here. She was last seen with Lizzie Fox, who, ironically, disappeared at exactly the same time Maggie did. High-dollar Lizzie, lawyer to the rich and famous, and she just packs it in. I-don’t-think-so. Judge Easter is involved, too, and so are those cruds Jack Emery and Harry Wong. It’s all one goddamn big conspiracy. Another thing, Chief, don’t you find it a little strange that Chief Justice Barnes suddenly retired? And where’s that live-in lover of hers? Everyone suddenly disappears. Even that dandy ex–son-in-law of hers resigned from the think tank where he worked. The guy was set for life, high bucks, and he blows it off just like Pearl Barnes. She was set for life, too. It smells.”
Ted’s voice turned desperate when he said, “Think about it, Chief, all of a sudden five people drop off the face of the earth. All five are connected in some way.”
“All those people are of an age where they can do what they want. No missing person reports have been filed. That means the story is dead. D-e-a-d! Now, I want you out there pounding the pavement. I want some news. I want some credible stories. This is Washington, D.C., where things happen on an hourly basis. I know it’s summer, and things slow down, but there’s news out there. So go find it so I can print it, but first, get Maggie’s stuff and store it away.”
Ted almost exploded. “What? You want me to write gossip? That’s crap, and you know it. Shirley is good at that. Tyson loves it,” he said, referring to his colleagues. “Why me?”
“Because they’re busy, and all you do is sleep on the job. I want my money’s worth, Robinson, so get your ass out of here and get to work.”
“Wait! Wait! How about I do a series on the disappearance of those five people? Whet people’s appetites. I might come across something that leads to something else. C’mon, Chief, give me a break here. I can hire a few dicks, trail along, and write a short column, titled…something like, ‘Where are they now?’ You know how this town loves a good mystery. You’re right, it’s summer, it’s slow. We might pick up some new readership.”
Sullivan rocked back on his heels. He closed his eyes and tried to conjure up what Ted’s column would look like. “Okay.” He turned on his heel and marched back to his office. Ted let out a sigh so loud he startled himself.
He needed a plan. He definitely needed a plan. Not only did he need a plan, he needed a Plan B, a Plan C, and maybe even a Plan D. Hell, he might have to use up the whole damn alphabet. As he packed up his gear, his thoughts were all over the map. He needed to check out his bank balance. Maybe he could con his pal Espinosa, a sometime writing partner, into joining forces, and then he could tap Espinosa’s bank account as well. Private dicks these days wanted retainers for sitting on their asses and hacking into shit no one else could get near. But first he needed to follow through on Sullivan’s orders and pick up Maggie’s things.
Ted’s step was buoyant as he made his way to the lobby. Outside, he hailed a cab and directed the driver to the address where the Post kept an apartment for visiting flacks and people who were willing to sell a story for money. It always came down to money. Always.
Jack Emery stepped out of the shower, threw on a clean pair of sweats, and walked out to the main floor of Harry Wong’s dojo. Harry was bowing low to show his class of police officers they were dismissed. He looked over at Jack and winced. He knew that look.
Jack sat down on a pile of mats and tied his sneakers. From time to time he looked over at Harry, who was staring at him. “What?”
“You know something, and you’ve been waiting for the right time to tell me. It’s probably something I’m not going to like because from the expression on your face you don’t like it, either. Tell me, or before your heart beats again, I’ll break both your arms.”
“Ooh, ooh, I’m scared. What the hell do you think I’ll be doing while you’re breaking my arms?”
“Howling in agony,” Harry snarled.
“You excite me when you snarl. I go all atwitter. You know what, Harry, I keep worrying that this place is bugged. I know you said you sweep it every day, but those cruds at the FBI could plant something between sweeps. Soon as the class leaves, let’s take it outside, where we can really talk. Better yet, I haven’t had any dinner. Want to try that new watering hole on H Street?”
“The one where the World Bank is? The one where all the employees are women duded up in skintight attire? That one? The guy who set that up is making a mint. Give me five minutes to change. Check the doors in front, Jack. Make sure everyone is out. Some of those cop friends of yours are stragglers. I locked some guy in two weeks ago who was diddling around in the shower buffing his toenails or something. He was stuck in here all night. D.C.’s finest!” Harry snorted to show what he thought of his own comment.
“That’s the one, but I forget what it’s called. Do it, Harry. You buying?”
“Hell no. You invited me, remember?”
Ten minutes later the building was clear, and both men were outside. Harry slid onto his Ducati motorcycle, Jack behind him.
They made it to H Street in seven minutes, windblown but exhilarated.
Both men elbowed their way through the swarming crowds at the Fast Track. Harry was right, it was a gold mine for whoever owned the joint. The plus was that the food was supposedly wonderful, and everything was reasonably priced. At the moment it was standing room only. Jack left his name at the hostess desk. They walked back outside with a beeper that would buzz when it was their turn to be seated.
Jack fired up a cigarette, to Harry’s dismay.
“You told me you were quitting. You lied.”
“Yeah. I’m under lots of pressure. It’s my pacifier. This is only my third one today, so stop nagging me.”
“Are you going to tell me now, or do you want to be carted off to the hospital?”
Jack walked twenty feet to the curb, out of earshot of some of the other people smoking by the entrance. He turned so that his back was to the doorway.
“Charles called before I got to the dojo. I would have told you then, but you were holding a class. Something’s up. Right here where we’re standing.”
Harry looked around, his Eastern eyes almost widening. “Here? At the Fast Track?”
“Not exactly,” Jack said, blowing a perfect smoke ring. “Try widening your vision.”
Harry turned completely around as he viewed the street and the buildings. His gaze went from left to right, then up and down. Jack almost laughed when he saw his friend swivel around to face him, dark questions in his eyes. “Are you saying…?”
“Yep.”
“Son of a bitch! So, that’s why you wanted to come here.”
“Yep.”
“No. No. I mean no, Jack. My nerves are still twanging over that last mess with the G-String Girls. And that asshole Mitch Riley at the FBI before that. Are you crazy? We’re at the top of the FBI’s watch list. No. When are you going to get it through your head we’re both too old for this shit? No.”
“Looks like the girls will be here next week,” Jack said as he fired up a second cigarette from the butt of his first one. “I guess you could call Yoko and tell her you
