Collateral Damage (7 page)

“Shut the hell up,” Akers said as he reviewed his options, which weren’t looking too good at the moment. All he could think about were the words Emery said about his pension and the eleven o’clock news. Hell could freeze over before they’d turn over his pension money to him. He knew all about bureaucracy.

Did he really want to call for backup? Emery was right, the Bureau would look at him as a wuss. His colleagues would whisper and snicker behind their hands that he was playing it safe till retirement. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

Emery was looking at him like a cat who’d just licked up a whole bowl of cream. A shudder rippled up and down Akers’s spine. The son of a bitch was up to something. He saw that Emery was about to close the door when he shouted, “Okay, okay, get back here. I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t that much. My boss, my
temporary
boss, Erin Powell, has been appointed to head up a special task force created by the director himself to bring the vigilantes to justice once and for all. She asked me to bring you in for a chat. A chat, Mr. Emery. You are not under arrest. But in about five minutes if you do not accompany me quietly into this car, you
will be
under arrest. Obstructing a federal agent is not going to look good on your record, just as not bringing you in won’t look good on mine. We’re both reasonable people, so let’s cooperate with one another. And, no, working for a woman who is PMS-ing isn’t a fun thing for me, either. I take orders just like you do.”

Jack pointedly looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes had elapsed. With travel time to the Bureau, Maddy should have her people in place. He turned around and locked the door for a second time. “Okay,” he said agreeably.

Akers blinked. Just like that, the jerk was agreeing to go with him. It hit him then like a lightning bolt. Emery had been stalling. “Fuck!”

Powell was going to crucify him.

Akers drove like the Hounds of Hell were on his tail. Jack bellowed and snarled for him to slow down, but Akers ignored him. “You’re going eighty miles an hour. That’s against the law. This is the goddamn District. We have laws here! And as an officer of the court I may just have to file an official report on this,” Jack bellowed as he grasped the handgrip above the door.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m wise to you. You’ve been stalling me. Well, that’s going to get you exactly nowhere.”

Eight minutes later, the dark sedan pulled to the curb in front of the Hoover Building. The crowd of people jostling one another looked to be in the hundreds. It was all Jack could do not to laugh out loud.

“Wow! Thanks, Akers, this is a hell of a welcome! You guys go all-out, don’t you?” Jack asked as he climbed out of the car.

“Get back in this damn car, do you hear me?” Akers sputtered.

There were print reporters, Ted Robinson and his partner Joe Espinosa at the head of the pack. There were anchors from all the news channels. And then there were the lawyers lined up three deep. Jack looked around as though he was a movie star. “I am Deputy District Attorney Jack Emery. E-m-e-r-y. This guy who brought me here is Special Agent Charles Akers. A-k-e-r-s. Get my good side, boys. I wish I could comment, but I have no idea why I’m here. All I know is there’s someone in there,” Jack said, pointing to the building, “who is in charge of yet another task force to bring down the vigilantes. Her name is Erin Powell. You spell that with two L’s, I think. P-o-w-e-l-l.”

The crowd literally seemed to swell. Agents appeared with drawn guns. Jack managed to look stunned and horrified at the same time. Lights brighter than stadium floods sprang up everywhere. Microphones were being thrust into his face. He tried to back away, the lights all around him nearly blinding him.

A slender woman appeared out of nowhere. Even with all the lights glaring in his face, Jack could make out the look of panic on the woman’s face. It had to be Akers’s temporary boss, Special Agent Powell with two L’s. A squadron of other agents behind her, she shouted for the crowd to disperse. No one moved. The media was on it like white on rice, and they smelled news.

“Back off, you are on government property!” Powell shouted.

Cameras clicked, and more microphones appeared. She angrily batted them out of the way.

“Arrest anyone who doesn’t move!” Powell screamed to be heard over the uproar.

Jack leaned over to the nearest reporter, and said, “You didn’t get this from me, but Powell used to know a couple of the vigilantes. Like in best friends. Nikki Quinn and Myra Rutledge. And she’s in charge of this task force. What’s wrong with this picture?”

“You shitting me, Emery?”

“Gospel, buddy. I swear on my mother.”

Jack moved slightly to get away from the reporter as he watched what was going on around him. He spotted Harry Wong. He reached out a long arm and yanked the reporter closer. He hissed again. “See that guy over there, the skinny one with the yellow Windbreaker? Talk to him. He’s a wealth of information. I think he has a video you might want to see.” The young reporter looked at Jack suspiciously but moved off to do his bidding. He managed a wink in Harry’s direction. Harry nodded.

