Vendetta (19 page)

And now he was preparing to repay that love and devotion by sending her and her friends to jail. There was something wrong with this picture.

“Hey, buddy, this is Mulligan’s. You awake back there? That’ll be seven fifty.”

Any other time, Jack would have paid and given the driver a dollar tip. Today, he handed him a ten-dollar bill and said, “Keep the change.” He hopped out of the cab and again had to step over a pile of snow. He slipped and went into the soft snow up to his knees. Cursing under his breath, he did his best to shake off the snow before he entered the steamy café.

Mulligan’s was a small place with just nine tables with checkered table cloths and captain’s chairs. The bar area was a lot of mahogany and brass with matching bar stools. At night, Mulligan’s rocked, but the breakfast crowd were mostly older business types who were always in a hurry. They did a tremendous take-out business at this time of day. Jack was happy to see Nikki seated at a table across the room. A premium table. Pretty girls always got the best tables. He wished this was a date, but all the wishing in the world wasn’t going to change what was happening.

“Hi, Nik. How’s it going?”

“Hello, Jack. It’s going. You know the law, busy, busy, busy. Are you all right? You look…
peaked
. Actually, Jack, you look sick.”

He did feel sick. Physically sick and sick at heart. “Is that concern I hear in your voice, Ms. Quinn?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice as he shed his down jacket, wishing he could take off his wet shoes and socks.

“Believe it or not, Jack, yes, it is concern. Everyone I’ve come in contact with lately seems to have something ’flu-like. You need to take care of yourself. Sitting up in trees in the cold is not conducive to good health. Do you have a fever?”

“Cut the crap, Nik. Why the sudden interest in my health? So what if I’m coming down with a bug. What’s it to you?”

“I’m sorry I asked. Let’s cut to the chase here so you can go home and take care of yourself. I think you said you had me and my friends dead to rights or something like that. You’re planning on turning us in to someone for something. How’m I doing so far? You have pictures of guests coming and going at Pinewood. What do you want from me, Jack?”

“The truth.”

Jack looked up at the waitress who was holding a Pyrex coffee pot with an orange band around the rim. He shook his head. “I don’t want decaffeinated, I want regular coffee and a bagel with cream cheese.”

“What truth, Jack? Your truth or my truth?” Nikki steeled herself to try to look relaxed while an army of worms tore at her stomach.

“Why did you go to China?”

“What business is that of yours? I can go anywhere I want. The last time I looked, I was of age. That means I do not have to answer to anyone. If you absolutely have to have an answer, I went to an engagement party. If you absolutely need to know the names of the engaged couple, I will be happy to email them to you. I’ll even scan the invitation and send it along, too. Next question?”

Jack shifted in his chair. He could feel his feet sloshing inside his shoes. He felt cold and miserable. “Do that. My next question is, who’s the old guy you brought back with you? This guy,” he said, tossing a photo on the table.

Nikki picked up the photo and looked at it carefully. She handed it back to Jack and said, “I don’t really know who he is. An old friend of Charles. He was sick. How is that any of your business?”

“Where is he now? I’m making it my business.”

“I don’t know, Jack. It’s none of
my
business. But I’m going to take a wild guess here and say he was reunited with family members. For all I know he could be a terrorist intent on blowing us all up. That means I don’t have a clue. Next question.”

“The chick with the red bag. I know all about her. What does she tote that bag around for? I have a dossier on her.”

“Then you know Alexis Thorne is a client and she’s off limits. Attorney–client privilege.”

“C’mon, c’mon, she knows how to change people’s appearances. She went with you to China and somehow you snatched John Chai. She doctored him up and you guys have him at Pinewood. Attorney–client privilege my ass.”

Nikki burst out laughing. She hoped her laughter didn’t sound as forced as it felt. Damn, when was Jack going to get that phone call? “Next question.”

“What happened to Julia Webster? She used to be a regular visitor to Pinewood. I think the old lady, this woman,” Jack said, handing a second picture across the table, “is Dr. Julia Webster. I think she was the cowgirl, too.”

Nikki laughed again. She heard the phone next to the cash register ring. Thank God. A waitress approached the seated area.

“Is there a Jack Emery here?”

Jack stood up. “I’m Jack Emery.”

“Phone call, sir. You can take it by the register.”

