Countdown (3 page)

Jack Emery, his mood buoyant after his patch-up session with his wife, was staring off into space. They were out of the woods, he was sure of it. Nikki had been so contrite, so loving, so willing to make amends for the months of misery she’d caused him. Life was looking better than it had in months. And soon it would get even better once his little group embarked on young Dennis’s plan. Win-win.

Cyrus heaved himself up and raced from the office. Jack looked at the clock on the wall. He’d called a meeting late last night, sending out texts to the guys to report in no later than ten. It sounded from where he was sitting that the guys had all arrived at the same time. He knew that Abner was already here since he’d noticed the red light over the computer door when he’d come in. Cyrus had verified it by sniffing the door and offering up a bark of agreement.

Dennis’s exuberance was infectious as he slapped down six copies of the
Post.
Jack whistled when he scanned the article. Abner, who had exited his lair, grinned from ear to ear. “They are toast! By they I mean Sandford and Marks. I’ve been hacking for forty-eight hours, and it’s mind-boggling what I came up with and downright scary the lengths those two have gone to attempting to hide their assets. But I found them!”

Cyrus barked shrilly, then threw his head back and howled. He loved it when his friends got excited; he would bark and they’d all give him a treat to show their appreciation. Today was no exception. One by one, the guys handed out the treats they now knew to carry with them. Cyrus was officially one of them and in excellent standing.

“Are we gonna love your findings?” Espinosa asked.

“Absolutely. Stealing it is another matter entirely,” Abner said happily. “Here’s the thing: Lionel Marks was accessing some of his accounts while I was in full hack mode, and the dumb schmuck didn’t even know it. I’m thinking I need to do something to . . . ah . . . maybe freeze his monies. I’m also thinking he might be thinking about a hasty exit sometime soon.”

Dennis’s eyes grew round. “You can do that?”

“Oh, yeah,” Abner drawled.

“But what if you get caught? That’s illegal,” Dennis said in a jittery voice.

“Rule Number 3, kid,” Espinosa said.

“What’s Rule Number 3?”

“Same as Rule Number 2,” Ted said.

Dennis was getting more jittery by the moment. “What’s Rule Number 2?”

“Same as Rule Number 1,” Harry snapped.

“And what’s that?” Dennis demanded, his face beet red.

“Rule Number 1 is the same as Rule Number 2 and Rule Number 3. We do whatever it takes. End. Fini. ¿
Comprende
?”

“Okay, got it. Whatever it takes. Okay. Okay.”

“Can we move on here now?” Ted asked. “I want to know about Sandford.”

“The guy is too cocky in my opinion even to think he could be tied to the real estate in SE. You want me to knock him down a peg or two?”

“Not yet, Abner. I think we should keep our eye on Marks. Ted, you’re going to continue this daily, right, make a series out of it?”

“You bet. I can feel a Pulitzer all the way down my spine. Dennis and I have our next installment about ready to go. We just need to tweak it. What’s with this meeting anyway?”

“Some assignments. Ted, I want you and Espinosa to go to Middleburg and talk to Mrs. Sandford. I saw in the home style section yesterday that she left their government house to get her farmhouse ready for the holidays. She always wins some kind of prize for her decorations according to the local paper in Middleburg. I want you to take a lot of pictures and try to come up with our snatch and grab when the time is right. We need to get this set up, start a countdown so we wind it up by Christmas. We need to have a clear slate come January 2, so we can take on Nikki’s class-action cases. You okay with that, Ted?”

“What about me?” Dennis howled.

“You, my friend, are going back to SE and make more friends. Convince Luther to get the other gang leaders to come into the fold. I want you to assure all those tenants that their lives are going to take on a whole new meaning starting right now. We need order, not chaos. Delegate but oversee. Talk to the pastor at the church where they worship. He’s going to be your best ally. I know this is going to sound frivolous, but I want you to arrange for a bang-up Christmas, with toys for the kids, Christmas trees for everyone, those red Christmas flowers, whatever they’re called, for the pastor’s church, the whole ball of wax. Spare no expense. If Abner is right, we need to put some of Sandford and Marks’s money to good use before we steal it. I’m sure the women will be more than happy to volunteer.”

“Okay,” Dennis said agreeably.

“Harry, you want to volunteer for anything, or do you need to get back to the dojo?”

Harry laughed. “My midshipmen are due at noon, so no, I really don’t have any free time today. You need me tonight, I’m all yours. I stopped by the nursery just to throw Suliman for a loop, and guess who was there? Myra and Annie. We waved, but that was it.”

“Is this your ‘pink day’ for the midshipmen?” Jack grinned.

“Uh-huh. Call me if you need me.”

