Three hours later, as the meeting droned on, Sparrow finally got a solid lead and followed it up. A group of six army officers, all full-bird colonels and pilots, had in 2004 purchased a Little Bird that was about to be eighty-sixed. They had had it restored and took turns using it for pleasure. It was currently housed in a private hangar in upstate New York. On his third call, Sparrow managed to speak to a retired colonel, Duke Wilson. After Wilson got over the shock of having the FBI director personally call him, things got under way. Sparrow made his offer. He encountered little resistance. Wilson said he would contact the others and get back to him within an hour. Sparrow gave him thirty minutes, but not before Wilson told him the Little Bird wouldn't come cheap. He rattled off some numbers, which Sparrow shot down, then agreed to. He motioned to Annie to see the number on his phone. She nodded.

And the deal was put to bed with the promise that the Little Bird would set down at Dulles International Airport by midmorning of the following day, complete with all the paperwork. Annie then whispered in Sparrow's ear that after she had her fun with the Little Bird, it would be sold to the highest bidder, with the money going to the Wounded Warrior Project. Then he saw her look over at Alexis again and wink. Sparrow was the first to admit he knew almost next to nothing about women, but at that moment he was totally convinced that the two women were plotting something with the Little Bird. He shrugged. There was nothing he could do about whatever it was, and he was smart enough to recognize the fact.

Sparrow crooked a finger in Abner's direction and showed him the screen on his cell phone, which meant he was to wire the funds for the Little Bird to Colonel Wilson ASAP. He nodded and grinned at a mental picture of Annie sitting on the running board of the Little Bird, wearing her tiara and Louboutin shoes with the spike heels. It wasn't that he knew anything about women's fashion, but he recognized the famous name from the chattering women. Obviously, if you wore Louboutin shoes, you were a fashionista. As far as making a statement to one Angus Spyder, he personally didn't think it could get any better than that.

Sparrow got all flustered and turned pink when Annie winked at him and gave him a thumbs-up. He'd come through for her. That was all that mattered. Damn, he felt good. He leaned back and focused on the conversations around him to make sure he wasn't missing anything.

After listening carefully for thirty minutes, Sparrow decided it was time to speak up. He waved his hand for attention. "So far, all I'm hearing is the name Hank Jellicoe. Hank Jellicoe this and Hank Jellicoe that. I thought this mission of yours . . . ours was about Gretchen Spyder, the children she gave up for adoption, and the adopting Domingo family.

"Mr. Albright, alias Stephen Wolansky, who is the biological father of the adopted twins, twins he knew nothing about, is now an FBI rookie agent with the assignment of seeing to the matter and bringing it to a resolution. I haven't heard anything about how we're going to do any of that. So, is the mission Hank Jellicoe or the Domingos and Gretchen Spyder?"

"Both. They are inextricably intertwined, Mr. Sparrow," Myra said. "Gretchen and the children are our primary concern, but we have to factor in Mr. Jellicoe. And, to be honest, we are trying to be preemptive, because we do not know for certain that he is even on the island. We need to be prepared if he is. Hank Jellicoe is an evil man and will stop at nothing, and I mean nothing, to protect his own skin. He was a hair away from losing it once, and he will never let himself be put in that position again. And this time he has all the might of Angus Spyder and his fortune to back him up. We're just a bunch of women. That is the way he thought of us back then. If you have any advice or ideas, now would be a good time to present them."

"I don't. I just wanted to make sure I understand. I'm still not getting how you think he isn't going to recognize you all. Your pictures were in all the papers. You were all household names."

Myra laughed. "He never met Annie. He never met Abner, Dennis, or Mr. Albright. Alexis is a master at disguise. Trust me when I tell you that that lady has everything under control. As for you, Mr. Sparrow, you will not recognize yourself when she's done with you. Even though you never met either man personally, your picture has obviously been in the papers more than once. We can't risk exposing you. And, by the way, Mr. Snowden just sent me a text assuring us that the Domingos are as safe as safe can be. He does want to know what we want to do about the bugs someone planted in Annie's house. We need to think about that and make a decision."

Sparrow nodded as he sank deep into thought. The meeting went on, notes were taken, and coffee was consumed by the gallon. Myra left twice to see to the dogs and returned immediately both times. He was amazed and stunned at how the group worked together. They could finish each other's sentences, voice each other's thoughts. A well-oiled team. Better than most of his own teams at the bureau, where it was all about ego and whose name went first on the list.

