Alexis, on the other hand, looked just like the model and movie star she was supposed to be. She wore skintight jeans, spike heels, and a crisp white shirt tied in a knot at her waist. A rakish jeweled cap pulled low over her forehead at an angle matched the gleaming bracelets and rings she wore. Huge gold-hoop earrings dangled from her ears. A car waited for her, too—in her case a Ford Mustang convertible, which also had a navigation system. It would take her straight to Joe Espinosa’s apartment, where she would park in an underground parking spot, at which point she would take the elevator to the floor where the photographer hung his hat. She was so excited at the prospect that she had trouble breathing. This would be the first time she was actually going to be alone with Joe. Giggling, she said, “I am ecstatic!”

Myra and Annie smiled indulgently.

The cable car came to a stop and slid into its nest. The women exited quickly, and Myra pressed the button that would send the car back to the top of the mountain. Within minutes, all three women were in the waiting cars and out on the highway. Their destination: Washington, D.C.

Back on the mountain, Yoko, Kathryn, Isabelle, and Nikki stepped into the cable car. Sadly, there was no one to wave good-bye.

Charles had issued new identities and driver’s licenses, the procurement of which had also contributed to the weeklong wait on the mountain.

Nikki, sporting a dark auburn wig with feathery bangs, was dressed as her old cleaning lady, Cleo Kilpatrick, whom Jack had sent on a two-week vacation. Isabelle, wearing a navy business suit, heels, glasses, and a short blond wig, looked just like Kelly Ripa. She could have been anyone—a lawyer, a banker, an executive of some sort. Women dressed like her paraded the streets of Washington every day. Kathryn, her hair bunched up under a ball cap and dressed in jeans, work boots, and a skinny mini tee that showed off her bronzed, muscled arms—seemingly attesting that she worked at something in a man’s world. A tool belt that looked to weigh at least forty pounds was around her waist. She carried the weight well.

Yoko was dressed casually, carried a backpack, and had the credentials of an exchange student from Taiwan. A motor scooter waited for her, and it had a navigator programmed to take her to Harry Wong’s dojo.

At the foot of the mountain, the Sisters hugged, gave each other a thumbs-up, and climbed into their respective vehicles. Yoko slid onto a powerful Honda motor scooter and was off before the others could even turn the key in their ignition. Then Nikki drove off in an ancient dark green Toyota Corolla, Isabelle in a sleek black Audi, and Kathryn in a white van that said it belonged to the Carpathian Plumbing Company.

Once all the Sisters were in their nests, the plan called for telephone contact only, until told otherwise.