Vendetta (12 page)

A flicker of fear showed on Chai’s face. “What do you want? How much money for my safe return?”

“There’s not enough money in the world to buy your way out of this situation,” Charles said.

“Then what is it you want from me? Are you after my father? Why are you doing this? I haven’t done anything to you.”

“No, just you. Your father and his wealth are of no concern to us,” Nikki said and grinned.

This time there was more than a flicker of fear in Chai’s eyes. “Where are you taking me?”

“The land of the free and the brave. The good old US of A., Johnny. We’re about seventy minutes outside of Washington, DC. We’ll be making our descent soon. You remember Washington, don’t you, Chinese boy? You were a regular on the party circuit, weren’t you? Twenty-four-seven was the way I heard it. Guess what, those party days are over now. Now you’re going to party with us.”

Fear galloped across Chai’s features. The reality of what was happening finally kicked in. He started to babble, first in Chinese and then in English.

“Oh, will you just shut up already! You talk more than an all-night disk jockey. You’re here, we’re here, and you aren’t going anywhere,
Mister
Chai,” Nikki said.

“OK, I’m ready,” Alexis trilled as she dragged her red bag over to the seat where Chai was sitting. “First we dress him. Just looking at him offends me. Here,” she said, tossing a pair of cheap black cotton trousers and a long-sleeved black Mandarin shirt at Yoko.

A whispered conversation between the women and Charles followed. Finally, Charles reached into a first-aid kit and withdrew a hypodermic. Before Chai could protest, the syringe made contact with his arm. “One minute and we can release his shackles. Be quick, Alexis. I gave him just enough to keep him out for two hours. He’ll be half-awake but very groggy when we land. He’ll probably be wide awake by the time we reach Pinewood. I’m going forward to talk to the pilots. Like I said, be quick.”

The women obliged while John Chai slept the sleep of the dead.

Chai was unshackled and dressed in minutes, just in time for Alexis to warm her spirit gum and latex. Yoko held the mega-wattage flashlight so that Alexis could see what she was doing. The first thing she did was shave off Chai’s shiny black hair. Nikki scooped it up as fast as it dropped to the floor. Then she plastered, patted, poked and sanded. A glop of glue went on to his head. Alexis smoothed it out and added straggly white hairs from a plastic bag. “When the glue dries it will look like his bare scalp shining through.”

The girls marveled at the expertise, which she’d garnered while working with Little Theater. Within minutes, Chai took on the appearance of a wizened ninety-year-old man. Another glop of glue then went over Chai’s upper lip. More straggly hairs were stuck into the glue and trailed down both sides of his lips. Finally a sad, sparse-looking goatee was added.

Alexis threw her hands in the air. “Ladies, I give you my version of Fu Manchu. Whatcha think? Oops, I forgot something.” The girls watched in wonderment as Alexis pulled out a padded shoulder brace, similar to what football players wore, and attached it around Chai’s shoulders. “It’s heavy, weighted. He’ll be stoop-shouldered. I’m going to attach another one to his waist that will hang down to his buttocks. He’ll be so groggy he won’t understand why he can’t stand up straight. We want him to look old, bowed, miserable, and there will be no doubt that he is in physical pain.”

Charles walked down the aisle and gasped. “Alexis, my dear, you are without doubt a master of disguise. I would never in a million years recognize John Chai. The last thing we have to do is take our seats and prop up Mr. Chai so the co-pilot can take a video of us all chatting. The time and the date will be on the video. Should we ever need to prove who was on this flight with us, Mr. Chai’s papers say he is a poor farmer from Aberdeen named Gan Jun that we are bringing to America to have a kidney transplant. There will be a record of Mr. Jun being admitted to Georgetown Hospital, thanks to Julia’s efforts all the way from Switzerland. No further information will be given out. In two days’ time, Mr. Jun will be discharged to an American family where he will receive dialysis at home until a kidney donor can be found. From there, he will drop off the face of the earth. Here comes the co-pilot. Smile prettily and look concerned over our fellow passenger. The video has sound, so be careful. Just chat normally.”

