Diana sat at a window and watched him go, not looking away until he had reached the glowing terminal and slipped behind one of its lighted doors. She knew they were being watched, could sense it just as she had sensed Jack’s fear before he left. Whether they were being watched by a member of the ground crew or by someone looking down at them from Terminal Four’s great expanse of windows, she couldn’t be sure.
She turned away from the window.
The pilot had removed his carry-on bag from a small closet and was quickly changing into a pare of khaki pants, a white cotton shirt and a blue baseball cap. He didn’t look at Diana as he dressed, but instead looked past her and watched his co-pilot, the young man who was standing at the Lear’s open door, squinting in the damp breeze, motioning to a member of the ground crew.
The man bounded up the wet steps, his bright yellow slicker shining, his face flushed and wet and smiling. “What’s up, mate?” he asked, shaking the co-pilot’s hand. “Damn good to see you. How’s your wife-still cheating on you?”
The co-pilot laughed and led the man inside, moving him away from the open door and handing him the yellow legal pad. Diana watched him read. The co-pilot said, “You sorry bastard, it’s your wife who cheats. When are you going to stop lying to yourself and admit it?”
The man finished reading. The humor left his face and he looked down the aisle toward the pilot, who had closed his suitcase and was waiting at the rear of the plane, where there were no windows.
“I’ve got the happiest lass in London,” he said. “She’d never cheat on me.”
And he removed his yellow slicker.
The rain was beating against the Lear when the pilot left Diana and his crew behind. He hurried down the steps and crossed the tarmac, the baseball cap shielding his lowered face, the rain and the wind pressing hard against his bright raincoat.
He had an impulse to glance up the terminal’s glowing windows, but stilled it and instead entered the building. He darted up a flight of stairs, opened a door and turned right, cutting through the streams of people hurrying to make their connections. He checked for inconsistencies in the crowd. If he was being followed, they were doing a damn good job of concealing it.
He went to the men’s room he and Jack agreed upon.
“Hurry,” Jack said, when the man stepped inside. “I’ve got twenty minutes to get my ass on that plane. Move!”
The washroom was large and clean and empty. They entered the last two stalls and started undressing.
“Did anyone follow you?” Jack asked.
The pilot tossed his clothes over the stall partition. “No,” he said. “No one followed me.” He paused to grasp the uniform Jack slipped under the gray metal wall and said, “Before you get on that plane, you should call Redman.”
“Can’t,” Jack said. “His phone might be bugged.”
“Then call ahead to the police. You won’t be there for another seven hours. Ryan might have done something by then.”
Jack left the stall and went to the full-length mirror. The clothes were loose, but not too loose. The baseball cap concealed his sandy hair.
“Forget it,” he said. “Louis Ryan probably owns the police.”
The pilot stepped out of the stall and stood beside Jack. Their eyes met. “Besides,” Jack said, “by the time we arrive, Ryan will be at the opening of his new hotel. The event will just be getting underway. We know he’s planned something significant, but it won’t happen at that party.”
“I disagree. That’s exactly when he’d plan it.”
“I don’t think so,” Jack said. “I’ve got a hunch.”
He moved toward the door, but stopped to shoot the pilot a look. “Buy your daughter a gift. They’ll be watching.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
As soon as Elizabeth laid eyes on him, she knew that something else was wrong, knew it had to do with the envelope he just received by messenger. It was not a familiar look, that brief glimpse of horror she saw in his eyes, but she recognized it just the same.
She closed the door behind her and stood there, not far from him or his desk, watching his features slowly return to normal as he folded the letter in half and tucked it in his jacket pocket. For a moment, he was unmoving, his gaze fixed on the photo of Leana that was on his desk. Then he took a breath and looked up at his wife. The years he had never shown were suddenly there on his face.
Elizabeth took a step forward, out of the shadows and into the light. “What is it?” she asked. “Is it about Celina?”
George didn’t answer. With an effort, he rose from his seat and crossed to the bar. He chose a gold-rimmed highball glass and poured himself a glass of Scotch. He drank.
Watching George, sensing his fear almost as surely as she sensed this sudden tension, Elizabeth felt inept, unable to help him.
She stepped beside him.
George put the empty glass down onto the bar and poured himself another drink. It seemed that forever passed before he finally spoke. “No,” he said. “This isn’t about Celina.”
“Then what’s it about?”
“I can’t tell you,” he said. “At least not now. So, please don’t push me on this. I have to leave.”
Elizabeth watched him walk away from her.
Across the room, through the long stretches of darkness and silence, was the dim glass of an enormous, 18th-century beveled mirror. George hesitated before it and his back stiffened. Framed in gold and heavy with age, his pale face loomed in the night, glowing like some odd, faraway moon. He stared at himself, and there was the sense that he didn’t recognize the person staring back.