When the group finally wound down, they all looked exhausted, but in a good kind of way. They were pumped and ready to go. Especially the women. Once again, he thought about how little he knew about women. What he did know was that he was looking at one hell of a group of dedicated women who did not know the meaning of the word failure. In that one second, he knew this mission would be successful. He felt himself relax and wished he had a dozen teams like this one at the bureau. If only. He didn't give a second thought to breaking the law. Not one nanosecond. Been there, done that.

It was approaching seven o'clock, dusk now, as Pinewood came alive once again. Dennis and Greg Albright had volunteered to barbecue steaks outside on the grill. The women were bustling about in the kitchen, making salads and baking potatoes. A good but plain dinner that would give them all enough sustenance to work through the night so they could leave on schedule. A schedule that had been moved so many times, it was almost as though it would never happen. And then, suddenly, everything was in place, and their estimated time of departure was set for three o'clock the following afternoon.

It was finally happening. There was no backing out now.

It was a pleasant spring evening, not too hot, not too cold. A gentle breeze whispered among the trees. The dogs meandered around the yard, sniffing at all the fresh sprouts appearing like magic. The floodlights, while bright, were angled just so, bathing the entire expanse of lawn in a soft glow of light. As Myra expressed it to the others, and they all agreed, it was a fitting end to an exhausting day.

At some invisible sign that Sparrow missed, a whirlwind ensued. Within minutes, the terrace was free of any signs of dinner. The grill was cleaned and turned off. The dishwasher was loaded and humming. With no leftovers, there was nothing to wrap and refrigerate. The dogs contentedly gnawed on the massive steak bones.

To his amazement, Alexis whistled sharply for instant silence. She had the group's attention immediately. "Listen up, people. We are now in our final phase. So, let's get to it. Nikki and Isabelle are going to be helping me. Otherwise, we'll be here till the cows wander home. Your transformations are going to take all night and into tomorrow. I am going to count myself lucky if we finish on time."

And from there on in, things worked like the final prep before a rocket launch. Sparrow settled back with his iPad and conducted business, then dozed off until his name was called sometime during the middle of the night.

Hours later, just as the sun was rising, Sparrow walked out into the kitchen to see a strange group of people milling about. He had no clue who they were. Feeling stupid and foolish, he asked and was rewarded with gales of laughter. From out of nowhere, one of the strange guests handed him a mirror. For a moment, he found it hard to breathe when he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked down at his wrist to see if his arm was his own. His watch was the same; his signet ring was the same. He wondered if he had a new name to go with his new persona.

Jack Emery clapped him on the back, but Jack Emery now looked like a runway model. A female runway model. Sparrow almost choked on his own saliva. Ted Robinson now looked like a nerdy female librarian, complete with curly gray hair and granny glasses. Espinosa was an over-the-hill senorita wearing a ton of noisy turquoise jewelry that clanked and tinkled when he moved. They were all wearing high-heeled shoes.

"The guys are now girls, and the girls are now guys. The reason for this is that Jellicoe knows us all quite well. Believe it or not, we used to work for him, as did Bert." Jack motioned to Harry and Yoko, who were dozing. "Mama-san and Papa-san."

Sparrow gasped. Harry and Yoko looked to be a hundred years old to Sparrow's eyes. He looked over his shoulder to see a guy he'd never seen before. A light-skinned black man with a close-cropped head of hair. If his life depended on it, he couldn't have said who he was looking at. Nor could he tell who the other two black men were. He could hardly keep from laughing when Kathryn, Nikki, and Isabelle started to giggle.

"What I'm seeing is the impossible," Sparrow said. "What and who is Alexis going as? And where is Myra?"

"Alexis is probably going to be a secret until the last moment, and she'll probably do herself, plus Maggie, on the plane. That's the way it usually works," Nikki said.

Sparrow looked around. Dennis, Abner, and Albright stood off to the side, more to show the contrast between all of them than anything else.

"Okay, okay, I get it, and I am impressed. I didn't think this was possible, but now I see that it is. Alexis is a genius. Having said that, who are we? What names will be on the flight manifest? You have to know that is the first thing Spyder will have his people check."

"We all have legends, thanks to you and to Avery Snowden. All foolproof. The countess always travels with a full retinue of people, staff, friends, relatives. She's eccentric, so anything goes where she is concerned," Nikki said.

Sparrow absorbed all that he was hearing and tried to wrap his mind around how it was all going to go down. He needed to stop the buzzing in his head. He switched topics. "I understand about the Little Bird, but what's going in the two C-130 cargo planes?"

