"The next time you come to visit, you should bring Cosmo and Little Jack, and I'll make sure we serve them even if I have to go crabbing myself to get them. Just give me a few days' notice. Better yet, we could get together at Camp David. Then again, pictures of Little Jack in the White House sitting on the president's lap might get him some brownie points along the way. Actually, Lizzie, we could do both if you have the time. If you give me a few days' notice and nothing earth-shattering is going on in the world, I should be able to arrange it."

Lizzie laughed because she knew she was supposed to laugh.

"Tell me something, Lizzie. I know you said you aren't keeping up with politics, but what about gossip? Did you or your...people hear anything about some kind of intelligence and law-enforcement world summit in midair? My staff has been buzzing about it since it hit every political blog in town yesterday. You know how the gossip flows in the summer, when everyone is on hiatus."

Lizzie felt her stomach crunch into a knot. "Not a word. I would think something like that would be pretty hard to pull off. If it was that kind of summit meeting, why wasn't a representative of yours invited? The director of the CIA or the head of the FBI? Have you asked either one about it?"

"That's a very good question, Lizzie. And, no, I haven't. Like I said, news is slow. But...did you see the Post this morning?"

"No, I didn't. Banner headline?"

"No, nothing like that. A while back they started running two new columns. I understand from my staff they are wildly successful. One is just a question-and-answer kind of thing, Dear someone or other. The other column is called Sight and Sound. People write in with sightings, and other people respond, and they blog and Twitter and do all kinds of things. Today's question was from a man who said his name was Jonathan, and he wanted to know if anyone but himself had seen Henry-Hank-Jellicoe and what they thought of his transformation? Do you think your...people would know anything about that? What does that mean, 'his transformation'?"

"I don't have a clue. Why would you think my people would know something about that, Marti?" Lizzie said as she bent down to look for her shoes before she remembered she'd left them by the front door.

The president looked at her watch, then at the food on her plate. She stood up and reached for Lizzie's plate and carried it with her own to the disposal. "By the way, we finally got it fixed," she said, indicating the garbage disposal.

"The next time we should brown-bag it," Lizzie said lightly. "I do love it when appliances work the way they're supposed to. Ditto for computers."

"How long are you in town for, Lizzie?"

"Another day or so."

"Business?" the president asked.

"It never goes away or ends, you know that. You know I kept some of my favorite clients, so I have to work from time to time."

"New business, old business?" the president asked.

"Actually, Marti, new business. I couldn't turn down the fee. I might be the only lawyer in town who will be able to buy her own country when I wrap it up."

"That lucrative, huh?" The president smiled, but the smile did not reach her eyes.

Lizzie laughed. "Well, I can see that my time is up. This was really nice, Marti. One of these days we really should eat the lunch your chef prepares for us."

At the door, the president looked Lizzie square in the eye, and whispered, "He had an agenda, Lizzie. He used me, and when it didn't work..." Tears glistened in her eyes, but she blinked them away. "It was nice seeing you again, Lizzie. Stay in touch, okay?"

Lizzie wrapped her arms around the president. "Marti, if you need me, just call. I'll be here as quick as I can. I promise."

"I know that, Lizzie, but thanks for saying it out loud. Give Little Jack a big hug and kiss from his G.o.dmother."

"I will, Marti. Time for you to start running the world again." The two women hugged one more time, then Lizzie was on her way back to her rental car.

The first thing Lizzie did was to call her husband. With her earbud intact, she was able to concentrate on the road in front of her, the traffic, and talk. a.s.sured that her husband still loved her more than life itself and that Little Jack missed her terribly, Lizzie smiled. It was so wonderful to be loved. She gave him a quick update on her meeting with the president just as she realized she was in front of the Post building. She found a parking s.p.a.ce, professed her undying love to her husband and son, and got out of the car.

Four men almost killed themselves as they all grappled with the elevator door to hold it for Lizzie. She offered up a dazzling smile and rode to Maggie's floor, wondering why she'd come here. Obviously to report on her meeting with the president and to see if Maggie had any up-to-date information to pa.s.s along to those waiting at the farm.

On this floor, where Maggie made things happen, no one paid any attention to Lizzie as she strode along. She stood still for a minute as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing, which was Ted Robinson texting with one hand, talking on his Bluetooth headset, working the computer with his other hand, and still managing to give signals with his feet to Espinosa, who was doing the same thing but not with Ted's speed. Now that was mult.i.tasking to the nth degree.

