Eyes Only (24 page)

“That's a joke, right?” Jack said.

“What? We're just going to sit here until . . .”

“I guess until they fry his ass in that tanning bed,” Jack said.

The boys sat down on the deck in the boathouse, their feet dangling in the water.

“Where the hell is Snowden? Where is the seaplane? Where is the rotating crew?” Harry asked.

“I can't see the yacht anymore,” Dennis said, shielding his eyes to peer out at the ocean.

“That's a good thing, kid,” Ted said.

The BOLO boys stared out at the calm ocean, their thoughts and feelings reflected on all their faces.

“So this is where you've been hiding,” Snowden said as he came around the side of the boathouse.

The boys jumped to their feet, each of them shouting questions, the main one being, “What's going on?”

“Well, I and my crew are happy to report that the rotating crew arrived and was quite happy to take us up on our hospitality, and they are now sleeping off a king-size Russian vodka drunk. By my best calculations, we have about two hours to split this place and return to safety. Where is our . . . ? I want to say ‘patient, ' but I think ‘victim' would be more appropriate.”

“I think he's sizzling in that tanning bed back in his gym. Maybe it's time to check on things. Strength in numbers, that kind of thing,” Jack mumbled under his breath.

“Let's do it,” Snowden said, striding off, the boys trailing behind.

Once they were back in Spyder's bunker, the boys lined up like soldiers, waiting to see what they should do.

“What took you so long?” Kathryn snapped. “He's ready to go.”

“Did he give it up?” Jack asked.

“He did,” Abner said cheerfully as he tapped away. “I've got all I need right now, but I want to finish up back in the States. Got it all on flash drives. We are good to go, ladies and gentlemen. I have to say, he put up a good fight. He didn't cave till his skin started to bubble up. He's all yours. My job here is done.”

“And you did it so well, dear,” Isabelle said as she took his arm.

“Clear out!” Snowden said. “I need to get my men here to clean up this mess. Do you have any special instructions?”

Annie fixed a steely eye on Snowden. “Three times is the charm, Mr. Snowden.”

Snowden bit down on his lip. “Point taken, Countess.”

Annie poked Myra in the arm. “What do you say we hit Vegas for a bit? We can drop everyone off at Reagan National and take off again for Vegas. I'm feeling lucky all of a sudden. Race you back to the villa.”

It didn't quite happen like that. Outside, there was such a clamor of laughter, squeals, and shouting that Myra and Annie ran through the crowd in time to see Charles and Fergus pumping hands and being hugged. Both women watched as they started to shake from head to toe.

Annie pinched Myra. “Are they real or figments of our imagination?”

“They look pretty real to me, Annie. Charles looks thinner.”

“So does Fergus,” Annie whispered. “What should we do?”

“You're asking me? You always have all the answers. What do you
want
to do?”

“Good Lord, Myra, do not ask me that. What I want to do and what I should do are two different things.”

“I hear you.”

The group parted to allow Charles and Fergus to walk forward.

“Myra.”

“Charles.”

“Annie.”

“Fergus.”

The two couples stared at one another.

As one, Charles and Fergus spoke. “What took you so long to find us? We've been waiting forever for you to spring us.”

Myra made an instant decision at the same time Annie did. “You weren't exactly easy to find, Sir Charles. But we found you. That's all that is important. Is it really you, Charles, or am I dreaming?”

“You're not dreaming, love.”

“You didn't ask me to go with you,” Annie whispered.

“I thought you'd say no. Look at me, Annie. I have nothing to offer you but my person and my very small pension. I wanted to ask, but I was afraid.”

“Are you offering now? Because if you are, I'll take it.”

“You will?”

“Damn straight I will. How'd you like to join me and Myra and probably Charles now? We're going to Vegas. You know what they say, Fergus. ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.' ”

“I'm your man, then.”

Myra looked back over her shoulder and winked at Annie.

Annie grinned as she settled her tiara a little more firmly on her head.

The Sisters clapped loudly, while the boys whistled and hooted their approval.

