Vanishing Act (14 page)

Jack grinned from ear to ear as Yoko walked around, squealing with pleasure. “Oooh, Harry, how did you know I love pink? Oh, my goodness, mercy me, this is just so beautiful. Harry, this was so sweet of you. To think you did all this for me!” Yoko started to make kissing kootchiekoo noises that Jack thought were none of his business. “Harry, honey, say something. How did you know? Do you love it, too? It makes such a difference. Pink is so peaceful, so serene. And you did it all for me!”

Harry looked over at Jack, his eyes defying him to say something. He did.

“Harry did his best to convince me that pink was the way to go, but I argued the point. He was adamant, though, and this,” Jack said, waving his arms around, “is the perfect result. I’m sorry, Harry, you were right, and I was wrong. I’ll see you two later…at some point…maybe tomorrow…if not, oh, well.”

To Harry he hissed, “Man you owe me big-time, and I’m going to take it out of your hide at some point. You got that,
you schmuck
?”

Harry nodded.

“For sure my work is done,” Jack mumbled to himself as he made his way back to the
dojo
and let himself out.

It was his turn now. Time for some quality time with Nikki. He crossed his fingers that she would be sitting in the kitchen or the bedroom waiting for him.
Oh, yeah! Life is good right now.

As always, when Maggie arrived home and exited her chauffeur-driven car—a perk of her job at the
Post—
she looked up and down the street. She saw Jack’s car parked two doors down and a green car of some sort that belonged to his two-day-a-week housekeeper. She couldn’t help but notice a white plumbing van parked directly in front of her house. Her driver walked her to the door and waited until she was inside.

“Guess you left your lights on this morning, Miss Spritzer.”

“I finally got around to setting the timers over the weekend. Thanks for bringing me home, Will. See you in the morning.”

The driver wagged his finger but waited till she was inside and the door closed. The moment he heard the lock snick into place he turned on his heel and walked to the Lincoln Town Car.

Inside, Maggie stood stock-still as she waited to see which of the Sisters was in her house. Kathryn emerged from the kitchen, a chicken leg in hand. Kathryn’s appetite was as notorious as Maggie’s.

“I didn’t know I had any chicken in the fridge,” Maggie said inanely.

“You didn’t. I stopped at a deli and bought two bags of food. I was starving. I didn’t know you worked this late, Maggie. It’s almost midnight.”

“I try not to, but with the profiles pouring in, I have to stay on top of it. Ted and Espinosa are working overtime. I want to start our new series midweek if possible.

“We’re going to run with something else, too. It’s a long story, but, fast-forward, I remembered something that has been niggling at me. There was this kid who called in to the paper right before the switchboard blew out. It was right after we started running the series. I hate to admit this, but I sloughed him off at the time. You know what they say, everything happens for a reason, so maybe even if I had paid attention, I wouldn’t have attached any importance to what he said. I just don’t know. What I do know is we are definitely onto something now.

“I sent Ted and Espinosa to Silver Spring, Maryland, to look for a garage where I think this young man might be working. The kids aren’t just in Silver Spring, they’re all over the map—Arlington, Alexandria, Bethesda, etc. They finally found him, and his name is Antonio Vargas. He had a story to tell, and Ted got it all. Espinosa has the pictures to back it up. The young man gave us a few other names, and those people gave us more names, kind of like a domino effect. In total, Ted and Espinosa, along with Dawson and his partner, managed to profile sixty-seven kids. I call them kids because the lot of them just turned eighteen. Male and female. Those profiles just broke my heart, Lizzie. Here are these kids living in foster care and not having the love and affection of a set of parents. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying the foster parents didn’t care about them, but nothing can take the place of a set of birth parents.

“Each and every one had a refrain: ‘I can’t wait till I’m eighteen, so I can get out of here.’ And when they did get out, look what happened to them. One girl, Melanie Blackman, is so musically inclined and gifted she was accepted to Julliard, but when she tried to apply for grants and open a bank account, apply for a part-time job, she was told she had such a poor credit history it wasn’t possible. Not one of them understood about credit reports,
FICA
scores. Each one of those kids has a story. We’re going with six of them in the paper. Ted did a superior job on the profiles. While we’re only doing six profiles, we are listing the names of all the others.

