Upside Down (2 page)

One by one, the men entered a small eight-by-ten room that was totally empty except that it contained a good-sized state-of-the-art kitchen, replete with stainless-steel appliances. A manly kitchen. As they walked down a short hall to the main part of the building, the scent of newness—fresh paint, new wood, furniture that smelled like it came straight out of a warehouse, as it probably had—assailed their nostrils. The carpet was top grade, lush and thick, and the windows were covered not by drapes but natural-wood-colored plantation shutters. A few ficus trees and lush green plants were strategically placed in the foyer and all the offices. Dennis, who said he had a green thumb, had agreed to take over their care, watering and feeding them plant food according to the instructions that came with all the greenery.

There were six rooms in all, then one large room that ran the entire length of the building. The sign on the door said it was the
COMPUTER ROOM.
That meant it was Abner Tookus's domain and off-limits to everyone but him unless invited in. He had designed it to duplicate the special computer room he had at his own home. Jack had literally choked when Abner told him the equipment cost millions of dollars. Abner had personally bought, paid, and installed everything in the room at his own expense, which relieved Jack of all his anxiety. The guys, most of whom were seeing it for the first time, ooohed and aaahed, but it was Dennis West who said it looked like a room at NASA. And it was climate controlled, Abner said, because the machines were as delicate as the stuff NASA and the NSA had. He looked around at the group, and announced, “If the door is closed, do not open until you knock and I say you can come in.” Heads bobbed up and down. In this room, Abner was king.

As they trekked through the building, they saw that each room had been furnished with a computer, a monitor, webcams, a fax, a color printer, and a landline. The building had seven different landline phone numbers. There were tablets, iPads, and a box of twenty-four different cell phones—all encrypted so as not to be traceable thanks to Avery Snowden—and each room had a seventy-six-inch television on one of the walls.

“What do you think, guys?” Jack asked anxiously. “Do you like the furnishings?”

Everyone started talking at once, with a lot of hand waving. The bottom line was, “You did a great job, Jack.” Jack beamed his pleasure.

“What are we calling this . . . ah . . . enterprise? What does the plaque outside the door say this business is?” Ted asked.

Jack laughed. “BOLO Consultants. The plaque reads
THE BOLO BUILDING,
and underneath it says
CONSULTANTS
. We are whatever we want to be.”

“What does that mean?” Dennis asked.

Sparrow raised his hand. “Let me guess. BE ON LOOKOUT, right?” To the others, he explained. “It's a law-enforcement tag.” Jack nodded, and, for the first time, noticed how dressed up Sparrow was. The rest of the group were in casual clothes, the same sort of clothing they had worn when they came to observe the renovations on the building.

He commented on Sparrow's attire, his gaze questioning. When Sparrow was not more forthcoming, Jack thought maybe he was going to attend a funeral or a wedding after the meeting. He led the group out to the main part of the building to a room off to the right, whose polished doorplate announced
CONFERENCE ROOM
.

The conference room was long and narrow, and featured a beautiful, antique, carved-mahogany table with twelve leather-covered chairs. There was a credenza of sorts against one wall, and two ficus trees stood sentinel in front of a shuttered bay window. The lighting was subdued and not offensive. The carpet was a dusty taupe and smelled new. Colorful Jackson Pollock paintings hung on the walls. All in all, a pleasant room but still a man's room.

Jack placed the shopping bag on the table and brought out the champagne and the jug of tea for Harry. Within minutes, the champagne was poured, and they were toasting their new BOLO venture. When the glasses were empty, Jack motioned to the chairs and told everyone it was time for an update so that they were all on the same page.

“First things first. Is everyone happy with the building and what we did with it?” He received a glowing response. “Okay then. Let's get to the financials, so we all understand where we stand. The building is paid for, so we have no mortgage to worry about. We prepaid our taxes and insurance for five years, so we don't have to worry about that, either. In case we hit a dry spell and money isn't rushing in. I like to be prepared. Utilities are paid monthly, and Abner said he would see to that. Just for the record, Bert, Ted, Espinosa, Harry, and I put in all the bonus money we received from Hank Jellicoe, which Lizzie Fox had invested for us. I must say, she was quite the financial guru because we more than doubled our initial investment. Sparrow put his share in from his winnings in Monte Carlo, and Abner sold off his beachfront property in Baywater, Maryland. With the exception of Dennis West, we are all equal owners.

