Chapters (32)
- FINAL JUSTICE
- Books by Fern Michaels:
- FERN MICHAELS
- FINAL JUSTICE
- Contents
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Epilogue
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Prologue
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The entire front page of the Post was dedicated to the ninja attack. Damn, I'm good. She hoped Charles, Annie, and the others were proud of her. She took a few seconds to wonder what Ted would think when he watched the news or went online to check out the latest happenings in the District. Not that it mattered what Ted thought. That's a lie, and it does matter, she told herself. She shrugged because there was nothing she could do about Ted. At least for now.
Maggie continued to giggle and smile as she read the brief interviews Espinosa had done with the director of the FBI and Bert when they left the hospital after being checked out, at the insistence of the president. Navarro had suffered the most, with two black eyes, a dislocated shoulder, and other assorted bumps, bruises, and scrapes. The ninjas had apparently taken into consideration the director's age and potbelly by going easy on him. A sprained wrist, a twisted ankle, and a few jabs to the stomach were minor compared to the humiliation and embarrassment, he said. A picture of Bert wearing sunglasses, his suit jacket hanging in tatters as he was being helped to a government car, made her wince.
The best line in both interviews was, "We do not discuss ongoing cases, whether it concerns ninjas who evaporate into thin air or aliens who are invading our planet." The last thing to be uttered, and not part of the interview, was something this intrepid reporter overheard as Navarro was helped into his government-issued vehicle. "You'll pay for this, Emery, and your vigilante friends won't be able to help you." When pressed for an explanation, Navarro offered up a single-digit salute as the ambulance sped off into traffic, siren wailing.
Maggie's fist shot into the air. "That should do it." Her gaze moved to the television on the wall and the nonstop coverage Channel 5 was running.
Her ears perked up, and she bolted upright when she heard the anchor say, "We're outside Harry Wong's martial-arts establishment, where he trains local law enforcement as well as the FBI. We can't prove this, but it has been said CIA agents have been known to come here for refresher courses. We also cannot confirm, but it has been said over the years that Wong is on the CIA's payroll and goes out to McLean on a regular basis to train the men and women who work for the CIA. Right now we're hoping to get a comment from Wong about what happened at the White House today."