his hand a cup of the lobby coffee, which was so rancid, he tossed it out the window after one sip. He’d stop at the first fast-food joint he saw. He settled back and let his mind race. Travel time from D.C. to Las Vegas by car was thirty-seven hours and two minutes. If his calculations were correct, and he drove straight through, with minimal stopping, he could reach Vegas by midnight. Possibly sooner if the troopers didn’t catch him for speeding. He wondered if there would be a welcoming committee waiting to greet him. There was welcoming, and then there was welcoming. He removed his hand from the steering wheel just long enough to stick it in his pocket to feel the comforting special gold shield.
A new day! He turned on the Rover’s stereo and listened to Bon Jovi. He cranked up the volume and sang along. Anything to keep his dark thoughts at bay.
* * *
As Abner was hitting the interstate, Jack and Cyrus were climbing in the F-150 and heading to the farm, where Jack showered, shaved, and changed his clothes. Cyrus romped in the yard, chasing two squirrels, who, since they knew he was not allowed to catch them, taunted him mercilessly.
After he made an enormous breakfast for the two of them, which they both devoured like hungry wolves, he called everyone to say he was on his way back to the BOLO Building. All the members confirmed they were also on the way.
Jack picked up the oversize duffel that he had packed before going to bed, knowing he wouldn’t be coming back to the farm today. If he had anything to say about it, they would be ready to fly out as soon as Dennis alerted the pilot for his Gulfstream. All he had to do was convince the others that going in incognito wasn’t going to work. His gut was clicking away on all cylinders, and he never ignored his gut warnings.
By 10:15 a.m., everyone had arrived, and the Bunn coffeemaker was working overtime as Jack took to the floor.
“Look, we can vote on this, but I don’t see the point. I say we go in as ourselves. We’re on vacation because our wives are away. It’s that simple. That way, we don’t have to worry about tripping up on our legends or give Kelly a moment’s worry. I’m going to call Bert and apprise him of our plan, if you all agree. Dennis, if we’re in agreement, alert the pilot that we’re ready to go. Let’s hear it!”
Every hand in the room shot upward, including Dennis’s right hand, since he was pressing in numbers with his left.
There was a slightly sour note to Charles’s tone when he said, “Fergus and I came to the same conclusion last evening. As you can see by the door, we brought our bags with us. Our dog sitter arrived at six this morning, so we’re good.”
The others all had their own stories, but basically, they were all the same. There was luggage piled everywhere. Harry, like Maggie, traveled with only a backpack, and both of them were wearing one.
“Okay, we’re all on the same page, then. For starters, I don’t think any of us can even venture a guess as to how long we’ll be in Vegas, so we just leave it as undetermined for the moment. I’m going to call Bert now. If you have any questions, have them ready.”
Dennis raised his hand to speak. “Wheels up in ninety minutes. We’ll be on the ground mid-afternoon Vegas time.”
Maggie poured coffee as Jack placed the call to Macau, China. Bert answered on the first ring. He quickly brought Bert up to date.
“It would help if you could arrange our stay—good rooms, concierge floor, that kind of thing. Don’t forget about Cyrus. Snowden and his men are on the way. Actually, they took a red-eye flight, so they’re already there, though we haven’t heard from him as yet.
“Knowing Abner the way I do, I expect he’ll arrive around midnight tonight. He’ll drive straight through today. I don’t know this for a fact, but I would guess he stayed on the road yesterday a good twelve hours. He’ll be the last to arrive, so be sure to book his room, too. Do you have anything else we need to know?”
“No. Thanks for doing this, guys. You, too, Maggie. I hope I’m not sending you all on a wild-goose chase. I don’t think so, but in this business, you never