“What are you going to do, Jack?” Abner asked.

“Careful with your tails today, guys. Me, I’m going to Lionel Marks’s office and pretend to be a property owner who wants to rent out a whole block of investment condominiums. I need to take this guy’s measure.”

Dennis looked at Jack, his eyes full of questions. “What about your tail? Do you want him to know where you’re going? What about Ted and Espinosa? I understand they can follow me because it’s already out there and in the paper. Do we want them to know what we’re doing and where we’re going? They might not figure it out, but when they report to Maggie, she will for sure.”

“I’ll lose him, no problem.” Jack looked at Ted.

“We’ll go back to the paper and sign out a vehicle from the motor pool. Dennis can take the van. It’s doable.”

“Well, now that we have it settled, let’s hit the road,” Jack said, packing up his briefcase. “Abner, are you staying?”

“I am. My tail must be bored out of his mind. I haven’t left this building in seventy-two hours. Can’t imagine what his report reads.”

“Check in every couple of hours,” Jack reminded everyone. The guys nodded and left until it was just Jack, Abner, and Cyrus. Abner moved off, Jack calling over his shoulder to remind him to water the stupid banana tree. Cyrus barked long and loud to show what he thought of the stupid banana tree that needed watering.

 

 

If Maggie had been anywhere else but behind her desk with the half glass wall that made her visible to the reporters seated at their desks and cubbies, she would have pitched a fit and stomped on the investigative reports she was reading. She might as well have been reading a child’s textbook. There was nothing in any of the reports. Zip. Nada. Zilch. How was it possible that six grown men hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary in three days? With the exception of the exposé in SE Washington. How?

Maggie scanned the reports again, hoping she’d find something she’d missed the other three times she’d read through them line by line, word by word. Jack Emery got a haircut. Big deal. Showed no signs he was aware of being followed. Harry Wong beats to his own drummer, is in another world. Picks up daughter, goes home, stops by nursery to see wife, goes back to dojo. Dennis, Ted, and Espinosa were all linked into one report. It was a detailed one about the tenants and what had gone down in SE Washington. Well, she already knew that. What she didn’t know then but knew now was that Dennis had stopped at a Cole Haan store and bought a pricey pair of snow boots. She also now knew they had dined the previous night on Japanese hibachi in Crystal City. Another big deal.

Abner Tookus was a different story simply because there was no story. He’d entered the BOLO Building and never left. Maggie wrinkled her nose. Seventy-two hours inside one building. Knowing Abner, that had to mean he was working on something so red-hot he couldn’t leave. Still, seventy-two hours was a lot of time not to at least stick your nose outside the door. No food deliveries were detected. The bottom line read: “Target possibly dead inside.” Maggie whooped in disgust.

Maggie craned her neck to look around her desk to see if her office door was closed. It was. She picked up the phone and started calling the detectives one by one. She started with Allison Murdock, Ted, Espinosa, and Dennis’s tail. She wanted to scream when she heard the detective say Ted and Espinosa were inside the
Post
building, and Dennis had left in the van. A second-tier newbie was following Dennis, and it appeared he was en route to SE Washington. Alone.

“So, what you’re telling me is you lost Ted and Espinosa. I thought you were a professional,” Maggie shrilled.

“No, ma’am, that’s not what I’m saying. What I am telling you is that Mr. Robinson and Mr. Espinosa are inside the
Post
building. They did not leave is what I’m telling you. I am sitting in the garage, and neither one of their personal vehicles has moved. They are
inside
the building.”

Maggie gritted her teeth. “No, they are not here. What they did was go to the motor pool, sign out another car, and leave. You allowed that to happen. Get your butt over to the motor pool and see what car they signed out. Not that it’s going to do us any good now. When they bring it back, find out how many miles they traveled. That’s all logged in when you sign out one of the
Post
’s vehicles. Are you getting it now, Miss Murdock? They made you! They know you’ve been following them, and they evaded you. Now do something!” she screamed.

Next, she called Mike Suliman, Harry’s tail, and asked for an update.

“He’s at the dojo, Miss Spritzer. A busload of midshipmen from Annapolis just arrived, so I guess he has a class. He is inside.” Maggie’s comment was to stay on him.

Her next call was to Jack Emery’s tail, an older man named Clyde Evers. He sounded frazzled. “You lost him, didn’t you?” Maggie said through clenched teeth.