Charles complimented them all when the taping session was over. “We may have one small problem with Mr. Chai when the plane lands. I’m thinking the pilots can carry him down the air stair, at which point we’ll put him in the portable wheelchair. There’s no way we can let him stumble down the steps. We’ll be landing in just a few minutes. The wheels are down. The co-pilot will continue to video us as we take him to the car. I want all of you to look solicitous. Another hour and we’ll be home safe and sound.”

The relief was so apparent on the women’s faces that Charles chuckled. “You’re the best. I wish I had all of you on my side years ago when I was an active agent with MI6.”

“Charles, that’s the nicest thing you ever said to us,” Nikki crowed.

“We couldn’t have done it without you,” Alexis said.

“You’re wonderful, Charles,” Yoko smiled. “Truly, truly, wonderful!”

Jack Emery smacked his lips as he finished the last of his coffee. “I have to say, gentlemen, that was one of the best breakfasts I’ve had in a long time. I guess we should be going since we didn’t come up with anything in Nik’s records. Seems to me she’s dividing her time between here and Pinewood. For a while she was living out there full-time. I think when nothing is going on, she stays here. When they’re doing whatever the hell it is they’re doing, she stays at Pinewood. To me, that means dirty work is afoot.”

“That’s a brilliant deduction, Jack,” Mark said. “Now what?”

“Now we sit back and wait to see what our new operative comes up with. He should have arrived at his post —” Jack looked at his watch — “twenty minutes ago. Three hours on, three off.”

“We’re running out of guys who are willing to sit up in a tree, Jack. Look outside, it’s snowing like hell.”

“You’re a fusspot, Mark. Those pine trees are the best shelter there is. The Indians used to cover themselves with pine boughs to keep warm. I think it’s the resin or something. If the guys wear the body warmers, they can do a three-hour stretch, no sweat. If it’s the money, don’t pay me and use my share for the stakeouts. You guys go on home and get ready for Thanksgiving. I’ll stay here to clean up and take a cab back to the apartment. Mark, see what you can come up with at the airport. See if any flight plans were filed for the Gulfstream. I don’t see any of the women, especially Myra, being away from Pinewood for Thanksgiving. Conway, rest up so you can relieve the guy who’s out there now. Call Garrity to replace you when you leave.”

Jack poured himself the last of the coffee after Mark and Conway left. His shoulders slumped. Now that he was alone he didn’t have to pretend for the guys. He hated giving up, but it didn’t seem like he had any other options at the moment. If he had had ten more minutes at Pinewood, he was absolutely certain he would have found the proof he needed to make a case against the women. Ten more minutes. Then again, maybe Mark was right. What good was all the proof in the world if his ass was lounging in jail?

Jack finished his coffee, got up and walked through the town house. He touched this and that, memories surfacing which he tried quickly to bury.

If you can’t beat them, join them.
Now where the hell did that thought come from? In the living room Jack sat down on the sofa where he and Nik had slept, cuddled, made love. They’d been so happy, so in love. That wasn’t to say they didn’t have spats from time to time; they did. The making up, the promises not to act like that again, had been glorious. He’d given her a ring. Why didn’t she return it? She wasn’t the kind of girl to keep it for spite or to hock. His spirits lifted a little. Maybe keeping it meant she hadn’t wiped him totally out of her life. Right, and pigs fly.

He got up and walked around. He stopped at the mantel to look at the pictures. Barbara and Nik; Nik and Myra; Nik, Myra and Charles. Big pictures, little pictures, old pictures, recent pictures. There were none of him on the mantel. It didn’t matter, he still had the place of honor in her bedroom. If she hated him, Nik would have trashed the picture.

In his heart he couldn’t fault Nikki for loving Myra. He loved his own mother just as much. The only difference was, his mother lived in another world due to her medical condition. Myra was still vital, still living in this world. Everything had changed between them when Barbara was killed by that diplomat’s son. A son with diplomatic immunity.

Son of a bitch!

The sun was nudging the horizon when the black car pulled up to the gates of Pinewood. Charles pressed in the code, reached up to the visor for the dog whistle, and blew two sharp blasts.

The group took a minute to admire what nature had created overnight. The two-inch layer of snow clung to the trees and ground.

“Norman Rockwell,” Nikki said. “Can our guest make it on his own, Charles?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll help him. If you don’t mind, carry in your own bags. You can leave mine and I’ll get it later. I see Kathryn is here. Julia should be arriving by mid-afternoon. I made arrangements for a car service to pick her up. Look lively, Mr. Jun,” Charles growled under his breath.

