Jack risked a glance at Myra. He thought she looked a little green around the gills, but he had enough self-control not to say anything. He watched as she gulped from the flask. The fake jewels sparkled on the flask, creating miniature rainbows. She looked over at him and grinned from ear to ear.

"We are having fun, believe it or not," Myra said. She lowered her voice and added, "When we were whizzing by . . . that house, I got the strangest feeling. It was all I could do to keep going. I wanted to drive right up to the door. Woman's intuition, something you probably don't understand."

"Oh, I understand. Nik makes sure of that. I would never discount what you just said. We're on it!" Jack replied.

Myra winked at Jack, who just laughed out loud.

Annie gave her tiara a quick tug. Satisfied that it would remain secure in the ocean breeze, she bellowed, "Saddle up, ladies and gentlemen. We're going for a ride on the wild side!"

Dennis just missed the cavalcade by a hair as he roared onto the drive on Annie's property. "Wow, did you see that! Something must have gone down. I know you don't want me to help you, but we have to stay in character, and that means I have to help you. Remember, you are the ancient ones. Play nice, Harry. Let me take your arm. Just play the game so I can go inside and start to cook."

Harry was as docile as a lamb as he allowed Dennis to help him first, then Yoko. They shuffled and teetered to the house, Dennis a hair away to help should they stumble and fall. They finally made it indoors, where Dennis fled to the kitchen, and Harry and Yoko made their way to the lanai, where they ripped off their disguises.

"They're here on the island, aren't they, Harry? Did you feel what I felt when we went by the house? I felt it, Harry, and it was not my imagination, either," Yoko whispered.

Harry held up his hand for silence. Then he went into the house and returned with two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to his wife and watched her drink. Then he sampled his own. He felt like sand was clogging his windpipe. "Yes, I felt the same thing you did, and five bucks will get you ten that Myra and Annie felt exactly what we did. Because they are so tuned in to Charles and Fergus. We felt it because we practice Zen. End of story."

"You are so wise, my charming husband. Whatever would I do without you?" Yoko teased.

Harry trembled. This little bit of a woman could bring him to his knees with just a look. Not that he would ever admit it. But Jack knew, and it was their secret. He smiled because he wasn't seeing the look that told him Yoko was being insincere. Suddenly, the sun seemed brighter and warmer, the scent of the flowers more pungent, and the lemonade suddenly sweeter. And all because his wife was sincere. How happy he was.

"Do you think anything will go wrong?" Yoko asked. "I wish we were there. What if we're needed, and they get into trouble with the island security?"

"We can't go. We have to stick to the plan. Jack's on it, and so is Avery Snowden. Don't worry. Maybe we should offer to help Dennis. He looked a little frazzled."

"That is not a good idea. No cook or chef wants a second person in the kitchen. That boy is very resourceful, as we've come to find out. Let's just sit here and talk about our trip to see Lily in the fall. I wonder how Cooper is doing."

Harry slapped at his forehead. "I forgot to tell you in all the excitement of coming here. Julie Wyatt sent me a text. Her daughter gave birth to an eight-pound, six-ounce baby girl right on Cooper's schedule, and they are calling her Hope. She said Cooper woke her up at three thirty in the morning and urged her to get dressed, then ran to the door. She said they drove straight to the hospital because she got a call just as they were getting into the car. Cooper knew. That dog is . . . magical, ethereal, something. Anyway, Julie said he took all his gear and set up shop in baby Hope's room. Guards her night and day."

Yoko smiled. "Just the way he did with Lily. Let's talk about something else, Harry, so I don't start to cry."

Harry sucked in a deep breath. "Sure. Do you think the girl Gretchen and Albright have a chance at a life together?"

"I do. But first we have to take out that father of hers. Once he's out of the picture, I see no reason why they can't have a life together and raise a family."

"But what about the twins Gretchen gave up for adoption?" Harry asked fretfully.

"The twins belong to the Domingos now. If Gretchen and Greg are lucky, they might be allowed to be a part of their life, but only if the Domingos say so."