Lizzie made her way to Maggie's office and saw she was doing much the same thing. Maggie held up her hand to indicate she'd just be a minute. Then she motioned to the kitchen, which meant coffee and donuts or something else edible. Grinning from ear to ear, Lizzie made her way to the kitchen, filled two coffee cups, added two donuts and two bananas and a pile of napkins to the tray, and carried it back to Maggie's office.

Maggie was off the phone but was still tapping at her computer keys when Lizzie set the tray down on the corner of her cluttered desk. "You know what, Lizzie, I finally figured it out. All those doctors I've gone to about the way I eat said there was nothing wrong with me. Well, I now know when my adrenaline is going full blast, that's when I eat. If it's a ho-hum day, boring, nothing is going on, I don't eat. Amazing, isn't it?" she said, sinking her teeth into a frosted jelly donut. "You just came from lunch, how come you're hungry? You didn't eat, did you. So, did the prez give up anything?"

"The lady is aching a bit. She loves Hank Jellicoe, that's the bottom line. Unfortunately, Marti has a knack for picking the wrong men. She herself mentioned it."

"That's it? That's all you got?" Maggie asked in disbelief.

"That's it. When I was leaving, she did say something I thought was strange. She said Hank had an agenda, and he used her. She also reminded me she couldn't discuss White House business with me. I really didn't ask questions. Marti is smart, and she would have picked up on anything that didn't sit well with her.

"Oh, she did ask if I had read the Post this morning and wanted to know if I heard anything about a world summit that met at thirty thousand feet in the air. A meeting neither she nor any representative was invited to."

Maggie was about to bite into the banana. She stopped and stared at Lizzie. "I thought you said you didn't get anything. That's pretty much something, in my opinion."

"Ya think, Maggie?" Lizzie teased as she, too, tackled a banana. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until that very minute. "She said her staff apprised her of the meeting. She didn't say thirty thousand feet; those are my words based on what the girls said. She pretty much pa.s.sed it off, at least I think that's what she was doing, as something the blogs were writing about just to stir up trouble. I went out on a limb and told her that, as commander in chief of this great country, she had the resources to pull in Hank Jellicoe. She said no, she'd be the laughingstock of the free world. I think she really believes she was, as the young people today put it, dumped. She keeps moving the ring from one place to another, whatever that means. That's it, Maggie, the sum total of what I got out of the luncheon. Ooops, I did casually mention that I knew people who might want to help. She knew exactly what I was talking about and she almost, I say almost, ran with it, but then she backed off. She did mention the new columns in the paper and the story you put in about someone seeing the 'new' Hank Jellicoe. In short, Maggie, as much as she wants to trust me, she doesn't."

"Oh, boo-hoo!" Maggie snapped as she scrounged around in her desk drawer for a power bar or something to chew on.

"Have you and Ted come up with anything?"

"Ted is onto something. He's like a crazy man out there. That's how he works, and I just love it. The blogs are so busy we can't handle them. Drudge's people are hitting the blogs, but I can smell them. When are the girls calling the big boys?"

"Probably when I get back to the farm and report in. They have until midnight, unless they change their minds. What about your hacker friend, Maggie? Do you have him on this?"

"You know I do. I get sick to my stomach when I think about having to tell Annie what it's costing. That guy could retire right now and live like a king somewhere on what we've paid out to him. You should see the real estate he owns, compliments of the Post! Oceanfront!" Maggie snarled.

Lizzie laughed. "What would you do without him?"

"Shrivel up and die. He wrote the software for the FBI, the CIA, and the Pentagon. There is no firewall he can't penetrate, and he always writes in a back door that no one but he can find. Tell me that isn't impressive!"

"Then I guess he's worth all that oceanfront property. Has he come up with anything?"

"Not yet, but it's only been a few hours. If there's something to be found, he'll find it."

"Well, there you go; you just convinced yourself he's worth every penny you pay him." Lizzie looked at her watch. "I should get moving. It's after four, and I don't want to hit rush-hour traffic."

"Lizzie, what do you honestly think about all of this?"

"Ask me that question tomorrow after the girls make their decision, and I talk personally, one-on-one, with Ari Gold."

"How long are you staying, Lizzie?"

"As long as it takes or until I'm satisfied the girls are safe."

Maggie nodded. "I thought that's what you'd say. That's all good. It is, isn't it, Lizzie?"

"Ask me that tomorrow, too. If you need me, call."

"Do you need me to walk you to the elevator?"

