The Housewife Assassin's Relationship Survival Guide (12 page)

“Damn it!” I run to the window and peek out. Yep, there’s one now. Like, a white Ford Fiesta wouldn’t be conspicuous in a neighborhood where the most prevalent car is black BMW sedan? Give me a break. “How long have they been out there?”

“I spotted them the day we got back from the polo match,” Jack says.

 “They’ve got three shifts going, twenty-four seven,” Arnie adds. “But I came up with a way to keep them distracted while you were out of town.”

“Oh yeah? How was that?”

“Every night Emma would slap on her ‘Donna’ wig and put on one of your nightgowns in front of the sheers in your master bedroom window.” 

Seeing my surprise, Emma turns red as a beet. “Oh, I don’t do anything, you know, lewd…Okay, maybe once I flashed a dude. But that was only because I felt sorry for him. He seemed bored out of his gourd. Besides, he’s kind of cute.”

Arnie frowns. He’s not too happy that his great idea backfired.

 “If someone else is after the Quorum, we can’t lead the assassin to another Sugar CEO, because he’ll murder that guy, too,” I say. 

Jack smiles. “If Mohammed can’t come to the mountain, perhaps the mountain can come to him.”

Arnie looks at him, clueless. “I don’t get it.”

“Up until now, we’ve been waiting for them to contact Donna,” Jack explains. “Instead, why don’t we contact them and invite them to an event they wouldn’t want to miss?”

Emma snickers. “That should be easy. All we’d have to say is that sex is involved.”

 “Wow,” Arnie murmurs. “Talk about the ultimate Quorum-palooza!”

I shake my head. “Nope, I don’t think so! As much as I’d like to get away from all these kinky blind dates, I’ve got to draw the line at an orgy.”

Jack laughs. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind. If we word the invitation correctly, they’ll all be expecting an intimate encounter with their dream girls, not some sort of group gang bang.” He shrugs. “At least, not all of them. Okay, I take that back. Maybe that is the ultimate fantasy of some of them. But what they’ll get instead is a one-on-one interrogation by an FBI agent.”

Ryan nods. “Works for me. But the agents will still need reconnaissance to put the screws to our mystery men.”

“That’s where Donna comes in.” Jack puts his hand on my shoulder. “As Sugar CEO’s concierge, she’ll greet each man personally. You know, take his coat, offer him a drink, give him the key to his room and walk him to the elevator, that sort of thing. It will also give her the face time that Arnie and Emma need to ID them. When she looks them in the eye, her lens feeds us video for an iris scan. Every time they open their mouths, we get a chance at voice recognition. Whenever they hit the elevator button or take her up on an offer for a libation, we have their fingerprints.”

I smile at his brilliance. “So, where does this soirée take place?”

“It’ll have to be a secluded venue, one away from any civilians,” Ryan murmurs. 

Arnie clicks away on his iPad. “Hey, I think I’ve got just the right place. There’s a posh new hotel, practically next door to LAX. It’s just passed the city inspection, furnishings are already being delivered, and the grand opening is still three weeks off.”

“Great find, Arnie,” Ryan says. Arnie gives him a silent nod, but his gaze falls on Emma to make sure she heard the boss man’s kudos. Apparently not, since she’s too busy combing through my pajama drawer. If Arnie doesn’t make his move before this mission is over, he may lose Emma to his competition. I’ve got to give that boy another pep talk.

“Perfect! Acme will rent it out for an evening prior to the opening. The hotel’s management will love making some pre-opening revenue. They will be told it’s for a private corporate event, and that no onsite personnel will be needed because we’ll be bringing in our own wait staff,” Ryan says. “Sugar CEO will send a limo, courtesy of Abu. That way, there’s no chance of them getting lost, and we can monitor any communication they have in transit.” 

“How will you break the news to the DOJ that I’m taking part in the mission?”

Ryan ponders that for a moment. “It was his grand scheme to use you as the canary in the Quorum mine shaft. If he wants to strike gold, it’s time to move you to a different tunnel.” 

I’m almost afraid to ask, but someone has to say it. “How can we ensure the assassin won’t get wind of this?”

“Our guess is that he’s also tapped into the Sugar CEO database,” Ryan explains. “If so, Arnie will have to create a sentry to block him from anything that signals future activity on their accounts.”

“With Reynolds' watchdogs out front, won’t I have to pass on all the fun?”

“If he thinks you’re here, he won’t be any wiser to your true whereabouts, Jack says. “Besides Emma’s window dressing—or I should say, undressing—we’ll transmit an audio feed from the house, so that he thinks he’s hearing you talking to the children. Instead, it will be a recording.”

For the first time in quite a while, Ryan graces us with a smile. “Should he show up at the hotel anyway, between the Feds and us he’ll have quite a welcoming committee waiting for him.”

And I’ll finally be off the hook with the DOJ.

Just my luck he’ll be here, watching Emma’s strip tease.

I hope she does me justice.

Chapter 9

When It’s Time to Meet the Parents

He has finally given in to your request to meet his parents. Whereas he’s sullen and anxious, you’re tickled pink, because it’s proof that you’ve reached yet another major milestone in your relationship!

So that you’re just as big a hit with them as you know they’ll be with you, follow these very important courtesies:

Courtesy #1: Always come armed with a compliment! In fact, always come armed. A semi-automatic will do! With the right purse, it makes an elegant fashion statement.

Courtesy #2: No matter how thick it is, do not stare at his mother’s mustache.

Courtesy #3: Should his father cop a feel, resist the urge to break his fingers. Remember, the bones of dirty old men over sixty are more brittle than the bones of your usual maulers, creeps under thirty.

