Authors: Fern Michaels
I
t was a chilly day even though the sun was bright and golden with more than a hint of autumn in the air. The gorgeous canopy of colored leaves overhead attested to the fact that October was coming to a close on Big Pine Mountain in North Carolina. At the stroke of midnight it would be All Hallows’ Eve, and there still wasn’t a pumpkin or scarecrow in sight.
A light breeze whispered through the trees stirring the brilliant gold and bronze leaves. They whirled and twirled with abandon as Annie de Silva and Myra collected them from the blanket they’d spread for a light picnic lunch. They were waiting for the girls to finish their ten-mile run.
Annie sniffed at the deep aroma from the pungent pines the mountain was known for. “I just love the smell of pine. It reminds me of Christmas when I was a little girl, and the house was full of evergreens.”
Myra thought Annie sounded sad, which was not at all like Annie. Normally she bubbled and babbled nonstop. Myra raised her eyebrows in question but then only nodded.
“What do you think it will be like up here when the snow comes, Myra?”
Myra thought about the question for a moment. “I imagine it will be just like it was in McLean, Virginia, Annie. The only difference will be our outlook. And we won’t be able to drive anywhere. By the same token, there isn’t anywhere to go. There are snowmobiles here so we can spin about the mountain if we want to. I’m thinking it’s going to be bitter cold up here, and we won’t want to go anywhere. There’s a lot to be said for roaring fires, good food, wonderful books, and listening to music. We have good friends here and, best of all, Annie, no matter what anyone says, we have made a difference in a lot of people’s lives. All for the better. Are you getting homesick?”
“Sometimes,” Annie answered honestly.
“Memories are wonderful, but sometimes they become our worst enemies.” Myra leaned closer and whispered because she knew even a low-voiced comment carried over the mountain. “Supplies came in this morning, and if I’m not mistaken, I saw a whole crate of pumpkins being unloaded. I think Charles has a surprise for us, and that’s why he arranged this little picnic. He wanted us out of the way. I think he’s going to decorate the porch the way Nikki and Barbara did our porch back home when they were girls. Then I think he’s going to make pumpkin pies, pumpkin bread, and pumpkin soup for dinner tomorrow night. You a betting woman, Annie?”
“Nope. It’s a sucker’s bet, Myra. I saw those pumpkins, too, and was wondering what they were for. I hope he saves a few so we can carve them. I think the girls need a little diversion. How is it that we lucked out on avoiding that ten-mile run?”
Myra smiled. “I told Charles we’d do the time on the treadmill later this afternoon. Now, if we suddenly get too busy…oh, well.”
Annie laughed. “Things have been quiet lately. Why do you suppose that is? Surely there are people out there who need our help.” She let the words hang in the air to await her friend’s response, since Myra had the inside track with Charles Martin.
“Oh, there are, Annie. Charles has stacks and stacks of requests for our help both here and abroad. But each request, while it comes with a huge payout to us, isn’t always feasible. First and foremost is our safety. It’s not the actual mission itself but the planning, the getting in and getting away safely. I think,” she whispered again, “something is up. Charles received a call when he was packing up the picnic basket. He walked away out of earshot to talk. His whole body language changed when it came in. I think we’re about to go back into business. I could be wrong but I don’t think so.”
Annie clapped her hands. “Ooh, ooh, that sounds exciting. I’m up for whatever it is. How about you, Myra?”
Myra smiled as she opened the picnic basket. “You know what, Annie, I am. Like you said, it’s been exceptionally quiet of late and…I hear the girls!”
Both women turned to one of the many paths leading down the mountain. The young women bounded into the clearing, whooping and hollering and, to Myra’s and Annie’s chagrin, barely breaking a sweat. They plopped down on the blanket, all of them reaching for the frosty bottles of water.
“I can eat the entire contents of that basket,” Kathryn said as she swigged at the water. Kathryn Lucas had an enormous love of eating and a stomach that could handle any kind of food twenty-four hours a day. “What are we having? Please don’t tell me cheese and crackers.”
The others groaned at the prospect of cheese and crackers.
Annie clucked her tongue. “Shame on all of you. A picnic is a picnic. That means fried chicken, without the skin, of course, hard-boiled eggs, potato salad, melon and kiwi, sugarless sweet tea, and sugarless brownies. Charles said you can each have two. You know how he is about desserts.”