It took twenty minutes before the agents had the doorway clear except for thirteen women.

Erin Powell looked at her agents and demanded they move the women, who looked like they were rooted to the concrete, away from the doorway. A tight huddle formed as the male and female agents snapped and snarled at one another. Jack watched as Erin Powell exploded in a verbal tirade. “I don’t care who they are, move them out of here.”

A tall, beautiful woman stepped forward. More than once Jack had heard her referred to as the sexiest woman alive. Jack almost blacked out when she approached Erin Powell and slapped a wad of paper into the agent’s hand. “Lizzie Fox, representing Jack Emery. These ladies behind me are my cocounsel, all twelve of them!”

Lizzie turned to the media and announced in a loud, crystal-clear voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Lizzie Fox, Mr. Emery’s attorney. Call me for any and all interviews, and I or my staff will cooperate. Fully.” She looked directly into the camera and offered up a sizzling wink. The cameraman filming her looked like his pants were on fire. It was all Jack could do not to laugh out loud.

The late news started off with a film clip of that sizzling wink as the anchor announced, “The Silver Fox is back in town, and woe to those who are hiding out in the Hoover Building.”

T
he women were getting ready for bed when three sharp bonging sounds from the bell in the compound reverberated over the mountain. They stopped what they were doing, looked at one another, their expressions a mixture of excitement and dread. Three bongs of the bell meant drop what you’re doing and report in. Robes flapping in the evening breeze, slippers slapping at the ground, the women ran toward the Big House, each wondering what crisis warranted the call.

Charles greeted the women at the door, Myra standing behind him. Both wore robes and were smiling from ear to ear. As one, the women relaxed.

“What? What?” Kathryn demanded.

“Something rather amusing, ladies. Or let’s say the vigilantes are one-up. I am referring to a breaking news cable special that ended a few minutes ago. I taped the episode, and later I’ll catch the D.C. eleven o’clock local news for fuller coverage.”

Nikki gasped when Jack Emery appeared on the screen. One hand flew to her heart, the other to her lips as she watched the scene being played out on the large plasma screen.

The women hooted and hollered, their fists shooting in the air as the unruly crowd shouted and bellowed.

Nikki moved closer to the screen. “Oh, my God! Those are my lawyers! The whole firm is there! How’d that happen? What’s going on, Charles? Sweet mother, that’s Lizzie. Did she just say she’s representing Jack? Charles, say something and say it right now.
Now!
” she shrieked.

The plasma screen went dark. Charles held up his hand to silence the women, who were, naturally, all talking at once. “Believe it or not, I just got a call from Nellie a few minutes before I rang the bell. As you could see, Jack was rather busy, as was Harry. Bert couldn’t get to a phone. He said he’s being watched like a hawk by Erin Powell. He did manage to alert Nellie, who, like I said, just phoned me.”

“All well and good but what happened to cause that kind of meltdown?” Nikki asked, pointing to the blank screen in front of them.

“It seems Ms. Powell sent the members of her task force out to bring in our friends. When it came to Harry, Agent Parks entered his
dojo
unannounced and without a warrant. Harry was closing up and thought it was an intruder and managed to…uh…take him out. Agent Parks is in the hospital as we speak. I seriously doubt if he will be returning to Ms. Powell’s task force. Harry’s security camera caught it all on tape. A copy is on the way to my mail drop.

“As for Jack, Agent Akers showed up and asked him to accompany him to the Hoover Building. Jack agreed, then changed his mind and things went downhill after that. He managed to call Maddy, and she rounded up all the attorneys at your firm, along with Lizzie. They were waiting at the Hoover Building when Agent Akers arrived with Jack. Oh, yes, Maddy and Lizzie alerted the media, and that’s what the circus atmosphere was all about. I like it when my people are proactive.”

“Where’s Jack now?” Nikki asked.

“Inside the Hoover Building, I assume. Ms. Powell can hold him for seventy-two hours and deny him a lawyer, but I don’t think that will happen. Lizzie was front and center, it’s all over the news. Elias Cummings won’t allow anything to go awry. The Bureau does not need any more bad publicity. That’s all I know.”

“I thought Lizzie had gone to ground with Justice Barnes. What’s she doing back in the District?” Annie asked.

Charles removed his glasses and looked over at Annie. “Actually, I called her in. She’s here to oversee the final details of your purchase of the
Post,
Annie. Of course, no one knows that. Her cover story is she’s been on a sabbatical, but she’s back in the game again. Of course, we’re the only ones who know that.”

“That makes me feel a lot better,” Annie said. “Lizzie you can trust.”