Jack looked at Nikki and shrugged. She shrugged in return. The minute Jack turned his back, she reached across the table for a sugar packet and then dropped the pill in her hand into Jack’s cup. She signaled the waitress for a refill. While the waitress was filling Jack’s cup, Nikki picked up half the bagel and bit down. Jack returned to the table, a frown on his face. “Damn phones aren’t working properly. My cell isn’t working, either. Can I borrow yours?” He slurped at his coffee while Nikki dug around inside her purse for her cellphone and handed it over.

“I think I forgot to charge it. You might have a minute or so.”

Jack clicked it on. He looked disgusted. “It’s as dead as mine.” He took another deep swig of coffee.

“Maybe one of the phone booths out on the street will work. Are we finished here, Jack? Let’s put all your cockamamie notions to rest once and for all. You have to stay out of my life, and Myra’s too. Do you hear me, Jack?”

“Of course I hear you. I always listen to everything you say. You didn’t answer my question about Julia Webster.”

“Julia is a client, too. It’s the darnedest thing, Jack. She disappeared without so much as a goodbye. She did pay her bill before she left. If you want my opinion, I think she couldn’t take the embarrassment of her philandering husband so she just packed up and left. I read the papers just like you do, Jack. Are you sure you’re all right?” Nikki asked, leaning across the table to peer closer at Jack. “You don’t look so good.”

Jack reached for a paper napkin and wiped at his face. The napkin came away drenched. “I guess I am coming down with something. Will you ask the manager if he can call me a cab?”

“I thought you said the phone wasn’t working. Did you come here by cab?”

“Yeah, we…we kind of forgot to shovel out our cars.”

“I can drive you home, Jack. Are you still in the same apartment, or did you move?”

“I moved in with Mark. Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I felt this bad…It’s like that time you took care of me. You know what, I’ll take that ride if you don’t mind.”

Nikki put on her jacket and zipped it up. She waited and watched as Jack struggled to fit his arms into his bulky jacket. In the end, she had to help him.

“Maybe I should take you to the hospital, Jack. I don’t mind, if that’s what you want me to do. It’s your decision.”

“Damn, I can hardly stand up. You have to help me, Nik. No hospital.”

Nikki dropped some bills on the table before she put her arm around his shoulders. She felt light-headed. He smelled so good, felt so…comforting. “Hang on to me, Jack. I’m parked right in front.”

“I feel like a
wuss
, leaning on you like this.”

“It’s OK, Jack, you’re sick. When you’re sick, all the rules go out the window.”

“Do you still love me, Nik?”

“OK, Jack, here’s the car. Stretch out on the back seat. I’ll have you home in bed before you know it.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Nik.”

“I know.”

Eight blocks away from Mulligan’s Café, Alexis Thorne and Isabelle Flanders approached Mark Lane’s apartment. Walking into the biting wind, they did their best to huddle inside their ratty, threadbare denim jackets. The minute they entered the spartan lobby, Alexis removed her wool cap to reveal a headful of phony dreadlocks. She looked dirty and unkempt, as did Isabelle. They looked like street people. Alexis opened her mouth to reveal a gap between her beautiful white teeth. She now looked snaggletoothed, nothing like her normal self. She’d worked a full twenty minutes to change the shape of her mouth. The others had been more than a little impressed.

“OK, where’s the damn paper?” she hissed. “Good thing this isn’t a doorman building or we’d never be admitted. It’s hard to believe we look as bad as we do. I’m freezing my butt off here; let’s get this show on the road. They live on the third floor so let’s take the stairs. No sense in inviting trouble by taking the elevator.”

“Twenty-four C is their apartment,” Isabelle said. “You do your thing, Alexis. I have the syringe. Julia said to shove it through his clothes and just aim for the general area of his ass. I’d like to know how we’re going to get him to turn around. You look so
skeevy
, the guy isn’t going to take his eyes off you even for a second.”

“Look, Isabelle, just jab him wherever you can, because you’re right, he’s not going to want to give us the time of day. At best we’ll have just a few minutes, if that. OK, here we are. Stay to the side so he can’t see you through the peephole.”

