Angel

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Johnny hesitated slightly, and then said, ‘I want you to help me get her back.’

  ‘How can I do that?’

  ‘I want you to put out the word with the other families, Uncle Salvatore, find out who did shoot her brother. I’d like to prove to her that it wasn’t the Rudolfos.’

  Salvatore looked at him and his blue eyes narrowed slightly. After a brief moment of reflection, the Don inclined his head. ‘I’ll talk to Anthony. He’ll find out everything we need to know. Leave it with me, we’ll talk later this weekend.’

  ***

  Five minutes after Johnny kissed the Don good-night and took his leave, the consigliere came into the study.

  Without preamble, he said, ‘Listen, boss, Joey Fingers is leaving now. He wants to come in and pay his respects. Is that okay?’

  ‘No. I don’t want to see him.’

  ‘I told him this is the last warning he’s getting. That if he shoots his mouth off again, discusses our business with anyone, he’s out.’

  ‘Joey Fingers has become our biggest liability. Get rid of him, Anthony.’

  The consigliere looked at the Don swiftly. ‘You mean hit him?’

  ‘Yeah. Take him out.’

  ‘Consider it done, boss.’

  ***

  Johnny relaxed in the limousine as it sped across Staten Island heading for the Verrazano Narrows Bridge. His problem with Rosie would soon be solved. Salvatore Rudolfo was capo di tutti capi, boss of all bosses, on the Eastern Seaboard. He was the ultimate power. The other families would give Salvatore the information he needed. By tomorrow, Sunday at the latest, the Don would know exactly who had shot Rosie’s brother.

  He would go to her, even if it meant following her to Paris, and tell her. The Rudolfos would be exonerated.

  For the first time in hours, Johnny felt more like his old self. He smiled. Everything was going to be all right. He and Rosie would be married as soon as her divorce was final.

  Half an hour later, as the limousine rolled onto the Verrazano Bridge, it came to an abrupt halt. Sitting up straight and leaning forward, Johnny said, ‘Hey, Eddie, what’s going on?’

  Eddie glanced over his shoulder. ‘Gee, I don’t know, Mr Fortune. It just stopped. Could be it’s the transmission. It’s happened once before.’

  ‘Oh Jesus!’ Johnny exclaimed. ‘That’s all I need. What do we do now?’

  ‘I’ll call the company on the cellular. They’ll send another car immediately, Mr Fortune.’

  ‘Okay, make the call. Just get me back to the Waldorf,’ Johnny snapped.

  ***

  Ten minutes later, Joey Fingers came barrelling onto the bridge. The first thing he saw was the limousine pulled to one side, and he slowed as he approached it. Immediately he recognized it as the one Johnny used. It had been standing outside the Rudolfo house for several hours this evening.

  Joey slid to a stop behind the stretch, and got out. He walked to the driver’s window and tapped on it.

  Johnny recognized Joey and said to Eddie, ‘I know him. See what he wants.’

  Eddie rolled down the window and Joey looked into the limousine, and exclaimed, ‘Hiya, Johnny, what’s wrong? Why’re ya sitting here?’

  ‘The limo’s broken down,’ Johnny said. ‘We’re waiting for another car.’

  Joey laughed. ‘Hey, what kind of a limo service is this?’ he said, directing this comment to Eddie. He cackled.

  Eddie gave him a cold stare and was silent.

  Joey said, ‘Do ya really wanna sit here and wait, Johnny? Come on, kiddo, I’ll give ya a lift back into Manhattan. Where’re ya staying?’

  ‘The Waldorf,’ Johnny answered and opened the car door. ‘So long, Eddie.’

  Johnny followed Joey back to the sedan, and got into the front seat with him. Within seconds, they were speeding off the Verrazano Bridge, heading for the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway which would take them to the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel and the southern tip of Manhattan.

  Joey talked non-stop as they drove, mostly about women. Johnny soon grew bored, settled back in his seat and closed his eyes.

  Turning on the radio, Joey hummed to himself, pushing the car to its limit. Soon they were streaking along the expressway. They readied the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel in record time, sliding into the city on the West Side. Joey followed the road, making a gentle U-turn to the left, heading south. Very shortly, they entered the underpass which would take them under Battery Park and on to the FDR Drive heading north to mid-town and the Waldorf.

