Marcus held his breath, waiting for the next blow. The nurse proceeded to push Marcus along until they came to the large doors at the end of the hall. A black van that looked like a hearse was waiting.
He felt the gurney being raised and slid into the back of the parked van. Once the van was far enough from the hospital car park, a voice from the front seat addressed him. “Good morning, Dr. Marcus. We are here to inform you that you are a dead man.” Marcus almost pissed. “Officially, that is.” The woman’s voice was clear. She reached around the seat and pulled the zipper down, uncovering his head and face. “You are being transported to a nursing home, where you will recover under the name James Sherman. Once you are able to walk and function, you will remain at said nursing home as a member of the custodial staff for the rest of Mr. Sherman’s life. You will never venture more than a hundred feet from the facility. To make sure you do not, you will be monitored. Do I make myself clear? Grunt once for yes, two for no.”
One grunt. Marcus was hearing the words, but they made no sense. There would be no trial, but he would be under house arrest forever. The more he thought about it, the more confused he got.
“Franny O’Rourke will no longer be a threat to you, and you will no longer be a threat to the rest of the world,” the woman continued. “You suffered a severe beating, lost all your material possessions, and now you will spend the rest of your life helping people.
“As soon as your wife filed the divorce papers, she left town. The press was all over her. Last we heard, she had moved to Belgium and is working as a cocktail waitress.”
Marcus wished he could ask questions. Maybe try to talk again? Then he remembered the warning about making no sound.
“Dr. Marcus, grunt once if you are understanding this.”
Two grunts.
“Then let me go through it again.” The woman painstakingly repeated what she had told him, pausing between sentences. She had to recite some of it several times before Marcus was down to only one grunt.
The vehicle drove for several hours before it arrived at its final destination. It was the nursing home the woman had spoken of.
“Remember, Dr. Marcus is dead. You are James Sherman. Make up whatever story you want about your past, as long as it does not contain any part of the truth. Understood?”
One grunt.
Chapter 41
It was the fifth day of Corbett’s and Steinwood’s unpleasant stay at Chateau Justice. Kathryn reluctantly made contact with Pearl. The last part of the final phase was approaching. Out of respect for Pearl’s facilitators, the sisters agreed to let the two scum buckets shower and put on clean orange jumpsuits. They didn’t want any of their associates to have to suffer the stench of the men’s unwashed bodies.
Charles escorted Corbett to the shower, with Fergus watching closely. The two men would go one at a time, still not knowing the whereabouts of the other. Steinwood and Corbett could barely stand, let alone walk. Neither was a threat. They were deflated, humiliated, and destroyed. Even with a shower and clean hair, Corbett looked grizzly. Steinwood looked like a schlump. Corbett opened his mouth to speak, but Charles gave him a look that said, “Don’t you dare.”
Charles pulled Corbett’s arms behind his back and zip-tied his wrists together. Corbett started to yell, but Fergus shoved a sock in his mouth. “Keep your piehole shut,” Charles barked and reapplied duct tape to the man’s mouth. He marched Corbett up the steps, as the sisters lined up and watched him do the walk of shame. Then a burlap bag went over his head and he was passed on to Pearl and her crew, who would relocate Corbett to some unknown place, a place so remote, he would never be found.
Once the van carrying Corbett was off the property, it was Steinwood’s turn to do the walk of shame as the sisters looked on and to be transferred to the tender mercies of Pearl’s people. He would be relocated to a different place than Corbett. There was no chance that the two would ever again meet. The official word was that they had escaped during a transfer and were now on the FBI’s and Interpol’s most wanted lists.
The entire departure took about an hour. The Sisterhood wanted to have enough “checkout” time for their guests. Neither man had ever known what was happening to the other, and at no time had either of them asked. Selfish bastards.
As the last car disappeared through the gate, the sisters high-fived, fist pumped, hooted, and hopped around.
“Woo-hoo!”
“Yeehaw!”
“Hootie toot-toot!”
They backslapped one another and doubled over in fits of laughter; the pups howled and wagged their tails in unison.
Annie wrapped her arm around Myra’s neck. “We have an exceptional crew working with us and for us. Seems like we just keep getting better and better.”
Epilogue
Myra , Charles, Annie, and Fergus were lounging about in the atrium. Charles was sorting through papers. What conversation there was, was about what was on the dinner menu. The dinner was to celebrate another mission accomplished.
The original choice was between having a clambake or a roast. They eventually voted for the roast—the same as the first dinner they had shared with Charlotte. Maggie had already put her order in for “extra everything.” It didn’t matter to her as long as the food was plentiful.
The sisters started to arrive about an hour before dinner was to be served. Yoko brought a magnificent centerpiece of red peonies for the table and several other luscious arrangements for the rest of the house. Kathryn helped her carry them in. Once everyone was there, they began their methodical dance of setting the table. Myra suggested the same crystal and china, the Hermès Mosaique and the Waterford.
Myra stood in the doorway and stared at the beautiful table setting. She sighed. Charles came up from behind. “What is it, dear?”
Myra fidgeted with her pearls. “I wish Charlotte were here.”
“I know. But remember, it’s also the adrenaline rush of the mission, then the slide down to the humdrum of everyday life.”
“Oh, Charles, life with you would never, could never, be humdrum. But I suppose you’re right. This is what it must be like for entertainers. You’re on a high in anticipation of the show, and then you do the show, and then the show is over.”
“Listen, old girl, the show will never, ever be over.” Charles put his hands on her waist and kissed the back of her neck.
Myra reached for his hand and brushed it with her lips. “Oh, now, don’t you be naughty! We have guests!”
Myra giggled like a schoolgirl and began to blush. “Charles, you have made my life very rich, exciting, and rewarding.”
“Ditto, my darling. Now let’s get busy.” Charles took her hand and led her back to the kitchen. “I need help opening the champagne.”
“Did I hear someone say ‘champagne’?” Annie chirped.
“You did, indeed.” Fergus was ahead of them, popping the first cork.
The sisters each took a glass and seated themselves at the table. Charles pulled a large TV screen into the dining room.
“Charles? What is this?” Myra was stunned at the electronic intrusion.
“One moment, my dear.” Charles grabbed the remote and pointed at the TV.