“I called Annie right away, and she’s working with some of her people to, as she put it, ‘arrange something for those youngsters.’ She’ll make it happen, too. One way or another, she’ll see to it that those kids get their lives back. Count on it.”

“That’s great, Maggie. I can’t wait till we get ahold of the people responsible for all of this. When we’re finished with them, Bonnie and Clyde are going to wish they had never been born. Just imagine each of them having their fifteen minutes of fame going up against Harry or Yoko!”

Maggie laughed. “It won’t be pretty when it happens.” Maggie kicked off her shoes and sent them sailing across the room. Her backpack landed on the sofa, then her suit jacket settled on a chair next to it. She followed Kathryn to the kitchen. “Talk,” she said as she peered into the fridge.

Kathryn brought her up-to-date. “So, to account for my leaving the van in front of your house, what you’re looking at is major plumbing problems. I’m going to need another vehicle. Do you think either Ted or Espinosa can come up with one for me?”

Maggie carried a load of food to the counter, where she prepared to make a Dagwood sandwich. “Yeah, they probably can come up with one; if not, we’ll get you a rental. So what’s the deal?”

“Everything is pretty much in place, but we hit a snag. A big one. Annie and Myra discovered that Bonnie and Clyde’s apartment at the Watergate, 1206, is a shill. That means they must have another apartment in the complex. At least that’s what we think. Until we know exactly where they’re living, we can’t do anything. Annie wants to know if you can have your guy check that out. Charles has his people on it, but we need speed right now. Her thinking is two…uh…hackers working on it will bring quicker results. She said pay whatever you have to pay to get the information.”

Maggie bit down on her sandwich. She chewed thoughtfully before she responded. “Okay, I’ll make the call, but he’s going to fight me on this.”

Kathryn grinned. “Maggie, Maggie, just tell him the vigilantes will hunt him down and kill him if he doesn’t do it.”

“Hmmm. That might work. Common sense tells me we should be hiring private detectives by the dozen to man the doors and elevators, so when Bonnie and Clyde do go in and out, we can take them. When I spoke to Nikki earlier, when you guys were still on the mountain, she said that Charles’s people have pictures, good ones, of Bonnie and Clyde. If the detectives have pictures, we should be able to get a bead on them.”

“Paper trail, Maggie. We need hard information that they either own or rent the space where they’re actually living when we turn it over to the proper authorities. You’re going to want that, too, for your articles.”

“Okay, you’re right.” Maggie’s cell was in her hand before Kathryn could blink.

A voice barked into the phone. “No!”

“I have a message for you,” Maggie barked in return. “Just to prove I’m serious, look around and tell me what you see.”

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded wary. “Why?”

“Tell me what you see,” Maggie said, her voice ringing with frost.

“Lots of people. The ocean, waiters. White sand. What do you want me to see?” The voice was still wary and jittery-sounding.

“Among those people are two members of the vigilantes. There is also one local
FBI
agent. Right now they don’t know who they’re looking for, but if you don’t do what I want you to do, they’re going to zero in on you in the next five minutes. You told me you weren’t going to go to Hawaii until next week. You lied to me, Abbie. How much?”

“You’re lying, Maggie Spritzer!”

“You want to bring it to a test?”

“All right! All right! Tell me what you want.”

Maggie winked at Kathryn, who was trying not to laugh.

“I want…no, I
need
a list of all the tenants, owners, and renters who live in the Watergate. It seems our…birds…have a shell there but actually live in a different apartment. How hard can that be? You hack in and get the list. You’re done and I pay you, and you can stay in Hawaii for another two weeks.”

“I don’t want to stay here another two weeks. I might want to come back in January, when it’s cold back in D.C. What you’re asking me for is stupid. That information is not going to tell you what you want. The Watergate and Crystal City are havens for young couples and singles as well. It would take me weeks, maybe longer, even if I worked round-the-clock to sift through it all. The bottom line is: as much as I hate to admit it, I can’t do it. But, if you have time and don’t need the information in the next twelve hours, I’ll take a shot at it. My fee will depend on what you want me to do. I’m serious, Maggie, you’re grasping at straws. Want some advice?”

