Home Free - Fern Michaels [8]
Jack grimaced. “Now, why didn’t we think of that? He’s not dead, but we didn’t really check. We think he’s just sleeping. That’s all he does is sleep. For hours and hours and hours. And his sect, his clan, or whatever you call his people, the ones who set this all up, are charging a fortune for his services. From what Yoko said, you can’t piss them off. I think that means if you piss them off, they kill you.”
Maggie burped and apologized. “Aren’t you being overly melodramatic? I think your original idea of calling in the vigilantes is a good one. Did you run it by any of the girls?”
“Not yet,” Bert said. “Kathryn’s on the road, for one thing. She’ll be back by the weekend.”
“There’s no real urgency, right? Like a few more days isn’t going to matter, is it? Time enough to talk to everyone and make a plan. Think about this. Can we find a way to maybe have someone else hire that particular master for even more money? Then Harry would have to be assigned a new master, hopefully one who is more . . . alive and with it.”
“You mean a bogus trainee?” Jack asked, hope written all over his face.
“Exactly,” Maggie said as she commenced her attack on the plate of baked ziti.
“You know what, Maggie? I think you just earned all that food you’ve been scarfing down. That just might work. The trainee would have to be legitimate, however, and he will have to have registered for the trials and do whatever it is you have to do to qualify.”
“Let Charles handle that end of it. He’s good with stuff like that. Or his people are. Any other problems you want solved before I turn in for the night?”
“How about some personal chitchat?” Jack asked craftily.
“Is that your way of asking about me and Ted?”
“Now that you put it like that, yeah. What’s up with the two of you?”
“Nothing is up with the two of us. Ted is out there playing the field. I can’t keep track of his bimbos. I’m sorry, that was unkind. He’s on female number seven according to Espinosa. Not that I’m counting. By the way, I met someone I find very interesting. He’s a money manager of some kind, originally from Maryland. He came by the paper one day, and I met him. We’ve had dinner twice. No, we have not had sex. Don’t go there, either one of you. He’s a tad older than I am, and that’s what I find interesting. I’m actually thinking of bringing him to Annie’s Thanksgiving dinner. I cannot tell you how interesting he finds me. He says I make him laugh. He says I am down to earth and cute as a newborn speckled pup. Go ahead, say it, and I’ll kick both your asses all the way to the Canadian border. I’m not cleaning up this mess, either. Please try to be quiet since I’m sleeping on the couch. You do have a spare toothbrush, don’t you, Bert? I really don’t want to have to use yours. I get up at five, so set the coffeepot so I don’t have to wait. I hate waiting for coffee. I like it ready to pour as soon as I reach the kitchen.”
Bert and Jack both clamped their lips shut.
Maggie trotted off, the swinging door leading to and from the kitchen closing with a soft swoosh.
“I think that went rather well, don’t you, Jack?” Bert whispered nervously, his eyes on the swinging kitchen door.
“Make sure you check your toothbrush. No telling where those lips and teeth have been,” Jack whispered in return. “Since this is your house, you can do the cleanup. Night, Bert.”
Thirty-six hours later, a horde of Asians descended on Harry Wong’s dojo. A titillating ceremony ensued before Master Choy was carried from the premises on a red velvet chair that was trimmed in gold. There was a lot of bowing and scraping. The ancient one slept through the whole ceremony, to everyone’s delight. Yoko’s eyes sparkled with relief. Jack and Bert just grinned from ear to ear, while Harry stood mesmerized as his head bobbed up and down as he listened to his new master, who was babbling in a language only Yoko understood.
“What the hell is he saying?” Jack asked uneasily.
“You want the