Myra made a gesture with her arm in the air. “Check, please!”
Charles placed the scones, butter, and jam on the table, then pulled a chair out for Myra. “I’ll be right back.” He kissed the top of her head.
Charles hustled down the stone steps to check if any information had come through about Sunnydale. He powered up his monitor and saw that several in-network messages waited.
Sunnydale is a recipient of several government grants. Money was released to an LLC, a subsidiary of another LLC, an additional subsidiary. Funds are distributed to several different subs, one in Caymans.
Another message said:
No records of complaints found so far. More to follow.
Charles nodded as he read the short paragraph. Just as everyone suspected, Sunnydale was up to something. What were they hiding under all the layers of LLCs and offshore accounts?
He printed out the message and brought it up to the kitchen, where Myra was slathering locally churned butter on her warmed scone.
“Well, love, looks like we have a mystery to solve.”
“Do tell!” Myra instinctively stroked her pearls. By now she believed they held special powers. They calmed her. They energized her. They instilled inspiration.
Charles read the first one that came through from one of Fergus’s sources. “The second is from Lizzie.”
The wall phone began to ring. Charles answered, “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Charles. Lizzie here.”
“Got your message. Anything else to add?”
“I got a text from Theresa saying she needs to speak with me, so I’m about to give her a call. I’ll ring you back as soon as I reach her.”
“Right-o. Cheers,” Charles ended the conversation.
“And?” Myra peered at him.
“And Theresa sent Lizzie a text asking if they should talk on the phone. She’ll get back to us as soon as she makes contact.”
Myra couldn’t resist the temptation to get up and snatch her laptop from the atrium. When she returned to the table, Charles was wolfing down the rest of her scone.
“I beg your pardon?” she said with mock indignation. “I believe that was my scone.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Charles made aWho, me?expression.
“The evidence is all over your face.” Myra plucked the scattered remains of her breakfast treat off Charles’s chin.
“I shall fetch my lady a replacement.” Charles bowed.
“Make it snappy, buster,” Myra joked. She looked up the Sunnydale website again and took the virtual tour. She clicked a tab and read a list of services they provide.Financial Advisors Availablewas included. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she muttered.
“What, dear?”
Myra read the list, which also includedPersonal Valet, Catering, andFuture Planning. “I wonder what their idea of ‘future planning’ is.” She held up a finger. “Don’t say off to the mortuary you go.”
“I didn’t have to, now, did I, love?” Charles grinned.
“We need to come up with a plan.”
“I have no doubt. Shall we send out a bulletin to the Sisters?” Charles asked. The Sisters were on a highly encrypted private server that only they had access to. With each new mission, Charles and Fergus would wipe the server and assign new passwords to everyone. It was an extra step that assured them anonymity. Interpol could crack the code, but Charles and Fergus’s fail-safe would immediately delete everything, and cause the server to self-destruct. They had come close only once, and it had been years earlier.
Technology changes as quickly as most people change their underwear. It was important to keep an extra pair handy. In the Sisters’ case, a spare server was constantly being updated with the latest technology. It was continuously scanned for viruses, bugs, malware, and spyware.
