“Is my father dead?” Leana asked.
“Stop buying time.”
“I need to know.”
“By now he is. Yes.”
Behind her, Carmen heard the doorknob turning.
Trying to be turned. The door was locked.
But doors could be kicked open.
“Help us!” Leana screamed.
“Help yourself,” Carmen said. In a flash, her arm swung out in a perfect arc. She sliced their throats just as the door behind her burst open.
Their bodies began to fall.
Time seemed to slow, but Carmen was trained to stay focused.
She turned and saw Mario De Cicco’s ashen face as he watched his wife hit the floor. Blood spurted in fans from her throat as she and Michael writhed on the ground. Behind him were a man and a woman she didn’t recognize.
Before De Cicco could charge at her, she held up her can of mace, pointed it at his face, and said, “You’ve got two choices. If you’re quick, there’s still time to save them. Let me go, and you can try to revive them. If you don’t, I’m here to tell you that I’ll do the same to the rest of you. Now, step back. All of you. Get out of my way, and maybe you’ll have some luck. The longer you stand there, the greater the chances are that they both die.”
“Stand down,” the man behind Mario said. “Move to the side, Mario. Don’t touch her. Jennifer, get back in the hallway.”
“So sensible,” Carmen said.
But she was no fool. When she approached them, she sprayed the mace at them, shielding her own eyes, and burying her mouth and her broken nose in the crook of her arm. She ran past them so they couldn’t touch her.
The woman dropped to her knees, and started to gag. Carmen leaped over her, and turned to make sure no one was following her. When she did, she saw the other man fall into the hallway, his hands at his throat, and his face turning red from the lack of oxygen.
She didn’t see the other man, but this was all she needed.
She threw the can of mace and the blade in a wastebasket as she passed it. She looked at her hands, saw that they were covered in blood, and looked around for something to dry herself off. To her left, she remembered, was the bar. Discreetly, she moved through the reception area’s side door, stepped into the lobby, and cut around to the bar, which was empty. She grabbed some napkins, spit on them, and wiped the blood from beneath her nose. She grabbed another handful and held them to her nose, but it was useless. Her nose was smashed. There was no stopping the bleeding.
She didn’t have much time.
People were trying to get out.
Security was everywhere, assisting people toward the exits.
Looking terrified, Carmen grabbed a thick clutch of napkins, held them to her face, and moved with the rest of the herd. With her head lowered, she slid deep into the crowd, becoming one with them, and was moving toward the doors when behind her, a man shouted out to warn them all.
“Stop her!” he said. His voice was choked, almost airless. It sounded like friction to her. A mere rasp. “Red dress! Stop her!”
But there were too many red dresses.
And Carmen Gragera, her job finished, hurried into the night, where her red dress, in the darkness that consumed her and the others moving down the sidewalk, might as well have been black.
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
PARIS
It was sundown in the Marais. A chilly December breeze flowed down the active Bourgeois, but Vincent Spocatti, who wore a black cashmere coat with a black scarf at his neck, leather gloves on his hands, and a loaded Glock in his pocket, was nevertheless warm.
The lamps attached to the sides of the buildings were starting to glow to life. They cast amber umbrellas of light onto the cobblestone sidewalks, which he thought was pretty.
This was a popular shopping district, and he walked past such stores as Diptyque and Babylone, Rayure and Et Vous, while keeping his mark just ahead of him. She was window-shopping, just as she always was, and frankly, he was starting to find this habit of hers increasingly dull.
At least she ends tonight, he thought. Then on to the next.
His cell buzzed in his coat pocket. Curious, he pulled it out, saw Carmen’s name on the screen, and smiled. This would be the first time they had connected since New York.
“This is a surprise.”
“Surprises are what we do best.”
“No argument there. Where are you?”
“Where huts stretch deep into the clearest, bluest waters you’ve ever seen.”
She was talking in code. Obviously, she was back in Bora Bora where her former lover, Alex, was murdered. She’d watched him die. He couldn’t believe that she had returned.