“Yes, ma’am, I did. It was traffic. I don’t think he knows he’s being followed. In fact, I’m almost sure of it. I had to pull over for a fire engine, the light turned red for me, but he went through on the yellow and was gone. He was at the BOLO Building for about an hour, then left with a big old dog. For whatever this is worth, there is a group of Asian men installing a rather high-tech iron fence at the entrance and exit to the alley. Two other shopkeepers will be using it along with the tenants of the BOLO Building. The only thing I can do now is go back to the BOLO Building and stake it out.”

Maggie was seething. She made no comment as she broke the connection. She tried to calm herself down by taking deep breaths before she called Neil Parsons, the tail assigned to Abner Tookus.

Parsons sounded bored when he clicked on his cell phone. “No sign of activity, Miss Spritzer. I think the man’s dead inside. The building has been under surveillance for the last seventy-two hours, and he has not left the premises. Nor have there been any food deliveries, strangers visiting, nothing. It’s quiet. Workmen are installing what looks like an iron gate at the entrance and at the exit to the alley. Five other males appeared and stayed for about an hour, then left separately. Check with the other operatives on their whereabouts.”

Maggie bit down on her lower lip. “Stay on it and let me know when he leaves, and I can guarantee you that Mr. Tookus is not dead. There is a kitchen in the building as well as a shower. I’m sure there is a sofa or a cot also. Don’t let him out of your sight if he leaves.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They know. Sure as I’m sitting here in my office, those guys know they have tails on them.
“I know it, I know it, I know it!” Maggie muttered over and over to herself. She banged on her desktop, but all that produced was a pain in her hand that made her bite her tongue to keep from crying out. “Now what do I do?”

Ted Robinson looked at the beat-up car he would be driving to Middleburg. No GPS. Crank windows. He hoped the heater worked. He looked at Espinosa and shrugged. “Hey, it has wheels and will get us there. At least I hope so. It’s only forty-five miles or so to Middleburg. With luck, we should make it in about an hour. Punch it in on that supersmart phone of yours and just read me the directions. Keep an eye out to make sure we really did shake our tail.”

Ted sailed up the ramp and roared out of the garage, stunned at the power under the hood of the car he was driving. As far as he could tell, no one was following him. He paid attention to traffic while he listened to Espinosa fire off directions for fifteen minutes before he settled down for the stretch of highway that would take him to the Sandford family farm.

“What’s our plan, Ted? Do we even have a plan?”

Ted grinned. “Sort of. More or less. Key in the local newspapers in Middleburg. I think it’s the
Middleburg Life
that caters to the Sandfords and their Christmas decorations. Mrs. Sandford wins every year. I’m thinking we can bluff our way through something there. We might have to convince Maggie to let us run some fluff pieces to make it legit. We might need to be extra charming, so work on that, Espinosa.”

Espinosa grunted something that sounded like
I’m always charming
, to which Ted muttered something that sounded like, in your dreams.

They rode in silence for a few moments, Ted’s eyes on the road and on his rearview mirror, Espinosa’s eyes on the screen of his smartphone.

“Two weeks till Christmas! Hard to believe. Are you planning on buying Alexis a Christmas present?”

Espinosa stopped what he was doing and looked over at Ted. “Is that a trick question? She dumped me. Why would I buy her a present? Are you buying Maggie one?” he asked snidely.

“As a matter of fact, I am. I’m buying her a banana tree. What do you think of
that
?”

“I think you’re nuts is what I think. At this time last year, we were already invited out to Myra’s for Christmas. I didn’t get an invitation or a call, did you?”

“Nope. I’m thinking it’s just going to be me, you, and Minnie and Mickey this year,” Ted said, referring to his two cats. “I’ll cook if you want to come over. I’m going to pick up my Christmas tree this weekend. Want to help me decorate it on Sunday?”

“Sure. Okay, here we go, five miles as the crow flies, you make a right on Stallion Road, you follow that for two miles, then that should take us to a private road called Sandford Farm Lane, which will take us to the front door. I sure as hell hope this works, but I doubt that it will. I have not read one pleasant thing about that woman.”

“The woman hasn’t been born yet who doesn’t or won’t react to flattery. I learned that from Maggie. We pour on the charm, tell her she’ll be on the front page of the Lifestyle section. That’s big time.”

The duo had ridden in silence for another ten minutes when Espinosa said, “Slow down. See that prancing stallion on the side? Make a right. We’re almost there.”

“Do you think they have any kind of security out here?” Ted asked.

Espinosa shrugged. “The lieutenant governor travels with a carful, but I think I heard a while back or read somewhere that out here in the boonies, he’s just another farm owner, and there’s no need. That might have changed since I heard that.”

“The only time you need security is when you’re doing something wrong. Don’t go jumping down my throat, it’s just my opinion,” Ted said as he maneuvered the motor-pool car over the rough shale road. He could hear the rocks bouncing off his fenders, and the sound irritated him.

