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“Oh. My. God. That is gorgeous! Give it here.” Kyle reached out his hand.
“You have croissant fingers. Not until you wash your hands!” Zoe smirked.
“Party pooper,” Kyle said sulkily and turned away.
“Kyle, please close the door behind you. I have a personal call to make.” Zoe raised her eyebrows.
“Oh my. You have been busy!” Kyle was an inch away from giggling as he shut the door behind him.
Zoe unlocked her desk drawer and grabbed the burner phone. She typed Charles’s number and sent off a quick, all-caps text:
SENT JOB POSTING.
Several seconds later, she got a reply: RECEIVED.
What a roller coaster ride this has been, Zoe thought. And it was just starting.
* * *
Charles perused his monitor, scouring the dark web for information. He and Fergus had spent hours trying to follow the money. It was one shell company after another. It could take days to unravel the transfers and find out who or what El Cemento really was.
After Charles had received the job description from Zoe, he configured a résumé that would be a perfect fit for the position. He also created false identities for Alexis and Maggie. Alexis would be Estelle Johnson and Maggie would be Eve Marlow. Fergus ordered up the fake IDs, passports, driver’s licenses, and credit cards. All would be delivered by the end of the day.
Avery would provide the necessary credentials for Eileen. Myra and Annie could travel under their own names.
As the computer program kept churning under Fergus’s supervision, Charles checked out REBAR’s home page. It was a typical corporate page with the usual information: ABOUT. CONTACT. OUR TEAM. PRESS. Under OUR TEAM Charles easily found Donald Walsh’s company photo and his title: Director of Quality Control. Then came the mug of Malcolm Fielder, Vice President of Manufacturing in the Caribbean. He downloaded Walsh’s and Fielder’s photos and printed five copies for the women to bring with them.
Annie would use her charm to wheedle information from Mac, the bank’s general manager. Annie had met Mackenzie Stoddard in London in the late 1980s when Mac was a teller at her bank. Over the years he’d been promoted to general manager of Cayman National. She knew he would never divulge the name of an account holder. Nor could he. But what he could do was indicate with a facial expression whether he recognized either of the men in the photos. Annie was confident she’d get a hint of information out of him, whether he realized he was divulging it or not. She and Myra were adept at reading body language.
Charles and Fergus were continuing to dive deep into REBAR’s business dealings when Fergus got a message from Avery about the mystery woman tailing Zoe. The text read:
ID says name is Louise Phillips. Works for a small P.I. firm. Will find out who hired her. Stand by.
“Avery is on the mystery woman,” Fergus said and then he read the message to Charles.
“That information will be extremely helpful,” Charles said with a nod.
“Indeed.”
While Fergus and Charles were engrossed in the technological aspect of the mission, Annie phoned the pilot and informed him to have her Gulfstream ready. There would be five of them. First stop, Cayman Islands, and then on to Santo Domingo. It was a good thing they were taking Annie’s private jet. Commercial flights took no less than six hours to their first destination with a two-hour layover, and then another six from island to island. Their flight would be direct and take just under four to Grand Cayman, and then another five when they reached the Caribbean. It was going to be a long day.
Annie also made hotel arrangements at the Ritz-Carlton, about an eight-minute ride to George Town and the bank. Then she made reservations for lunch at the Lobster Pot, where they would meet up with Mac. The plan was for Annie and Myra to spend two full days on Grand Cayman. She sent Mac a text with the reservation information. He immediately replied:
Looking forward to seeing you, Countess!
Annie laughed and replied: Should I wear my crown?
Only if you wear your rhinestone cowboy boots! LOL.
Annie continued making arrangements for everyone. The nature of their work was very sensitive; having an assistant make the bookings would be out of the question. Besides, Annie enjoyed chatting with her contacts. She dialed a number in Santo Domingo. Unfortunately for Maggie, Alexis, and Eileen, they wouldn’t be beachside, but Monaco Residences in Santo Domingo would provide a very comfortable stay in one of their luxury apartments. For the most part none of them would be spending a lot of time there, but it was a convenient “base camp,” as Maggie would say. They decided to plan for a full workweek to get an idea of the factory’s routine. The comings and goings. Deliveries and shipments. It was an intricate plan but not outside the realm of the Sisterhood. Annie ordered two rental cars to be ready for the others when they arrived at the Santo Domingo airport. Alexis would have one, and Maggie and Eileen would take the other.
* * *
Later that afternoon Alexis and Maggie met at Alexis’s apartment. Alexis had an entire room dedicated to her disguises. It was like an international fashion festival. Dozens upon dozens of traditional cultural outfits lined one wall. Another wall held everything from casual wear to grunge. Boots, shoes, sandals, and slippers were in cubbyholes, along with hats and handbags. Over fifty scarves and pashminas hung from a ballet bar. Wigs of every color and style were on a pegboard. Down the center of the room ran a long vanity table with drawers. Two five-foot Broadway-style mirrors with marquee lights sat back-to-back on top. The vanity drawers were lined with over forty shades of foundation, lipstick, eyeshadow, and false eyelashes. A full-length three-way mirror was in the corner. It could all be mistaken for a dressing room on a film set or musical production.
Alexis sat in the swivel chair in front of the vanity while Maggie stood in front of the three-way mirrors. “Geez, I hate looking at myself.” The petite, curly-haired, freckle-faced imp scowled.
“So don’t look. It’s more important that I look at you.” Alexis folded her arms and tapped her finger on her cheek. “Turn left.” Maggie obliged. “Now right.” Again, Maggie obeyed.