The girls looked around as they flanked the couple heading toward the house. Chai did indeed look ancient as he tottered alongside Charles.

On the second floor, Myra stirred beneath her nest of covers. She’d been so tired when she finally went to bed that she’d forgotten to close the draperies. Now a blinding whiteness assailed her from the wrap-around windows. She closed her eyes as she mentally counted her various aches and pains. The moment she heard Charles’s voice, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was still tying the belt around her robe as she ran down the hall to the staircase in her bare feet.

“Charles, you’re home!” she trilled as her aching bones protested her quick movements. When she realized the voices were coming from the kitchen, she stopped a moment to smooth down her springy gray curls. “Oh, who cares what I look like so early in the morning,” she muttered as she pushed at the swinging door.

Myra ran to Charles, hugged him tightly before she embraced each of the women. “I was so worried. You’re home, thank God. I thought…You should introduce me to your friend, Charles,” she said, noticing the old gentleman for the first time. Her eyes were full of questions. Finally, she couldn’t stand it a moment longer. “What went wrong? I knew it was impossible. I had such high hopes.”

“Myra, dear, listen to me,” Charles said.

“It’s all right, Charles. I’m not blaming you. We all knew it was an impossible mission. Another time,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Myra, allow me to present Gan Jun, also known as John Chai. Alexis fixed him up for security reasons. We didn’t fail, dear. Everything went off without a hitch. We were there, now we’re here. I’m taking our guest down to the tunnels. Is there anything you want to say before we leave?”

Myra stared at the man who had taken Barbara’s life and that of her unborn child. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had a litany of things she wanted to say but none of them would make it to her tongue. Her eyes spewed hatred — hatred that didn’t register with John Chai. She shook her head, waving the two men off. Yoko helped her over to the table, where she sat down.

“What should I have done, girls? I didn’t know what to do. It’s not like there’s some kind of protocol to follow. In my heart I think I thought you’d fail to bring him here. I didn’t let myself get my hopes up. Now that he’s here, in my very own house, I have to rethink…think…decide…I might need a little more time. He’s here in my house! He was just standing in front of me. Does he know why he’s here?”

“He’s been doped up, Myra. All he knows, if he remembers, is that he’s in the United States. We didn’t tell him anything. We thought you would want to be the one to explain to him why he’s here and what we plan to do to him. Listen, if you all don’t mind, I need to get a few hours’ sleep,” Nikki said.

“Run along, dear. You, too, Alexis. Yoko, are you staying over?”

“Just long enough to get some sleep. I must return home to my husband, but I will come back.”

Myra sat alone at the table as Isabelle set about making breakfast and coffee.

“There must be something wrong with me, Isabelle. I should know what I’m feeling but I don’t. I should know what to do but I don’t. I had that one moment of pure hatred and then…and then it went away. For so long all I thought about was getting even with him, making him pay for what he’d done. Now that the time is actually here, I don’t know…I just don’t know.” Myra looked down at the toast Isabelle put in front of her. She could see it was just the way she liked it: warm, the butter melted, with a light layer of blackberry jam. She wondered if it would stick in her throat if she tried to eat it. She opted to sip at the coffee in her cup. “This is good, Isabelle. Thank you.”

Isabelle nodded as she sat down across from Myra. “Where…where did Charles take that man, Myra?”

“I’m assuming into the tunnels. There are one or two little rooms, cells actually, at the very end of the first tunnel. I used to hang bells where all the tunnels connected so Barbara and Nikki wouldn’t get lost. I was always close at hand. Charles shored them up over the years. For the life of me, I can’t remember why he did that. Maybe so Barbara and Nikki’s children could play there someday.

“Anyway, the two cells have bars just like jails do. I used to say I’d like to see John Chai in one of those cells so he could rot and die there. I was so full of hate back then. I guess I still am.”

Myra looked up to see Charles standing in the doorway. “Our guest is in residence, Myra. The drugs are starting to wear off so he’s going to be rather unhappy.” He picked up Myra’s toast and started to eat it. Isabelle handed him a cup of steaming coffee. Myra thought he looked more tired than she’d ever seen him.