myra and Annie’s vast store of wealth. While they were accepting money to do this particular mission, they weren’t keeping it. Or as Kathryn had said, “We’re playing the role of modern-day Robin Hoodettes.”
It was Annie who’d said that simply taking the money meant they had crossed the line and become guns for hire. Then she went on to say, “And why not? We’re the best at what we do, and if we can rectify a wrong with our expertise, why not take payment? Then, by giving the money away it makes it a win-win situation for the Sisterhood.” Before she finally stepped off her