“Dennis, with the help of Lizzie Fox, has turned most of his fortune over to BOLO. As you all know, Dennis recently came into a very large fortune. With the help of some excellent financial planners and Lizzie, money from that inheritance has been allocated by Dennis to many things. He now has trusts for any children he might have in the future. He's donated handsomely to many, many charities, concentrating on children's causes and animal-rights causes, and will continue to do so. He's made provisions for his parents and several cousins. He purchased a farm for himself in McLean, Virginia, which is not too far from Myra's and Annie's homesteads, but he has yet to move into his new digs. Dennis is set for life, thanks to his wealthy benefactors.

“And he has, with Lizzie's help, set us up so that BOLO is more than solvent. His contribution far outweighs what all of us put in the pot to buy this building, and that includes the equipment and the prepaid taxes and insurance. I want us to vote to give him a share just like ours in this building. Raise your hand to vote.” Every hand shot in the air. Dennis's chest puffed out, his face pink with excitement at really belonging to this secret one-of-a-kind group.

“Now, to salaries. I'm the only one without a job at the moment. I plan to work out of this office full-time. I'm not looking for a salary—Nikki and I are financially set—but I would like an expense account. Actually, I think we should all have expense accounts, which are not to be abused. I think, and tell me if you agree, that we should all take a small salary of five thousand dollars a month. If we don't need it, we can pump it back into the business. I know I said I don't want a salary, but Lizzie is the one who suggested the salary in case of an audit and to keep things on the up-and-up. We've set up a special fund for Avery Snowden and his people. We all know how much that costs from the times that Charles showed us the financials back in the day. It goes without saying that Snowden and his group of retired spies are worth every penny. Are you all following me here? Raise your hands if you agree.” Once again, all hands shot into the air.

“Okay, moving right along, the bottom line is that money will be no object thanks to Dennis West's generosity. In my office, I have a box of contracts for everything under the sun that were delivered yesterday from Lizzie. Before you leave, I'm going to need you all to sign each and every contract per Lizzie's instructions. Any questions?”

There were questions. The first was posed by Dennis, whose face was still pink from his compliments. “Are we a secret . . . you know, like a club that doesn't take on any new members? I understand what BOLO means, but are we going to be the male equivalent of the vigilantes and do the . . . ah . . . ladies know what we're doing? How secret is secret, and did Mr. Snowden sign on?”

“By my count, Dennis, that's four questions,” Ted said. All eyes turned to Jack Emery.

“I guess you could say we are the male counterpart of the girls. I more or less . . . alluded to . . . certain things where the girls are concerned but I did . . .”

“In other words, the answer is no, the girls
don't
know,” Espinosa said.

“Right!” Jack sighed.

“So are we secret or not?” Dennis demanded.

“How about this, kid? We're secret until we get found out. Then we'll figure out how to deal with it. Does that work for you?” Ted asked.

“Yeah, Ted, it works for me. I know how to keep a secret,” Dennis shot back. “But my mother always said you need to be up front from the git-go, so nothing comes back to bite you. I don't like to lie.”

“No shit!” Everyone turned to the voice coming from the webcam. It was Bert Navarro. “Everyone lies at some point. Even that guy House on the television program says so. We aren't actually lying; we just aren't blasting out our business for the world to hear. If Lizzie Fox is okay with all this, then we're good to go. Speaking for myself here, I've put together a kick-ass security team that makes the Secret Service look like rent-a-cops. I can actually count on them, so my time is free to travel back and forth when you guys need me. You did say we all had the use of the WELMED corporate jet. Win-win!”

“Let's be clear on something,” Abner said. “For the most part, we're just doing pro bono work, which means we aren't charging anyone for our services. I get the part about us stealing funds from the bad guys and using it for the good guys, but does that sum it up? Are you saying we're going to be modern-day Robin Hoods?”

“That's a nice way of putting it, Abner.” Jack grinned.

Harry Wong took a slug from his green tea and looked around the table. “What about Charles Martin?”

