Razor Sharp (11 page)

“Y
oung love is a wonderful thing, isn’t it, Myra?” Annie whispered as she stapled the reports Maggie Spritzer had just sent her. She continued to whisper. “I don’t think we’re supposed to know this—not that it’s exactly a secret,” she added hastily, “but I think Alexis and Joseph Espinosa have a
thing
going on. That means they’re communicating.”

“And your point is?” Myra asked, distributing the reports around the table.

“Well, if it’s true, it’s a good thing. I guess. That means only Isabelle is left unattached with no one in her life but you and me. And you don’t even really count, Myra, because Charles will come back at some point. Lizzie got married. Nellie got married. Maggie has Ted Robinson. I know I’m not young anymore, so why would somebody even be interested in me? So, it’s just Isabelle and me who are…manless, for want of a better term. I’m not sure I like the feeling. It’s like no one wants us. How sad is that?”

Myra stopped what she was doing and stared at her old friend to see if she was serious or just being cranky. She decided Annie was serious. She struggled for just the right words to take the stricken look off Annie’s face. “Annie, it’s not like you’re out there in the social scene, where you can make contact with the opposite sex. We’re cloistered here on the mountain, with few if any visitors. And do I have to remind you of that gentleman in Las Vegas named Little Fish who wanted you so bad he could taste it? You flirted with him, and he flirted back. Never mind that you almost shot him to death; he overlooked that little caper. I know you have his telephone number, so why don’t you just call him on the secure phone? Or, text him. The girls taught you how to text message.”

Annie perked up and raised her eyebrows. “Do you think, Myra, that it could be that simple?”

Myra didn’t know if it was that simple or not, but she said, “I do.”

“I’ll give it some thought. Something else is bothering me, Myra. Do you realize how many new…members we have? I know I came on the scene late, but in the beginning there were just seven women plus Charles. No one knew our secrets. Think about how many people now know about us. I have bad dreams where we’re all concerned.” Annie got agitated all over again. “There’s Lizzie, Jack, Maggie, Ted, Joseph, Harry, Bert, Cosmo Cricket, Elias Cummings, Nellie Easter, Pearl Barnes, Paula Woodley, Rena Gold, Little Fish, and of course Avery and all those other people who are on Charles’s payroll. And for God’s sake, let’s not forget the president of the United States, who just threatened Lizzie and Cosmo. We’ve become a regular little army here.”

“How else can we operate safely, Annie?” Not for the world would she admit to Annie that she had the same fears and the same reason for countless sleepless nights.

“I don’t know, Myra, I’m just saying that I’m worried. I don’t think any of them will turn on us, but it does make me nervous that so many people know our business and how we operate, not to mention knowing people who know other people so they can get in touch with us. Did I say that right? If not, you know what I’m talking about.”

Myra tried for a soothing tone but didn’t succeed because now Annie had piled worries on top of her own private worry because what she said made too much sense. “I do know what you’re talking about, but, except for Avery, none of the outsiders know where we are, Annie.”

“The president knows! She stopped by for a little visit, or were you asleep when that happened? She
knows,
Myra. She promised us a pardon that has not come through. Now she’s angry with Lizzie and Cosmo as well. We could be asleep in our beds, and, boom, this mountain could be surrounded by Black Hawk helicopters and we’d…we’d just disappear. The world would simply think the Vigilantes had retired.”

Myra fingered the pearls around her neck. Annie was making even more sense than before. “How did we go from romance to Black Hawk helicopters?”

“Because aside from feeling left out, I can’t sleep. That’s why we’re discussing helicopters. If I’m going to be miserable and worried, so are you. You’re the one who brought me here and promised me all kinds of rainbows.”

Myra huffed and puffed as she almost strangled herself with her pearls. “I did no such thing, Annie. I saved your life is what I did. You were sitting there watching the Weather Channel dressed like some guru twenty-four/seven. I gave you back your life.”

Annie’s eyes filled. “Yes, you did, Myra. I’m sorry. It’s not myself so much that I’m worried about, it’s the girls. Maybe I’m just horny.”

Myra started to sputter and then laughed so hard her sides ached. “That’s a wee bit more than I needed to know, Annie.”

Both women were startled when the front door blew open and the girls trooped over to the war room where all business was conducted.

“It’s raining!” Kathryn announced. “By tonight I think all the snow will be gone and we’ll be left with a giant mud puddle.”

“We might have to slide down the mountain.” Yoko laughed.