“That’s because we’re sweet as honey as it is,” Isabelle Flanders said, giggling.
At Isabelle’s words, Myra looked over at Nikki, who was staring back at her. Both women had strange looks on their faces.
“What? Why are you two looking at each other like that?” Alexis Thorne asked in a jittery-sounding voice.
Myra shook her head and reached up to catch a golden leaf that was sailing downward in the soft breeze. She looked at it for a moment before she replied. “It’s what Isabelle said, that we’re sweet as honey. A long time ago, when my daughters were young, they had a friend named Honey Sweet. She used to live on a neighboring farm, and because it was too far to walk, her mother would drop her off to play. They rode the school bus together.”
“We stayed friends for a long time,” Nikki said, picking up on the story. “We went away to different colleges but stayed in touch with letters, calls, and cards on birthdays and Christmas. We lost track of each other after a while, but Honey sent us an invitation to her graduation. Myra and I both went. She graduated first in her class at the…at the FBI Academy!”
The women reared up as one. “What?” they chorused.
Myra’s eyes filled up. She ignored the outburst. “Honey came to Barbara’s funeral. She cried so hard. There was no consoling her.”
“Honey changed her name, from Honey Sweet to Erin Powell the day she turned twenty-one,” Nikki said. “She said when she joined the FBI no one would take a woman with the name Honey Sweet seriously. She’s Erin Powell now. When we were little, we all had these imaginary friends, and Honey’s was Erin Powell. The name didn’t surprise me at all. I haven’t heard from her in years and years. I don’t even know if she still works for the FBI. I do know she got her master’s degree and was planning on getting her doctorate. We laughed about how Barb and I would then have to call her Dr. Powell. I wonder where she is these days. Have you heard anything, Myra?” Nikki asked.
“No, dear, I haven’t heard a thing from her in years.”
The others started to jabber all at once. The questions all ran together. “Does she know who you are these days? Are you saying she didn’t give you up to the fibbies? Whose side is she on? Why didn’t you ever tell us you knew someone inside the FBI?”
Lawyer that she was, Nikki responded, “Because it isn’t pertinent to us. That was long ago, another life. Honey was a loyal friend. The three of us were like sisters. Old friendships are treasured. That’s the best answer I can give you. If any of you are thinking that Honey would spill her guts about us, think again.”
“Nikki’s right,” Myra said.
A sudden gust of wind whipped through the clearing, sending down a shower of golden leaves that the women tried to catch. The overpowering scent from the pine trees rushed about them at the same time.
Ever suspicious, Kathryn demanded to know if the Honey Sweet connection meant anything in their current position. She reached for a thickly coated chicken leg and bit into it.
“I don’t see how a memory can mean anything at this time. Isabelle said we were sweet as honey, and that triggered a memory Myra and I shared with you. End of story,” Nikki said. “I will say this, though. Knowing Honey the way I do, I’m sure she rooted for us every step of the way. FBI or not.”
“I agree,” Myra said. “Now, let’s eat this wonderful food Charles prepared for us. The rule is we have to eat it all and take back an empty basket.”
The women fell to it until the hamper was empty. As they munched and chewed, they talked about the glorious fall colors, the ten-mile run, and what lay ahead of them for the rest of the day.
When it came time to clean up and fold the blanket, Annie called for silence. “I got a call a little earlier, actually it came through at 8:10. It looks like my offer to buy the
Post
is going to be accepted. Not to worry, ownership is buried so deep it will take years before anyone can figure it out. I was told there’s another week or so of paperwork to go through, after which the paper is ours. Say something, ladies.”
As one, the women whooped and hollered out congratulations, their shouts ringing down and around the mountain.
“This is a good thing?” Alexis asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Nikki said.
“Now you can really kick some ass, Annie,” Kathryn said. “Are you going to be hands-on behind the scenes? What are you going to write for your first op-ed piece?”
“That’s down the road. Right now I have to think about how I’m going to tell Charles. I’m a little nervous about ’fessing up to that,” Annie said.