"So Greg will forgive her for not telling him and giving them up?"

"If he loves her, he will. I have to believe she was protecting him the only way she knew how. She was so young, Harry. They both were. Because they are young, they can have more children. If, and this is a big if, she gets the operation they were talking about. A lot of ifs, Harry. A lot to overcome. But you know what they say. If there's a will, there's a way."

"I wish we could take a walk on the beach," Harry said.

"We can, Harry, if you want to put on all that stuff again. Old people shuffle, as you know. I'm game if you are. But we need those big straw hats, and we go barefoot, okay?"

Harry raced into the house and returned with what he called the mess. They helped each other until they were satisfied that they looked the way they had earlier, with the addition of the floppy straw hats.

"Want to hold hands, Harry?"

Harry grabbed for his wife's hand. "If people see us, they'll think we're holding on to each other to stay erect."

Yoko laughed, the tinkling sound that turned one Harry Wong into pure jelly.

Charles Martin looked across the chess table at Fergus Duffy at the first sound of boots on the staircase. He said nothing. He didn't need to; his eyes said it all.

The two men were prisoners of Hank Jellicoe, although Hank Jellicoe referred to both Fergus and Charles as his personal guests. He was quick to point out the lavish rooms, the custom-made furniture, the wonderful, plentiful food and premium liquor he provided. The library was stocked with the latest books, magazines, and newspapers. The satellite television allowed for the latest shows, movies, and news. He allowed outside walks on the beach, plus pool and ocean swims. What he didn't allow were phones or any outside access to the world both men had once known. Even so, they were both prisoners, unable to leave the island. He paid both men a weekly visit, usually on a Sunday, when he chitchatted about what was or wasn't happening on Spyder Island, which was usually nothing, so the chitchat was minimal. Today was not Sunday.

Jellicoe opened the door. There was no point in locking it, because there was nowhere for either man to go. Cameras were everywhere, with sound. Both men turned at Jellicoe's entrance. They waited, neither man speaking.

"There are guests on the island. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to stay indoors until they leave."

Charles smiled. "Dare I ask if it's the president, the queen, or the pope?"

Jellicoe forced a laugh he didn't feel. He eyed the two men, weighing how much to say, if anything. He admired both Duffy and Martin for their honesty and their integrity, the same two traits he himself had had a lifetime ago. Charles Martin had once been a dear, close friend, but that was another lifetime ago, also.

"Someone a lot more interesting. Countess de Silva. I believe you know her, don't you, Charles?"

Charles could feel his heart thunder in his chest. "I met her twice. She was a school friend of my wife when they were children. Quite rich, I believe."

Jellicoe fixed his gaze on Fergus. "And did you not have a rather long-standing affair with the countess, Mr. Duffy?"

"A gentleman never kisses and tells, Mr. Jellicoe. Believe what you want. And why do you care?"

"Because she's here with a retinue of people. My employer does not appreciate it. He does own this island, as you well know."

"And this means what to us?" Charles asked. "If your employer doesn't want her here, why doesn't he tell her to leave?"

"See, here's the thing," Jellicoe said, straddling one of the chairs at the chess table. "The countess owns the house. The count, her deceased husband, purchased the house many years ago, and at his passing the property passed to her. According to my employer, she has been here only twice in over twenty-five years. He wants to know why she's here all of a sudden with all those people."

Charles burst out laughing, as did Fergus. "And you think we know the answer! How ridiculous for you to have such thoughts. In case you've forgotten, we've been your prisoners for close to eighteen months. How could we possibly know anything about her and what she's doing?"

"Guests, Charles. I thought you might have some insight on the matter. Matters could become dangerous for them. Mr. Spyder is most unhappy."

"Tell that to someone who cares. I don't. And I don't think Fergus cares, either. Do you, Fergus?"

"Not a bit. But we are curious, I have to admit. Who are those men patrolling the beach with all that firepower? And what was that explosion we heard yesterday, or is that a secret?"