Nikki walked over to the huge fireplace and added a few logs, poked at them, then warmed her hands, her back to the others. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw Barbara dancing in the flames. She blinked, and the vision was gone. She turned to the others and grinned. Real or not, Nikki knew Barbara was nearby, at least in spirit. Barbara wouldn’t let anything go wrong. “Let’s see what we’re up against this time, girls.”

Across the country, Ted Robinson swigged coffee from a Styrofoam cup as he drove down the boulevard. Five o’clock in the morning, and there was as much traffic as if it was rush hour, whatever the hell rush hour time was in Vegas, assuming there even was one. He grunted something obscene because even a fool knew rush hour was twenty-four hours a day in most urban areas. He was meeting for donuts and coffee with a reporter he’d made contact with on his last visit to Nevada. He had no great hopes of learning anything he couldn’t find out on his own, but he was never one to miss any bets because of laziness on his part only to regret it later. He hated going through land records but, that’s what he was going to do as soon as the building that housed them opened—assuming Lancaster turned out to be a dry hole when it came to information.

Ted rolled into the parking lot of Krispy Kreme, parked, walked into the shop, and ordered a dozen jelly donuts to go and four coffees. Two extra as refills. Toby Lancaster was a tubby man who didn’t believe in exercise and loved sweets to the exclusion of all else. He was a good reporter, though. Ted had figured that out when he first met him. The rotund little guy had sharp eyes, a sharp wit, and he hated what he called “Vegas’s bullshit machine,” which never stopped.

Ted paid for his purchases and used his shoulder to open the heavy plate glass door just in time to see Lancaster roar into a parking space in his battered Toyota, which obviously needed a new muffler.

The two reporters shook hands and settled themselves in Ted’s rental car. Ted waited patiently for Toby to inhale four donuts before he even spoke.

“What are you up to on my turf this time around, Robinson?” Toby asked as he adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses more firmly on his nose. “It’s pretty damn early even here in Vegas.”

“I need to find out who paid for the property and construction of the Happy Day Camp. The brothel out there in Podunk or wherever the hell it is. Do you know it?”

“Pahrump. Only by reputation. Pretty high-class. Top-of-the-line for such establishments. Waiting list of clients. That info came to me about a year ago, and nothing else has popped up since. If something was going on, I would have heard. I have snitches I keep on retainer just the way you guys do back East. Did you try checking online? Records are open to the public.”

“Drew a blank. It’s buried deep. Holding companies, shell companies, corporations. Ownership might not be U.S.”

“Why do you want this information? What’s in it for me, Robinson?”

“I’ll share the byline. Can’t hurt your résumé to see your name in the
Washington Post.
Did I say above the fold? I never write anything that doesn’t go above the fold,” Ted boasted.

“You’re not telling me why. I need to know why, Robinson.”

“Well, you’ll need to know for a while longer, then. The minute my boss okays me telling you, the story is half yours. You have to take my word. Hey, man, didn’t I just buy you donuts and coffee? I don’t do that for just anyone,” Ted said virtuously.

“You want to bribe me, you’re gonna have to do more than buy me donuts and coffee. Try again.”

“How much?”

“Nah, I was just jerking your chain to see if you were leveling with me. Forget the land records—if it’s buried, it’s buried. There’s this guy out in the desert who has all this green grass. You gotta admire green grass in the desert. If anyone would know, it’s him.”

Something clicked in Ted’s head. “You mean that crazy-ass mercenary who has his property laced with claymore mines? I heard about him when I was here the last time.” He wisely omitted mentioning that Little Fish was a friend of the Vigilantes.

Lancaster screwed up his face into something that passed for disbelief. “You know Little Fish?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Sort of. Kind of. I know this lady who almost shot his dick off. Some mercenary.” Ted guffawed.

Lancaster didn’t laugh. “If that happened, Fish allowed it to happen. No one takes him. He’s like an encyclopedia of our fair state. A one-man army. He’s one guy you don’t want to piss off. He’s got a damn platoon of ex-something-or-others who watch his back. There’s nothing he doesn’t know about Las Vegas. There’s only one problem: he doesn’t see people. That means he doesn’t talk to people either. He doesn’t make appointments. No one I know has his phone number.”

“You really think he might know something?” Ted asked.

Lancaster stuffed his seventh donut in his mouth. He frowned to show his second coffee cup was empty.

“You want more, get it yourself. I asked you a question,” Ted snapped.

“Rumor has it the guy knows everything that goes on. Nothing gets past him. All I’m saying is he
might
know. Might know. Doesn’t mean he’s going to tell a reporter from back East what he knows, and, think about it, why should he? What’s he going to get out of talking?
Not
talking is his stock-in-trade. So what else can I help you with?”

“How do we get out there?”