“Do I have a choice? What?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this to you. Use the money you’d be paying me and hire a batch of private eyes. Position them as needed and wait for whatever shakes out. People have to go outside from time to time. You said you have pictures, so hand them out to the detectives and sit back and wait. I’m sorry, Maggie, I hate turning down business, but this time it’s a no-brainer. Were you lying to me about the vigilantes and the FBI?”

“I absolutely was not lying to you,” Maggie lied, fighting to keep a straight face but crossing her fingers. “You rained on my parade, Abbie. I hate it when people rain on my parade.” She broke the connection as Abner Tookus started to sputter.

Maggie stared across the table at Kathryn. “No dice. He could do it eventually, but it will take weeks. We have to hire detectives.”

“Annie said she was going to mention that to Charles. I’m thinking it’s already in the planning stage unless his hackers are better than your guy.”

“Trust me, no one is better than my guy. So, do we hire some dicks or let Charles handle it? I wonder how many entrances and exits there are.”

Kathryn rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a clue. Parking garages have all kinds of exits. Didn’t you say Charles’s people know the makes and models of their cars?”

Maggie shrugged. “I’m pretty sure, so that’s another avenue his people can pursue. I think it would be better if you call Charles, Kathryn. Ask him to stake some dicks in the garage area. He views me as stepping on his turf when I think outside the box.”

Kathryn yawned elaborately. “The morning will be time enough. You look as tired as I feel. C’mon, I’ll help you clean up.”

“What’s up with Lizzie?” Maggie asked, finishing the last of her glass of milk.

“Other than making Cosmo a happy camper, not much. Just wait five minutes, and that will change. Do you think she’ll take the job as chief White House counsel? And what effect do you think that would have on Connor’s giving the Sisters the pardons she owes us?”

“Nothing at this point in time. Having said that, I think Martine has a plan down the road. The last time we had a personal chat, she said something about putting the wheels in motion in regard to those pardons.”

Kathryn nodded. “What time do you get up?”

“Five o’clock. You can sleep in. I’ll make arrangements to get a car for you. I’ll call and tell you where it’s parked, okay? Night, Kathryn.”

“Night, Maggie.”

L
izzie Fox was opening her front door to head for her office when her BlackBerry came to life. She stopped, and walked back to the kitchen as she said hello to her husband. “You’re running late this morning, Cricket?”

There was a smile in her voice that Cricket couldn’t help but hear. He responded in kind. “I am, but I can’t start my day without talking to you before I go out the door. I have news, no smoking guns, but you might find it useful.”

“Fire away,” Lizzie said as she fixed herself the last of the coffee. “You never know, Cricket, I might be able to turn whatever your news is
into
a smoking gun. Let’s hear it.”

“I spoke with Damon Finn, he’s on the third or fourth tier of the Chase credit card division. I hate to admit this, but I had to bribe him to get the information he was willing to part with, and, like I said, it isn’t much. Two years ago they, meaning Chase, had a promotion for their people for signing up new accounts, then they brought them all here to Vegas as a thank-you. We met, nothing out of the ordinary, just a meeting. Nice guy. His people were nice, no drunkenness, no rude behavior. That’s all I had to go on when I spoke to him. I laid it out, told the truth, and promised him and his wife a week at the Babylon, fully comped, plane fare, food, chips for $100 a day. I’m not sure his information is worth what it cost us, but I’ll let you be the judge.

“In October of last year, a young woman by the name of Bethany Nolan was hired. The reason her name came to his attention was because of the strange hiring requirements she insisted on.”

Lizzie frowned. “Which were?”

“She said she was a law student and was just a hair away from taking the bar, and could only work two full weekends a month. But she was willing to work double shifts and once in a while maybe a Friday or a Monday if she could arrange it, so in essence it was the equivalent of a four-day or five-day workweek. She didn’t care that she wasn’t eligible for health benefits, said she was covered under her husband’s policy where he worked, so she was hired with Finn’s approval.

“She was everything you could want in an employee, according to Finn. She came in, worked sixteen hours a day, then they had to hire someone else to process all the new accounts she brought in. She stayed until the end of February, when she said she had to quit. She said she was run-down and needed to fall back and regroup so she could study for the bar. She sent a lovely letter thanking them for giving her the chance to work for such a wonderful company. On her last day she bought her fellow workers, six of them, pizza and gave them all a little token gift and promised to stay in touch. She even offered free legal advice in the future. No one ever heard from her again.”