Annie reached for a clipboard, but not before she gave her tiara a jolt. "First of all, a ton of food. Not literally, but a lot of it, plus everything under the sun that can be bottled. Four Range Rovers, seven Harley-Davidson motorcycles, and one special cycle for Harry and Yoko to tool around in. Dennis will serve as their driver. A lot of Abner's equipment. My personal trunks, all of Alexis's stuff for when she has to, you know, redo us. That's half a plane right there. And then some jamming devices. Think of it this way. Everything in those two cargo planes is what you would go to war with. We are going to war!"

Sparrow jammed his hands into his pockets so no one would see him cross his fingers. It was so out of the box, he could actually see it working.

Jack chirped up in his new falsetto voice. "You didn't ask about ammunition or guns or anything, Director. Why is that?"

"Because Harry said, and I believe him, that you are all killing machines. Perhaps the word killing isn't the right word. I get the point, however. So we are going in without any kind of hardware?"

"No! We are packing heat. The last time I checked, our firearms were to be packed between the frozen pearl onions and the spaghetti squash in the deep freezer we're taking with us. Myra's pearls are the only thing we're leaving behind us. Dead giveaway," Jack deadpanned.

"I'm loving this," Dennis said as he paced frantically. "I didn't think I'd like being a spook, but you know what? I am loving it. The adrenaline rush, the excitement about taking those scumbags down, then, on top of that, giving all their money away and maybe finding Charles and that other guy. Boy, this is living. And the cherry on top is that we will reunite Gretchen and Greg, and everyone will live happily ever after. I'm so excited that I can hardly stand it."

"Time to put a cork in it, kid. We're getting the picture," Ted said.

"Yeah, but, Ted, this is big-time. Not like Baywater and those two crooked judges, and it isn't like that Bernie Madoff clone caper, either. This is big. I can't believe I'm a part of it, and all of us are going to be participating. That's the part I like best. All of us working together."

"Someone give him an Ambien, please," Espinosa said, but not unkindly.

"Okay, I get it. I'm just going to sit here and fantasize. And listen to all of you. I might pick up some tips if it comes to crunch time. Okay, okay, I won't say another word."

"Where is Maggie?" someone asked.

Annie responded. "She's at the airport, overseeing the loading of the cargo planes. Alexis gave Maggie her instructions. She also has some special instructions from me. Right now, she's who she is, Maggie Spritzer, intrepid girl and editor in chief reporter with more guts than all of us put together. She'll get made up on the plane after takeoff."

"I guess we're good to go, then," Abner said. "I sure hope all my equipment is bundled properly. I won't be any good to any of you if it isn't working properly."

"Don't worry, Abner. Maggie will personally see to it all," Annie said cheerfully. "I think I'll make some coffee. Any takers?"

Every hand in the room shot upward. Dennis West's shot up first and was the highest. A sappy smile was spread across his face. He was now officially a spook.

Chapter 14.

The monster ship's wheel clock, a true antique, hanging over Myra's kitchen fireplace said the time was 12:02. Myra looked around at the eager, expectant faces and said, "I see no reason to hold to our original departure time since we finished up ahead of schedule." She looked over at Annie and said, "Can you call the pilots and see if we can be wheels up in, say, forty-five minutes?"

"Consider it done," Annie said, moving off to make the call.

"Then let's get ready to move out. Just give me five minutes to go over some last-minute things with the vet assistant who is dog sitting for me until we get back." Myra had had a change of heart in regard to taking Lady and her pups on the trip, hence the dog sitter.

"Jack, does Cyrus have all his gear?" Myra asked as she looked around for the list of instructions she'd typed out earlier for the vet assistant. She found it by her cookbooks. Charles's cookbooks, she mused, clarifying the inner thought.

"And then some. I think he snitched a few toys that belong here."

Myra laughed. "They won't be missed, and maybe Cyrus wants a memory of his time here this past week. I'll be with you in a few minutes."

Cyrus slapped one huge paw on Myra's shoulder. He licked her ear, then let loose with a loud bark. His way of saying good-bye.

"I'm coming, too, Cyrus. This isn't good-bye," Myra told him.

Chagrined, the shepherd backed away and looked up at Jack for confirmation.

"Yep, she is coming with us."

Cyrus tilted his head, taking in the words. He barked twice. Translation, "Okay, then. I'm outta here." He was a black streak going through the door.

Maggie stood back to admire her handiwork. It was impossible not to smile. Then she grinned, and after that, she burst out laughing. Annie's Little Bird was a sight to behold. It had taken her a full hour to spray a special glue that Alexis had given her on the Little Bird, and then she had thrown two full bags of sparkling gems all over the helicopter. It sparkled, it shimmered, and it glowed brighter than the Las Vegas Strip at night.