  Joey was concentrating on the road; Johnny was dozing.

  Neither of them saw the black van pulling closer. It had been on Joey’s tail since the entrance to the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel where it had been waiting for him.

  Now it suddenly surged forward, drawing alongside Joey’s window. As Joey Fingers became aware of the van and turned his head to look, a spurt of bullets from a Kalashnikov machine gun sprayed into his body. He slumped over the wheel. The hit-man went on firing into the car before speeding away.

  Three bullets struck Johnny Fortune. One punctured his brain, the other two sliced through his chest, killing him instantly.

  Joey’s car, already spinning out of control, bounced off the wall of the underpass.

  PART FOUR

  Truest Loves

  FORTY-FIVE

  ‘When I get out of here, we can go on that vacation of yours, Nell,’ Kevin said, smiling up at her.

  Nell was straightening the pillows behind his head, and she went on doing so without answering him.

  ‘Where do you want to go?’ he asked, catching hold of her hand as she began to smooth the sheet.

  Nell sat down in the chair near the bed, and finally said, ‘I don’t really know, Kevin. You’ve got to get better first. You’re going to be in the hospital for several weeks yet, and then convalescing. I just want you to get well, then we can plan the trip.’

  ‘You don’t sound too enthusiastic,’ he said, and cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse, but stronger than yesterday when he had first regained consciousness.

  Nell gave him the benefit of a smile. ‘Maybe we’ll go to France when Gavin starts shooting the movie.’

  ‘That’s not much of a honeymoon. Too many other people around.’

  ‘Who said anything about a honeymoon!’

  ‘Me. Just now.’

  Nell stared at him, surprised by his words.

  He said, ‘Don’t you want to marry me?’

  Nell’s eyes remained fixed on his face. He was still deathly pale, but he was much better today. It was amazing really, the improvement he’d made in twenty-four hours. For five days he had been on the brink of death; she had suffered with him. She knew that she could never live through anything like this ever again. It would kill her.

  ‘It’s my job, Nell, isn’t it? That’s why you won’t marry me.’

  She found she was unable to speak. She loved him very much; she wanted to be his wife. But she knew herself, and she understood now that she could never handle the fear that his being an undercover cop entailed.

  A small sigh escaped her. ‘I just can’t cope with it, Kev, I really can’t.’

  ‘You won’t have to, Nell.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked. Her heart missed a beat.

  ‘When Neil O’Connor was here this morning I told him I’m quitting. I’ll be putting my resignation in next week.’

  ‘Oh Kev, that’s wonderful!’ she exclaimed, breaking into a smile. Then the smile slipped. ‘But if you’re doing that for me, quitting the force because of me, you might end up hating me one day.’

  ‘Never. And I’m not doing it just for you. I’m doing it for both of us. I made a bad mistake on this last case, somewhere, somehow. I haven’t deduced what it was yet. I haven’t had a chance to think it through. But slip I did, Nellie. And I always said—’

  She held up her hand. ‘Don’t talk so much, you’re exhausting yourself. Anyway, I know exactly what you were going to say. You promise
d yourself you’d get out the day you made your first slip.’

  Kevin nodded. ‘And Tony’s dead…’ He was unable to finish his sentence. His face clouded over.

  ‘Yes, Kev,’ she said. Wanting to pull him out of his moroseness, taking his hand in hers, she repeated, ‘Yes, of course I’m going to marry you.’ Standing up, she bent over him and kissed his lips. Pulling away, she added, ‘And let’s do it as soon as possible.’

  There was a tap on the door, and Rosie’s head appeared around it. She entered, followed closely by Gavin.

  ‘Well, guess what!’ Nell exclaimed. ‘You’re just in time to congratulate us.’

  Rosie looked from Nell to Kevin. She saw how happy they both were, and she grinned. ‘You’re getting married.’

  Kevin smiled and eased himself against the pillows, feeling suddenly tired again; he didn’t have the strength to speak.

  ‘That we are.’ Nell hugged Rosie and then Gavin. ‘We’ve got a bridesmaid and a best man standing right here, haven’t we, Kev? How about it? Will you two stand up for us?’

