Code blue, p.18
Code Blue, page 18
“I have total faith in you,” Maggie reassured her.
“As do I, and everyone else in this band of merry people,” Yoko said.
“Thanks. That’s a lot of pressure. Having everyone depend on me.”
“Oh, Izzie. That’s how we operate. Sometimes the whole mission lies with one person doing that one thing that will bring us across the finish line,” Maggie said with total confidence.
Yoko began to upload the photos of the trucks. “There appears to be some paint flecks on the front left bumper of one of them. Maggie, can you find out what color car Jeremy was driving?”
“Sure thing. It would make sense if the truck was oncoming and swerved into him. Someone is going to have to check the trucks in Arizona.”
“Kathryn knows her way around trucks,” Izzie noted.
“Yes, but she will be working in the long-term care unit,” Maggie said.
“Isn’t there a service road?” Izzie asked.
“Yes,” Maggie replied. “We just don’t know where it leads. Yet.”
“I wonder if it leads to their construction or facilities site,” Izzie pondered.
“We’ll get Charles to find an aerial view of the entire property. We’ll have to get either Kathryn or Annie to check them out.”
“Or”—Maggie paused—“Theresa and her little gang of spunky seniors.”
“We don’t want to put them in jeopardy,” Yoko countered.
“I don’t think they’d mind,” Maggie said, chuckling. “Look what they did on their own!”
“True, but let’s find out what’s on this bumper,” Yoko said. “Once the guy with the flashlight showed up there, we had to get out before he came back. I’ll casually walk over and give it a closer look. If someone asks, I’ll say I was checking out the rigs. No harm in that, right?”
“Yoko, you are stealth. You’ll be able to pull it off handily,” Maggie said.
Izzie stretched. “I should try to get some sleep. Four minutes is not very long to hack into a very tight system. See you in the morning.” Izzie folded her laptop.
“It’s already morning!” Maggie’s freckled face grinned.
Chapter Fourteen
More Pieces of the Puzzle
Early Morning Recon
Izzie logged on to the meeting at six a.m. She was barely awake. Annie and Kathryn would be brought up to speed a few hours later and could access the transcript of the call if they wanted a heads-up.
“Good morning, everyone!” Charles’s deep British voice boomed.
“Ouch,” Izzie said, and rubbed her temples.
“Out a bit late?” Charles teased.
“More like early.” Maggie grinned. Yoko stifled a yawn.
“Thank you for the photos. When we magnified the bumper, it appears your assumptions may be correct. They look like paint. The bumpers are very sturdy, so I don’t suspect it’s rust or something other than transfer paint.”
“I am going to take a stroll at some point today and check, scrape some of it off. I’ll use a flimsy excuse if anybody asks. Something like, ‘I was admiring your fleet.’”
“Compliments usually work well,” Myra added.
Fergus spoke next. “We checked into Edith Clayton’s background. She is divorced. Husband left her for a stripper over a decade ago.”
Izzie smirked. “Why am I not surprised?”
“But here’s some very interesting information. Edith Clayton’s maiden name is Turner.”
“As in Janet Turner?” Myra’s mouth went agape.
“One in the same,” Fergus answered. “But that’s not all.” He grinned and raised his eyebrows.
Everyone looked into their cameras. “What? What is it?”
“Our dear Janet and grumpy Edith are related to Spencer Gerber.” He paused to let it sink in.
“The senator?” Maggie asked.
“Yes. Senator Spencer Gerber.”
“That seems to be such a strange combination. Where are they originally from?” Myra asked.
“Arizona.”
“Then it makes sense for Turner to work there, as far as employment,” Izzie said.
“So how did Edith end up in Florida?” Myra wondered.
“She moved there when the facility opened,” Charles informed them.
“That smacks of some kind of connection.” Maggie’s investigative neurons were firing up.
“Do you suppose Senator Gerber called in a few favors to keep his aunties employed?” Izzie asked.
