Deja Vu (24 page)

As Jack was bounding down the steps, Bert’s cell rang. His heartbeat kicked up several notches when he saw that the call was coming in from the Hoover Building. “Shit!” He put his finger to his lips when he saw Jack standing in the doorway. “Navarro.” He listened, then said, “What can I do for you, Director Yantzy?” Jack rolled his eyes.

Bert continued to listen. Finally, he managed to say, “I’m a private citizen these days, Director Yantzy. I’m also gainfully employed.” He listened again, and said, “Try hauling me in and sweating me for seventy-two hours! Just try it. I don’t have to tell you anything, and why do you think I know where the
Post
got some book they’re touting? I still have a few friends at 1600 whom I can call if you try pulling a fast one.” Bert went into listening mode again. “I’m a private citizen, I can say whatever the hell I feel like saying. Right now, I’m done saying anything. Have a good day, Director.”

“Sounds like he’s got his panties in a wad,” Jack said, laughing.

“Guess the countdown is on. Let’s call Maggie and see what she’s running in tomorrow’s paper. Maybe instead of calling her, we should pop in on her like old times. You know, before the
breakup.”

“Dude, you really do not know anything about women. Maggie would see through that in a nanosecond. She is almost as sharp as Lizzie. Call her,” Jack said. “Tell her we’re going to have dinner out one night to celebrate our new venture. Maggie loves going out to dinner. Especially a celebratory one. What are you waiting for? Call her, already.”

Bert reared back when he heard Maggie bark a greeting. He went into his spiel the minute she said, “Speak.”

“Ah, listen, Maggie, I called for a couple of things. First off, Director Yantzy just called and wanted info on the book story you’re writing. Do you want either Jack or me to pick you up for dinner at the farm tonight? Annie and Myra are on the way back.

“And then there is the really good news. Jack and I signed on with Harry. We’re going to be running the
dojo
while he trains for the martial-arts trials in Bangkok. Would you like to come to dinner with us one night to celebrate? Also, Jack said to ask you what you’re going to run with in tomorrow’s papers.”

Bert listened, then realized he had dead air on his cell. He powered down, looked at Jack, and shrugged. “She doesn’t need a ride, thank you very much. She can get there on her own. Said Yantzy is an asshole, but we already know that. She said congratulations and let her know when and where the dinner is.

“She’s happy for Harry. Delighted that Myra and Annie will be at the farm. Tomorrow’s article is going to have an added word: terrorist. Man. Myth. Monster.
TERRORIST!
She said she has it all blocked out already, whatever that means. Then she broke the connection. She sounded strange, like maybe she’s getting a cold.”

“You stupid ass. She sounded like that because she’s been crying. Women sound like that after a good cry,” Jack said knowledgeably.

Bert thought about it a moment, and said, “Smart-ass!”

“Terrorist, huh? Well, that is the buzzword these days. Nothing like that word to rile up the populace. Hope Jellicoe sees it. If he objected to being referred to as a monster, imagine what he’ll do when he sees himself referred to as a terrorist. Ooooh, we all need to start shaking in our boots.”

“Seriously, Jack, where do you think that bastard is?”

“Right under our noses. For all we know, he could be parked right outside this house. You know it as well as I do. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. He thinks like that.”

“You got anything to drink?” Bert asked.

“Coffee, soft drinks. I think there’s some ice tea in the fridge. Name it.”

“Make some coffee, Jack. I think better with a cup of coffee.”

Both men walked down the steps and into the immaculate kitchen. “Guess we’re out of coffee. Shit. It was my turn to do the grocery shopping. See this list, coffee is right at the top. Sorry, Bert.”

Bert shrugged. “I like this house, Jack. I like the color scheme, like that it isn’t cluttered and like how it feels … homey. My apartment looks like some guy from Budweiser lives there. I never got around to … you know, doing the finishing touches. I was sort of hoping my cleaning lady would fix it up, but she just cleans.”

“This is all Nikki’s doing. She has good taste. This is not my house, Bert. I just live here with Nikki. She wanted to put my name on the deed, but I said no. Before the girls’ pardons came through, I paid rent to her.”

“That’s a good thing, Jack. You have your priorities straight.”

“Yeah. She could kick my ass out into the street anytime she feels like it. I might be knocking on your door someday with my bags.”

