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second cinnamon bun.
    “What? What?” Maggie snarled.
    Lizzie grinned. “It seems that our new president has an administration of perverts. It would also seem that a good many of them, like fifty or so, enrolled in the Happy Day Camp for some…unorthodox…uh…activities. It would appear that when Martine won the election, they, the perverts of the current administration, got carried away and had a little camp outing. Then they had another camp outing after Martine took the oath of office.” She waited for a reaction, and when she saw only blank expressions, she said, “A brothel. Happy Day Camp is a brothel in Las Vegas. Actually, it’s a little more than sixty miles from Vegas. As you know, prostitution is legal in Nevada in counties with fewer than 400,000 residents. However, when the madam was contacted to bring her dog-and-pony show to the nation’s capital, she balked, but they, the perverts, convinced her and her girls that there would be no blowback. It appears they were wrong.”
    “Oh, shit!” Jack said.
    “Wow! You were right, this is big stuff. Do you have names?” Maggie asked as she picked frosting from the remaining cinnamon bun. Jack slapped her hand away from it.
    “I don’t, but Cosmo does. The madam is on the run and she gave him her books, financial records, and cell phones for safekeeping. The administration is trying to contain the situation, but the other side of the aisle must have gotten downwind of it somehow, and they’re going to blow it wide-open. I don’t know when, but I have to assume very soon. She’s going to end up being known as not only the first female president but, as Martine said, also she’ll be the laughingstock of the free world. Actually, the whole world.”
    Maggie snorted. “They’ll go after the madam, string her up, and the johns will lose face, their jobs, and go on with their lives. Half of them will probably end up as lobbyists or CEOs. That’s how it usually works. Wait a damn minute here. Are you saying the president wants the Vigilantes to…cover for all those guys so they can keep their jobs and not embarrass her administration, meanwhile letting the madam get slammed into jail?”
    “Yeah,” Lizzie said.
    “Well, damn, I think the girls will take this one on for free. But no way are they going to do what she wants, pardon or not. By ‘books’ do you mean Cosmo has the madam’s little black books?” Maggie asked.
    “Yes, and some of those clowns actually used their credit cards. The woman was no dummy, she made sure she got fingerprints of the whole bunch, and she’s matched them up to the payments. The reason she’s on the run is she was tipped off that this was going to go down. She didn’t waste a minute. She sent her girls off to the far corners of the globe, and she’s taken on a new identity. She also told Cosmo that copies of all the materials she gave him were on their way to the ‘intended recipients’—and then she winked at him and gave him the V sign! So Cosmo thinks she might mean the Vigilantes! How she would know where to find the girls I have no clue. However, there is every possibility she knows Rena Gold. You remember Rena, who helped us with that little caper at the World Bank and then again in Vegas when things went sour there last year? After all, it is Vegas. Anything goes in Vegas, we all know that.”
    “What is the objective?” Jack asked in a jittery-sounding voice.
    “What, Jack, are you so dense you can’t figure it out?” Maggie asked as she drained the last of her coffee. “The madam wants the johns to be punished. It’s as obvious as the nose on your face. She’s the one who, in the end, will hang by her toenails. She’ll be rotting in jail, and the politicians will be dining at the Jockey Club. Eventually they will all weasel their way back into some political arena. Think back to the D.C. Madam. She ended up dead, and you know there were some who said she did not take her own life. Did even