Eyes Only (22 page)

“Thirty, thirty-five minutes tops. Annie's plane is on the runway, gassed and ready to take off when she gives the okay. The airport has only two short runways. We're going to need a diversion at the airport when that new security crew arrives. I'm thinking a welcoming committee of sorts to slow things down. Jack Sparrow is here. He's the current director of the FBI. Not that he has any jurisdiction here, but he sure as hell can play the part. He can say Angus Spyder sent him to bring them to his end of the island. Their firearms, I assume, will be in their bags. The only glitch to that is Spyder getting in touch with them. He can't do it while they're in the air. But the minute they land, he can. Unless that genius Tookus can scramble his signal. Dicey at best.”

“Did you explain all that to Myra, Annie, and the girls?” Charles asked.

“I did. Then I repeated it all. At that point I left. You do realize that Spyder can see every inch of this end of the island, right?”

Charles and Fergus both nodded.

“Our best bet would be to get to the women, but he'll still see us coming. I'm sure a man like him would have a safe room, a bunker of sorts, and he's holed up in there at the moment. The wife might be of some help. She does live there. She might know how to entice him out or how we can blow our way in. We can't count on it, though.”

“Three hours!” Charles said.

“And counting,” Snowden replied.

“We need to go back to Annie's villa,” Charles said.

Snowden agreed.

Fergus looked green around the gills, but he got to his feet, ready to follow his leaders.

“Avery, call ahead and have Sparrow head to the airport now. See who he wants to take with him. Maybe Ted or Jack. He can't go alone. Unseen firepower, to let those men know he's in charge. By the way, is Harry Wong here?”

“You bet. Everyone is here.”

“Harry is his own army, and with Yoko at his side, we've won the war,” Charles said, feeling better immediately.

“You're sure there are two cigarette boats and one speedboat?” Fergus asked.

“If Jack said there are two cigarette boats and one speedboat, then yes is the answer,” Snowden shot over his shoulder. “C'mon. Move it, men. The clock is ticking.”

Fergus looked at his watch. So did Charles.

Chapter 21

J
ack Emery likened what was going on at Annie's villa to a Chinese fire drill gone wrong. The women were shedding their disguises and doing their best to scrub off the brown dye on their skin.

“I didn't like pretending to be a guy,” Isabelle groused as she scrubbed harder.

“I hate wearing baseball caps and messing up my hair,” Nikki grated as she did her best to fluff out her blond locks. “And your head sweats!”

“No flip-flops, girls. Lace-up sneakers. We need to be steady on our feet. Fashion doesn't count,” Kathryn said as she bent over to tie her Nikes into a snug knot. She stretched out her bad leg and winced. The others pretended not to notice.

“I think Harry and I had the worst costumes,” Yoko said as she piled up the pounds of clothing Alexis had assigned to both her and Harry to make them appear ancient. “I feel like I can breathe again.” To prove her point, she danced around the lanai, doing a few pirouettes for everyone's benefit. Harry beamed his pleasure as he flexed his fingers.

Jack felt as jumpy as a cat in the middle of a rainstorm. Something was niggling at him. Something he was sure he had missed. He said so aloud. Everyone just looked at him, but no one offered any advice. “Anyone want my push-up bra?” he said, twirling it in the air for all to see.

He had no takers, so he tossed it into the bushes. “Your loss. It had modesty pads.”

In spite of himself, Harry burst out laughing. Harry never laughed.

Annie and Myra looked at each other, and both nodded. “Change of plans, people,” Annie said.

Nikki looked at Jack and mumbled, “How
do
they do that? They didn't say a word out loud, yet they both agree on whatever is coming. And ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it is the right decision. I hate that, Jack. I really do.”

“That's because you're a lawyer, and you think things through. They just do it. Let's see what the new plan is.”

“Myra and I do not think it's a good move to send Mr. Sparrow, Maggie, Ted, and Joseph to the airport. While Maggie and the boys are legitimate, and the exposure they would be touting to the rotating crew might make sense to us, it won't to the crew. And neither one of us is comfortable that the crew won't recognize Mr. Sparrow even in his disguise. Plus, there is no viable means of transportation back here. They number twenty. I think hiring a taxi would raise a red flag. This is our fault—we did not think it through—so someone call Mr. Snowden and tell him to get to the airport ASAP.”

Jack squeezed Nikki's hand. “See? It makes sense now, doesn't it?”

