“So that’s it?” Noah blinked several times, trying to absorb this new information. While the young men never behaved as if they were entitled, they assumed money would never be an issue, let alone having to get a job.
“Yes. Do you have any other questions?” Coulson stood.
“I guess not.” Noah shrugged.
“Thank you for your time.” Liam held out his hand politely.
“Remember, I need to know your decisions by the first of May. Good luck.” Coulson moved from behind the desk and ushered them out.
As they headed toward the elevator, Noah hissed, “I can’t believe this! Why couldn’t Dad tell us this himself?”
“Probably because it wasn’t his decision. It was Grandpa Adams who set up the trust.” Liam took in a big sigh. “I was going to study for my master’s in psychology, but I also wanted to travel a bit before I had to hit the books again.” Liam was much more resigned to the situation than Noah.
“Well, this sucks. I’m going to have a talk with Mother about it,” Noah huffed, as they made their way back to the waiting area and elevator bank.
Liam chuckled. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
When they got home, Noah went in search of his mother. “Margaret? Where is my mother?”
“Oh, Noah. She left for London this morning. She is going to spend some time with her sister Dorothy. Didn’t she tell you?” Margaret looked a tad confused.
“No.” Noah was infuriated. “She threw us to the wolves!”
Margaret didn’t dare respond. She wasn’t used to either of the boys having a temper tantrum, and she feared she was about to witness one.
“Where’s my father?” Noah demanded. Margaret gave him a blank stare.
“Liam! Liam!” Noah went yelling through the house. “Where the hell are you?”
Liam leaned over the second-floor balcony. “Up here. What seems to be the problem?”
“The problem?” Noah was about to explode. “Did you know Dear Mother has taken flight to London?”
Liam looked confused. “What do you mean, London?”
“London, as in England. Don’t be a schmuck. She flew the coop.”
Liam kept looking at his brother, waiting for more steam to come off, which it did.
“I can’t believe this is happening! We’re screwed, and there’s no one here to explain why.” By this time, Noah was climbing the stairs two at a time.
“Take it easy. We’re not exactly screwed.” Not only was Liam the more circumspect of the two, he was also the more levelheaded. “We just need to figure out a plan. Where’s Dad?”
“Hell if I know. Probably in Michigan with one of his whores.”
Chapter Three
Present Day
Washington, D. C.
Maggie punched the REPLAY button one more time before she dialed the number. “Hello, Flowers Exotica,” a friendly voice answered.
“Hi, my name is Maggie Spritzer. A friend of mine left me a message asking that I call her back at this number.” Maggie sounded her usual journalistic self. Pragmatic and polite, but her hands were shaking. Something wasn’t quite right.
“Oh yes. A young lady was here about an hour ago and asked to use the phone. But she left with two men in a black SUV.”
Maggie stared at the phone. “Did she seem all right to you?”
She was now taking notes.
“Well, it’s hard to say. She seemed a little confused and nervous. I gave her a cup of tea while she waited for you to call her back.”
“Did the men say anything to her? Did they come into the shop? Did she go willingly?” Maggie was rattling off questions like a machine gun.
“She saw the SUV and left the store as soon as one of the men got out. They had a very brief exchange, and she got in.”
“Could you hear anything they said?” Maggie was tapping her pen on the desk like a drum.
“No.”
“Did it look like some sort of altercation?” Maggie prodded.
“I don’t think so. She seemed to know them.”
“Did she smile at them?”
“I couldn’t see her face.”
“Did they touch her in any way? Grab her? Shove her?” The hair on the back of Maggie’s neck was standing at attention now.
“No. Just a few words, and she got in willingly. I’m sorry I don’t have any other information for you.” The flower lady was trying to be as helpful as possible. “But there was one thing that struck me as odd.”
“What was that?” Maggie listened intently.
The flower lady continued, “The men were dressed in exactly the same clothing.”
“Like suits?” Maggie prodded.
“No. They were wearing big shirts. The kind men wear for yoga or meditation, but they were black. Like a tunic but with toggle-like frogs. You know, instead of buttons. The pants were white. They looked a little out of place for this part of town.”
“Can you describe the men?”
“Just average Caucasian, with very short light brown hair,” the woman said.
“Anything else you can think of?” Maggie pushed harder. “Did the shirts say anything? Did they have a logo?”
“Now that you mention it, there was some kind of symbol on the left.”
“Did you recognize it?” Maggie was writing feverishly.
“Sorry, no. They moved too fast for me to see. Oh, and they looked pretty buff. Like they work out a lot,” the flower lady added.
“You didn’t happen to get the license plate of the SUV?”
“No. Most cars in Florida don’t have state plates on the front, and I didn’t think to look when they turned around.”
Maggie was about to start biting her nails, a habit she had tried to break for years. At one point, she had regular manicures to cure her from the nibbling, but it had been weeks since her last visit to the salon. Her cuticles were ripe for the chewing. “Okay. Thank you very much. This has been very helpful. Can you please take down my number in case you remember anything else?”
“Of course, dear.”
Maggie rattled off the toll-free number and her cell to the woman. As soon she got off the phone, she buzzed her boss, Anna (Annie) Ryland de Silva. Countess de Silva, one of the richest women in the world, who also happened to own the newspaper where Maggie worked. Annie was also part of a select group of women, known to many as the Sisterhood, founded by Myra Rutledge. Annie’s life partner, Fergus, formerly of Scotland Yard, was an adjunct member of the group and a friend of Charles Martin, Myra’s husband.
The Sisterhood began when Myra’s daughter Barbara was struck down and killed several years before. The driver was never prosecuted owing to his diplomatic immunity. To make the situation more horrendous, Barbara was pregnant at the time.
That horrible situation threw Myra into a state of ultimate despair. The man who was now her husband was a former MI6 agent who had unceremoniously left the UK, leading him to look for work in the States. He interviewed for a position as head of security at Myra’s candy company, where they began a lifetime, loving relationship.