“That is a very good possibility. But we still have yet to discover who the real owners of the properties are,” Fergus replied.
“Could the senator be involved somehow?” Maggie suggested, as her wheels were turning.
“That is a very good question. The other question is, how do we find out?” Myra asked.
“We’re putting Avery Snowden on the international accounts. He has a lot of connections in the Caymans.”
“So does Annie,” Fergus said, then paused. “But we need her to concentrate on the Arizona site. We’ll dig a little deeper on our end, as well. Those offshore accounts are a bear to unravel.”
“Alright. I think we know what we need to do over the next two days,” Myra said. “Maggie, you see Jeremy. I’ll be going to Sunnydale later this morning. Izzie, you have your assignment, and Yoko, you’ll slink around the dump trucks.”
“Right!” Charles nodded. Fergus did the same.
Then came the women’s war cry: “Whatever it takes!”
Everyone signed off and readied themselves for the day ahead.
Maggie was delirious from lack of sleep and jumping time zones two days in a row, but in typical Maggie fashion, it seemed to pump her up even more. Myra wondered if it was the combination of salt and sugar.
Two hours later
Sunnydale, Florida
Izzie arrived at work half an hour early to prepare for the lightning-fast operation she had to perform. It wasn’t as if she had a lot to do beforehand, but having her thumb drive ready and her wits about her were key. This type of chicanery requires a lot of focus. Doing it on three hours’ sleep made it more challenging. If she didn’t accomplish her goal, the entire operation could take several more weeks.
This was some serious security. Almost as good as their own, and almost as good as the U.S. Government, which begged the questions Why? and How? Why would a senior residential community come under such tight safety measures? It was far beyond any gated community could want or need. It also struck her that it appeared the internal offices were far beyond normal scrutiny, as well. She was about to find out; or at least, Charles and Fergus would. She checked the time.
At exactly 9:27, the ceiling lights flickered. Izzie slipped a device into the port on the side of the monitor. Thanks to the special coding she and her husband Abner had created, she bypassed all the passkey and verification methods with ease. In a few seconds, she was in the mainframe of Sunnydale. Thousands of numbers and letters appeared on the screen. It looked like a launch code. She made a few keystrokes and began to send the information to Charles and Fergus. Her pulse was racing, her heart pumping. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She had only one minute left before the entire system would shut down due to a breach, and not an electrical glitch. She whispered under her breath, as if she could make the download move faster. “Come on. Come on.” There were seconds left when the download was finally complete. She pulled the clip from the monitor just as Crabby Clayton flung the door open.
“You alright?” she asked sternly.
“Yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” Izzie said casually.
“There was an electrical glitch, and some of the programs froze.”
“I hadn’t noticed. I often print out the sheets I’m working on as a backup.” She pointed to the small printer next to her desk. Clayton peered at the pages, and then turned Izzie’s monitor and checked on what she was working.
“I see. Don’t you think that’s a waste of time and supplies?”
Izzie was surprised at the comment. “It’s a method that works for me. I reuse the paper. Turn it upside down and feed it back into the printer. But if you’d rather I not, I’d be happy to bring in a ream.”
“That won’t be necessary, but do reuse those sheets,” Clayton said, and stomped out.
Izzie let out a huge burst of air. The thought of printing out the pages came as a last-minute idea. Good thing. That Clayton woman was suspicious of everything. Not that Izzie didn’t have a secret agenda. Now she had to wait to see if the information was received on the other end.
Myra’s Arrival
A sleek white Mercedes-Benz C-class pulled up to the security gate at Sunnydale. A striking woman with platinum white hair slowly released the automatic window button. She smiled up at the man wearing a white uniform. “Good morning.”
The young man did a double take. Myra truly resembled Helen Mirren. “Good morning. How can I help you?”