“Wh…What?” Lancaster sputtered. “You want me to take you out there? I-don’t-think-so, Robinson. Are you forgetting the part about the claymores booby-trapping the guy’s property?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t remember asking you to go with me. Well, okay, maybe I did, but I wasn’t serious. Reporters are not supposed to be
wusses.
We’re supposed to be intrepid. You need to be intrepid to work as a reporter in D.C. You’d never make it back East.”

“Yeah, well, if that guy shoots your ass off, don’t call me. And, just for the record, you couldn’t pay me to go east and work and live in that fishbowl you swim around in. I’m going back home to bed. Listen, Robinson, that guy Fish is for real, okay? Call me if you make it back alive. I’ll do whatever I can. I’ll nose around when I wake up.”

“Yeah, okay, but I need directions to this Fish. Hey, wait a minute, do most people know about Fish? I’m asking because the FBI is here. What are the chances of someone talking about him to the feds?”

Lancaster scratched at the stubble on his chubby cheeks. “You didn’t say anything about the FBI. I have to draw a line if the fibbies are in on this. Those guys kick ass and take names later. I don’t want them kicking mine for a maybe byline. So, my answer would be
not likely.
But what the hell do I know? Fish minds his own business, so there’s no reason for the fibs to check him out. But maybe they’re as intrepid as you are,” he said slyly. “If so, watch your back.”

“Lancaster, the directions!”

“Oh, yeah. Okay, this is what you do.” He rattled off a full paragraph of twists and turns, then said, “Just type it into your GPS and you’re good to go.”

“I-knew-that,” Ted muttered as he slid behind the wheel. Before he turned the key in the ignition he sent off a text to Maggie that said he was going into the uncharted territory of a former mercenary—some guy named Fish—whose property was booby-trapped with claymore mines, and if she didn’t hear from him in two hours, it meant he was dead. Hoping for some sympathy or further instructions, he was disappointed when she returned the text that simply said:

What Ted didn’t know was that Maggie did flinch at the text. So she called Annie, who then had a legitimate reason to get in touch with one Little Fish, who sounded delighted to hear from her. Delight went to ecstatic when she explained what she wanted.

A
nnie used the excuse that she was going to go out to the kitchen to make fresh coffee while the girls looked through the profiles she and Myra had stapled together for their viewing benefit.

In the kitchen, she did prepare the coffeepot, then pulled out her special phone. She scrolled down till she found the number she wanted. She drew her lips inward as she tried to calm her jumpy nerves. She was acting like some giddy teenager instead of the sixty-year-old woman she was. She released her bottom lip, then bit down on it as she sucked in her breath a second time before she pushed the button that would connect her to the man known as Little Fish.

“Articulate,” came the response.

“What kind of greeting is that, Mr. Fish?” Annie sputtered.

“The kind of greeting one gets when their name doesn’t come up on my caller I.D. I haven’t heard from you in so long I thought you forgot about me, young lady.”

Young lady.
All riiiight. They were on the same page. “I…uh…I’ve been rather busy lately. I find myself in need of a favor, Mr. Fish.”

“Ask and you shall receive, young lady.”

Annie almost swooned as she watched the water drip into the coffeepot.

“There’s a young man, a reporter, who…uh, works for me, in a manner of speaking. He would like to converse with you. I’d appreciate it if you would share your extensive knowledge with him.”

“You would, eh? What’s in it for me, young lady? Are you trying to butter me up? Do you think I’m so easy that when a pretty lady asks me to do something, I’ll do it?”

“Well, yes. That’s the short answer.”
Pretty lady. Oh, be still my heart.
“By the way, my people are still working on our…little business deal to buy the Babylon. My people tell me your people are a little slow out of the gate. I hope you aren’t going to tell me you ran out of money.”

“Does Fort Knox run out of money? My people are just being thorough. My money is nesting in escrow along with yours, dear lady. I’d love to continue this conversation, but I see a rather strange-looking man sitting out on the road in front of my house.

“Why don’t we arrange a time for me to call you when we can
really
talk? A
personal
conversation. Is there a specific time that works for you, young lady?”

Annie’s knees threatened to buckle. A personal conversation. What would Kathryn and Nikki say to such a question? They’d probably tell her to play hard to get. Well, she didn’t want to play hard to get. She wanted to be
available.
Who cared what Nikki and Kathryn would say?