Bert laughed as Jack poured tea over glasses filled to the rim with ice cubes made from tea. “Got a spare bedroom. I’ll charge you rent, too. How come these ice cubes are brown? Jesus, you didn’t make them with rusty water, did you?”

“No, Nikki makes ice-tea ice cubes so the ice doesn’t dilute the tea.”

“That’s clever,” Bert said. “Isn’t it?”

“Women do shit like that,” Jack said. “Nikki puts an apple in her pot roast gravy. Would you ever think of doing that?”

They were off and running then, one thing following the other. The end result much later was that the two of them agreed that neither one of them was even half as smart as his significant other.

“And we came to this conclusion stone-cold sober,” Bert cackled. “Just for the record, Kathryn does not cook.”

“Maybe you could give her a gift certificate to some cooking classes for her birthday, which—by the way—is just weeks away. I’m kind of looking forward to going to Vegas for the event. Things around here have been rather dull. It will be nice to see Lizzie and little Jack again. What
are
you getting Kathryn for her birthday?” Jack asked, a devilish glint in his eyes.

Bert’s voice was serious when he said, “I was thinking of giving her a gas card for diesel fuel for her rig.”

Jack’s jaw dropped before he bellowed his outrage, a sound that could be heard all the way to the Capitol. “You
WHAT?
Damn, Bert, that’s right up there with buying something with a plug on the end. You don’t
ever
give a woman something with a plug on the end. Or mud flaps. Another no-no is peat moss or manure for their flower gardens.”

Bert looked like he was going to cry. Jack took no pity. “I refuse to deal with stupid.”

“C’mon, Jack, help me out here. Jewelry, flowers, candy?”

“Forget the candy. By the time they finish eating it, they’ll be on your case because they gained weight. The only word you’ll hear is
fat.
Stick with the jewelry. You can’t go wrong with sparklers.”

“Kathryn doesn’t wear jewelry.”

“Maybe she doesn’t have any to wear. Did you ever think of that, Mr. Stupid?”

Bert groaned as he refilled his glass with ice tea. He groaned again when Jack went off into a fit of laughter. “Screw it. Something will come to me. Don’t help me anymore, Mr. Know-It-All.”

Chapter 22

J
ack Emery slid out of the car. Immediately, the fine hairs on the back of his neck started to dance. He looked around at Myra’s compound to see what had triggered his sudden sense of déjà vu.

Bert stopped in his tracks and stared at Jack, sensing something wrong. His shoulders stiffened as he looked around.
Danger.
He automatically dropped into defensive mode, as did Jack. He found himself reaching to his left side, where he wore his gun and holster when on active duty. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jack doing the same thing.

No guns. Civilians don’t carry guns. “I
feel
it, but I don’t
see
it. Someone is watching us,” Jack hissed.

“Where?” Bert hissed in return.

Jack moved his head to the right to indicate the dense forest beyond the perimeter of Myra’s fenced property.

“We’re standing ducks,” Bert continued to hiss. “On three, head for the kitchen door. One! Two! Three! You know the drill, run like an alligator is after you—zigzag.”

Both men blasted through the kitchen door, breathless, to the dismay of the dogs, who were barking and snarling while Charles, Nikki, and Isabelle just stared at the men.

“Good Lord, what’s wrong?” Charles said. He whistled sharply to the barking dogs, who went silent immediately.

“When was the last time you had this place swept for unauthorized surveillance?” Jack bellowed.

Charles looked momentarily blank. He shook his head. “Inside or outside?”

Jack looked exasperated. “Jesus, Charles! Both!”

“Avery checks the house once a week. We’re bug-free. As to the outside, I have no idea. We sit here on over a hundred acres.”

Jack’s exasperation continued. “If you recall back in the day, I perched in those damn trees and watched this place for months, hoping to catch all of you doing whatever you were doing at the time. I sat perched up in those trees until I froze. Then I hired someone to sit in for me until I ran out of money. Ask Nikki, in case you forgot.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Jack?” Nikki asked.

Jack shrugged. “Yeah.”

Something in Nikki’s eyes flickered. “Well, we did say we wanted to draw
him
out and make him come to us.”

Isabelle clenched her fists and her jaw as she headed for the door. “Is
he
out there?”