“Doncha love it, Harry, when things end so well?” Dennis asked.

“I do, kid. I do.”

Epilogue

 

 

W
hile the world watched Mother Nature help spring transition into summer with barely a drop in the temperature, then nudge what most meteorologists called a perfect summer into autumn, the residents of Pinewood and their guests barely noticed the change in seasons.

It was the day before Thanksgiving, seven long months since the Sisters' return from Spyder Island. The lights at the command center at Pinewood burned brightly 24/7 as the gang worked nonstop to right all of Angus Spyder's wrongdoing.

Thanksgiving was their target date to wrap things up, and as Annie de Silva said, they were right on target.

To say the women were tired would be an understatement. The guys were just as tired but were refusing to admit to it. And then there were the squabbles, the small turf wars that ensued with Charles's and Fergus's return to the fold. In the end, though, it all came together, and they worked as the well-oiled team that they were.

Charles, to his chagrin, relinquished his position on the dais in the war room to Abner Tookus. Myra appointed him chief cook and bottle washer, with Fergus as his top aide. With so many mouths to feed and the long hours of work, it was necessary to keep everyone nourished. Since the order came down from Myra, Charles thought it best if he pulled in his fighting horns and did her bidding. To say the menus were flawless would be an understatement. One day, the meals would be exotic; and the next day, comforting; followed up by downright perfect. Charles and Fergus allowed themselves to bask in the compliments, while Dennis watched and took notes, sometimes feeling brave enough to offer a suggestion.

On the first day after their return from Spyder Island, assignments were handed down. It was up to Ted, Maggie, Espinosa, and Dennis to let the world know about Angus Spyder, and they did with a once-a-month in-depth article, a series that had the four of them on the way to a Pulitzer. The
Post'
s readership tripled during the seven months the articles ran. The last article, which would run on the weekend after Thanksgiving, was being tweaked one last time.

After much debate, Annie gave the final okay for a warlike banner on the front page of the
Post
that read,
VIGILANTES END REIGN OF EVIL
. The rest of the front page carried photos of Angus Spyder, thanks to Joseph Espinosa. It was Maggie's suggestion, one that Ted had seconded, to wait till the last article to show the world the little, ugly man who had created such evil around the globe. She said it would be a fitting end to the whole ugly story.

It was midafternoon on the day before Thanksgiving. A light, blustery wind was blowing outside, but it was cozy and warm indoors, where all the gang was gathered, packing up the files and stacking them neatly in the war room. What they would do with them later on was anyone's guess. Myra thought they should be dropped off at either the FBI's front door or on the CIA's doorstep. A decision had yet to be made, but the most likely vote would be for the files to be transported to the
Post
warehouse, then sent to the FBI, to the attention of Jack Sparrow. He could then make the decision about what to share and what not to share with the CIA. Sparrow said he liked that idea best of all and knew the president would laud him forever if he made it happen.

There were many good things that had happened during the seven months at Pinewood. Abner and Isabelle had made peace and were cohabiting once again, to everyone's delight. Espinosa and Alexis had formally announced their engagement over the Fourth of July. The wedding, to be held at Pinewood, was scheduled for Valentine's Day the following year.

Annie and Fergus were once again best buds. They billed and cooed and never once mentioned money. Charles had stood his ground on his famous leave-taking at Thanksgiving two years before, and Myra had finally forgiven him, because, as she put it, she loved him and didn't want to spend the rest of her life without him in it.

Kathryn's leg had finally healed, with the promise from her doctors and surgeons that she could take to the open road after the first of the year. She had said the only good thing to come out of her accident, aside from the monetary gain, was that she could now accurately predict the weather better than any meteorologist.

There were two surprises left for the group as Thanksgiving approached. To Nikki and Jack's delight, Cyrus became a father to five rambunctious pups, three girls and two boys, over the Labor Day weekend. The new pups were to be delivered to their daddy on Thanksgiving Day.

