“Yeah, that’s what it means. But I’m just the messenger. I bet if you call Maggie, she’ll order you to do what I say.”

Espinosa got up and walked into the kitchen. They could hear him rummaging in the kitchen drawers. When he came back, he said, “Take your pick, Ted. It’s either a corkscrew or an ice pick. Harry doesn’t need anything. Good old Jack here doesn’t need anything, because he has a gun. Personally, I think we should just shoot good old Jack right now.”

His face absolutely inscrutable, Harry finally decided to speak. “All of this for some damn Christmas party at the White House that those morons refuse to cancel. Remember Kalorama and how we dumped those Secret Service agents in the Dumpster? I’m thinking we might not have much of a welcoming committee. When do our trusty steeds arrive, Jack? I guess this is part of the plan we don’t have. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, I admit to being stupid. I thought we were here to help with the babies who are being transferred to Maggie’s house. See, that was a plan, the plan, actually. So, if we’re galloping off somewhere, assuming horses can gallop in snow, who is going to work or help out on the real plan?”

“I don’t know, Harry. I guess we’ll find out when the mounted patrol shows up at our door. The plan is illegal, first of all. There is no way in hell the DA could know, can ever know, I’m involved with the vigilantes. That’s a whole other ball game. I have a job, a career, I get paid on a regular basis, and in order to keep getting paid, I have to do what my boss tells me to do. Obviously, we need to figure out some things. Ted, for starters, call Maggie, since she’s the only one we can reach, and see what she has to say.”

Harry sat down, assumed the lotus position, and stared off into space. Espinosa twirled the corkscrew round and round in his hands. Jack sighed and started to gather up the splintered wood, which he promptly threw into the fire.

Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

Later, when the kitchen was tidied up and the guys were dozing in front of the fire, Jack stirred and walked into the kitchen. He was too antsy to sleep. He popped a Bud, turned, and bumped into Ted, who was opening the refrigerator.

“It’s still snowing,” Jack growled.

“And this surprises you why? Cable went out. So, guess it’s campfire stories from here on in,” Ted said.

Jack moved his beer bottle from one hand to the other. “Uh, listen, Ted, about that plug business. Were you serious about that…plug business, or were you jerking my chain?”