Nikki mumbled something under her breath, which Jack couldn't quite hear, and he was thankful he couldn't.

Ted held up his iPhone and was texting furiously. He beamed and nodded at the return confirmation. “They're on their way.”

“I feel like Jack. I think we're missing something,” Annie said, a deep frown building on her face. “We need to hustle here, people. Our window of time is shrinking rapidly. And we still don't know how we're going to penetrate Mr. Spyder's home.”

“I know how,” Dennis said, raising his hand like he was in the fifth grade again.

All eyes turned to the young reporter.

“How?” they chorused as one.

Dennis pointed to Greg Albright. “All he has to do is show up, knock on the door, and Gretchen will let him in. I think. I say I think, based on the fact that I think Mr. Spyder will be in his bunker. He can bang on the door, call her name, whatever. I don't think either she or her mother will be able to resist. Bear in mind here that we are assuming neither woman wants to be there but has had no viable means of escape. If we all go as a group, and Greg takes the lead, I think it will work.”

Harry tilted his head to the side and fixed his gaze on Dennis, who immediately started to shake.

“I said, ‘I think,' Harry. I'm not 100 percent sure it will work.”

Harry smiled.

Harry never smiled.

Greg Albright bounced up off his chair like he was spring mounted. “I'll do it! I'll do it! When? I'm ready right now!”

“You need to cool your jets, young man,” Myra said sternly. “You do not do anything until we tell you to do it. Tell me you understand what I just said.” Her tone softened a little. “I understand how you are feeling right now, but you need to understand that if you do something that goes awry, all our planning will go down the drain.”

Albright took one look at Myra's fierce expression and sat down. He started to nibble on his thumb, his gaze sweeping the room, wishing for something that would give him hope. He saw nothing in anyone's expression. His shoulders slumped. So close yet so far.

Harry gave his slim shoulders a shrug as he got to his feet. “Take a walk with me, Jack. I need some exercise.”

“You need exercise like I need a watermelon taped to my head. What's up?” Jack asked.

“You're right. Something is off,” Harry replied as he and Jack walked outside.

“What did we miss, Harry? It's not like us to miss something. Yeah, maybe for a minute or two, but this . . . whatever we're missing is crucial. I'd bet my life on it. We're losing minutes here. I hate it when the girls cut it so close.”

Harry looked at his watch. “The way Snowden drives, he should be halfway to the airport by now,” he said, looking up at the bright sun. “I don't like this place, Jack. I can smell and sense the evil here.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Jack looked out across the deep blue of the ocean, the sun shimmering down creating little rainbows on the dancing waves. And then it hit him. Hard!

“Son of a bitch! Harry! Listen to me. Those new gunslingers from Miami—they aren't flying in. Well, they are, but they're coming on a seaplane, not a regular 747.
They're coming here.
We need to call Snowden to warn him and his people to get back here on the double. C'mon, Harry. Our current timeline just took a big hit.”

Jack raced up from the water's edge, across the small dunes, and literally belly flopped onto the lanai. “We gotta go
now!
Those new rotated security people aren't arriving at the airport on the northern end of the island. They're coming here by seaplane. They're coming
here!
” he gasped like a fish out of water.

“Hold on, Jack. How do you know this?” Annie asked.

“My gut, that's how. It's the only thing that makes sense. Someone call Snowden. Isabelle, find Abner and ask him to break in, hack in, whatever the hell he does, to see what kinds of flights left out of Miami, if any. Nikki, round everyone up and get your gear together. We need to leave ASAP. We need to be
inside
that house before those creeps land. Otherwise, we abort the mission now, and once those guys arrive, Spyder will be as safe as he was in his mother's womb. Shake it everybody. Move! Move!”

The Sisters moved. The way they always moved when they were on a mission. Like a well-oiled machine. Within minutes, the women were on the Harleys and the boys were in the Rovers, with Greg Albright bellowing that it was about time. Dennis gave him a chop alongside his head, to Harry's approval.

“You need to pipe down right now, or I'm going to jam my foot down your throat,” Dennis roared into Albright's ear.

“Okay, okay.”

 

 

Still in a daze at Snowden's abrupt departure without a word, Charles and Fergus paced the spacious apartment over the boathouse. Both men walked over to the huge bay window that overlooked the whole island in time to see the Sisters mount up. Charles's hungry gaze immediately found Myra, who looked to him like she'd been born to ride the Hog she was sitting on. He blinked when she steered the Harley to the front of the line. She held up her hand as an earth-splitting sound filled the air. Fergus almost jumped out of his shoes when he saw Annie sidle up next to Myra.

