Hot shot, p.13
Hot Shot, page 13
“So what are you going to do?” Jack asked out of curiosity.
“Me? Do? That’s why I’m calling you. You always claim to have all the answers, so give me one before I pull all my hair out.”
“My advice would be to put Charles and Fergus on it. You might have to make a few concessions, Harry. You know, offer, through Charles and Ferg, to have your picture taken with William Devane and pretend you’re buying gold. I bet the guy and his sponsors would jump at the opportunity.”
“You are crazy, you lunatic,” Harry said before he broke the connection.
Jack burst out laughing. Cyrus let out a loud bark and lay back down and closed his eyes. Maggie just giggled. “Ooooh, I can’t wait to see how that plays out. For whatever it’s worth, we have a directory at the Post of agents who represent various movie stars. It’s yours for the asking if you want to help Harry.”
Jack just rolled his eyes and shrugged.
The rest of the trip back to Babylon was made in silence. Maggie concentrated on the heat shimmering off the asphalt road, Jack stared out the window at the dry brush and dead grass, and Cyrus slept peacefully.
Jack almost jumped out of his seat when Maggie pulled into the underground garage. “I cannot wait to take an ice-cold shower and put on clean clothes that don’t smell!” he bellowed as he opened the door and sprinted to the private elevator that would take him to the penthouse. Maggie was only a few steps behind, with Cyrus out ahead of both. He was also the first one into the elevator. He was panting as if he’d just run a marathon.
Inside Annie’s penthouse apartment, Jack quickly filled a large bowl with cold water from the refrigerator. Cyrus lapped greedily.
“He drank almost the whole bowl, so give him fifteen minutes to cool down, then will you take him out, Espinosa? I have to take a shower and wash the stink off me. Just drop him off in my room when you get back,” Jack said.
Maggie looked around at the laptops and papers spread all over the dining-room table. She itched to know what was going on, but like Jack, she needed to go to her room and shower and put on clean clothes. “I’m never coming back here in the summer. Never! So, you all hear me? This heat will kill you. How do people live here?” she grumbled as she headed for the door, Jack in her wake. “We’ll be back shortly. What’s for dinner, Charles?”
“Meat loaf, new potatoes, fresh peas and carrots, homemade crusty bread, and a blackberry cobbler with vanilla ice cream,” Charles called to her retreating back. Cyrus barked to show that he approved the menu. “Dinner is at six, so take your time.”
“Make lots of gravy,” Maggie shot back. “Don’t forget to put those little peppercorns in the gravy.”
Charles threw his hands in the air the minute the door closed behind Maggie and Jack. He looked over at Fergus, who was holding up the bottle of multicolored peppercorns. He was grinning from ear to ear. “It’s understandable, Charlie. You have a lot on your mind.”
“Can you imagine the uproar at the table when the gravy is served with no peppercorns? I’d have to take the red-eye to somewhere to lick my wounds.” Charles decided to change the subject, since he didn’t want any visions of him climbing aboard the red-eye to parts unknown. “Any word from Avery or Abner?”
Fergus looked around the state-of-the-art kitchen as though he were expecting an answer from the four walls. When nothing was forthcoming, he said, “No, but I am starting to worry. I sent off two texts in the last hour and have gotten no response. It’s like dealing with that guy Meadows. Or Jack’s calls, which he didn’t answer either. It’s not like Avery, and it is certainly not like Abner to keep us in the dark. They know we’re counting on them. You don’t think anything has happened to them, do you, Charles? I’m not as worried about Avery, because I know he can take care of himself, but Abner is a numbers computer guy. He’s a babe in the woods when it comes to fieldwork. He’d be mush if he were put in harm’s way. My only consolation is they were together when they left us. I can only hope they didn’t split up.” Fergus waved the bottle of peppercorns to make his point.
“I think we need to think positive and decide that the two of them are onto something and are following through on whatever it is. I’m also sure one or more of Avery’s operatives would have been in touch if something had gone awry.”
“Only if they know something went awry, mate,” Fergus said glumly.