“Why don’t we say after dinner my time. Before dinner for you. I have to go now, the girls are waiting for me.” Annie snapped the phone shut and slid it into her pocket. She wondered if her legs would hold her upright if she stood. This had to be her little secret. She could go into the bathroom after dinner to wait for the call. She had to keep the phone call a secret, or the others would tease her unmercifully. Yes, she knew how to keep a secret. When she was satisfied that her legs would indeed hold her upright, Annie barreled through the doorway and out to the war room, where she bellowed, “Girls, you are never going to believe this!” Only teenagers kept secrets. She was no fool. She needed
advice.
Big-time.

Ted clambered out of his rental car and looked over the terrain. It was mind-boggling that he was seeing lush green grass in the middle of nowhere, with desert all around. Living in Washington, he didn’t see too much grass, and never an expanse like he was seeing now. Little patches of lawn didn’t cut it. He wondered what it would feel like to tramp over the green blades in his bare feet. He looked down at his shoes.

“Don’t even think about running through my grass, young man. It’s to look at, to lust over, to dream about. It is not to walk on. Even I do not walk on it.”

“Then what good is it? How can you enjoy such a spectacle if you don’t walk on it? I thought grass was sturdy,” Ted grumbled, as his mind raced to a vision of himself and Maggie having sex amid the lush greenery.

“That won’t work either, young man,” Fish said, knowing what was on Ted’s mind. Everyone wanted to have sex on his grass. If anyone was going to christen his meadow, it would be him and no one else.

Jesus, was the guy a mind reader? Ted flushed. “Ted Robinson,” Ted said, holding out his hand.

“Little Fish. People just call me Fish. I’m Indian. No point in telling you my real name because it isn’t important. What brings you out here, and what do you want?”

“What? You’re a mind reader and you want me to believe you don’t know why I’m here? I want to pick your brain,” Ted grumbled. “Is it true you have claymore mines all over this place?”

“I do. Does it bother you, Mr. Robinson?”

“Well, yeah. I don’t want to get splattered to hell and back. If you love this grass so much, how come you’re willing to blow it up?”

“You talk too much. Come along and walk right behind me.”

Ted made sure he stepped only where he was told. When they reached the front door of the long, sprawling house, he heaved a sigh of relief.

Fish smiled to himself. No one but he and his people knew there were no mines. It was a rumor he himself had started years ago to keep lookie-loos and other unsavory people away from his property. Especially when he had to truck in water all the way from Arizona to keep his grass lush and healthy.

It was a man’s house for sure, Ted thought as he looked around. Plank floors, wood all over the place, leather furniture, no feminine touches anywhere. Maggie would hate it with a passion. Indian rugs dotted the floors in some of the rooms, others hung from the walls. Ted decided he could definitely live in a place like this. But, if Maggie got her mitts on it, there would be ruffled curtains on the windows, gizmos, and knickknacks everywhere, not to mention silk plants and artificial trees.

“I’m a kitchen kind of guy. That means we’ll sit out here at the table. You want coffee or soda pop? I have both. I make good coffee. Strong but good. Grind my own beans, and you have to use real cream. Not that artificial crap. Sit down, young fella, and tell me what you want to know.”

Ted sat down in a wooden chair that he knew had to weigh five hundred pounds. The round wooden table looked like it weighed half a ton and was made from old tree trunks. A bowl of bright red apples sat in the middle of the table. He stretched out his legs, and asked, “Who are you, Fish?”

“I’m the man who’s making you coffee.” And that was the end of that.

Ted stared at the man who was making him coffee. He was leathered and wrinkled, but his eyes were his most remarkable feature. They were summer blue, not faded like some older people’s. He had plenty of hair that was iron gray and tended to curl around his ears. The fishing cap he’d taken off and squashed into his pocket was as old and as worn as the jeans and plaid shirt he was wearing. If Fish had more money than Fort Knox, as Lizzie had told Ted on his last trip, it sure didn’t show in his attire. Ted knew there was a gun tucked into the back of Fish’s waistband. Another was strapped to his ankle. Lizzie had told him that, too. An old guy who used to be a mercenary and who wasn’t about to give up that exciting life. A rich, old mercenary, a rare commodity, Ted expected.

“Talk to me,” Fish said.

“I was told that you know everything there is to know about Vegas. How come they call Wayne Newton ‘Mr. Vegas’ and not you?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” Fish grinned.

Ted blinked at the startling white teeth that shone like beacons in the sun-darkened face. “Who put up the money for the Happy Day Camp out there in Podunk?”

Fish laughed. “Pahrump. Why do you want to know? It’s not a good thing to lie to me. Not that you would, but I frown on people who try to get one over on me. You got here on sterling credentials, but that can change in the time it takes your heart to beat twice.”

