“Do tell,” Myra said, and chuckled. Fergus enjoyed tinkering with things, and Annie was always happy to give him something to keep him occupied.
“We needed a new porch light.” Annie continued to look at the photos of the retirement community.
“You could afford to get someone to do that, you know,” Myra teased.
“Gotta keep the guy busy, or who knows what kind of trouble he’ll get himself into.” Annie laughed. “Unless it’sourkind of trouble.”
“I think it’s likely that trouble will be on the agenda tonight.” Myra raised her hand for a high-five.
“Goodie. It’s been a while.” Annie enjoyed getting in the weeds when it came to a mission. “I can’t remember the last time I pole-danced.”
“Didn’t you have Fergus install one in your exercise room?” Myra joked.
“It’s no fun if no one is watching,” Annie said, winking.
“You are incorrigible.” Myra shook her head.
“That’s why we’re friends.” She paused and dug into her tote bag. “Look what I have for you.” She pulled out a package of napkins that said:
That’s a horrible idea. What time?
Annie hooted. “Maybe it should be our new slogan!”
“I like the one we have:Whatever it takes!”
“We can print that on the other side.” Annie set the napkins on the antique desk. “So do you think we should go undercover?”
“Where?”
“Sunnydale!”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Myra tried to calm her overenthusiastic friend.
“Myra. Have you met me? Don’t I always get ahead of myself?”
Myra chuckled. “You won’t get an argument from me.”
Myra and Annie had been friends since childhood, when Myra was growing up on the farm. They would spend the entire day climbing trees and investigating the outer buildings. It was then that they discovered the underground tunnels. They decided to keep it a secret between them. “Pinky swear!” Annie insisted, and Myra was quick to agree. When they returned to the farmhouse, they combed the set of encyclopedias that lined one of the shelves in Myra’s father’s study and unearthed the significance of their discovery.
Initially they considered drafting a paper about it for school, but then realized it was a precious secret that could bring harm to innocent people. Who? They did not know, but they also did not want to put anyone in jeopardy, even though a hundred years had passed.
Years later, Myra inherited her family’s fortune, and Annie was rid of her husband, Count de Silva. Now they make good use of their long-kept secret. It serves the group well as their underground headquarters, where Fergus and Charles retrofitted it into a high-tech command center, with state-of-the-art devices, including private routers for their internal communications that cannot be detected or infiltrated by outside forces. It was a war room to rival those of the highest level of counterintelligence.
An imposing statue of Lady Justice stood at the entrance, with one hand balancing the scales and the other wielding a sword. It served as a reminder of their purpose. A symbol for justice. Justice when it has failed, and only the Sisterhood can intervene and balance the scales once more.
Lady’s ears perked up at the sound of another vehicle pulling into the driveway behind the kitchen. “’Ello, mate!” Fergus greeted Charles with his crisp English accent. Lady was already sitting in front of him, blocking Fergus from moving any farther without giving the dogs a treat. “Smells delightful. I am so incredibly grateful you started cooking as a hobby”—Fergus patted his stomach—“although my pants might disagree. A bit snug.”
Charles tossed an apron at him that said HOTSTUFF! “Go on, then.” He nodded to the cutting board that held several heads of broccoli.
“What’s on the menu tonight?” Fergus donned the jumper.
“Chicken cordon bleu, scalloped potatoes, and roasted broccoli.”
“I say, old chap, you have collected quite a selection of recipes.”
“I’m thinking about putting together a cookbook. I’ll call itSubversive Cuisine,” Charles joked.
“Sounds like a bestseller.” Fergus chuckled and began chopping the vegetables.
