Blindsided (14 page)

“I am, dear. I think Annie is, too.” Annie's head bobbed up and down. “Would you like another sandwich?” Charles nodded agreeably. He loved it when his wife smiled at him.

“Were you able to come up with anything in regard to the brother, Peter?” Myra asked as she sliced ham for a second sandwich.

“Sorry to say, no. I think he was or is a missionary. If not a missionary then some kind of dedicated serious volunteer. I checked with every Christian group that he was affiliated with. No one could give me any kind of concrete information. By the same token, each person I contacted said that they think they would have heard some way, somehow, had Peter died. Sometimes the conversations didn't ring true, but it could have been the phone connection. If Peter wanted to remain out of sight for whatever reasons, I'm sure his people would cover for him. Maggie is convinced he's alive and that Jonathan Eberly knows where he is. Our young reporter thinks the same thing. We just have to find him. It just might not be as quick as you'd like. The search is ongoing. I should be hearing from Avery's boys shortly. The last time I heard from Maggie was around five o'clock, and she said she put the fear of God into Jon Eberly. She also asked me to have Avery's people put a tail on him. She thinks he's going to do something. She also said they haven't had any luck getting themselves arrested yet.”

Charles looked at the two halves of the neat sandwich. Nothing dripped out, and there was no mess on the plate. He sighed. Why were women so transparent?

“When can we go to Waterton?” Myra asked.

“Anytime you want. Marti is on her way out here now from the city. She was quite amused that she now owns the Matthews's old homestead. She wanted to know when she could hang curtains. She said no house is worth moving into until you hang curtains.”

“And she's right,” Annie and Myra said at the same time, before going off into peals of laughter.

“Where's Nellie on this?” Annie asked.

Charles looked up at the monitor. He pointed a finger at it. “Ask her yourself. She just drove through the gate. Marti should be here in another thirty minutes.”

“But what about Pearl?”

“She'll catch up. She has to take care of her own personal business first. A day, a day and a half at the most should do it. I think I'll leave you ladies now. Thank you, dear, for the lovely sandwiches. Next time a little less coleslaw.” Myra threw the dish towel at him. He chuckled all the way back to his lair.

Myra and Annie welcomed Nellie with open arms, literally dragging her into the kitchen. “Charles figured it out. We can go to Baywater tomorrow if we want. Will you be able to leave Elias for a few days?”

“I don't see why not. As long as the television doesn't go out, and no one steals the ton of food in the freezer, he should be good for . . . oh, I'd say, ten months or so. That means no problems. Where's Marti?”

“On the way. Pearl, of course, is taking care of business. Coffee, Nellie?”

“Black please. So tell me what we have to look forward to.”

“Let's wait for Marti, so we don't have to go through it twice. I think it's pretty foolproof. That means we can make it work for us. First, though, I think we're all going to be going to a party for your old friend Judge Rhodes as soon as we plan it.”

“Isn't it amazing how sometimes things all come together at just the right time to make it work for us?” Nellie beamed.

“Amen to that,” Annie cackled.

I
t was well past the witching hour when Pearl Barnes sat down and curled her legs under her, on her favorite window seat and stared out at the dark night. Another ninety minutes, and she would be getting into still another strange car and heading to the old, abandoned train depot at the outskirts of town. The gravel road leading to it was now overgrown with young trees and scrub, and one needed four-wheel drive even to get close to the ramshackle building. Jack Sparrow liked having a “meeting” of the secret underground railroad at the old train depot.

She had no complaints about Sparrow and his small but mighty crew. She had been stunned when he told her that the FBI was using so many agents on her case because it was convinced she was laundering money via the underground railroad. “Or at least that's what they want people to believe. In reality, they're trying to set you up the way they set me up. I did a stretch in a federal prison for something I didn't do. Zander saw to that, and he's moved up in the ranks. He wants to be the next director of the FBI. If Bert hadn't gotten President Connor at the time to pardon me, I'd still be in prison. The bastard is trying to do the same thing to you. Nailing a retired justice of the Supreme Court for such nefarious deeds would get him a three-inch black headline. Above the fold. You would not do well in prison, Justice Barnes. If he succeeds, he's one step closer to achieving his goal of making that happen. Bert told me before I came here that the current director has some serious health issues and is contemplating stepping down. Zander is the logical choice. He's made a name for himself, and he's on a first-name basis with the current president. On rare occasions, they even hit the links together. No one is quite sure how that all came about, but Zander trades on it. The agents under him hate his guts, but like all good agents, they do what they're told.”

Pearl admitted to being nervous. Sparrow told her it was understandable. However, his words did not relieve the anxiety coursing through her. All she could think about were the women and children in a holding pattern as they waited for word it was time to be moved to safety.

Pearl stared into the dark night. She was glad the rain had finally stopped, but even so, there was cloud cover. There would be no moon or stars tonight, and she was grateful. She'd been fighting the dark side, and, ironically, only felt safe on nights like this. She went over again in her mind what she was to do. At exactly 2:20, she was to use her personal cell phone and call a number that Sparrow had given her earlier in the day. He had written out an entire script for her, which she had memorized.