  ‘Nobody else is going to get a chance,’ Gavin said, and went and sat down next to Kevin. ‘Congratulations to you both.’

  ‘Kev’s quitting the force,’ Nell announced.

  ‘Thank God!’ Rosie looked at her brother. ‘That’s two wise things you’ve decided in one day. To save your life and marry the most wonderful girl in the world.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Kevin murmured. ‘She is.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ Rosie stood at the bottom of the bed, her eyes searching his face. ‘I mean, you sound tired, Kev. Gavin and I were just discussing it coming over here, discussing whether we should leave or not. Perhaps we ought to stay on for a few more days.’

  ‘No, Rosie, it’s not necessary. I’ll be okay now. And I’ve got my… Little Nell here with me.’

  ‘That you do,’ Nell interjected. ‘And for the rest of your life.’

  FORTY-SIX

  Rosie did not notice that they had passed Trump Tower until they were at Seventy-second and Madison.

  ‘Gavin, where are we going? I still have to finish my packing.’

  ‘You’ve plenty of time. We’re not leaving the apartment until eleven tomorrow morning. The plane’s not until one. I just want to take you somewhere, to show you something.’

  ‘What do you want to show me?’

  He put his arm around her and pulled her to him, kissing the tip of her nose. ‘You’ll just have to wait and see, Angel.’

  A moment or two later, the car was turning on East Eighty-third, heading towards Fifth Avenue. When it drew to a stop outside an apartment building on Fifth, Rosie threw Gavin a quick look and asked, ‘Are we going to see somebody?’

  ‘Ask no questions, and you’ll get no lies.’

  The chauffeur came around and opened the door, helping Rosie out. Gavin followed. The doorman nodded and smiled as Gavin led her into the lobby of the building. As they stood waiting for the elevator she said, ‘Come on, Ambrosini, tell me who we’re visiting.’

  ‘It’s a surprise,’ he answered.

  They got out on the top floor, and Rosie was startled when Gavin pulled a key out of his pocket and put it in the lock. Opening the front door wide, he ushered her inside the apartment.

  She saw at once that it was completely empty, and she turned to him, her eyes full of questions. ‘Is this yours, Gavin?’

  He nodded. ‘It sure is, Angel Face.’

  ‘How long have you had it?’

  ‘I found it some months ago, but the deal only just closed. You know what these co-op boards are like. Anyway, it’s mine now; so come on, I want to show you around.’

  Taking hold of her hand he walked her forward through the grand entrance foyer, into the large drawing room beyond, on into the dining room and the kitchen opening off it.

  Then he walked her back to the entrance foyer.

  ‘Most of the main rooms face Fifth, which is great,’ he said. ‘I like looking out at the trees in Central Park, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘What’s there?’

  ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’ As they moved along the main corridor, he threw open a door and explained: ‘I thought this room would be perfect for David. It’s a good size, and it’s somewhat removed from the rest of the apartment. Now here’s the library.’ He showed it to her, and moving on, he finally stopped in front of large double doors.

  Gavin took her into this room saying, ‘It’s got a fireplace, and it also overlooks the park.’ He let go of her hand and strode into the middle of the floor, looking around as he did. ‘It’s a perfect room for us, Rosie, don’t you think?’

  ‘For us?’ she repeated, and then found herself stammering, ‘What do you mean, Gavin?’

  He walked back to her swiftly, and when he reached her he tilted her face to his. ‘I’d like this to be our bedroom, Rosie.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said.

  He leaned into her, kissed her mouth, and drew away from her. He said, ‘We’ve wasted far too many years already. Don’t you think it’s time we got married? As soon as we’re both free.’

  She smiled at him. It was a dazzling smile that filled her face with radiance and made her green eyes sparkle.

  ‘Oh yes, Gavin darling. Yes,’ she said without a moment’s hesitation.

  Gavin put his arms around her and kissed her deeply, then he released her and said, ‘I read something recently, Rosie, and I want to share it with you.’

  She nodded.

  ‘The angels keep their ancient places, turn but a stone, and start a wing! ’Tis ye, ’tis your estrangèd faces, that miss the many-splendoured thing.’