The chopper pilot looked at her and said, "I sure hope none of my friends see me piloting this pimp chopper."

Maggie laughed even harder. "The countess likes to travel in style," she said to the pilot, whose name was Leroy. "This is style. Don't knock it. See ya, Leroy," Maggie said, moving off to check the two cargo planes one last time.

Maggie strode across the tarmac. She grinned when she saw all the pilots standing around straighten up and stare at her. She knew they were wondering what the hell was going on. Wondering who Countess de Silva was that she had so much clout she could commandeer two cargo planes and a Little Bird. And the C-130s' cargo had put them all into a tailspin. But like the professionals they were, they asked no questions as they all eyed the sleek silver Gulfstream that the countess owned, plus its counterpart, owned by some big corporation named Welmed.

"I think we're good to go, gentlemen," Maggie said as she motioned to the Post van and two other SUVs, which were approaching at a good clip.

The vehicles stopped; doors opened. Maggie gasped, lost her footing, and went down on one knee as she blinked, trying to absorb what she was seeing. She heard gasps, and she thought she heard a chuckle or two, when Annie stepped out, looking like a harem princess, her tiara sparkling in the early afternoon sunshine. Try as she could, Maggie couldn't figure out who was who as the gang moved toward the portable stairs leading into the Gulfstreams. She held her breath when she saw Annie and the decadent-looking woman next to her, who she assumed was Myra, approach the Little Bird, Abner and Dennis in tow.

Maggie waved to the pilots as she sprinted toward Annie's Gulfstream and climbed aboard, but not before she turned around to see Annie's reaction to her handiwork. Annie's arm shot in the air. Good. Annie liked the job she'd done on the Little Bird. She also wondered if the decorated version would bring more money when Annie offered it up for auction, with the proceeds going to the Wounded Warrior Project. She shrugged. No matter how you looked at it, it was win-win.

Fifteen minutes later, the fleet of planes was airborne, with the Little Bird the last to leave the ground. The expected time in flight was four hours and ten minutes. It could be as little as three hours and four minutes if the robust tailwinds continued.

The minute Annie's Gulfstream climbed to a cruising altitude of thirty-one thousand feet, Alexis was up and out of her seat and ushering Maggie to the back of the plane, where she would transform her appearance. The others sat around in the plush seats, talking and chattering about everything and nothing. The excitement level was as high as the altitude at which they were flying.

With years of practice under her belt, Felicia Spyder moved about the mansion in what she called her surreptitious mode, which meant she was doing her best to spy on her despicable husband and his good-for-nothing underlings. Sometimes she was successful in hearing a little nugget of information, which she stored away like a squirrel in the hopes that one day she would be rescued, at which point she would share all those nuggets with her saviors.

Felicia looked down at the diamond-crusted watch on her wrist. Almost four o'clock. Something is going on. Less than an hour ago, she'd heard the gong sound, calling all security to her husband's suite of offices at the back of the building. Minutes after that, she'd heard seven vehicles leave the compound. Over the years, she'd trained herself to recognize the sound of each and every vehicle.

Seven vehicles, to her mind, meant twenty-one security personnel were on their way to someplace. Her husband was adamant that each vehicle carry three gun-toting guards. With twenty-one missing guards, this would be the perfect time to wander over to Gretchen's room and offer to take her for a ride around the boardwalk. She'd done it before, with little or no opposition, as long as Gretchen continued to play the game. She just hoped that her daughter was as intuitive as she was.

Her stomach a jumble of knots, Felicia made her way down a long, well-lit hallway that had cameras positioned at each end, around a bend, then down another, shorter hallway to an outside breezeway that would take her to her daughter's suite of rooms. Her skin crawled when she considered how many sets of eyes she knew were following her progress.

At the door to her daughter's suite, which was standing open, she trilled a greeting, hoping that when her daughter looked up, she would see something in her eyes and continue to play the game.

"What do you want now?" Gretchen snarled.

"To take you for a walk on the boardwalk. It's beautiful out right now. You need to get away from the computer for a little while. We can feed the gulls, I'll make us a sand castle, and we can pretend you're five years old again. How does that sound?" Felicia asked cheerfully.

"Puhl-eeze. Sand castles, Mommie Dearest! What will the sperm donor say if you get that fancy dress all mucked up? Not that I give a good rat's ass. I was hoping you came here to tell me the bastard had dropped dead."

"Please, dear, don't speak that way about your father. Come along. You can control the chair till we get to the boardwalk."

"Will it do me any good to say no?"

