LITMIR.BIZ

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Jack is. After being director of the FBI, then going through that nightmare with Jellicoe … I’m kind of up in the air about which direction I want to go in. We’ve got nest eggs now, thanks to Lizzie. When I make my decision, I want it to be the right one this time around. You know how it goes, by the time you hit forty, you want to be settled for the long haul.”

      Harry startled everyone by saying, “That’s about the most intelligent thing I’ve heard since we arrived.”

      “Well, thank you, Harry Wong,” Bert and Jack said in unison.

      “Who’s moving into these digs once you clear things out?” Espinosa asked.

      “Another small law firm. Two lawyers—brothers, actually. Nice guys. They bought all the furniture, even the pictures on the walls. All they have to do is move in. Actually, they’re taking over Lizzie’s lease, which still has four years to run. That’s Lizzie, hedging her bets in case she ever wants to come back,” Jack said.

      “Well, as far as I can tell, guys, we’re done here. Espinosa and I better get on the road,” Ted said as he reached for the last pastry on the plate. “Thanks for the eats. Lunch would have been better, but beggars can’t be choosers.” He gathered up the backpack he was never without and headed for the door, Espinosa in his wake.

      “Starting at two-thirty, call, and we’ll arrange an open line,” Jack said.

      “You got it!”

      When the door closed behind Ted and Espinosa, Harry bounced out of his chair. “Something’s wrong here.”

      “No shit!” Jack said.

      “There’s always something wrong,” Bert said. “You got any clues, any insight into what that might be, Harry?”

      “Well, for starters, what business is it of ours where Elias goes? So we’re doing Nellie a favor by spying on him. That’s it. So what? We don’t even know if anyone else is going to the White House. Ted said it himself, that he wanted to know in case, the operative words here are in case, Maggie asked who else was there. This does not smell or feel like a mission to me, and furthermore, the girls are out of business, so the point is moot,” Harry said.

      “Son of a bitch!” Jack said, ticking off his fingers. “You just said eighty-seven words all in one breath. Way to go, Harry!”

      “Eat shit, Jack.”

      “Boys! Boys! Enough with the compliments. There is that little matter of… Annie and her date with Fergus Duffy. That’s important, but I don’t know why. Maybe because the guy never met her. Don’t give me any of that shit that he saw a picture of her and he’s lusting after her. I suppose he could be lusting after her money. Don’t get me wrong here, there’s nothing wrong with Annie in the looks department, and she does have a winning personality. What I’m saying is, why Annie?”

      “Maybe because Myra is married and the others are too young for him. Fergus Duffy is an old geezer. I’m thinking that might be the fly in the ointment in what’s going on or at the very least motivating the girls to help Nellie. Always bear in mind the girls only tell us what they want us to know. Always, always, remember that,” Jack said ominously.

      “They miss the action, the adrenaline rush,” Harry said.

      “Harry, you are absolutely amazing today. I cannot believe how astute you are. You’re absolutely right on that, too. To be honest with you, I kind of miss it myself. This,” he said, waving his arms about, “is about as exciting as watching paint dry.”

      “You are a witty man, Jack Emery.” Bert guffawed.

      Harry wisely remained silent.

      “Hey, Bert, I have an idea. You still have contacts at the Bureau. How about giving one of them a call and see if you can find out if the director has a four o’clock meeting at the White House today,” Jack said.

      Bert thought about the request and shrugged. “I can try, but that doesn’t mean my guy will even know, and even if he does know, he might not share his info with me. We’re talking FBI here, and the FBI does not have loose lips. He might have to do some hand-wringing and get back to me. It could be a hard sell, and I am persona non grata, as we all know.”

      “You won’t know unless you try, so just do it,” Jack said.

      Bert did it. Harry and Jack listened to what Jack later described as Bert’s version of sweet talking. The sweet talking consisted of the promise of two tickets to the first Redskins game, dinner at Wasabi for two, and sixteen gallons of free gas.

      “Well, boys,” Bert said as he powered down his cell phone, “I think I got more than I bargained for. My buddy just told me that Director Yantzy is indeed headed to the White House, and he is royally pissed—the director, not my guy—because … he is going to have to see Calvin Span, the director of the CIA, at the same meeting along with, are you ready for this one? Donald Frank, Secretary of Homeland Security. John Yantzy hates Calvin Span the way I hate rattlesnakes.

      “By the way, I was sort of hoping Span wasn’t going to return to the CIA after his open-heart surgery back before we joined up with Jellicoe. When they appointed Karen Star as his temporary replacement, I cheered her on. Langley loved her as much as they hated Span, but I see now he’s back in the saddle. He should have stepped down for good. I wish they’d boot his ass to the curb. So, there you have it. What say you all? Harry is so right, I’m smelling something here.”

      “And he just gave that all up with all those promises you made,” Harry scoffed.

      “Well, yeah. He did say everyone in the Bureau heard the director bellowing about the meeting, and he didn’t think it was a secret, so he told me. It’s so wonderful to have friends in high places. We have to divvy up on the promises I made. Three ways, boys, five hundred each should do it! Remember this—I am only as good as the promises I make and the promises I keep. Shell it out and smile while you’re doing it.”

      Jack and Harry handed over the money. Bert pocketed it gleefully as Jack immediately started to text Ted to bring him up to speed.

      “Wonder who else is in town that we don’t know about, aside from Fergus Duffy,” Bert mused more to himself than to anyone else.

      “Maggie might know. I can’t remember who the Post’s White House reporter is because they rotate them from time to time. Shoot, we should have thought to ask Ted. Now, if we were astrologers, we could figure out if the confluence of the planets is merging with the stars and what the outlook will be for this afternoon.” Jack grinned from ear to ear at the stupid look on Harry’s face.

      “You know, Jack, these little White House tête-à-têtes are nothing unusual. I used to have to go there at least once a month. The president just wants to be brought up to speed; then she dresses everyone down and everyone moves on till the next time. I do have to admit, though, that most of those meetings were with the locals.”

      Jack finished his text and looked up. “Explain Elias going to the meeting.”

      “That’s just it, I can’t. I can’t explain Fergus Duffy, either, assuming he’s attending the meeting,” Bert grumbled.

      Jack looked down at his BlackBerry and the incoming text from Maggie. “Alan Freeman is the Post White House reporter on rotation. They had a briefing at eleven o’clock this morning. Something about an energy bill, something about a diplomat in Pakistan, and the White House sprinkler system is on the fritz. The dog is doing great and is at the president’s side at all times. That’s it, boys.”

      “Now what?” Harry asked irritably.

      “Let’s head out. We’ll tell Alexis we’re going to lunch. I suggest a hot dog from one of the street vendors. I think better when my stomach isn’t rumbling,” Bert said.

      “Harry, you got your sprouts and seeds with you?” Jack needled.

      Harry pulled a plastic bag out of his trouser pocket to show

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