Ted mulled that over, and said, “Some big shit is going down in the nation’s capital. It involves the new administration. Seems the madam of the Happy Day Camp took her crew on the road and got herself in a spot of trouble. Then she did a disappearing act. The FBI is looking for her, and so is the current administration, along with some Secret Service types. And the Vigilantes are on it.”

“Oh, well, then you don’t have to worry about anything if the ladies are on it.” Fish guffawed. “Those FBI types can’t find the end of their noses, and the Secret Service isn’t any better. Didn’t you check the land records?”

“I did, but it’s buried. I was hoping you might have heard who put the money up. It’s a given that the lady didn’t have those kinds of assets. Someone had to bankroll it, and that someone had to have some clout to bury it all so deep. The big question is
why?
Prostitution is legal here in Nevada. Who cares who bankrolled something like a brothel?”

“Is that what you think?”

“Well, yeah,” Ted drawled “that’s what I think because I can’t think any other way at the moment. I’m in the ‘what, where, when, and why’ business. I’m thinking that person has a lot to hide by burying it so deep. I can’t believe the revenue from one brothel could bring in
that
much money that it all has to be kept secret. It has to be more than that. So what do you know?”

“That’s going way back—twelve, maybe thirteen years at least. My memory isn’t all that good of late. Seems to me it was some group that put up the money.”

Ted managed to look disgusted. “My ass, you don’t know. I was told you know
everything
. Are you telling me that’s a lie, or one of those myths, like your claymore mines? Five will get you ten you don’t have one mine out there in your yard. Let’s cut the bullshit, it was a simple question. If you can’t answer it, then I’ll be on my way. My boss pays me by the hour, and she’s hell on wheels when it comes to wasting time without gleaning useful information.”

Little Fish let out a loud laugh and slapped at his thigh. “I like that. Short and to the point. Time is money, that kind of thing.” He poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Ted. “Bring your coffee and let’s see what we can come up with. On one condition, now.”

Ted stopped in his tracks. “And that would be…what?”

“That you tell the ladies I was helpful. I’m inclined to think I let things develop into a bit of a mess the last time we ran into one another. I’d like to clear that up.”

Ted’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Are you asking me to put in a good word with the Vigilantes? Is that what you’re asking?”

“That’s what I’m asking, young fella.”

“What makes you think those ladies are going to listen to me?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Fish cackled.

Ted shrugged. The man had a point. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Fish smacked his hands as he led Ted into a room that looked like it belonged at the Kennedy Space Center. All Ted could do was gawk and gasp for breath. He was so astounded at the array of computers, screens, and other equipment he sloshed his coffee all over his pants leg. Fish pretended not to notice his faux pas.

“What in the name of God is all this?” Ted asked as he waved his arm about, spilling even more coffee down his legs. He barely noticed or felt the heat of the hot coffee on his leg.

“This,” Fish said, “is how I know
everything.”

Ted knew that Maggie was absolutely going to love all this. He could hardly wait to get back outside so he could text her. He knew if he tried right then, Fish would break his fingers. He watched in awe as Fish settled himself on a stool in front of one of the computers. He tapped away, then scooted to another computer until he’d made the rounds of the entire room. Paper literally flew out of a line of fax machines. Ted had to force himself to stand still in the little area Fish had pointed to, just far enough away so Ted couldn’t see the various passwords he was typing into all the computers.

In the blink of an eye, all the screens suddenly went blank. Fish rolled across the room to the fax machines and started gathering up all the papers. “What are you going to do with this information, kid?”

Kid?
“I don’t think my boss is going to sit on it, if that’s what you mean. We work for a newspaper. My job is to write stories, articles, gather news. My boss’s job is to publish that news. We both know who owns that newspaper, so take your best guess. That’s a hell of a lot of paper you’re holding in your hands.”

“So it is. You want a name, right?”

“Yeah. You want to tell me who it is? Why couldn’t you just tell me instead of taking up thirty minutes of my time and printing out all that stuff? Aren’t you into the environment and saving all those trees? You’re holding at least three trees right there in your hands.”

“If I just rattled off a name, where is your second source? Don’t you need
proof?”

Silly me
, Ted thought.
This guy is one step ahead of me all the way.
“Yeah, I need proof.”

Fish waved a piece of paper under Ted’s nose. Ted looked at the name, felt suddenly light-headed. “Oh, shit!”

“That pretty much sums it up, young fella. You want some more coffee, seeing as how you spilled most of yours? Maybe this time we should put a little jolt of something in it to bring back your color. You’re looking a bit pasty right now.”

“Yeah. Yeah, a little jolt would be good right now.”

One jolt coming up. The old man cackled as he led the way back to the kitchen.