“There is that, Ferg. We also have to remember they work on Avery’s payroll, not ours. Their loyalty is to Avery and only Avery. I’m certain Avery has some sort of protocol in place for situations like this.”
“So what you’re saying is that there is nothing we can do until Avery or Abner decides to grace us with their presence and share whatever it is they’re both working on.”
“That’s pretty much how I see it, Ferg,” Charles said as he stared down at the meat loaves he had neatly lined up in the roasting pan on top of the range. “As you can see, I made three meat loaves, knowing Avery’s appetite. And Abner is no slouch, either. Just in case. If they turn out to be no-shows, Cyrus will be dining on meat loaf for the next few days. Since it’s his favorite food, that shouldn’t be a problem.” Charles smiled just as Espinosa entered the kitchen, Cyrus at his side.
The big dog immediately went to the range and started to sniff at the roasting pan. “It’s meat loaf, Cyrus! One for you and two for us.” Cyrus barked happily as he wandered around the kitchen, looking for a spot that was out of the way but still gave him a clear view of what was going on.
“The dog wanted to come back here instead of Jack’s room. I think he smelled the meat loaves,” Espinosa said.
Ten minutes later, Jack arrived, smelling like a woodsy glen, with Maggie right on his heels. She was wearing a sundress, and her wet, kinky hair was pulled back and pinned into place with colorful clips that matched the rainbow of color on her dress. Jack wore flip-flops, khaki cargo shorts, and a bright yellow polo T-shirt. Both looked clean and refreshed.
“Anyone want coffee?” Charles asked just as Ted and Dennis entered the kitchen. They could have been Jack Emery clones, dressed in like attire, their hair still wet from the shower and slicked back. Everyone said yes.
While Fergus poured the coffee, Jack shared what they’d learned out at Happy Village with the two old spies.
“What was your takeaway, Jack?” Charles asked.
“That something is definitely off out there. I don’t think Gentry Lomax is who he pretends to be. Having met Zack Meadows, I think he’s also hiding something, and he’s the one with the most skin in the game at this point. Lomax is just a hired hand. Meadows and Cosmo are nothing like two peas in a pod as we originally thought. I think Cosmo found that out somehow, some way. I sense there was dissension between the two of them, and Cosmo acted on it. That’s just my opinion. Any news on his condition? Has anyone talked to Lizzie? Do we know anything more?” Jack asked, walking back to the counter to get a refill on the coffee that he’d gulped down in two long swallows.
“Well, I for one like your opinion. I’m gravitating toward the same one based on the little I know. Late this morning we went to the hospital, and Cosmo had regained consciousness. Dr. Wylie insisted that Lizzie go home and not come back until tomorrow. Dr. Wylie said Cosmo is not all the way out of the woods. He’s still in the weeds. I guess that’s doctor talk. But he was more encouraged than he was yesterday, which Lizzie is taking all the way to the bank, counting on Cosmo to make a full recovery. All good from where I’m standing,” Charles said as he opened the oven door to slide the heavy tray containing the meat loaves onto the rack.
The conversation turned to Harry and his friends and their current dilemma, then to the missing Avery and Abner, then back to who was going to set the table.
Maggie sighed, knowing she was the designated table setter. She smiled at Ted and winked. He immediately jumped to oblige, which had been Maggie’s intention all along.
Chapter 9
A very Snowden pushed his chair back from the makeshift table and rolled his shoulders, his eyes on Abner Tookus, who looked like a zombie. They’d been locked in this room way too long. He looked down at the watch on his wrist. Yes, way too long. He snapped his fingers in Abner’s direction. “C’mon, kid, we’re heading out for some fresh air and a bite to eat. I’m full up of trail mix. I need real food. Like now would be good, Abner!”
