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Fast Track. Fern MichaelsЧитать онлайн книгу.

Fast Track - Fern  Michaels


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so that she has enough funding for her underground railroad. Lizzie Fox can take care of all that. The more money they have, the more people they can get to safety,” she said, referring to their last mission in the States where they posed as the G-String Girls to fight AIDS in Africa and save the Chief Justice’s career.

      “I’d like to see some money go to battered women’s shelters,” Alexis said.

      “We can ask Judge Easter to take care of that. I think it’s a wonderful idea, Alexis,” Myra said.

      “Animal rights,” Kathryn said.

      “All things children,” Annie said.

      “Done,” Myra said smartly. “The children go to the top of the list.”

      “All this means is we have to go back to Washington. Again,” Nikki said breathlessly. Going back to Washington meant she’d see District Attorney Jack Emery, the man she loved, again.

      Yoko clapped her tiny hands in happiness because it meant she would get to see her love, Harry Wong, a martial-arts expert, to whom she was engaged.

      “And just how are we going to get in and out of Washington again? The FBI is so hot on our trail, they’re smoking. And, let’s not forget Ted Robinson. That guy wants to take a bath in our blood. I’m thinking this time around it’s going to be even more dicey,” Kathryn said. “Another thing, do we seriously believe, even for one minute, that there aren’t rumors, leaks, something, that things aren’t right at 1818 H Street, headquarters of the World Bank? If you all believe that, I’ll sell you the Key Bridge.”

      “Kathryn has a point,” Myra said thoughtfully.

      Isabelle poured more coffee just to have something to do.

      “We need a plan,” Annie said, excitement ringing in her voice. “The thrill of danger is so intoxicating. I just know this…this…mission is going to be the one that puts us on the map!”

      “We’re already on the damn map, Annie. Any little thing that goes wrong is attributed to us. We’re supposedly in every state in the union. There have been more sightings of us than you can shake a stick at. We get credit or blame, take your pick, for everything that goes wrong,” Kathryn grumbled.

      “Yes, yes, but don’t you see, that’s what makes it so exciting. They’re out there chasing their tails on all those false sightings, but when it comes down to the crunch, we move in and strike! It’s all so perfect it boggles the mind!” Annie said.

      Myra’s tone was grudging when she looked at her old friend, and said, “She’s right up to a point, and it does make some sense, but none of us should ever think of the FBI as stupid or lax. Ted Robinson, possibly, but sooner or later someone with some chutzpah is going to pay attention to him. He’s gotten way too close to us too many times. He’s not going to give up, and he’s not going to go away. That’s a given we have to deal with.”

      “So, we work around him. We’ll get Jack or Harry to put a tail on him. This way we’ll know what he’s doing in real time and be prepared,” Nikki said. Her expression darkened. “If it doesn’t work, or if he invades our space, we’ll simply take care of him.”

      “Ooh, ooh, that sounds…lethal,” Annie said, her eyes bigger than saucers as she anticipated going a few rounds with the Post’s intrepid reporter.

      The women left the dining hall and walked out into the bright summer sunshine. Murphy and Grady waited patiently in the hopes someone would throw a stick so they could play. Kathryn obliged, and the dogs ran off.

      The pine scent was heady after the night’s heavy rain. Everything looked scrubbed to perfection. Overhead, the sky was cerulean, with huge cotton candy clouds. The birds in the trees were singing their morning song. In a word, peaceful.

      “It seems so perfect, doesn’t it? Almost mystical,” Isabelle whispered to Yoko, who was walking alongside her.

      “If you don’t look deep enough as to why we’re here in the first place,” Yoko whispered in return. “Like Annie says, we have to pretend we’re on vacation.”

      Murphy bounded up with the stick in his mouth; a moment later, Grady emerged from the thick pine forest with his own stick. Kathryn threw them again before the women climbed the six steps that led into the Big House.

      Charles was waiting for them in the small foyer. He escorted them into the same conference room they’d occupied the evening before. The moment they were seated, the women bombarded him with questions and comments about their new employers.

      “Ten million dollars, Charles. That’s our fee,” Nikki said. “We don’t plan to keep a penny of it for ourselves. I hesitate to ask this, but: What happens if something goes wrong? What happens if we fail? I’m not saying that’s going to happen, but I want to know, since we’re the ones taking all the risks here. Just chalk it up to the lawyer in me.”

      “The money is yours, win or lose. I made that clear to our guests even before they arrived. They were in agreement with everything with one exception. Should things go awry, there is to be no mention of the World Bank or their visit here. I assured them of confidentiality. I knew you’d want to be philanthropic about it, so accounts have been set up offshore, in the Caymans and Switzerland. This was also done before our guests arrived. At the moment, dear ladies, that is the least of our worries.”

      “We want to know what they didn’t tell us, Charles,” Kathryn said, fixing him with a steely gaze.

      “I’d wager quite a bit. People tend to be reticent when discussing matters such as ours. I just need a little time to figure out what it is. I will find it if it’s there to be found. Right now, that is not the issue. As we all know, nothing is as it seems at first blush.”

      “Taking on the World Bank is about as serious as it can get,” Kathryn said. “I can’t even comprehend one billion dollars, much less twenty billion.” Her voice turned ominous when she said, “People kill and get killed for money like that.”

      Myra looked at the women, and said, “Greed is the most powerful motivator in the world.”

      “Do we have any indication that Zenowicz suspects anyone is onto him?” Yoko asked.

      “From what I was told, it appears not. He’s carrying on his…uh…interesting lifestyle as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. This is going to be a very big blow to the administration if it gets out,” Charles said. “If you are successful, and there is no reason to think you won’t be, when the administration gets wind of it, we won’t be able to count on any…help from them. Just so you know.”

      “Who’s next to succeed Zenowicz if he resigns? And all those White House people he surrounded himself with—they’ll have to resign, too, won’t they?” Yoko asked again.

      Charles nodded. “It’s a presidential appointment. I’m told there are several names on a short list. Ideally, the appointee should be an economist with experience in development. Someone who can work with the staff that Zenowicz has managed to alienate over the past few years. The institution has to be brought back together so it can function normally without any hint of scandal.”

      “And we’re going to make this happen? How?” the ever-skeptical Kathryn asked.

      Charles looked over the top of his glasses at the women seated at the table. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, but haven’t you all said, on more than one occasion, that you’re women, and you can do anything?”

      Kathryn’s feathers were ruffled. “Actually, Charles, what I said was we’re women, we kick ass and take names later.”

      Charles tried not to smile. “That will work, too. Now, let me get back to work so I can map out a strategy to accomplish your objectives and keep you safe at the same time. I’m sure you’re all going to want to bat this around, think of ways to…uh…punish the culprits.”

      “Guess that means we’re dismissed,” Alexis said, getting


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