“Does that mean Maggie Spritzer is back in town, too?” Isabelle asked.

“That’s what it means, Isabelle,” Charles said. “As a matter of fact, Ms. Spritzer will be in a position of power when the sale becomes final.”

“Very clever, Charles. How did you manage all of that?” Nikki asked.

“With a great deal of help. That’s another way of saying, we have it covered.”

“What’s going to happen now, dear?” Myra asked.

“Well, for one thing, Lizzie has more than a nodding acquaintance with Martine Connor, the presumptive Democratic candidate for the presidency. She handled some of Ms. Connor’s legal business in the past. Both women belonged to many of the same organizations. She also knows Pamela Lock quite well. When the three of them were together, it always made the news. Speculation ran rampant about three high-powered women getting together. Invariably something political happened that got laid at their respective doorsteps. Fortunately for all of them, and us as well, no hint of scandal was ever attached to any of them. I don’t think I’d be out of line or off the mark if I said that if Martine Connor goes to the White House, Lizzie Fox will end up being the new White House counsel, if not the attorney general. I’m not certain where Ms. Lock will end up, although, as I indicated earlier, my personal guess is that she would be the new president’s chief of staff. But even if I’m wrong, she’ll be someplace high in the new administration.”

Nikki’s eyes narrowed. “This is getting complicated, Charles. Too many agendas, is my thinking. The only person who hasn’t reared his ugly head is Ted Robinson.”

“Wait five minutes,” Charles quipped. “When I replay the tape for you, you’ll see that he is right in front of the pack, along with his pal Joseph Espinosa.”

Just as Charles was about to press the remote to rerun the tape, his cell phone rang. The women waited, whispering among themselves.

Myra’s whisper was the loudest and held the most concern. “I do hope Nellie is okay with all this. She tends to get jittery when her little world is rocked.”

“Yes, but when it comes to crunch time, Nellie comes through,” Annie said. “Don’t forget, she is personal friends with Elias Cummings. The truth is, I think each one of them is afraid of the other. For them it works.”

Myra chewed on her lower lip, wishing she knew what was going on with her old friend.

Retired Judge Cornelia Easter, Nellie to close friends, settled herself in her favorite chair hoping for some welcome sleep. It had been a busy, stressful evening. She stared down at the encrypted phone in her hand that had started the ball rolling earlier. She closed her eyes in the hopes she could forget what had just transpired. She shuddered as she thought about the message she’d just gotten from Special Agent Bert Navarro. She stroked the cat on her lap, a yellow tabby named Jasper, and calmed almost immediately. A second cat, Miss Patty, wiggled and squirmed and clawed her way to the headrest on the recliner. She nuzzled into Nellie’s neck and immediately started to purr. Nellie smiled. She loved her cats, all ten of them, and a new litter was on the way out in the barn. New life. She rejoiced in it even if it was an animal life.

Just three hours ago—or was it four hours?—her phone had chirped to life…

She hated to disturb the two cats, but she had to get up and go out to the kitchen so she could see the security monitors. According to Agent Navarro, Special Agent Pete Mangello was about due to appear on her monitor. “Play hardball, Judge,” had been Bert’s parting comment before the connection was broken.

Nellie started to twitch again as she sat down at the kitchen table. She got up almost immediately to fix herself a stiff drink. She carried it back to the table and sat back down, her eyes on the monitor above the kitchen door, all compliments of the federal government when she had retired. As her security detail said, she was buttoned up tight. No one could get onto her property unless she opened the monster security gates. On top of that she had a secret weapon, well, two secret weapons. Two magnificent German shepherd guard dogs that were trained to guard her with their lives, again, compliments of the government.

Nellie turned her head to look in the laundry room, where the two shepherds were lying, nose to nose. Sisters, trained from puppyhood. Jam and Jelly. Her saviors. The best, though, was that they adored all ten cats and romped through the big old house until the rafters shook. It was not uncommon for one or two of the old cats to snuggle up next to both dogs for long winter naps.

At first she’d been leery about having two dogs, but once she became involved with the vigilantes, she knew it was a good idea, and she had no regrets. She whistled softly, and both shepherds padded out to her side, waiting for her to scratch them behind the ears. They licked at her old gnarled hands and looked at her with bright eyes as though to say,
“I know you’re in pain.”
For a few brief moments Nellie felt like she was in a cocoon of safety, her guardians all at her feet.

The moment was shattered a few seconds later when the hair on the back of both dogs’ necks stood on end. Nellie looked up at the monitor and saw the dark sedan sitting at the entrance to the gate. She waited for the audio to kick in and heard the man announce himself as Special Agent Peter Mangello. “I would like a few words with you, Your Honor.”