Expectant gazes turned to Jack, who merely shrugged. “I don't know what to tell you. He's been gone for a whole year now. I asked Avery Snowden to look into it a month ago. Two days ago, he said he came up dry. Don't forget, Charles was the best of the best in the spook world. If he doesn't want to be found, for whatever reason, he is not going to be found. Other than that sighting in Vegas last year over Christmas, no one has seen or heard a thing. I don't even know for certain that it was Charles. Everyone has a double.”

“Yes, but then there was Fergus Duffy right there with him at the second sighting. That's too much of a coincidence. And I, for one, have never believed in coincidences,” Ted said.

The others agreed that they didn't believe in coincidences, either.

“We can't worry about Charles. It was his decision to leave, so he has to deal with the fallout on his own. In case any of you are thinking that Avery Snowden is on Charles's side, get that idea out of your head. Snowden goes where the money is. He is not unethical. He is as good as Charles is when it comes to clandestine affairs. We got to him first, so that means that whatever Charles is up to or doing, he has not recruited Snowden.”

“So, how is this going to work?” Espinosa asked. “Do we report in each morning, what? Where are our cases going to come from? That sign outside our door doesn't exactly imply we're open for business or let passersby know what kind of business we're in.”

“Wait here, guys. Give me two minutes, and I'll tell you.” Jack left the room and returned with a banker's box full of files. “I . . . ah . . .
borrowed
these from the D.A.'s office before I left. They're copies.” Jack removed the cover and pulled out twelve files. “These cases were all tried, two of them by me. I won both, but both are on appeal, and the scum will get off. I know it as sure as I know that I'm standing here. Ditto for the other ten. But for our first case, there is no file. I came by it via Harry, who got it from some of the FBI agents who train with him.
It
meaning a
case
if we want to take it on. If not, it will get swept under the rug because the guy is big-time. These other twelve are cases we need to check out to see if we think we can make it right for the good guys. Questions?”

“I think Sparrow needs to tell you guys something,” Bert said from the webcam. “Go for it, buddy, and don't be shy.”

All eyes turned to Sparrow, who promptly stood and looked around the table. Then he laughed, a great booming laugh that was a surprise to everyone in the room. “Okay, here goes. Jack, I know you wondered why I'm dressed in my only good suit with a shirt and tie that actually match. Just for the record, they're all new. Because . . . when I leave here”—he looked at his watch—“thirty minutes from now, I am meeting up with Lizzie, who will accompany me to . . . the
White House
!”

“Whoa! Whoa!” Ted exploded. “I thought Lizzie wrapped that all up and got you
beaucoup
bucks when she sued on your behalf and won. For being wrongly imprisoned when those skunks you worked with at the FBI framed you. I wrote the damn article, telling about how the president herself personally apologized to you in front of the whole world, pardoned you, and made that big splash and asked you to go back to the Bureau. You turned her down. Are you saying that this president is going to rescind all of that?”

“Nah, this president wants me to head up the FBI.” Sparrow laughed. Bert joined in the laughter from the webcam.

“Oh, jeez, holy cow, and we just spilled our guts here! So now you're going to arrest us all or blow the whistle on us?” Dennis exploded.

Sparrow walked over to Dennis's chair and patted him on the back. “On the contrary, young man. Think of me as your inside source. Think of me as a friend in a high place. Think of me as your ace in the hole. Think of me as the guy who will save your ass if you ever get arrested. But, I didn't say I was going to take the job if it is offered to me. The president went through Bert to pave the way because, as he put it, he knew how I felt about the FBI after I put in twenty-five years of loyal service to have them turn on me, frame me, and send me to prison. Bert then went through Lizzie, and they arranged this meeting. So, what I want to know from all of you is this. Do you want me to take the job, so you'll have someone on the inside, or do you want me to pass on it? Makes no never mind to me one way or the other. A lot of the old regime is still there, so it's not going to be a day at the beach for me, but I'm willing to do it for
the cause
. Your call, guys. In the interest of full disclosure, I feel I should tell you that back in September, I had a personal visit in Vegas from a VIP, and Bert can back me up because he sat in on the meeting. Scotland Yard sent an emissary to ask me if I would be interested in heading up the Yard. Both Bert and I were dumbfounded, so I told them I would give them my answer by the first of the year. I'm thinking the president got downwind of that offer, so he made his offer.