“That will leave me and Charles here for the time being,” Fergus noted. “Nikki is on standby. Isabelle and Alexis are off to Aspen, Maggie is going to Long Island, Kathryn and Yoko are headed to Michigan, and the two troublemakers are off to New York City and parts unknown.” He winked at Annie, who was about to smack him on the back of the head.

“We still haven’t covered London yet,” Nikki pointed out.

“We’ll wait to hear back from Avery to see what Eileen was able to discover. Then we’ll make a plan. I’m curious about that rubbish Jerry Hardy. I wonder if he’s cheeking for Marcus,” Charles said.

“Cheeking?” several of the sisters asked quizzically.

Both Charles and Fergus snorted. “Sorry. Old Brit slang for someone who transports drugs between their butt cheeks.”

Hysterical laughter bounced off the walls.

“He looks too skinny to even have butt cheeks,” Kathryn roared. Tears of laughter were running down almost everyone’s face.

Charles whistled. “All right. Everyone calm down. As of tomorrow morning, you will all be on your way to your appointed destinations, except Nikki. Be safe.”

A resounding “Amen” came from the group as they rose, saluted, and began to prepare for their assignments.

Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Two town cars entered the gates of Pinewood to carry the sisters to the starting points. Isabelle and Alexis were heading to Leesburg Executive Airport, where Annie kept her private jet; Myra, Annie, and Charlotte were going to Union Station. Maggie had already left to meet with Mrs. Ringwood.

Alexis managed fabulous disguises for both herself and Isabelle. One could never be too careful in their line of work. Or was it more of a hobby these days? A very intricate one, to be sure.

Alexis thought the trashy Real Housewives look would be a hoot while they were in transit—coming and going from airports. Alexis donned an overly padded leopard spandex jumpsuit, fake glittered one-inch fingernails, a very long black wig, lots of black eyeliner, hot pink lipstick, and so much bling that she almost toppled over in her stiletto heels. Both women were on the verge of hyperventilating with laughter.

“They’ll think you’re drunk!” Isabelle howled.

“And what are you going to wear?” Alexis stared at her through tinted contact lenses.

“I’m thinking blond dreadlocks.”

“And?” Alexis poked her.

“And a pumped-up spandex number like yours. Mine will be black.”

“Same amount of bling? I don’t want to be the only one staggering.”

“Yes, honeypot. And a big gold lamé belt.”

“Stilettos?”

“Like I need to make my legs any longer? I’m thinking boots. With a heel. I don’t want to tower over you,” Isabelle said.