"No, dear. I'm your mother, and I want to take you for a walk. It really is a beautiful day outside. Can I get you something to drink to take with you?"

"No. Let's just get this faux bonding out of the way so I can get back to the computer. There are some new books I want to order." Without another word, Gretchen whirled her chair around and buzzed out the door into the breezeway, which led to the lawn, then to the boardwalk that ran along the oceanfront.

Felicia had to hustle to keep up with the motorized wheelchair. When she caught up, she whispered, "You're doing good, baby. Keep it up. No one can hear us out here. Something is going on."

"I heard the cars," Gretchen said, her lips barely moving as she slowed the wheelchair so her mother could walk alongside her.

They moved on, their eyes constantly on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. Paranoid as she was, Felicia felt safe enough to say, "I think we're okay. Oh, my goodness, look at that!" She pointed at the sky.

"What does that mean? Airplanes fly in here all the time," Gretchen said as she adjusted her sunglasses to look upward into the bright blue sky.

"Yes, of course they do. One at a time. Never like this. And there is a helicopter off in the distance. My goodness, it looks like the crown jewels. I didn't know helicopters sparkled like that. I've never even seen one up close. Have you, Gretchen?"

"No, I haven't. Four planes and a helicopter. Those first two are Gulfstreams. I know what they look like. Those other two look like planes the military uses. Don't tell me the sperm donor is calling in reinforcements. For what?"

"I knew today was somehow momentous. It's a good thing the flight pattern is right overhead. Look at that helicopter. That is the strangest flying machine I've ever seen. Look, Gretchen. Two women are sitting on some kind of bench. Oh, my Lord! It's that countess woman. The woman your fa . . . Angus hates. She's wearing a tiara. That must be so exciting! I guess it's our thrill for the day."

"What do you think this means, Mom?" Gretchen hissed.

"I don't know, dear. But whatever it is, I now understand why Angus sent out those seven cars full of security. That tells me he's worried. And yet Mr. Jellicoe didn't take his car. He's still here. I find that very puzzling."

"If we go all the way to the end of the boardwalk, we can see the road leading to the countess's house. There's a snack shop there, and we can get an ice cream or a soda and sit in the shade for a bit. I've come this far before on my own, and no one ever stopped me," Gretchen said.

"I don't have any money on me," Felicia said.

Gretchen laughed. "I have a stash here in the pocket of the chair. You never know who you might get a chance to bribe." She fished around and came up with a ten-dollar bill, which she handed to her mother. "Fifteen minutes, and we should see some action."

Ten minutes later, both mother and daughter were licking strawberry ice-cream cones and appearing like they didn't have a care in the world. Their eyes were sharp and alert as they watched the road to see what was going on.

"I don't know why, but I have a good feeling about this," Felicia whispered. "I know it means something. I just know it."

"I never thought I would agree with you, but I think you're right." To herself, Gretchen thought, hoped, yearned that somehow, someway, Greg had found her and was part of the party, and that they were coming to rescue her. She knew it was a foolish thought, but such thoughts were all that kept her from going insane. If only.

The small island airport, which wasn't that small, looked like a prelude to an armed attack somewhere as the planes settled down smoothly, their engines deafening. The Little Bird hovered, its rotors whirling as its occupants waited for the word to jump.

Annie shouted to be heard over the noise of the planes' engines and the rotors overhead. What she was screaming, which no one could hear, was, "Who are those people on the ground? This wind is playing hell with my tiara."

And then her own crew members were right below, their heads and shoulders bent to form a blanket of sorts for the two women to deplane. Annie gave a thumbs-up and jumped the second she released the harness that was holding her in place. Strong arms caught her, and she was finally standing firmly on the ground in her Louboutin shoes. Myra was next.

"Thank God my wig didn't come off with all this wind," Myra said, once her feet were planted on terra firma. "I have to say, Annie, that was a thrill a minute, and you finally outdid yourself. The only thing left for you to do is shoot that damn gun you carry on your backside twenty-one times."

Annie giggled. "Shhh, Myra. My public and my adoring fans await me. Get in character already, will you please. Remember, you are my wayward half sister, whom no one ever knew about because of your tacky lifestyle."

Myra sniffed, but good sport that she was, she slipped easily into her new persona. She pulled a flask from the purse that was dangling from her neck and took a long gulp . . . of iced tea.

Annie looked toward what she considered her people, waiting for the agreed-upon hand signals to let her know what her next move was. Suddenly, the area went quiet, with all the planes shutting down almost at the same time. Even the Little Bird sat quietly, sparkling in the sun, casting rainbows of color on the tarmac from its coat of shimmering gems.