Lizzie laughed out loud. "I'm a big girl, didn't you notice? I think I can find my way. Don't work too hard."

"Never happen," Maggie said, waving with one hand. She was back in the world of blogs and Twitters and Drudge's wingnuts.

Chapter 19.

It wasn't a party atmosphere poolside, but it was crowded, and the iced tea and lemonade flowed as the Sisters huddled under the awning and talked. Charles bustled about replenishing drinks and setting out snacks. The Sisters dived into a fresh batch of delicious-looking brownies that Nellie and Elias had brought with them. The only members missing were the guys and Maggie, who were knee deep in whatever sleuthing they were doing, according to Lizzie, who was just finishing cooing to her son on her cell phone.

"And the game plan is...?" Annie asked.

"One step at a time, Annie. First, we need to vote one more time to accept the very generous offer that was presented to us. Second, we need to decide on a dollar amount for our services. Third, Lizzie needs to speak to Mr. Gold concerning the immunity. It has to be all across the board. Fourth, we want and need to know where Hank Jellicoe was dropped off. After we have that information, we can make a plan. We have until midnight before we have to make our call," Nikki said. "Hopefully, by the time we make the call, Maggie and the boys will have something a little more concrete. What's our fee?"

The Sisters batted numbers around, some realistic, others over the moon. Annie finally said she'd had enough and snapped, "Fifty million! Plus expenses! Plus all of the above!"

"Done!" the Sisters said, clapping their hands.

Lizzie Fox raised her index finger to show she'd heard the decision, then she went back to the computer she was working on.

"Which now brings us to you, Elias," Myra said. "We need you to do something for us. As the former director of the FBI, I a.s.sume you are on a first-name basis with the former director of the CIA and secretary of the Department of Homeland Security. We want you to...for want of a better explanation, nose around and see what you come up with. The CIA director from your time, who the president kept on until she appointed the woman who now holds the post, retired around Thanksgiving of last year, if I recall correctly. Something about his wife being ill. I saw a few weeks ago in the Post that she pa.s.sed on."

"Nellie and I attended the funeral. He's out, so what can he tell us?" Elias asked.

"I don't know. That's why we want you to pay him a condolence visit. See what you can find out. Even though he's retired, I'm sure he knew or knows what's been going on. Retirement can be deadly, even more so when one's spouse is in failing health. Brothers under the skin, that sort of thing," Myra said.

"I hate the son of a b.i.t.c.h," Elias growled. "Everyone in the world knows the CIA and the FBI hate each other."

Myra blinked. "I didn't know that, Elias, but we can't let that stop you. Take a bottle of really good bourbon and see what that gets you. What we want to know specifically is, did or didn't the CIA pick up on the chatter Hank Jellicoe acted upon? You can say you've heard the rumors, and who's to say you haven't stayed friends with some of the leaders of the world's law-enforcement outfits. All you have to do is sound convincing. You will do this, won't you, Elias?"

"Yes, of course he'll do it," Nellie answered briskly for her husband. "Elias even knows where the director lives, because we went back to the house for refreshments after the funeral. It was a very somber affair, and the food was appalling. It's just about eight miles from here as the crow flies."

Elias put up an argument. "Don't you think the man is going to be suspicious? It's not like we socialized or even liked one another. I'm sure his feelings for me are the same as mine are for him."

"Ah, but you see, that was before his wife died. He's all alone now. He'll be melancholy. Feed the liquor to him and see what he coughs up," Annie said. "Was his wife nice?" she asked as an afterthought.

"Salt of the earth. A very gentle, kind soul. I don't know what she ever saw in that b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Nellie said. "I didn't know her well, but she went to the same church, volunteered for some of the same things I did. We called each other by our first names. Notice that I said she went to church, not her husband. I don't think the man ever saw the inside of a church until his wife died."

"You should go now, dear. Pick up the liquor at Save-More and hopefully you will be back here before the girls have to make that call. On the drive to the director's home, you might want to call and set up a luncheon meeting tomorrow with the secretary of Homeland Security," Nellie said.

Elias, a bear of a man with a shock of hair so white it looked like a snow peak sitting on top of his head, started to grumble again. "And you think these people are just waiting to see me to spill their guts and their secrets! They make appointments months in advance. At least I did. Spur-of-the-moment luncheons just aren't in the cards, but yes, I will do as instructed. Don't I always do what you say? I have to warn you, my dear, you are all going to be so disappointed when I return empty-handed. I'm going, Nellie, calm down, or your blood pressure is going to go up again."