“I have an appointment with Edith Clayton.” She gave him a polite smile and handed him her new/fake business card—white duplex paper stock, with raised gold foil letters:
Myra Regan
Concord, New Hampshire
Mobile: 888-555-MYRA [6972]
“Yes. Of course. One moment.” He turned, picked up the phone, and pressed a button. A moment later, he announced Myra’s arrival to Crabby. “Follow the road to the main building. A valet will park your car for you.”
She held out her hand for him to return her card. “Oh, yes, sorry.” Myra didn’t want to leave too many clues behind. Fingerprints were always a problem. The fewer people with access to them, the better.
Myra placed the card in her purse and proceeded toward the luxurious building. “This is something. Very high-end.” She fussed with her pearls as she pulled in front.
A spirited young fellow opened her door. “Welcome to Sunnydale, Ms. Regan.”
“Thank you.” They really turn on the charm when they want you to sign up, don’t they? she thought to herself. The young man was quick to get in front of her to open the main door. Myra noted his name tag, nodded, and said, “Raymond.”
A stocky woman wearing a light blue pantsuit was standing in the middle of the lobby. “Ms. Regan?” She was beaming. Myra did not think this could be the cranky pants Izzie referred to.
“Yes. Hello.”
“I am Edith Clayton.” The woman held out her hand and continued to smile. “It’s so very nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Myra was intrigued. Quite a ruse. But which one was the real Edith? Cranky? Or Congenial? She suspected the cranky version. She didn’t want to prejudge the woman, but she already had enough information to trust her instincts that screamed: Cranky!
“Let me show you around. As you can tell, this is our main lobby. It leads out to a palazzo, where we have several restaurants, a nail salon, hairdresser, and barber. From there it leads to the sporting activities. We offer tennis, pickleball, and golf. There is also a pool and sauna. You’ll notice you can enter the main dining room from the lobby or the patio.” Clayton began to walk toward one of the large automatic sliding glass doors. “We offer rentals for golf carts, which most of our residents enjoy. They can move around the complex with ease. Small parking areas are designed to accommodate the least amount of walking.” She paused. “Not that walking isn’t good for you.” She gave a forced chuckle. “But some of our residents prefer to walk at their own pace and distance.”
“I totally understand,” Myra answered, allowing Clayton to babble on.
The palazzo was as beautifully landscaped as the rest of the complex. It had a few fountains and statues that gave the space a sense of tranquility.
“This is lovely.”
“Yes, we are very proud of the meticulous grounds, and the aesthetics.” Clayton nodded at a young woman wearing a white uniform. “We have several attendants on duty during the day. From six in the morning until nine at night. They are here to help the residents with anything they require. Carrying packages, walking their dogs …”
Myra interrupted, “Yes, dogs. That was my main reason for looking into Sunnydale.”
Crabby stopped abruptly but maintained her fake smile. “And how many do you have?”
“One.” Myra didn’t want to eliminate herself from approval. “A bichon frisé.”
“They are adorable,” Clayton faked a gush.
“They are, indeed.” Myra let Clayton continue.
“Elizabeth, can you please arrange for a golf cart for me and Ms. Regan?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The young woman ducked behind a small grove of trees and reappeared driving a small cart.
“Please.” Clayton motioned for Myra to get in. “Elizabeth, please take us to the new model.” She turned to Myra. “You mentioned you were interested in one of our single-family villas?”
“Yes. I like my privacy.”
“You are in luck. We just finished the last four on this property. They are in high demand.”
Myra took in the scenery as they drove down the winding paths. They passed clusters of beautifully landscaped duplexes until they came to an area where there were four villas.
“Here we are.” Clayton got out and held out her hand to assist Myra.
Myra pretended not to notice and easily exited the vehicle. She wanted to maintain an appearance of assuredness and independence. Not that she lacked those qualities. She simply wanted to punctuate them.
“Come. Follow me,” Clayton instructed.
Elizabeth remained silent, waiting for the next assignment.
Clayton unlocked the door. “I think you will love it here.” She stepped aside.
