Maggie strolled a little farther to check the rest of The Haven’s stalls. No sign of Gabby. Maggie was jazzed that she had gleaned a hint of what The Haven was about. Her journalistic sense was telling her she was getting closer.
On her way back to the flower booth, Maggie passed by Alexis carrying her anthuriums. They gave each other a polite nod. Alexis made her way to the vegetable part of The Haven’s stalls. She set down her flowers to inspect some of the produce. “Where get you dees strawberries?” she asked in her best Jamaican accent.
“Excuse me?” A young man dressed in the same garb as everyone else approached her.
“Dis? You grow? You buy?” Alexis sounded stern.
“Oh, we grow. We grow on farm.” The poor guy was inadvertently imitating her. Alexis almost burst out laughing.
Instead, she pulled out some cash. “You grow. I buy.” She opened her shopping bag and pointed to the berries, and green beans, “Dis much,” and handed him a ten-dollar bill.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Alexis gave the stalls a quick scan. No Gabby.
He quickly filled her bag with two baskets of strawberries and a pound of green beans. “Here you go. Thank you very much.”
“Thenk yuh,” Alexis replied, and walked to the other end of the market. It was almost noon. She texted Maggie and Yoko when she got back in her car: In car. No sign of GR.
In less than a minute she got a reply from Maggie: Ditto. Got some intel. Heading back to hotel.
Alexis responded: OK. C U soon.
And Yoko texted: C U around 6:00. Don’t forget flowers.
Throughout the day, Yoko kept one eye on the five stalls The Haven manned, and the other eye on the cash box. It was an easy-breezy day, minus the humidity. Fortunately, she was used to spending a lot of time in a greenhouse. Besides the obvious clothing and robot-like personnel, the only odd thing she noticed about The Haven’s area were the men who appeared to be standing guard. They had been hanging around the perimeter. All day. She would certainly bring that up during their conference call later that evening.
*
For Gabby, the day ran long. She wasn’t used to sitting in one place for six hours, not counting her breaks. The stiff hallway patrol guy who asked her the same question every day, three times a day, was actually her understudy for phone duty. She thought it was a bit humorous. Maybe after covering for her, he wouldn’t ask that same stupid question anymore. Doubtful. He seems like an automaton. Huh. So many of them do, she said to herself. She really hadn’t paid much attention to most of the others. She was on her own vision quest, not an afternoon social. Gabby stretched and rose from her chair. She would be happy to do some yoga. As she was about to walk down the stairs, Noah came out of his office. “You’ve done a good job today.”
Gabby almost tripped on the step. “Thank you. I am happy to do it.”
“Glad to hear it. Maxwell isn’t feeling well, so you’re going to have to cover for him tomorrow as well.” Noah sounded much too cheery.
“Yes, of course.” Gabby tried to hide her disappointment. It was bad enough she wasn’t going to the market, but with Liam’s upbeat energy missing, it was like being in a cell. No one spoke to anyone. Liam would always stop and say hello and ask how you were, although lately he had been behind closed doors. And now was away. Gabby’s gut was screaming at her that something wasn’t quite right.
Chapter Sixteen
Pinewood
The sisters started arriving around five o‘clock. They planned to have something to eat before the seven o’clock conference call with Alexis, Maggie, and Yoko. Like with any other arrival, Lady and her pups greeted their guests with yelps and tails wagging, as the sisters hugged one another, patted the dogs’ heads, and gave them treats. Myra hugged everyone hello and feigned scolding them. “Too many treats! They’re going to get fat!”
“Speaking of eating,” Charles interrupted the boisterous gathering. “We should get started if we want to be finished by seven.”
Setting the table was like synchronized swimming. Everyone knew her task, and the table was ready in minutes. With a minimum of eight people and several dogs in the kitchen, it was a wonder no one tripped, bumped, or dropped anything. “Kitchen choreography,” Charles had once called it. If only the rest of the world acted with such competence, cooperation, and precision.
The women took their seats while Charles and Fergus carried the large bowl of fettuccine carbonara, Caesar salad, and garlic bread to the table.
“Smells divine,” Myra exclaimed. They all held hands and said grace.
With Maggie absent, Charles asked, “Who’s going to be first?” Everyone looked around the table.
“I guess I’ll go,” Nikki offered.
“I’m sure Maggie will appreciate your taking the lead,” Annie said gleefully. Snickers and giggles followed. “But I can tell you, she is not going to be happy that we’re having one of her favorites tonight while she’s eating hotel food.”
Charles reddened. “I hope she doesn’t get her knickers in a twist. I should have remembered.”
Myra patted his hand. “I’m sure she’ll understand.” Then she lowered her head, and whispered, “Unless we don’t tell her.”
“You know she’s going to ask,” Annie reminded her.
“I suppose you’re right.” Myra sighed.
“I’ll vow to make it again the next time she’s here,” Charles promised.
“Whew.” Nikki grinned. “I’d say to freeze some of it, but that would be gross.”
“No such thing. It has to be fresh or not at all.” Charles waved his fork like a symphony conductor’s baton.
They passed the bread, chatted, and polished off the two pounds of fettuccine. “Good thing Maggie wasn’t here! We’d have run out of food!” Nikki noted gleefully.
“Not in my kitchen,” Charles protested. “I would have tossed something together.” Everyone giggled, knowing how proud Charles was of his culinary accomplishments.
Myra stroked her pearls. “Shall we?” With that, everyone stood and cleared the table, dishes, pots, and pans. It was similar to the ballet they had performed getting the table ready. Complete and total organization. Just like everything else they did.
With the kitchen spotless in under thirteen minutes, they descended the stone steps to the War Room, each saluting Lady Justice as they passed by. The sisters took their seats while Charles and Fergus powered up the electronics. No matter how many times they convened in the War Room, they still stood in awe of the technology at their fingertips. It was like being on the set of the television show NCIS, except this was their own private Multiple Threat Alert Center.
In addition to the large screens and the audio equipment, a large electronic map covered one wall. With the flick of a finger, they could bring up a map of almost anywhere in the world. It would put Google to shame. Fergus pressed a few buttons on the screen, and Miami-Dade County glowed like a wall mural. A yellow dot designated the location of The Haven.
At exactly seven o’clock, everyone who was available called in on the secure conference-call line.
One by one their images appeared on the various screens. It was as if they were all in the same room.