"The men on the beach belong to the countess. They're her security detail. It appears she never goes anywhere without them, which is understandable since she is the second richest woman in the world. Her wealth far exceeds that of my employer, much to his chagrin. The helicopters overhead are the media. The countess arrived yesterday with about twenty people. Give or take a few. Two Gulfstreams landed yesterday, followed by two C-130 cargo planes. That raised a red flag for my employer. They brought a fleet of Range Rovers and six or seven Harley-Davidson motorcycles. All that for a simple visit to an out-of-the-way island no one ever heard of. Oh, and let's not forget that Little Bird. Back in the day, when all I needed to do to get something was make a phone call . . . I couldn't have gotten a Little Bird. The lady has some juice to pull that off, I can tell you that. A goddamn Little Bird!"

"And we should care about this . . . why?" Charles asked. His heart was beating so fast inside his chest, he thought he would black out. One quick look at Fergus told him he, too, was having a hard time holding it together.

"You still didn't tell us what the explosion was," Fergus said.

"My employer killed nine of my detail"-Jellicoe snapped his fingers-"just like that."

"So that means your . . . um . . . detail is down by nine men. Is that what you're saying?" Charles asked.

"Ten. One of my men in New York bailed on me because of the outrageous demands my employer was making on us. I have four left. Well, I have one other, but he's useless, so, yes, six in all. Mr. Spyder's elite goon squad numbers twenty. Do you see my dilemma here?"

Charles tossed his hands in the air. "Why are you telling us this? What do you want us to do? As you pointed out on many occasions over the past year and a half, we are over the hill."

Jellicoe got up and looked down at the two sitting men. "I'm sorry I interrupted your game, gentlemen. Remember, you are not to leave the house. My men have orders to shoot if you do."

"Point taken, Mr. Jellicoe," Charles said as he turned to stare down at the chessboard in front of him. When the door closed behind Jellicoe, Charles turned to Fergus. "Lord love a duck, mate. What the bloody hell was that all about?"

Fergus laughed.

Off in the distance, both men heard a thunderous roar. They looked at each other and laughed hard and long as they forgot about their game and raced to the French doors that led out onto a wide veranda. They watched as cycle after cycle roared into the compound. Their arms pumped high in the air when they spotted the sparkling tiara on Annie's head.

"I love that woman," Fergus said between clenched teeth.

"Then you should have told her that instead of hightailing it back to Scotland," Charles said.

"I was afraid she'd say no if I asked her to marry me. I'm just a working sod. Got nothing to offer the likes of her. By the way, I gave away all my winnings. I did tell you that, didn't I?"

"You sold her short, Fergus."

"I know, and for that I will be sorry for the rest of my days."

Chapter 18.

The driveway leading to Hank Jellicoe's house took on a life of its own as Myra and the gang roared up to the front entrance. Off in the distance, on the beach, Angus Spyder's security likened the cavalcade to the annual Myrtle Beach Bike Week back in the States. They took off on the run, slogging through the thick sand.

No one made a move to get off their respective Harley. They just sat, balancing the cycles as they revved their engines. Annie was the first to dismount. She patted down her star-studded leathers, settled her tiara more firmly on her head, and marched up to the front door. She leaned on the bell as she looked around. For one wild moment, she forgot everything but the thought that Fergus and Charles were inside and there was nothing she could do about it. She had to get back into character and fast. She risked a glance behind her before she gave the doorbell another jab. Her crew offered a thumbs-up, and then she saw Nikki point to the stampede from the beach.

Annie whirled around just in time to see a bald-headed, tatted-up thug in a muscle shirt approaching Myra. It was hard to ignore the rifle slung over his shoulder. "Do you live here?" Annie trilled as she watched Myra take a slug from her flask. The rubies on the cap sparkled in the bright sunshine.

"No, ma'am. The owner isn't home right now."

"That would be, 'No, Countess. The owner isn't home right now.' I am not a ma'am, as you can see." The girls revved their cycles to make Annie's point.

"Huh?"

Annie rolled her eyes. "Never mind. Who lives here?"