Waiting at the depot would be thirty-three women and nine children waiting to be taken to safety. The children weren't children at all but fully dressed manikins that could be picked up with ease. In the dark, her tails wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Everyone, including herself, would climb aboard a bus at a given signal, at which point the agents would close in and arrest everyone. Sparrow said that was why he wanted the agents to know the exact time it was going down so they could set up a perimeter. What the agents didn't know was there was another perimeter set up by Sparrow and some of Avery Snowden's operatives. “That's when we get the drop on them.” The rest, Pearl knew, would mean she could return home, knowing that she was safe and that her privacy would never again be invaded by a rogue agent of the FBI.

What no one knew, not even Sparrow, was that Charles had recalled Ted Robinson, Espinosa, and the new cub reporter from Baywater for the festivities. They, too, were waiting in the dark, and once more Ted would get his headline and his byline. Above the fold. Espinosa would be nominated for his photography, and Dennis West would be ecstatic to be included with the pros.

It was all a go.

Pearl shifted her position on the window seat and looked down at her watch. Almost time to get ready. She thought about eating something but didn't know if all the butterflies in her stomach would appreciate food. Perhaps a power bar on the way to the old depot. Her eyes still on the numerals on her watch, Pearl waited.

At the right moment, she hopped off the window seat and walked around the house per Sparrow's instructions. First, she turned the downstairs bathroom light on, then off; next, she turned the kitchen light on for three minutes, then turned it off; next, she turned the upstairs bedroom light on and off, went downstairs, called a certain number on her regular cell phone, and said, “I'm on my way.” Finally, she went outside and got into a dark green Toyota SUV and left, not turning on any lights till she got out to the main road.

Pearl's heart kicked up an extra beat as she turned on the lights. She'd made the same kind of run a thousand times, and she always felt the same way—fearful yet exhilarated. Today was no different. The only difference was Sparrow's dire warning that she wouldn't do well in a federal prison. Like she didn't know that already. Breaking the law, even for the betterment of innocent women and children, was still breaking the law. Long ago, she decided she didn't care and would suffer the consequences if she was caught. Saving those women and children from lives of misery was all that mattered.

She was on her way now. There was barely any traffic, and what was there was going the other way. If anyone was following her, they didn't have their headlights on.

Not that it would have mattered one way or another. There was no backing down now.

Less than twelve miles away, Jack Sparrow used various birdcalls to communicate with his people. He always laughed to himself at how as a child he had perfected that little feat. With a name like Sparrow, how could it be otherwise. This place, he thought, as he looked around from his position in the tall grass, was just about as perfect as it could be. Birds nested everywhere. Yesterday, he'd seen some wild ducks that had clacked their own symphony.

Sparrow looked to his right. He heard noises, but they weren't being made by his people. His people were trained. Zander's people were not into wildlife. He looked to his left. What he saw made him rear back: Bert Navarro, his boss! Harry Wong, the second-highest-ranking martial-arts expert in the world! Jack Emery, Zander's nemesis, with a score of his own to settle with the section chief. Son of a bitch! The goddamn cavalry was now at his beck and call. He wished he could laugh out loud. He did manage a wicked grin and a one-finger salute the others acknowledged.

“We are locked and loaded. Hoo rah!” Sparrow, an ex-Marine, muttered to himself. Suddenly, he felt infallible. With backup like he was seeing, Zander was dead in the water. Not that he had any doubts before, this was just the confirmation he needed.

Sparrow was low to the ground, so he heard the vibrations of vehicles on the rough road long before he saw them. Overhead, birds started to squawk. To Sparrow, it was the sweet sound of victory.

The big yellow bus rumbled in first. The engine died in a slow, struggling cough.

The big yellow bus was followed by a variety of old trucks, clunky cars that made way too much noise at ten-minute intervals. Women, carrying make-believe children, scrambled from the assorted vehicles and clamored aboard the bus. Pearl Barnes was in the last vehicle to arrive, a dark green Toyota SUV. She hit the ground running.

Sparrow looked over at Bert, Harry, Jack, Ted, Espinosa, and the young kid.

Sparrow mouthed the word,
Showtime
. Still, he didn't move. He held his breath as he waited for the gaggle of agents to tighten their perimeter and identify themselves. He mouthed the words,
“FBI, freeze!”
Ah, right on target.

In a nanosecond, floodlights lit up the old depot like the Fourth of July. Still, he waited until all the agents were in place. He counted seven in total. Piece of cake. Still, he waited until all the women were herded into a circle, with Pearl cautioning everyone to say nothing.

That's when Sparrow and his people moved, quickly and stealthily from their own perimeter, until there was an operative behind each FBI agent. “I-don't-think-so, boys! Your turn. Hands up, and the first one who doesn't follow orders gets his kneecap blown out. Which one of you bastards wants to go first?” Sparrow singsonged.

The curses and the expletives rang in the bright light. He had no volunteers.