“So far so good,” Espinosa said, peering out the side windows, then the back. “I don’t see anyone. That’s the house up ahead. I guess you just drive up to the front, and we walk to the front door and ring the bell. How cool is that?”

“Way too easy, especially after our headlines this morning. I was expecting everything to be battened down.”

“You didn’t mention the Sandford name in the piece you and Dennis wrote. They probably think that guy Marks is not going to give them up. Arrogant rich people think like that,” Espinosa said knowingly.

Ted brought the battered car to a smooth halt. “Here goes nothing,” he said as he settled his backpack firmly in place. “You got everything handy, all your creds? That’s the first thing whoever opens the door is going to want to see. Paste that winning Espinosa smile in place. You ready?”

“I’m ready,” Espinosa said, getting out of the car. He looked around. The place looked deserted to his eye. He also didn’t see much in the way of holiday decorations. He said so under his breath.

“I think it’s all about lights more than statues and stuff. Oooooh, look up at the roof and that wire sleigh and all those reindeer by the chimney, and look over there on the side; damn, there must be at least twenty wire things. Wonder what they are. It’s hard to see them against all the snow piled up. How the hell did we miss all that crap lining the driveway? Bet it all lights up at night. That article did say it was a light show once it got dark. Check out the wreath on the door. It’s not even real. The doodads look kind of worn and tattered to my eye, but what do I know! I’m just a reporter, but I want to say, right here and now, that this crap offends my eyes. You might have to digitally enhance it.”

Ted slapped his head in frustration. “Joe, what was the name of the homeowner who came in second on the decorations? Quick, we might need the name.”

“Ah . . . um . . . Cornelia something or other ... Wait a minute. Lowden. Yeah, it’s Lowden. Cornelia Lowden. She’s the mayor’s wife. She decorates the mayor’s office, too. She won a prize for that.”

Ted looked up at the ornate door knocker, which was a replica of the prancing stallion on the sign out on the road. He wondered if the Sandfords raised Thoroughbreds out here in Never Never Land. He lifted the ornate knocker and gave it a good bang. He could hear the sound reverberating all through the house. Loud enough to wake the dead or, at least, someone wearing two hearing aids.

The door opened suddenly. Fiona Sandford, dressed in a pink pantsuit with a Popsicle-colored blouse, blasted them before they could catch their breath. “How did you get in here and what do you want? This is private property, and you are trespassing.”

“Ted Robinson, ma’am, and this is Joseph Espinosa. We’re from the
Post
in D.C. We’ve been trying to contact you for the longest time. We heard about your exquisite Christmas decorations and how you’ve won first prize six years in a row. We want to do a feature story on you along with some other equally talented homeowners. We’ve already scheduled McLean and Leesburg, but we were told they can’t hold a candle to yours. We did send two inquiries to the lieutenant governor’s mansion but never heard back. So, as our deadline is drawing near, we thought we’d take a chance and just ride out here to see if you would be agreeable to letting us show you off a little.”

Fiona Sandford’s talonlike fingers flew to her bee-stung lips in stunned surprise. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry for greeting you like that. It’s just that no one comes out here unless they’re invited. My manners are atrocious. Please, come in out of the cold. Can I offer you some coffee, tea?”

“No, ma’am, we’re good. We would have called, but your number is unlisted, and rightly so, your husband being who he is and all,” Ted said with a smile in his voice. “So, will you grant us the interview? If you say no, then we’ll have to ask Mrs. Cornelia Lowden as our second choice.”

“Of course! Of course! I can’t let Cornelia one-up me now, can I? We’ve had this ... little Christmas rivalry going on now for a good many years. All in good fun, of course. Just follow me into the great room, and you can see what I’ve done so far. I’m not finished yet. Actually, it’s a work in progress and never seems to get finished until Christmas Eve, for some reason. I’m sorry my husband isn’t here to speak with you. He loves to get into the season and usually he strings all the lights outside, with the help of our barn manager. We have thousands of lights, just thousands. It really is a light show at night,” Fiona Sandford babbled.

Ted Robinson thought he had seen everything there was to see in the way of Christmas decorations, but his jaw dropped, as did Espinosa’s, when they entered the great room. There was not one inch of space that wasn’t adorned with some ricky-ticky, honky-tonk wall hanging, ornament, or statue. The Christmas tree went all the way to the ceiling and was white and silver, with a mishmash of ribbons, colored popcorn, bangles, and garish ornaments. A tarnished angel graced the top of the tree.

“What do you think? Am I or am I not first-prize material?”

“That you are, ma’am, that you are. Joe, make sure you get it from every angle.”