Both men watched in delighted horror as Myra twirled her red neckerchief in the air and bellowed something neither man could hear. She peeled out. Evel Knievel couldn't have done it better. Charles almost had an orgasm at what he was seeing.

Charles turned to Fergus. “What do you think she said?”

“I think she said, ‘Let's rumble!' I think all bikers say that when they take off. I read that somewhere a long time ago,” Fergus said, dithering. “Would you look at those ladies go! I don't know about you, Charles, but I'm getting a hard-on just standing here.
Those are our women!
”

“Why are we still standing here?” Charles demanded.

“Because Snowden told us not to move or leave, that's why,” Fergus shot back.

“Let me get this straight, Ferg. You want to stay here because he said so. Well, you can stay, but I'm leaving. Join me or not,” Charles huffed as he hustled to the door.

Fergus raced after him. “Where are we going, and how are we going to get there? I counted the vehicles. They're all gone.”

“Then we walk, jog, run, whatever it takes. Think of this as our daily exercise routine. We need to get in shape, anyway. As to where we're going, this is just a guess on my part, but I rather think the gang is headed to Spyder's mansion. For all I know, they might be planning on blasting their way in. We need to be there if that happens. We need to be there, period.”

“Don't you think we might be a distraction, Charles? I, for one, certainly don't want to throw off their timing, and you know that will happen if we show up.”

“You have a better idea, Fergus?”

“Actually, I don't. You were always the planner. You always said, ‘When in doubt, do nothing. ' So, what are we doing?”

“We keep going. When you stop, you drop. You know that, Ferg. I think we can handle whatever comes our way.”

Fergus nodded, but he wasn't so sure about handling things on their own. When they'd tried that back in England, they'd been blindsided, and they'd ended up here, under Hank Jellicoe's watchful eye. But, loyal to the core, he followed Charles, his heart beating faster than that of a racehorse crossing the finish line.

The airport was small, like all island airports. But unlike most island airports, which were busy, this one was not. Snowden hopped out of his all-terrain vehicle and ran up to the check-in counter. He talked bullet fast as his eyes raked the board overhead. No incoming flights were due until tomorrow. When the pretty blonde behind the check-in counter confirmed what he was reading on the board, he turned and raced back to the all-terrain vehicle.

“The guys were right. There are no flights due in today. Not till tomorrow. Emery was right. They're coming on a seaplane. You don't need an airport or a runway for that. Goddamn it! This has been one damn snafu after another. Burn rubber, Pete,” he told his driver.

“Time?” Pete, the driver, bellowed to be heard over the ocean's roar.

“Don't know much about seaplanes. My guess would be anytime soon,” Snowden bellowed in return.

“You planning on a shoot-out O.K. Corral style, boss? Or are we the welcoming committee?”

“For now, let's go with the welcome wagon. I managed to jam all the signals coming into the island, so if nothing went wrong, Spyder has not been able to contact his crew. They're coming in blind, and I'm hoping what they will be seeing, which is us, won't set off any alarms. I think we can pull it off. If not, oh, well, then it's O.K. Corral time.”

“Six of us and twenty of them. Not good odds, boss.”

 

 

“Mom! Mom! Come quick,” Gretchen Spyder shouted at the top of her lungs. “God, Mom, hurry up! We need to get to the front door. Look outside! They're all here! Mom, what does this mean?”

Felicia Spyder kicked off her spike-heeled shoes and ran as fast as she could to the front door, where Gretchen was waiting for her. She opened the door wide just as a batch of Harley-Davidsons ground to a halt. Four Range Rovers stopped one after the other in a straight line. People appeared out of nowhere.

Greg Albright broke ranks and ran forward. “Gretchen!”

If Felicia hadn't been holding on to her daughter's shoulders, she would have toppled out of the wheelchair. They all watched as Greg scooped Gretchen out of her chair and danced away, their lips locked together.

“Well, that went rather well,” Annie said, a smile on her face. “Mrs. Spyder?”

“Please don't call me that. My name is Irina Dasha. Angus named me Felicia when he took me away. Just for the record, his birth name is Feodor Kostya Spyovich. Please tell me you are here to take me and my daughter to safety. Please tell me that.”