Courtesy #4: Should his mother call you a “whore and a gold digger,” pretend you didn’t hear her. In fact, that is the ideal time to compliment her on her blouse, despite the fact that it is the size of a circus tent.

Courtesy #5: When your boyfriend asks, “So, what did you think of the old farts?” don’t feel any compunction to tell the truth. Being polite is what real ladies do—

Especially ones who are whores and/or gold diggers, and can wait out the final days of two wealthy old farts. Remember, patience is a virtue!

The hotel where the operation is taking place is posh on the inside, gleaming on the outside. It juts eighteen stories above Pershing Avenue, in Playa Del Rey, right behind LAX. Its rooftop party deck is the perfect spot to enjoy a starlit sky. 

What a great place to end the Quorum, once and for all.

My so-called concierge outfit is a vision in white, and in tight. It consists of a platinum blond Marilyn Monroe wig, tux tie, a breast-jutting bustier, a bum-hugging leather skirt, a tiny white bellman’s cap, fishnet stockings, and high heels. I wear a beauty mark to the left of my lips.

None of this leaves room to hide a weapon, and yet I’ve never felt safer on a mission. Besides the FBI agents behind Doors One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven and Eight (each on a separate floor starting on the ninth, so that any shouting or crying can’t be overheard) I’ll also have Jack and Ryan out front and close at hand, just in case something goes wrong.

“Incoming,” Abu murmurs into a mike that can be heard by everyone involved. “Sorry folks, his plane arrived earlier than expected.”

The suspects are scheduled every fifteen minutes, beginning at eight o’clock. That gives Abu just enough time to drop off and turn back around for the next pick-up. Here’s hoping most of these guys aren’t as eager as this one, or our timing may be off. The last thing we need is for them to be bumping into each other in the lobby.

Sugar CEO Number 4 is tall and elegant. He wears a bowler, round spectacles, and a three-piece pinstriped suit. He carries a walking stick under his arm, and he bows slightly when he sees me. As his eyes sweep over me, his grin shows me he likes what he sees.

 “Welcome. Your sugar baby is already waiting for you.” My smile is accompanied with a broad wink. “Here is the key to your room. May I take your hat?”

The man hesitates for moment before nodding.

He won’t need it where he’s going. Gitmo is too hot for anything other than a sun hat.

His hand grazes mine as he hands it over. “Won’t you be joining us?” His tone is hard, as opposed to hopeful.

In his dreams.

“Sorry, no. But trust me, you’ll be captivated by all she has in store for you.” 

His eyes linger on mine for just a moment. Finally he sighs. “All the more reason to have you at my side, my dear. You know what they say: the more, the merrier.”

“Perhaps next time,” I say firmly. 

The elevator rings its arrival. Saved by the bell. He pushes the button for the ninth floor, where his blind date awaits him. 

When Sugar CEO Number 5 arrives, I’ll send him to the eighth floor. The man who arrives after him will go to the seventh floor, and so on. By the eighth man, we’ll be down to the second floor. 

“Did you place him?” Arnie hears my question through my audio bug earring.

“Yeah, and I’m transmitting the intel to his FBI interrogator right now. He’s a Swiss banker. Name is Dominic Gerstner.”

I pray all the men aren’t as creepy as this guy, but something tells me that I’ll be in for a lot of this sort of King of the World attitude all evening.

I guess it comes with the territory. 

We’ve now identified all Quorum members. 

CEO Number 5, Guillermo Montezuma, one of Chavez’s top toadies, was recently passed over as the next dictator of Venezuela. Montezuma’s revenge is complete when he annihilates his political enemies, then turns Venezuela into an enemy with real teeth to its nemesis to the north: the United States.

Sugar CEO Number 6 is a Gunter Teichmüller, a German scientist renowned in the field of cyber warfare. Until now, we never knew his toys weren’t just the domain of his government, but instead sold to the highest bidder.

Sugar CEO Number 7 is Konstantin Sherkov, a Russian venture capitalist whose wealth and power has the Kremlin worried. My guess is that his plan was to extend this pleasure trip into something permanent. If he plays ball, the DOJ can make that a reality.

The last Sugar CEO, Number 8, is Huang Zitong. He is a 
shàngjiàng
, one of the highest ranking generals in China’s People’s Liberation Army. The scuttlebutt is that his ego-fueled bombast constantly puts him in hot water with his government’s Paramount Leader. Apparently he sees the writing on the wall. Are China’s bomb codes his chits in the Quorum’s winner-take-all game?

“Hey, now that the last CEO just went up, why haven’t we heard a peep from any of the FBI boys?” Jack murmurs in my earpiece. “At the very least, the top floor agent should have wrestled a confession by now.”

To tell the truth, it seems weird to me, too. “Nope, strangely not a word from anyone. Should I go up and take a look around?”

“Yes, good idea. Now that Abu is back to stay, he can play doorman, so no one will be able to walk in by happenstance. I’ll come inside to cover the lobby for you.”

When he gets inside, I give him a kiss, then hit the elevator button for the ninth floor.

The elevator doors open with a whisper. I walk down the hall to the third room on the left, Sugar CEO 4’s designated den of desire. The door is wide open.

Not good.

Neither is the fact that the FBI agent’s throat is slit, and that he’s bled out.

But where is Sugar CEO Number 4, Dominic Gerstner…?

Oh, shit! He’s the assassin.

“Jack! Abu! Do you see what I’m seeing?” I shout.

“Donna? Donna, please repeat! You’re breaking up!” Jack’s voice sounds a million miles away. “And we’ve lost your video feed, too!...Hello, Donna?...Arnie, we need tech support here! Ryan, Donna’s gone dark! We need reinforcements, now, on all the hotel exits! Abu, cover the front, in case the killer goes out that way, to make a break for it—”