And then there was Dennis, who had fallen in love with one Mitzi Overton, a red-haired, freckle-faced UPS driver who picked up and delivered to Pinewood. He was a goner the day she let him ride with her on her deliveries. The day he confessed to being a spook for the CIA, as a joke, then told her how rich he was, Mitzi blacked out and Dennis had to make the rest of her deliveries himself. As he told the others, it was a relationship made in heaven. He did take back the story about being a CIA spook, to everyone's relief.

Harry and Yoko had simply done what they normally did and had waited as they counted down the hours till they could head to China to see their daughter, Lily.

At three o'clock, Myra got up stiffly and hobbled around, craning her neck to the right and the left to ease the tension. “I am so glad we are done with all this. I have to be honest, I thought we'd never finish.” She tapped the old-fashioned ledger and said, “If it weren't for this, we'd be here till this time next year. I so hope we covered everything. Abner's idea for that eight hundred number for people to call will tell us if we got all of it right this time around. If not, we can always come back here and finish up. For now, I think we're all golden. I say we hit the showers, then join Charles for some much-needed refreshment and a magnificent dinner, which I am sure he is preparing as we speak.”

The others clapped and did stretches and knee bends to limber up after their long hours of sitting and poring over reports and files.

And another mission was filed away with the word
SUCCESSFUL
stamped across the final box.

“Hold on, hold on, people!” Annie shouted. “These boxes aren't going to walk their way upstairs. We need some strong arms to do that. You boys are elected. While you're all doing that, we ladies will be headed for the showers. Dennis, you need to call your friend Mitzi to have these boxes delivered to Mr. Sparrow. If you have any clout with her, ask her to come in an empty truck. We don't want any of these boxes getting mixed up with residential deliveries.”

It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order, and Dennis recognized it as such.

Upstairs in the kitchen, the women swooned at the heavenly aromas that greeted them.

“Cocktails in ninety minutes, Charles,” Myra said as she swept by him to make her way to the back staircase that would take her to the second floor, the girls right behind her. She giggled, as did the others, when Charles swatted her tush with a dish towel.

Life was looking good.

Ninety minutes later, everyone was in the huge family room, with a fire roaring in the fireplace. While they were bone tired, there was still excitement in the air as drinks and canapés were handed around. The dogs all curled by the fire and snoozed in utter contentment.

Annie took to the floor. “I think we should make a toast to a job well done.” She held her wineglass aloft. The others joined her. Cyrus barked twice to get his vote in; then Lady echoed him. “That makes it official, people!”

And then they talked, giving Charles and Fergus, who were out of the loop, a detailed summary of what had gone on below for the past seven months. Myra took the floor. The others listened, spellbound. She ended forty minutes later with a parched throat, which she corrected by downing her glass of wine and holding it out for a refill.

“We gave away billions. I truly don't think we missed anyone Angus Spyder, or Feodor Spyovich, trampled on. It's possible, so we set aside monies, should that come to pass. Believe it or not, it is not easy deciding what someone's life is worth. You simply cannot put a price tag on it. We did our best. We tried the best we could to make those people and their families whole again. Anonymously, of course. We have one billion dollars left offshore, which we can tap anytime we need to, thanks to Abner.

“We donated to Doctors Without Borders, the Wounded Warrior Project, every medical charity out there, no-kill animal shelters across the country, Seeing Eye dog farms all across the country, women's shelters, children's causes, different hospices that need help, scholarships, the Salvation Army, breast-cancer centers. We donated hundreds of thousands of computers for schools. We even set up free screening clinics for walk-in patients. We set up a fund nationwide where people can get free medicine if they can't afford it. We donated to clinics so people can get free care if they can't afford it. We donated heavily. Even so, we barely made a dent in Spyder's fortune.

“Realizing that, we set up an organization to which every one of the places I just mentioned can apply for more funds. The paperwork took forever, but we did it. Nikki and Jack are going to hire an outside group to monitor it all. For now, it's the best we can do. We can do more. There's a never-ending need for help, and we'll see to it that every cent of Spyder's money goes where it will be needed the most. It goes without saying that we helped ourselves to a good portion of the money, to be used by us to continue to right the wrongs of others. We did take a vote on that, too. We were all in agreement.”