Baldy looked over at his colleagues, debating if he should give up the information. After a nod from an equally tatted-up guard, he snapped, "Chuck Diamond. He heads up Mr. Spyder's security."

"Well, we just stopped by to invite him, and all of you," Annie said, waving her arms, "to a barbecue this evening at seven. Will you kindly extend the invitation?" Annie was thoroughly enjoying the role she was playing. "Normally," she said in a haughty tone, "I send out personal engraved invitations, but since this is a casual affair, it really isn't necessary. Plus, I extended myself by coming in person. I never do that. My press secretary does all that." Annie stifled a laugh. She'd lost him at asking him to extend the invitation.

"But it is casual attire," she repeated. "Tell everyone, please. Now, if you'll excuse me, we have to be on our way over to Mr. Spyder's home so I can personally invite him and his family to join us. I do promise a fun-filled evening. I so love jocularity when it comes to a party. I do hope you all like country and western. We're featuring Willie Nelson tonight."

"Huh?"

The girls/guys stomped down on the pedals and waited for Annie to peel out, which she did with a roar. Myra twirled her scarf in the air with one hand and bellowed, "Let's rumble, boys!"

Myra deftly maneuvered her Harley until she was abreast of Annie. "Oh, Annie, I am having so much fun. Thank you. They are in there. I could feel it. Did you?"

"I did. Stick with me, kid. The best is yet to come," Annie said out of the corner of her mouth. "Did ya get it, Myra? My best Humphrey Bogart impersonation."

Myra giggled. "I did, but I don't think anyone else would. That dates us, Annie."

Annie held her arm out to indicate she was going to slow down and make a turn. The others followed suit.

"The property is posted," Kathryn yelled. "No trespassing!"

"That certainly does not apply to me," Annie shot back. "I'm here to extend an invitation to a party. Just stay on my six and follow my lead."

Nikki took that moment to shout to the others, "Look up! Four media helicopters. Everyone, look pretty now!"

Kathryn and Isabelle waved wildly, while Alexis blew kisses in the air.

Kathryn screamed into the air, "Get our good sides. We want to look chiseled. I'm so glad I shaved this morning."

"I am just love, love, loving this," Myra chortled as she took another swig from her flask, which was almost empty by then.

Inside the Spyder mansion, Angus Spyder was apoplectic as he watched six of his men spread out across the shale driveway. Where in the hell was that goddamn Jellicoe? He looked to the doorway and saw his wife and daughter. "Do something!" he screamed.

"What would you have me do, Angus?" Felicia said in a soft, gentle voice. "I'm sorry, but I can't help you. You created this mess. Now, clean it up yourself."

"Whatever you want done, do it yourself," Gretchen said, echoing her mother's advice before she turned her chair around and sped down the hall to an outside door that would give her a full view of what was going on in the driveway. Her mother joined her.

"I don't know what this means, but I know it means something," Felicia whispered. "This looks like a standoff to me. And it also looks like those helicopters are here to stay or will be here as long as the countess is out there. "She's lovely, isn't she?"

"I never saw a real, live countess before. Look at that tiara! It's gorgeous."

"Shhh, Gretchen. We need to listen. Oh, I so wish I could read lips. With the noise from the helicopters and the motorcycles, I can't hear a thing."

"Where's Hank?" Gretchen asked.

"I was wondering the same thing. I suspect there is something going on between Angus and Hank. I don't think I've ever seen Angus in such a rage before," Felicia said as calmly as if she were reporting on the weather. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if he has a stroke."

"Mother, we could not get that lucky. Besides, I don't think frogs have strokes, at least not fatal ones, the only kind that would do us any good."

In spite of herself, Felicia laughed out loud. She sobered almost immediately. "Do you know the first thing I'm going to do if we're ever set free?"

Gretchen looked up at her mother. "What?"

"I'm going to sell off all my jewelry and buy a ticket back to Russia, to see if I can find my family. The family Angus promised to take care of. He has said all these years that he kept his promise. I don't know if I believe it or not. I don't even know if they are alive or dead. What will you do, dear?"

"Get my operation, then see if I can find . . . someone very dear to me."