Tiny Yoko Akia waved one of her arms. “Do not give it another thought, Annie. I think Sir Charles already knows and is not saying anything so as not to spoil your surprise when he says, ‘And what else is new, Annie?’”
The women burst out laughing, even Annie.
“Time to head up to the Big House. Charles wants us to gather in the dining room at four o’clock. Today is Tuesday, so that means there might be mail. I for one can’t wait for the Christmas Neiman Marcus catalog,” Isabelle said.
“That came out in July. Where were you, Isabelle?” Alexis laughed.
The camaraderie was evident as the women trooped up the incline to the open area surrounding the compound. Murphy and Grady, Kathryn and Alexis’s dogs, raced up to the women, barking furiously.
Murphy nudged Kathryn’s leg as he tried to head her off in another direction. Knowing the big shepherd wanted her to see something, she followed him, the others trailing along.
“Oh!” was the collective comment as the women looked at the object of Murphy’s angst. A huge scarecrow was settled comfortably on one of the Adirondack chairs, which was surrounded by bales of hay and pumpkins. Spiderwebs with black silk spiders stretched across the entire porch. A huge, furry stuffed black cat sat perched on the windowsill. White-sheeted ghosts, hung from wires suspended from the roof of the porch, swayed in the breeze.
The women clapped their hands in delight as they remembered their youth and similar displays at their own homes.
Myra waved her arms around. “I guess I was right after all. And that has to mean we’re having all things pumpkin for dinner tomorrow. Come along, girls, we have to thank Charles for this wonderful display.”
The dining room was a symphony of delightful smells. Cinnamon, nutmeg, baking bread, and baked apples. Even though they’d just finished eating, the women’s mouths started to water at what was to come for the dinner hour.
Charles emerged from the kitchen wearing a snowy white apron, with flour on his hands and a smudge on his nose. “Ah, your timing is perfect, ladies. I just made fresh coffee. My pies and bread are baking. The leg of lamb is ready to go in the oven when they come out. So, give me five minutes to freshen up, then I have news for you.”
The women, glowing from being outdoors, were effusive in their praise of Charles’s efforts on the porch. He smiled and thanked them, adding, “I saved seven pumpkins that you can carve this evening so you’ll have them ready for Halloween tomorrow.”
Yoko set the picnic hamper on the counter and joined the girls at the table. Annie was setting out cups and saucers and the sugar substitute into a small cut glass bowl. One of Charles’s theories was that something one didn’t like was more palatable when served in something pretty to the eye. No one had the heart to tell him his sugar substitute sucked and that they all kept packets of real sugar in their pockets.
Charles was as good as his word and took his place at the table in the allotted five minutes. He carried a small yellow folder that he slid onto the table. He waited until Annie poured the coffee. His eyes were like a hawk’s as he watched to see if any of his girls would try to sneak real sugar into their coffee. When he was certain everyone was obeying the rules, he opened the folder.
“I had a call this morning from Bert Navarro. Director Cummings of the FBI has appointed a special task force of six agents. Yes, I know that his predecessor tried to do the same thing, and we all know what happened to him. This is different. Cummings has hauled out what he considers his secret weapon in his war to catch the vigilantes. His secret weapon is a young woman named Erin Powell aka Honey Sweet.”
Myra bolted upright in her chair. “We were just talking about Honey while we picnicked. Nikki and I were explaining to the others how we knew her, and how we haven’t seen or heard from her in years.”
“Well, if she has her way, you’re going to be hearing from her soon. This all happened a few hours ago. Bert is on loan to Ms. Powell. As you know, he’s Cummings’s number one. Now Ms. Powell has made him
her
number one. He is not enamored of two of the agents assigned to this particular task force. Supposedly the group is comprised of the best of the best.
“According to Bert, Cummings appointed Powell lead agent and her orders are to use what firsthand knowledge she has about you and Nikki from her past relationship with you to figure out where you are and a way to get you where you can be arrested.
“Bert said when he gets home this evening, he will send the other agents’ dossiers so we can see what we’re dealing with. As I mentioned, he’s very concerned about two of the agents—that’s Joe Landos and Doug Parks. Charlie Akers and Pete Mangello are okay guys and will work with Powell, whereas the other two will work against her. That’s all I have at the moment. Now would be a good time to talk this up.”