Myra had to admit, it was very impressive. The villa had high ceilings with an open floor plan. A large kitchen faced the living and dining area. From there, a double sliding glass door led to a lanai, which led to a stone paver patio.
“There is a lot of outdoor living space in addition to the two thousand square feet of indoor area.”
Clayton opened the glass doors and showed Myra the spacious, screened-in lanai. Tropical plants stood in ceramic pots along one wall and in the corners.
“You can garden inside or out.”
Then she led Myra to the outdoor patio. “Gas grill is connected to the gas line. Very little maintenance, and if you do need assistance, you can call an attendant.”
Myra scanned the gardens within and around the patio. “This is lovely.” Yoko must be in foliage heaven, she thought to herself. No wonder so many people flocked to the south after living in the north. Gardens all year round. Divine.
“Let’s take a look inside, shall we?” Clayton was still wearing that forced smile.
“Each villa has a laundry room, but you can always send it out if you wish.” She opened a louvered door that led to a good-sized space with a washer, dryer, ironing board, folding table, hanging rack, and shelves. It was bigger than a walk-in closet.
Clayton led the way to the main entrance. “You’ll note that the two bedrooms are on opposite sides of the villa. People love to visit, and it’s a way to assure everyone has privacy.”
“Excellent idea,” Myra said.
“This way is the master suite.” Clayton walked down the short hall to a very large room with sliding doors to the patio. It was bigger than most studio apartments, large enough for a king-size bed on one side and a sofa and chairs on the other. A sliding door led to the master bath, which had a soaking tub and a separate shower beautifully finished in a polished stone. A walk-in dressing area completed the package, with built-in shelves and cupboards. Myra thought about her wardrobe. She didn’t think she and Charles had enough clothes to fill it. She wondered how many people at this point in their lives did, and if they did, how often did they wear them.
Clayton turned around and began to walk in the opposite direction. When they passed the main entrance, she proceeded to the hall on the left, where a smaller suite was similarly arranged, but with only a shower and an adjoining door that led to a powder room for anyone to use. There were locks on both doors, so privacy was not an issue.
Clayton finally asked, “So what do you think?”
Myra hesitated, then said, “I’d like to spend a few days living on site before I commit. Would that be possible? I really do want to get a feel for the area and the community.”
“That can absolutely be arranged. We have an identical villa two doors down that is completely furnished. We try to anticipate and accommodate every need and request. It’s not at all unreasonable to expect a ‘dry run,’ if you will.”
“Yes, I will.” Myra finally showed a slight tinge of enthusiasm in her face.
“Marvelous. The first two nights are free. We just ask for a deposit. If you want to extend your stay, it will cost three hundred dollars per night.”
Myra faked a chuckle. “That’s less than my hotel.”
Clayton was almost giddy. She was going to do whatever was necessary to get this woman to sign on for a long-term agreement. Longer than her life span.
“Shall we go back to the office and fill out the paperwork? I know it’s tedious, but it has to be done.”
“I totally understand,” Myra replied. She knew Clayton was chomping at the bit, having read Myra’s latest financial and family status. The woman was wealthy, with no kids or siblings. She was the perfect resident for Sunnydale.
Clayton made small talk on the way back to the main building. She already knew the answers to the questions, no doubt.
“So, there’s no Mr. Regan? Are you widowed or divorced?”
“A bit of both.” Myra chuckled. “Divorced and widowed. My ex-husband passed away.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
“Don’t be. He was a bit of a scoundrel.” Myra thought her candor might elicit some personal information from Clayton. And it did.
“Oh, do I know what that is like.” Crabby was less effusive and more down-to-earth. “It took me a long time to be able to admit it, but he left me for a floozy.” She clicked her tongue.
“Well, then, you should be happy. A man who would leave you for a floozy isn’t worth his salt.”
“Thank you for saying that. It was quite embarrassing at the time.”