Nellie got up and walked over to the intercom. “About what?” she asked curtly.

“I’d like to discuss the matter inside, ma’am, if you don’t mind.”

“But you see, Special Agent Mangello, I do mind. I’ve retired for the evening, and, had you called ahead, I could have saved you the trip all the way out here. I
never
see unauthorized visitors. That’s why I make appointments.”

Both dogs pawed the floor, growling softly deep in their throats. The cats, all ten of them, were like a little herd as they scurried to and fro, not liking their mistress’s tone of voice.

“Your Honor, I’m here with Director Cummings’s approval. Call him if you have any doubts. I really need to speak with you, and I don’t want to have to come back with a warrant. I can simply plow down these gates, and see where that gets us. I’m an FBI agent, the
F
stands for federal…”

Nellie’s hackles rose. Like she needed to be apprised of the law. “And I am a retired
federal
judge. Did you just threaten me, Special Agent Mangello?” Nellie heard the aggrieved sigh at the other end of the intercom.

“No, ma’am. Please, call Director Cummings. If you don’t have the number, I can give it to you.”

“Call him yourself. I told you, I have retired for the evening. Good night, Special Agent Mangello.” Nellie clicked off the intercom, then shut down the security panel. She looked down at the dogs, who looked like they were ready to feast on someone’s legs or buttocks. She spoke soothingly and led them back to the living room, where they took up their positions on either end of the sofa. They remained alert, their eyes bright and shiny. The cats were still scurrying and leaping from couch to chair, to the floor and up to the tables. Finally, they lined up on the sofa between the two dogs as though they were waiting to get their pictures taken. In spite of herself, Nellie laughed.

She then checked the time at the bottom of her TV screen. She’d been watching The Shopping Channel. She would never admit it to anyone that she was addicted to it. She corrected the thought almost immediately. In a weak moment she’d confided to Myra about her shopping mania. She couldn’t remember if she’d told her to keep it a secret or not.

While her thoughts raced, Nellie’s eyes were glued to the screen, where a pretty young thing was trying to convince the viewing audience that their lives wouldn’t be complete if they didn’t immediately order the stainless steel slow cooker with nine different bells and whistles even people in outer space would be clamoring for before the hour ran out. She decided to pass on the extraordinary offer.

Nellie figured it would take Elias Cummings at least eight minutes to call her. Why had Mangello neglected to mention that he was a member of a special task force? Why had he said Elias was his boss? Technically, Cummings was Mangello’s boss, but according to Bert Navarro, a young woman named Erin Powell was heading a designer task force. Mangello, Navarro, and three other agents were currently reporting directly to her.

Nellie continued to watch the digital numbers tick over at the bottom of the screen. She almost whooped with pleasure when the house’s landline rang. Nellie reached down into the work bag attached to her chair and pulled out the phone. “Good evening, Elias,” she said, before the director could identify himself. “Why are you and your people bothering me at this time of night? I’ve retired for the evening. You need to call and make an appointment if you want to talk to me. Isn’t that what you do, Elias? Now you can say something, Elias.”

“You never sleep, Nellie,” the director said. “You told me that yourself.” The director’s voice was calm, and he sounded amused.

“You weren’t listening, Elias. I didn’t say I was sleeping. I said I had retired for the evening. That means I am dressed in my sleeping attire, I am buttoned up, so to speak, security-wise. I am sitting here with my animals drinking my one allotted drink of the day. Make an appointment.”

“Stop being such a curmudgeon, Nellie, or I’ll haul your butt in here and do it the hard way.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a threat, Elias. I will not tolerate that. Your man threatened me before, too. And if you try to, as you put it, haul my butt to your offices, what do you think I’ll be doing?”

“God only knows,” Director Cummings grumbled. “C’mon, Nellie, my guy just wants to ask you a few questions. If you don’t cooperate, I mean it, I
will
haul you in here.”

“Oh, all right,” Nellie agreed. “I’ll give him exactly fifteen minutes. I’m going to make a few calls to ensure that your person leaves on schedule. Are we clear on that, Elias? Guess you got your balls in the wringer again, eh?” Nellie added, just as she broke the connection. Sometimes you just had to say what was on your mind.

To the animals’ dismay, Nellie hauled herself to her feet again, trundled out to the kitchen, clicked on the intercom, spoke briefly, then pressed the button that would open the iron gates. Next she called Charles, who promised to call Bert and anyone else he could think of.