“What is the latest on the Domingos and Irina and Gretchen?” Yoko asked.

Charles spoke up. “Pearl called me yesterday to tell me the Domingos are safely housed in Miami. They were given new identities, and no, she did not tell me what they are. She said they accepted twenty-five million dollars, and she had to twist their arms to agree to it. They now live in a nice tree-shaded community with, as she put it, real sidewalks, where the twins can walk to the park. They agreed to send pictures of the twins monthly to Pearl, along with little progress reports for school, their activities, and such, so she can forward them to Gretchen and Greg. Gretchen and Greg both agreed not to interfere in their lives, with the understanding that when the twins reach eighteen, they be given the right to see or not see each other.”

“Where are they now? What about Irina?” Isabelle asked.

“Gretchen's surgery was a success, to a point,” Charles explained. “She can walk, is in intense therapy, and will always have a noticeable limp. But she's okay with that. She says she can dance again, albeit a little lopsided. She and Greg plan to marry over the Christmas holidays, when Irina's family is due to arrive here in the States, thanks to Jack Sparrow and Immigration. We set aside monies for Gretchen and Greg. She was adamant about not wanting it, but we put it in a trust for them.

“Felicia, or Irina, as she prefers to be called, didn't want any money, either. We pointed out that she cashed in her jewelry and that came from Angus, so she agreed to a fund for her family. She wasn't greedy at all. All she wanted was for her family to have nice little houses with picket fences so they could have gardens full of flowers and vegetables. Her only real request was to be near a Russian Orthodox church, which we made happen. They are all going to take up residence in Reston, Virginia.”

“Guess that means all is well that ends well,” Nikki said happily. “I think this was our worst case so far, but the most rewarding in the end.”

“Except for Hank Jellicoe,” Annie said sourly.

“There's always tomorrow, Annie. One of these days, we'll nail that son of a bitch,” Jack said cheerfully. “Listen, I'm starved. When are we eating, Charles?”

“How about right now?” Charles said, getting up and heading for the kitchen.

Dinner was all everyone wanted it to be. Delicious, pleasant, good friends surrounded by other good friends.

When dinner was over, the girls took charge, and within minutes, the kitchen and dining room were sparkling clean and everyone was once more in the family room, with coffee and brandy.

Ten minutes into the last toast of the day, eyes drooped wearily as heads tilted to the side.

“Guess it's just you and me, Fergus. Dress up. Time to take these pooches out for a stroll. I've got the cigars and the treats for the dogs. Then, my friend, we come back in to get ready for our Thanksgiving feast tomorrow.”

“Why didn't you tell them, Charles?” Fergus asked.

“Tomorrow is soon enough. To be honest,” Charles said, shrugging into his anorak, “I'm not sure how Myra is going to take it.”

“Now,
that
I understand.”

 

 

Thanksgiving dinner was the same for Pinewood as it was across the country. A giant thirty-pound turkey cooked to perfection, every side dish known to man, along with Charles's plum pudding and, of course, pumpkin pie made from the fruits of Myra's own garden.

The moment grace was said and Charles picked up the carving knife, every person in the room froze in place as he or she remembered another Thanksgiving, when dinner was interrupted and Charles was whisked away by the spooks of MI5.

Charles looked up from the turkey and said, “I'm here to stay.”

The conversation picked up as plate after plate was passed around the table.

Everyone was there, even Elias Cummings, Nellie's husband, whom no one had expected to make it so far into the year. Elias was having a good day and for brief moments recognized one or another of the group. Pearl was antsy and said she was going to have to leave the minute dinner was over because she had a family she needed to send on its way, and today was the perfect day to do it since everyone was with family. The group offered up a toast in the middle of dinner for the wonderful, secretive work she did safeguarding families from those who wished them harm.