Holding a folded sheet of blank paper in her hand, Alexis stepped up to the door and rapped sharply before she leaped backward to do a jittery dance, her head lolling from side to side to some unheard music. She squinted and knew an eyeball was appraising her. She jiggled some more as she waved the folded paper this way and that. When the door opened, the chain intact, she said in her best Jamaican drawl, “Hey, mon, Jack sez to bring this over and you’d give me an Andrew Jackson. You got Jackson, mon? Show me. C’mon, mon, I’m freezing out here. Don’t you rich people believe in heat?” Alexis grinned, her artwork fully displayed.

“Jack who?” Mark said, eyeing Alexis suspiciously.

“Jack, thas all he sez, mon. Sez give to you, you give me twenny dollar. Show me Mista Jackson, mon, or I is leavin’ here right now, mon.
Sheattt!
I knew the mon was puttin’ me on.” Alexis whirled around, the loose sole of one of her sneakers flapping on the tile floor as she headed for the stairs.

Isabelle heard the sound of the chain sliding back. She flattened herself against the wall as the door opened wider, the syringe in her hand ready to find its mark. “Wait a minute,” Mark called from the doorway. “Where was Jack when he gave you whatever you have in your hand?”

Alexis kept going but called over her shoulder. “Over by Mulligan’s.”

“OK, OK, here’s twenty bucks. Hand it over.”

Alexis stopped and turned around. “You want it, mon, you come and git it. After you give me my twenny dollar.”

Jack stepped through the doorway and took two steps forward before Isabelle jabbed the hypodermic syringe through his sweat pants.

“Son of a —” Isabelle caught him and, with Alexis’s help, got him back into the apartment.

“He’s already in la-la land so let’s go through his stuff. We should take his computer and whatever files we can find. If you watch him, I’ll take the stuff to my car. We can make this look like a
real
burglary if we try. Would you look at this place! These guys are slobs. Chinese cartons, pizza boxes, beer bottles. Don’t guys know how to cook? Never mind. Watch him, Isabelle. If he moves, give him a good swat. That must be his jacket over there by the door. You’ll have to put it on him.”

Six trips later, Alexis had both Mark’s and Jack’s computers and printers, their
DVD
player and two televisions locked in the back of Myra’s Lincoln Navigator. She spent another fifteen minutes emptying out drawers, throwing cushions and lamps around to make it look more like a break-in.

“Take their jewelry if they have any,” Isabelle called out as she huffed and puffed, struggling to fit Mark’s arms into his jacket.

Alexis raced through the apartment to the two bedrooms. She found two small leather cases with tie pins, cufflinks and watches. She stuck both of them into her baggy pockets. She poked her head into the bathroom, eyed the Water Pik massager and the two electric shavers. She pulled the plastic liner out of the wastebasket and dumped them into it.

“OK, let’s go. I’m leaving the microwave. Too bulky to carry. He’s not totally out, is he?” she asked, winded from her exertion.

“I don’t know, Alexis. How are we going to get him down two flights of stairs? Maybe we should take him in the elevator. There doesn’t seem to be much activity in this building. We can pretend he’s drunk. Yeah, let’s do the elevator. Oh, damn, wait a minute. Didn’t this guy have a heart attack or something a while ago? I think Nikki said that. See if he has any medicine. If he does, bring it. I’ll get the elevator.”

“Damn, you are on the ball, Isabelle. I never would have thought about that. Go ahead, get the elevator and put it on hold while I check the medicine cabinet. You don’t think that shot’s going to hurt him, do you?”

“Julia said it was just something to make him relax. He’s relaxed all right. We’re breaking all kinds of laws here, you know that, right?”

“This is a hell of a time to worry about that,” Alexis called from the bathroom where she was inspecting the medicine cabinet. She threw all the prescription bottles into the bag and trotted out to the living room. She took a last look around before she closed and locked the door. Why did men live in such total disarray? Because they needed women to clean and pick up after them, she guessed. “Ha! That will be the damn day I clean up after some man,” she snorted.

Alexis and Isabelle managed, by holding Mark up under the arms, to get him to the elevator, down to the ground floor and across the lobby. Outside, the wind drove them from the back, literally pushing them forward as they pulled and dragged Mark to the car. A middle-aged couple stared at them but Isabelle waved airily and made a drinking motion with her hand and mouth. The couple turned away, disgust on their faces.

Inside the car, with Mark in the back, Isabelle said, “Turn the heater up and burn rubber, Alexis. It must be ten degrees out there. So, how much medicine is he on?”