  As he had been speaking, Gavin’s eyes had not left her face. Again, he bent into her and kissed her full on the mouth.

  ‘I’m so glad that we didn’t miss our many-splendoured thing, Rosie.’

  An Excerpt from A Woman of Substance

  By Barbara Taylor Bradford

  CHAPTER ONE

  Emma Harte leaned forward and looked out of the window. The private Lear jet, property of the Sitex Oil Corporation of America, had been climbing steadily up through a vaporous haze of cumulus clouds and was now streaking through a sky so penetratingly blue its shimmering clarity hurt the eyes. Momentarily dazzled by this early-morning brightness, Emma turned away from the window, rested her head against the seat, and closed her eyes. For a brief instant the vivid blueness was trapped beneath her lids and, in that instant, such a strong and unexpected feeling of nostalgia was evoked within her that she caught her breath in surprise. It’s the sky from the Turner painting above the upstairs parlour fireplace at Pennistone Royal, she thought, a Yorkshire sky on a spring day when the wind has driven the fog from the moors.

  A faint smile played around her mouth, curving the line of the lips with unfamiliar softness, as she thought with some pleasure of Pennistone Royal. That great house that grew up out of the stark and harsh landscape of the moors and which always appeared to her to be a force of nature engineered by some Almighty architect rather than a mere edifice erected by mortal man. The one place on this violent planet where she had found peace, limitless peace that soothed and refreshed her. Her home. She had been away far too long this time, almost six weeks, which was a prolonged absence indeed for her. But within the coming week she would be returning to London, and by the end of the month she would travel north to Pennistone. To peace, tranquillity, her gardens, and her grand-children.

  This thought cheered her immeasurably and she relaxed in her seat, the tension that had built up over the last few days diminishing until it had evaporated. She was bone tired from the raging battles that had punctuated these last few days of board meetings at the Sitex corporate headquarters in Odessa; she was supremely relieved to be leaving Texas and returning to the relative calmness of her own corporate offices in New York. It was not that she did not like Texas; in point of fact, she had always had a penchant for that great state, seeing in its rough sprawling po
wer something akin to her native Yorkshire. But this last trip had exhausted her. I’m getting too old for gallivanting around on planes, she thought ruefully, and then dismissed that thought as unworthy. It was dishonest and she was never dishonest with herself. It saved so much time in the long run. And, in all truthfulness, she did not feel old. Only a trifle tired on occasion and especially when she became exasperated with fools; and Harry Marriott, president of Sitex, was a fool and inherently dangerous, like all fools.

  Emma opened her eyes and sat up impatiently, her mind turning again to business, for she was tireless, sleepless, obsessive when it came to her vast business enterprises, which rarely left her thoughts. She straightened her back and crossed her legs, adopting her usual posture, a posture that was contained and regal. There was an imperiousness in the way she held her head and in her general demeanour, and her green eyes were full of enormous power. She lifted one of her small, strong hands and automatically smoothed her silver hair, which did not need it, since it was as impeccable as always. As indeed she was herself, in her simple yet elegant dark grey worsted dress, its severeness softened by the milky whiteness of the matchless pearls around her neck and the fine emerald pin on her shoulder.

  She glanced at her granddaughter sitting opposite, diligently making notes for the coming week’s business in New York. She looks drawn this morning, Emma thought, I push her too hard. She felt an unaccustomed twinge of guilt but impatiently shrugged it off. She’s young, she can take it, and it’s the best training she could ever have, Emma reassured herself and said, ‘Would you ask that nice young steward—John, isn’t it?—to make some coffee please, Paula. I’m badly in need of it this morning.’

  The girl looked up. Although she was not beautiful in the accepted sense of that word, she was so vital she gave the impression of beauty. Her vividness of colouring contributed to this effect. Her glossy hair was an ink-black coif around her head, coming to a striking widow’s peak above a face so clear and luminous it might have been carved from pale polished marble. The rather elongated face, with its prominent cheekbones and wide brow, was alert and expressive and there was a hint of Emma’s resoluteness in her chin, but her eyes were her most spectacular feature, large and intelligent and of a cornflower blue so deep they were almost violet.