“Now I’m truly surprised,” he said.
“So am I.”
“How do you feel?”
“Despite everything, this is my home. This is where I belong—it always has been. I bought a new place today. Just signed the final paperwork. And as stupid as it sounds, I can feel him here with me.”
“It’s not stupid, Carmen. I’m happy for you.”
“Where are you?”
“In a city of too many lights. It can be blinding over here.”
“You’re in my favorite city. Lucky you. Working?”
“I’m always working, Carmen.”
“Easy or difficult?”
“Remains to be seen.”
“Thanks for making things even with me.”
She was referring to him splitting Cullen’s initial payment of twenty-five million down the middle. Since Cullen killed himself and they were cheated out of the rest of their money, he felt it only fair to give Carmen an equal share of the initial payment.
“My pleasure. You certainly earned it. And I needed to make sure you had enough to fix your nose.”
“Very funny. You know, I’ve been thinking about it. That job was a bitch. Have you been reading the press?”
“About which story?”
“Mario’s father....”
“Finally out on bail, I hear. Back at his Todt Hill mansion.”
“Trial by the end of next year, unless his lawyers can extend it, which they will. I hope De Cicco enjoys his freedom while he can because they’re going to put him away. Same goes for the rest of the Family. The Feds have too much on them. They’re going down.”
“I wonder what he’ll do with his spare time between now and then? Especially if he senses he might be going away for a long time. Or forever. That tends to be when people take risks.”
“With him on the loose, I wouldn’t want to be a certain woman.”
“Or a certain son.”
“Or a Greek shipping tycoon.”
“Some people take betrayal so seriously. If he acts, it could backfire on him. But maybe he doesn’t care.”
“I see him getting revenge.”
“I think you have perfect vision.”
Spocatti’s mark stopped, so he stopped. He stepped next to a storefront window and pretended to look inside at some chocolates while he spoke to Carmen. “Did you follow the funerals on CNN?”
“You couldn’t miss them. Epic.”
“Lavish.”
“Overkill.”
“I quite enjoyed them.”
“You would.”
His mark started to move again. He followed.
“What I can’t figure out is who killed the redhead. What’s her name? Pepper Redman and her boyfriend.”
“Neither can I,” Spocatti said. “But obviously, someone else was involved.”
His mark rounded a corner. Spocatti quickened his step. “I should go,” he said. “Things are picking up.”
“We’ll talk soon. Come for a visit.”
“I’ll call you when I can. Enjoy the sun, Carmen. Fix up your new place. And when you come upon him again, which you will, probably late at night when you’re on the cusp of sleep, say hello to Alex for me.”
“I will.”
“We’ll talk soon,” he said, and then he clicked off his cell, and put it in his free pocket. He tightened the grip on his Glock in his other pocket, and rounded the corner, where his mark, to his surprise, had obviously outwitted him.
She must have been onto him, because now she was nowhere in sight.
* * *
NEW YORK
At Redman International, Leana Redman stepped into her father’s office with Mario. She closed the door behind them, locked it, and fell into one of her father’s leather sofas.
It had been a brutal morning, during which her lawyers had gone to battle with her father’s board members. Ultimately, she got what she demanded, and she knew that what she had done was right.
“So, that’s that,” Mario said, sitting next to her.
“Looks that way.”
“How do you feel?”
“Exhausted. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired—emotionally or physically.”
She absentmindedly placed her hand to her throat, where there was a fine scar where she’d been cut. When they got her to the hospital that night, one of the city’s finest plastic surgeons was there because one of his patients, a burn victim, was failing. With nothing for him to do except make sure that his patient was kept comfortable, he was available to operate on Leana.
What he did for her wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as anyone could have come to perfect. Though Leana nearly died that night, she nevertheless was brought back because of Mario’s initial efforts of keeping pressure on the wound, and later because of what the plastic surgeon and other surgeons had done for her in the operating room.