“Whoa! Easy, Isabelle,” Jack said, reaching for her arm. Isabelle jerked free, her intention clear; if Hank Jellicoe was out there in the woods somewhere, she was ready to take him on. One on one. Bert blocked the doorway. Isabelle’s eyes filled as her shoulders slumped. Defeated, she walked back to the kitchen table and sat down. Nikki patted her shoulder from behind.

Charles was heard murmuring on the phone. When he powered down he said, “Avery will be here with his men in short order, and they’ll sweep the woods. They have some special equipment that will jam any feed going to Hank if it’s out there, but first they have to find it. Having said that, I think we will be dining indoors this evening instead of on the terrace.”

Cell phones chirped and were answered. Myra and Annie’s plane had just landed; they’d be here within the hour. Maggie was less than a mile away. Kathryn was just leaving the trucking depot and would arrive, depending on traffic, in less than an hour and a half. Ted and Espinosa were behind Maggie but not by much. The sound of Harry’s Ducati could be heard at the entrance to Myra’s property. They all knew Yoko would be with Harry. All present and accounted for, with the exception of Alexis.

“So we’re hiding out?” Isabelle bellowed.

“For the moment,” Charles said. “It’s always best to know what your adversary is about, you know that. Once you figure it out, then you attack. Do not let your emotions rule here, my dear.”

Charles was right, and Isabelle knew it full well. She mumbled something that sounded like an apology, hanging her head in the process.

Jack thought he’d never seen Nikki look so grim. He toyed with the idea of saying something flip but changed his mind. Bert moved from the doorway but still close enough if Isabelle changed her mind and bolted.

The kitchen monitor over the doorway pinged as it showed Maggie Spritzer at the gate.

She blew into the kitchen like a wary wind, her gaze taking in the tenseness. “I know something,” she blurted.

“Well, don’t just stand there, spit it out,” Jack said.

“Who died and left you in charge, Jack Emery? Never mind. Listen,” she said, yanking at a chair and sitting down. “I remembered something. I can’t say exactly when this happened, but I can nail it down when I get back to the paper. I always go in early to peruse the paper just as it hits the streets. I’ve been doing it forever. Anyway, I saw this article, I read it, and didn’t think too much about it, but then for some reason I went back and read it again. It still didn’t register anything with me, but I’ve thought about it off and on over these past months. I don’t know why it bothered me, I just know it did. I finally figured it out.

“There was a fire in town in this four-office medical building. They never found out who set it, but it was arson. The insides were burned to a crisp, all the doctors’ files. The doctors were partners, but they dissolved their partnership and none of them wanted to go to the expense of rebuilding, and the insurance wasn’t enough for it anyway. They sold off the property, it was leveled, and a new twenty-four-hour clinic was built. It’s actually up and running now. There was a dermatologist, an OB-GYN, a plastic surgeon, and right now I can’t remember what the fourth one was, but it doesn’t matter. The plastic surgeon is/was Julia Webster’s old partner, Dr. Laura Valentine. Julia was one of your Sisters. I think, and this is my gut talking now, that Hank Jellicoe went to that plastic surgeon and had a makeover. Then he got to thinking he had a witness, so he burned all the files. I can’t find the doctor. The best I could come up with was one of her nurses, who said Valentine packed it in after the fire and took her losses.

“She said Dr. Valentine couldn’t afford the malpractice insurance, so she sold her house in Rockville, and no one knows where she went. She was a single woman with no ties, and as the nurse put it, free to roam the world. So, what do you think?” she asked breathlessly.

Charles, his eyes wide, managed to sound sincere when he said, “I am impressed.” Everyone in the room knew Charles was jealous of Maggie and her sources, which sometimes outperformed his own.

“Well, that certainly bolsters my ego,” Maggie said tongue in cheek.

“If you’re right, Maggie, and I suspect you are, that certainly would explain how Jellicoe can be out there moving around with no one knowing who he is. I think what you were saying without really saying it was that you think Jellicoe had something to do with the doctor’s … ah … disappearance,” Charles said.

“Yep, that’s what I’m saying!”

“So, we’re saying Hank Jellicoe could look like just about anyone, and we’d never know it. And we also think he’s got surveillance out there in the woods,” Isabelle said.