“I’ve been at this for weeks now,” Fiona said proudly.

Ted was so dumbfounded at all the junk he was seeing that all he could say was, “I can see that.” He risked a glance at Espinosa, who seemed to be having trouble focusing his camera. Either from laughter or pure dismay that he was actually here doing what he was doing.

“A collage would be nice, you know, all entrances, exits, and windows so we get the whole picture,” he said to Espinosa, so he would remember the real reason they were here.

“There’s just so much,” he mumbled.

“It’s taken me all my life to collect everything. Every ornament, every statue, every card, every single decoration has a story behind it. I’m sure you don’t want to hear them, but they mean so much to me.”

“Do you have any decorations made by your children over the years?” Ted asked.

“I do, but I don’t put them out. My children do not share my passion for Christmas, so I don’t bother pretending. Now, if that makes me a horrible mother, then so be it. They aren’t even coming home for Christmas this year. Can you believe that?”

Ted’s ears perked up. “Really. That’s too sad.”

“My mother would kill me if I didn’t show up for Christmas Eve. Christmas Day is different; we each do our own thing. It’s Christmas Eve that is important to my mom,” Espinosa said, clicking away.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have a houseful of guests if not family. You do want to show off your”—Ted waved his arms about to take in the cluttered, mind-boggling room—“Christmas decor.”

“In years past, yes. Unfortunately, not this year. I’m just devastated, but maybe doing this interview with a high-quality, top-notch newspaper like the
Post,
and seeing you bringing to life all my treasures, well, it just might make up for it. The lieutenant governor has so much government business on his plate this year that he won’t even be coming here until December twenty-third. I gave my household staff the time off. They all left yesterday and won’t be back till January second of next year.”

“Well, that’s it for this room,” Espinosa said. “Do you have any other rooms you’d like us to feature?”
God, let her say no,
he thought to himself.

“Absolutely I do. I decorate the entire house, including all six bathrooms. Just follow me, and I’ll show you. I so have this passion for reindeer. I wanted one when I was a little girl, but my daddy said no. I was brokenhearted. Now I have over a thousand of them. Isn’t that marvelous?”

“It certainly is,” Ted said as he tried to tear his eyes away from a giant, plastic snow globe in the middle of the dining-room table. Inside, fake snow rained down as a fat, miniature Santa tumbled over and over. Gold-plated reindeer were spread over every square inch of the table.

Ted couldn’t help himself when he said, “Guess you’re eating Christmas dinner in the kitchen, huh?”

Fiona Sandford thought that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “We’ll eat off trays in the family room. It took me too long to set all this up, and I don’t want to disturb the arrangement.”

“I don’t blame you,” Espinosa mumbled.

“Do you get the
Post
way out here?” Ted asked, hoping to move things along.

“I read it online every morning. My husband insists I keep abreast of what’s going on. I do like the paper.”

“What did you think of today’s article about what went down in the SE section of the District?” Ted asked nonchalantly as he pretended to admire a fat Santa with a green sack of tiny, wilted-looking packages. He racked his brain to remember where he’d seen a duplicate of what he was looking at. And then it came to him—the Dollar Store.

“Why would you ask me something like that?” Fiona asked, suspicion ringing in her voice.

“Because I’m a newspaper reporter and that’s what we do; we ask questions and hope for feedback. I guess you don’t have an opinion. That’s okay, a lot of people don’t. I’ll tell you who I really feel sorry for; it’s that guy who runs the management company. He’s going to go
down,
and he’ll take all his slum-landlord clients with him. So, Mrs. Sandford, we’d like to take some pictures of you with all your treasures. We have another thirty minutes if you’d like to change into something... festive. Or we can just shoot you as you are. You look lovely, but pink isn’t exactly a Christmas color. The decision is entirely up to you. This article is about you, so it won’t matter if your husband is in any of the shots or not. I’m sure we can dig something out of the archives if we change our minds.”

Fiona suddenly looked angry, frustrated, hopeful in quick succession, as if she couldn’t make up her mind. “What? Did I say something to upset you? Was it that your husband won’t be in the pictures?”

“No, no, not at all. Yes, I would like to change into something more formal. Would you like something to drink before I change? There’s coffee in the kitchen. Help yourselves. What did you mean when you said that person was going to go down?”

“Oh, that!” Ted shrugged. “I’m just going by what that rich guy promised to do, which was go to the ends of the earth to dig up the owners of those slums. He meant business. He’s one of those dog-with-a-bone kind of guys. You’d best hurry, Mrs. Sandford; we don’t have much more time. Do you want us to send you the proofs, so that you can pick the ones you’d like us to put in the feature?”