Abner stirred, struggled to focus, and finally stood up. “Okay,” he muttered. He looked around as though seeing the room for the first time. He squinted and took a deep breath. “What about them?” he asked, pointing to Snowden’s operatives, who were busy tapping away on computers. “I still don’t know how you managed to secure this room and set up this makeshift station in less than three hours. I know for a fact these rooms are booked a year in advance, and yet here we are, six computers, four printers, three fax machines, and five different telephone lines. How’d you do it, you crazy Brit?”
The old spy whipped out a card from his pocket and waved it about. Abner grabbed for it. “Ah, I see,” he said, eyeing the platinum courtesy card signed by Countess Anna de Silva, with a handwritten message underneath her signature that said every courtesy was to be shown to the holder of the card immediately on presentation.
“It’s all in who you know, you know that, Abner. You okay, kid?”
They were on the way down the long hallway to the main lobby of Babylon before Abner trusted himself to speak. “No, I’m not all right. I wish I had listened to you. I can’t get those pictures out of my mind. You should have kicked my ass out of here.”
“I tried. I warned you. You wouldn’t listen to me. You wouldn’t listen to your friend Phil, either.”
It was true, and Abner had no comeback as he pushed through the revolving door. He waited to see which way Snowden wanted to go. Snowden moved right. “There’s a gourmet hot dog emporium a block away.” They made the trek in silence. Neither man spoke until they were settled in a bright green leather booth that was roomy enough for six. Snowden gave his order: four dogs with the works and a pitcher of ale. The waiter looked at Abner, who ordered a soft roll and coffee that he knew he wasn’t going to eat or drink.
“This is Annie’s favorite eatery, did you know that?” Snowden asked.
“No, I didn’t know that, but it doesn’t surprise me since hot dogs are her favorite food. How the hell can you even think about eating after what we’ve been doing?” Abner grumbled.
“I’m a field agent, Tookus. I had to learn early on to eat when the opportunity presented itself and to sleep when and if I could, even if it was for just ten minutes. You’re a desk jockey. Therein lies the difference. Like I said, I warned you, and you refused to listen. Phil warned you. If you wouldn’t listen to me, I thought for sure you would listen to your old pal. Look, Abner, I’ve been in this game my whole life. I won’t say I’m immune to what I have to deal with, but I have learned how to deal with it. You are not in the minority. You are very much in the majority, and thank God for that.”
“I’ve been on the dark web before. I just never . . . I didn’t think . . . stupid me thought that was it. I never . . .” Abner threw his hands in the air and let his eyes glaze over again.
“Explored the underbelly of the dark web. There, I said it for you. That’s where evil lives and thrives. Anonymously. The Devil’s personal recruitment center.”
“Now what?” Abner asked in a voice that cracked just as the waiter set Snowden’s platter of food in front of him. He watched in pure amazement as the old spy tucked into his first foot-long hot dog with the works that dripped all over his hands.
Between mouthfuls of food, which he appeared to relish, Snowden tried to divert Abner to a more pleasant topic and started to make observations about the weather, which Abner totally ignored.
“We need to check in with Charles and the others. We’ve been off the grid too long. They are not going to believe this.”
“Yes, Abner, they will believe it. They’re pros. You’re excused because you’re a sheltered desk jockey. No shame in that. You’ve proved your worth a thousand times over. We each do what we do, and we each learn to live with the hand we’re dealt.” Snowden wolfed down his second hot dog as he spoke. “You should eat something, kid. At least drink the coffee.”
Abner dutifully brought the coffee cup to his lips and took a sip. Snowden was right, and he knew it. “So what’s our game plan here?” he asked as he cleared his throat. Abner knew he had to get a grip on his thoughts and emotions or he wasn’t going to be any good to anyone. He picked up his coffee cup and drained it. He appreciated Snowden’s slight nod of approval.
Snowden reached for his third hot dog. “I’m going back to the conference room, and you are going to join the others and tell them everything we found out. I’ll continue with the team and check in every three or four hours. Take some advice, kid. It’s late. Take a shower and hit the sheets for a few hours. You need to be fresh as a daisy when you talk to the gang in the morning. You’re dead on your feet and you know it, so don’t deny it.”