Michael wasn’t as lucky—with no one able to help him, he died. His funeral was in Los Angeles, where he was buried in the Great Mausoleum at Forest Lawn. Her father had not wanted a funeral, and so he was cremated. Leana was given his remains, which she kept on a mantle in their penthouse on Park.
She was still too stunned by their deaths to comprehend them. Even what happened to Pepper woke her up at night and troubled her to her core. As much as she disliked her cousin, Pepper hadn’t deserved that. The grief Leana felt for all involved was something that still shook and affected her.
Once again, Louis Ryan had targeted her family. This time, with the exception of Leana and her mother, who would be in prison for the rest of her life, he had succeeded through a man named James Cullen. Cullen, Leana later learned, had taken his own life and had left behind a video made by Ryan weeks before his own death. She was asked if she wanted to see it, and while she didn’t want to, she felt that she owed it to her father, Michael, Pepper, and Sean to view the tape since she had survived, and they hadn’t.
The week before, after months of therapy with a psychiatrist, she finally felt strong enough to meet with the board, and finalize what her lawyers had set into place. A meeting was set. Today it was hammered out.
In his will, her father left her all of his shares of Redman International, which comprised fifty-one percent of the company. As the majority shareholder, Leana knew at once that she had what the board didn’t want her to have—a significant influence in Redman International’s business operations and in its strategic direction. She wasn’t CEO, but as majority shareholder, she had ultimate decision-making power. She could approve or deny them anything—something she didn’t want and something they didn’t want her to have.
Leana forced the board to rebrand and rename the corporation in exchange for her shares, which they bought at a premium.
“Redman International died with my father,” she told Mario when the process began two months ago. “They can keep the company, but they can’t have his name. I won’t allow it.”
“Will they agree to this?”
“They’ll have no choice. Otherwise, I’ll be on the board, I’ll be the chief shareholder, and I’ll make their lives a living hell. My lawyers have told them as much. Since nobody wants that, I think they’ll cave.”
She shrugged. “What I’m asking isn’t unusual—Nissan, Philip Morris, Starbucks and Apple all rebranded and changed their names at some point, as have a host of other companies. My lawyers told me that. There is a precedent.”
After much arguing, the board ultimately relented. When they bought her out, they made Leana a billionaire several times over. And now the Redman name was hers to do with as she pleased.
She leaned against Mario.
“What do we do now?” he asked.
“We move everything in this office to the Connecticut estate, which my mother signed over to me. They have ninety days to rename the company and to change the name on all buildings, planes, ships, and wherever else it might be. My lawyers will see to that. As for us, we have ninety days to get out of here.”
“If I know you, you’ll be out of here by the end of next week.”
There was steel in her voice when she said, “Try this week. With the exception of my mother, I’m the last Redman standing. In time, the Redman name will be back, and when it is, the Redman in Redman International is going to be me.”
# # #
Thank you for purchasing and reading Park Avenue. I hope you enjoyed it.
For alerts of more books, please sign up for my email newsletter here: http://on.fb.me/14igepE
Please contact me at ChristopherSmithBooks with any comments or suggestions.
Follow me on Twitter at @CSmithThrillers
Please join my fan page on Facebook here. I’m very active there, and I love interacting with my readers.
Look for more books in the Fifth Avenue Series, in addition to many other books, coming soon.
Books by Christopher Smith
on Kindle
The Fifth Avenue Series
Fifth Avenue (Book One in the Fifth Avenue Series)
Running of the Bulls (Book Two in the Fifth Avenue Series)
From Manhattan with Love (Novella Three in the Fifth Avenue Series)
A Rush to Violence (Book Four in the Fifth Avenue Series)
From Manhattan with Revenge (Book Five in the Fifth Avenue Series)
Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series)
The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set
From Manhattan with Love and Revenge Boxed Set
The Bullied Series
Bullied
Revenge
Witch
War
The Bullied Series Boxed Set
Stand-alone Books
You Only Die Twice
Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series) Page 42