“You bastard!” Agents Barry and Landry said at the same time. “You fucking set us up!”

“Ah, you recognize a setup. Is that what you're saying?” Sparrow spit out. “How does it feel, you piece of shit? Tell me. I want to know. How does it feel?”

“Eat shit, you crud! I'm not telling you anything,” Palance roared, the veins in his neck bulging with his rage.

“Wanna bet?” Sparrow spit out the words a second time. The Taser in his hand sizzled. Palance dropped to the ground. The Taser sizzled a second time, and Barry fell forward.

Ten minutes later, gasping for breath, Barry finally managed to clear his throat, his face a mask of pain, fear, and apprehension. “C'mon, Sparrow, this isn't going to get you anywhere. They'll lock you up and throw away the key. You did one stretch and lucked out. That won't happen a second time.”

“Is that what Luther Zander told you when you lied at my trial? I want you to call him right now. Tell him you ran into some trouble, and he needs to get here right away.”

Barry did his best to sneer at Sparrow. He didn't pull it off. He did manage to spit out, “Like I'm really going to do what you say.”

Harry Wong stepped forward into the blinding white light. He looked questioningly at Sparrow, as much as to say, “How long do you want him out?”

Sparrow grinned. “Ten minutes. Make sure when he wakes up he's in a world of pain. I hate that son of a bitch.”

Harry stepped forward and reached out. He squeezed the soft spot under Barry's nose, then stepped back as the agent toppled to the ground. “That'll be ten grand, Sparrow. Deposit it in my offshore account,” Harry said, an evil look on his face.

Sparrow made a mental note never to get on Harry Wong's bad side.

Bert Navarro burst out laughing. “Harry, you're such a card sometimes. Card. Get it? Card, Vegas. You know, gambling cards. Aw, forget it. You need to develop a sense of humor, Harry.” Harry just looked disgusted as he stepped back to where Jack Emery was standing.

Jack Emery looked over at Sparrow, and said, “Got all the cell phones, all the sleeve and collar mikes, all the guns. Tidy little pile, I'd say.”

“Flex cuffs intact. Both wrists and ankles,” Bert said.

Espinosa could have doubled as a monkey as he hopped about taking the pictures that would bring him fame and fortune.

Ted Robinson kept waving his recorder to make sure he was getting every last sound of dialogue. Dennis West was so wide-eyed he looked like he was going to black out. “Who are these guys?” he managed to gasp as he jerked his head in the direction of Bert, Harry, and Jack.

“The good guys. No one you need to know. Now or ever. Now zip it up, kid, and stay out of the way,” Ted growled.

“Yeah. Yeah. I got it. I'm way over here. I'm outta your way. See, I'm way out of your way. Way out. Oh, Jeezus!”

The agents started muttering among themselves. Sparrow and the others listened to the comments. Their grins were just as evil as Harry's.

“Who is that guy?”

“Who set him up? Barry, Palance, Mahoney, and Landry?”

“If that's true, I can't say I blame the poor bastard.”

“Yeah, well, I always wondered how Zander got moved up so fast in the ranks. It never computed to me.”

“This is the end of our careers with tomorrow's headlines. You know who that guy Robinson is, right? And that dude snapping all the pictures! Christ on a raft!”

“Is this where we grovel?”

“FBI agents do not grovel.”

“Bullshit! This agent will grovel if he has to. The only thing I did was follow that asshole's orders. I'm not taking heat for something I didn't do.”

“Shut the hell up. We go down, you go down. There is no in-between.”

“You should listen to that guy,” Jack Sparrow said cheerily. “He's so on the money, you can take it to the bank.”

Sparrow's foot nudged Agent Barry none too gently; Barry only twitched. He kicked again with a little more force, and Barry twitched again. “Hey, Harry, I said ten minutes. How come this slug isn't waking up?”

“Sometimes I don't know my own powers. Blow up his nose, he'll be on his feet in a second.”

“I'm not blowing in that guy's nose. Oh, who gives a shit. Palance, get your ass over here and you make the call. Chop-chop.”

Palance looked around, saw Harry take a step forward. He hustled and reached for the phone Sparrow had in his hand. “I'm going to tell you exactly what to say. You try anything smart, and Mr. Wong here will see that you go to sleep for a
very long
time. You'll be brain-dead when you wake up.” Sparrow laughed at the silliness of his own statement. “That
is
your phone, isn't it?”

“Yeah, it's mine. It's 3:40 in the morning. What if Zander doesn't answer?”

“You better hope he does or it's nighty-night for you, pal. In other words, you keep calling until the bastard answers. Now, this is what you say. ‘Things got out of hand. You need to come here right now. And you need to come alone. We got blindsided. They want you.' Then you hang up, and if the phone rings again, you let it ring. Okay, repeat what I said.” Palance repeated Sparrow's words verbatim. “I got it, Sparrow.”

“Tone of voice is crucial. I'll be right next to you. You slide off-key, a bad nuance, and my pal Harry here will make you wish you'd listened. Tell me you understand.”