Abner wasn’t about to deny anything, because he was as mentally exhausted as he was physically tired. He’d been operating on pure adrenaline for the past few hours. He didn’t know how the old spy sitting across from him could still be alert, eating, and able to carry on a coherent conversation.
“Go along now, Abner. I’ll take care of the check and send off a text to Sir Charles saying we’ll meet up for breakfast at eight in the penthouse. It’s three o’clock now, so that will give you a nice little nap. Skedaddle.”
Skedaddle! Abner grinned. He supposed the strange word meant split or something similar to get the hell out of here. These Brits. They were so weird. He felt the urge to say something, to apologize for his shortcomings, but the words wouldn’t come, so he simply got up and left. He realized just how bone tired he was as he wobbled his way to the elevators that would take him to his room. If he hadn’t been so tired and had had his wits about him, he would have seen Jack Emery and Dennis West racing through the lobby.
Outside, in the hot humid night, Dennis West pulled up short and grabbed Jack’s arm. “I am not going one step farther until you tell me what’s going on and why we’re outside this fine casino at three o’clock in the morning and getting ready to go God knows where. You call me up and yell at me to get dressed and meet me here in the lobby. I listened. I did it. Here I am. Now talk, damn it!”
Jack and Cyrus loped ahead to the entrance to the underground parking lot, where they’d parked their rental earlier. He was talking as fast as he was walking. “Lionel Lewis, the head of the Cavaliers, called to tell me that two of his boys spotted what he thinks is Zack Meadows’s Mercedes parked at the back end of Happy Village. He said he swears it’s Meadows’s car, but with a Kansas license plate on the back. Charles ran the number Lionel gave us earlier, and the Benz is registered in Zack Meadows’s name. It’s a simple matter to lift a plate and put another one in its place. He thinks that’s what Meadows did. The question is, what is Meadows doing at Happy Village at three o’clock in the morning? That’s all I know, so if you have any other questions, I do not have the answers for them.”
“So nobody knows we’re going to Happy Village?” Dennis said uneasily.
“That would be correct,” Jack said, sliding behind the wheel. He waited for Cyrus to buckle up before he started the engine. “Buckle up, Dennis, then send off a text to Maggie and Ted. They won’t get it till later, but by then we should be back at Babylon. Or not.”
It was the “or not” that was bothering Dennis. He immediately sent off not one but three texts, including Espinosa at the last minute. It didn’t make him feel any better.
“Lionel told me to park behind the second building on Lilac Lane. He said there is a carport there with two vacant spaces. One belongs to his mother, who drove to her sister’s to help her out because she broke her arm. We’re to park in her space. The other space he said belongs to one of the tenants who mysteriously disappeared. He’ll be waiting for us when we get there.”
“This could be a wild goose chase, you know that, right, Jack?”
“Of course I know that, but then again, as Lionel pointed out, the tenants—even the ones who are well-off financially—do not drive Mercedes. He also pointed out that people do not come calling at Happy Village at two o’clock in the morning, and yes, it means whoever it is has been there for over an hour. That’s why he called us.”
“To do what?” Dennis asked.
“I don’t know, but it has to mean something. Meetings in the middle of the night have the ring of clandestine to them. You know, CIA, FBI. Spook stuff. No peering eyes, no chance encounters, secrecy, that kind of thing. We’re not going to do anything, if that’s what is worrying you, kid. We’re just going to observe, try to figure out what’s going on, and document it all. As well as run the Kansas plate to see if it’s legit. We’ll check in with the team in the morning when we get back and run it all up the flagpole.”
Dennis relaxed and let his mind go blank. Whatever was going to be was going to be, and there was nothing he could do about any of it. At least for the moment. “This is a weird case, in my opinion. I know I’ve been on board only a few years, but it seems to me we always had some clues, something to point us in the right direction. We really don’t have anything. We could be wasting our time right now, for all we know. I refuse to believe some bunch of gang-bangers are smarter than we are. What did we miss, Jack?” he asked as he typed in the Kansas license plate to see what he could find out.