"There you go again, Elias, selling yourself short," Nellie said soothingly.

"It's the element of surprise, Elias. It's your job to see if they're trying to hide or cover up something. They're going to be trying to figure out why you're there in the first place and what you know. It's going to be a game. My money is on you, Elias," Annie said cheerfully.

The Sisters gave a robust shout of approval that rang in Elias's ears long after he was tooling down the highway. He admitted to a small thrill of excitement as he wondered if he had the moxie to pull this little stunt off. If he didn't want to eat out of the trough and sleep in the barn, he knew he had to pull it off. He shifted his thoughts and started to work on some witty dialogue that he hoped would garner something the girls could work with.

Back at Pinewood, Annie zeroed in on Lizzie. "Dear, is your gut telling you that the president was trying to give you a clue, or was she just...bemoaning her love life?"

"My first reaction was she was trying to tell me something without telling me. I know that doesn't make sense, but it's what I thought at the time. And she did make the comment that she couldn't discuss White House business with me. Like I didn't know that. It's up to you all to figure out what Hank Jellicoe's agenda is or was at the time this all happened." A second later, she was engrossed with what she was doing on her laptop.

Annie threw her hands in the air. "Let's hear it, girls! What kind of agenda could a man like Hank Jellicoe possibly have? The man is King of the Hill, so to speak. From everything I've read about him, the man has no political aspirations. He likes what he does, is good at what he does, and has the money to prove it."

"Remember the first rule, Annie. Always follow the money. I say we go back to the day the man was born and work forward," Myra said.

"That's what Maggie and Ted are doing, Myra. If we stick our noses into that, we might confuse the issue or screw it up," Nikki said.

Kathryn looked over at Isabelle. "This would be a good time for you to have one of your visions. Can you conjure one up for us?"

Isabelle sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you, it doesn't work that way, Kathryn. I can't control when they come or their intensity. They just happen. Even when I concentrate and try, nothing happens."

"Try harder," Kathryn snapped.

"Eat me," Isabelle shot back.

"Sorry. I'm just...I don't know what I am. I don't know what any of us are right now, this minute. We're in limbo, and I don't like it," Kathryn said.

"We're all a little antsy, dear," Myra said. "This is terribly important to all of us-life-altering, you might say. Once we see clearly what's in front of us and form a plan, the future for all of us will settle down to something we can all live with. We're at a crossroads in our lives, and we aren't certain which road we should take. I find it an awesome decision."

"Well said, Myra, well said," Annie chortled happily.

Back in the District, Harry Wong opened his dojo, then stepped aside for Bert and Jack to follow him inside. "C'mon, c'mon, hustle here, boys. Make me look good, and be sure you follow all my cues. Those CIA agents aren't fools. One or two of them are bound to figure out that their e-vals," Harry said, referring to the agents' evaluations, "are still two months off."

"And if they say something?" Bert said.

"Then I say I'm taking off again, and it's either now or they go someplace else and start over. When I first got back, I was in touch with my contact at the CIA and told him I had to play catch-up. They didn't have a problem, which is probably because they know I'm the best of the best."

"Nothing like a little modesty," Jack said, rolling out the workout mats. "You want me or Bert to take the cla.s.s."

"I think it should be Bert. Those guys hate anyone connected in any way with the FBI. Jack, you monitor, and I'll do the e-vals. I plan to flunk them on everything, just so you know," Harry snapped.

"Whoa, little gra.s.shopper, what's up with the surly att.i.tude?" Jack said.

"I hate those guys. They're c.o.c.ky, they're arrogant, and they have mush for brains. That's my opinion, and I'm ent.i.tled to it. Plus, they're racist."

"Oooh, that's not good," Jack said, tying his black belt into place. "Say the word, and they won't be walking out of here with a spring in their step. You sure you really want to go with a four-hour session?"

"That's how long the video runs, and yeah, I'm sure. The powers to be want to see their agents in glorious form. I, on the other hand, do not want to see that glorious form. I want you on their a.s.ses, show them up, and do not cut them one ounce of slack. If you have to hurt them, then hurt them."

Bert laughed. Jack thought the sound was almost as evil-sounding as when Harry got really p.i.s.sed over something. "So it's the FBI versus the CIA? Who you putting your money on, boys?"

"Oh, you big silly!" Jack said as he turned a somersault to limber up. "The FBI, of course, even though you're retired from the Bureau. You gonna go back there, Bert?"