After breakfast the next morning, Kathryn spoke up. “I know this sounds like I’m getting soft, but do you think we should get those slimeballs clean jumpsuits? It really stinks down there. I think it’s coming through the walls.” There was a loud burst of laughter. “I mean, who even wants to open the scuttle door to throw the food at them?” Everyone turned their head away. “Just as I thought.”

Charles stood. “You are right. We don’t want to create a hazardous situation. The bacteria alone could be lethal.” Mumblings of agreement came from the ladies. “I say this is a job for Fergus!” More laughs emerged.

Fergus had a disgusted look on his face. “Why me?”

Charles chuckled. “Don’t worry, mate. I’ll be right behind you!”

“As long as we wear hazmat suits,” Fergus snapped.

“Absolutely!”

Myra had the next question. “When do you think we should get Pearl here?”

Kathryn sank down in her chair.

“I think two to three more days of the pharmacological spin, dip, and whirl should be enough to knock them on their asses,” Charles offered. “I amped up the doses. They should be on a doozy of a ride by now.”

“Bravo!” Myra clapped. “Do we have any information about Marcus?”

Fergus stepped up. “He’s still in hospital. They don’t know when they will release him into police custody. Although that may not be good for him.”

“What do you mean?” Annie asked.

“I am sure getting arrested was not part of Franny O’Rourke’s plan, and in all likelihood, it infuriated him even further. If Marcus goes to jail, Franny will most certainly finish the job.”

A hush fell across the room. It was never the sisters’ intention to kill anyone or have someone killed.

Myra cleared her throat. “We have to try to prevent that from happening.”

“Does Pearl have contacts in the UK?” Kathryn asked.

“I don’t know for sure, but you can find out,” Myra instructed a reluctant Kathryn, who slouched farther down in her seat.

* * *

Fergus and Charles fitted themselves with sanitized coverall jumpsuits, complete with hoods, shoe covers, respirator masks, polyethylene aprons, and protective gloves. They carried biohazard disposable bags and fresh jumpsuits for each of their “guests.” When they went from the laundry area into the kitchen, Myra and Annie broke out in full-throated guffaws.

“You two look like you’re about to disarm a nuclear bomb!” Myra said.

“It sure smells like some kind of bomb went off down there!” Annie pinched her nose to emphasize the point.

“Ready, mate?” Charles asked Fergus.

“I suppose as ready as I’ll ever be,” he grunted.

“Come on, old boy. You’ve been in worse situations than this,” Charles reminded the former Scotland Yard official.

“I’m trying not to remember. Let’s get this over with.”

The men marched down the steps as Annie and Myra waved.