Elizabeth went to him.
She put her arms around him and held him. She was eager to know where he was going, but she trusted him enough not to ask and instead stood there, holding him, feeling his body relax slightly against hers.
“I have to go,” he said.
“I know.”
“I want you to stay here.”
“I can’t.”
He turned and kissed her on the lips. They looked at one another for a long moment and then George broke the embrace. He made and effort and smiled at her. “I might be a while,” he said. “Don’t wait up for me. Okay?”
Elizabeth suddenly felt sick. She took a step back and watched him look around his office. It was as though he was seeing it for the first time, maybe the last.
Reluctantly, she watched him move toward the twin mahogany doors and step into the hall.
She went after him.
“I’m really not that tired,” she called. “I can’t imagine falling asleep.”
The hallway was long and in shadow, so dim it seemed almost gaslit. Isadora, the family cat, left the library and now was trotting after George, her tail high and full. Above them, their shadows joined on the ceiling in a delicate sort of embrace.
“Well talk when you get back,” Elizabeth said. “All right?”
“I love you,” she said.
George lifted a hand in response. He turned the corner and was gone.
Ten minutes later, when he pushed through Redman International’s revolving glass doors, George hesitated only a moment before he walked the few steps to the black Mercedes limousine that was waiting for him at curbside.
Vincent Spocatti was leaning against the driver’s side door. “Mr. Redman,” he said, with a slight bow of his head. “Glad you could make it.”
George looked at the man, committed his face to memory, but said nothing. He stepped inside the limousine and came face to face with a woman.
She was striking. She was dressed completely in black, her long, dark hair pulled away from her face. Her mouth tightened slightly when he sat down next to her.
And there was someone else in the car. He was sitting next to the woman, his own face a frozen mask. It was Michael Archer.
The two men stared at each other. Ropes of silence spun out between them.
George was about to speak when the woman started frisking him. Her ha
nds were quick and thorough. She looked at Spocatti when he leaned inside the open door. “He’s clean.” she said.
Spocatti glanced at Michael and George. “Jesus,” he said. “Would you look at yourselves? You’d think we were going to a morgue and not a party. Lighten the hell up.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Music swelled, there was a sharp burst of applause and Leana continued moving through the crowd, smiling to people she didn’t know, nodding to those who suddenly knew her, wondering where Michael was.
She had no escort. She was surrounded by hundreds of smiling, laughing people, yet never had she felt more alone. Where was he? She specifically asked him to be here by eight, so they could join the party together at eight-thirty. Yet now it was pushing ten and he was nowhere in sight.
Neither was Louis.
Alone, she had just finished greeting, by name, the better part of eighteen hundred guests, including the French ambassador, the British ambassador, Countess Castellani and her blind husband, Count Luftwick, Lady Ionesco from Spain, and the mayor and governor of New York. Alone, she had given interviews to select members of the press-an exhausting task that hadn’t gone well. Everyone wanted to know why she took this position given the public feud that existed between her father and Louis Ryan. And everyone wanted to know if there was any information on Celina.
Leana had handled them, cleverly skirting their questions and instead concentrating on the hotel and its future. But she was tired and not having a good time. She looked around the crowded space. At least the flowers had been delivered.
She panned the room for Michael. She saw men her father had once cut deals with, powerful women Celina once charmed, couples her mother once invited to dinner. She saw old money and new money, wealthy widows and wealthier divorcees. But there was no sign of Michael. He hadn’t arrived.
There was a hand on her arm. Leana turned and saw Louis Ryan.
“Dance?” he asked.
Leana looked crossly at him. He was wearing a black silk dinner jacket and a deep red tie. “Where have you been?” she asked. “People have been asking where you are, I had to greet the guests myself and you said you’d be here hours ago. Where were you?”
Louis lifted a finger to his lips. “I know I’m late and I apologize. But I do have an excellent excuse.” He paused, then said in a quieter voice, “I’ve found the person who murdered your sister.”
Stunned, Leana could only look at him. “You’ve found him?”
“That’s right,” Louis said. “Spocatti came through. I told you he's the best.”
“Who is he? Where is he?”
“I won’t talk about it in this crowd-too many people listening.” He motioned toward the dance floor, where society was whirling. “Come,” he said. “Dance with me. I’ll whisper what I know in your ear.”
She followed him to the dance floor, hesitating only briefly when a photographer stepped in their path to take their picture. A light flashed, the photographer moved aside and as Leana walked passed him, she saw on his face the hunger and desperation her sister must have seen when she was in this very position.
Louis led her to the center of the dance floor, put his arm around her waist and they started to dance. “It’s amazing,” he said, looking around the jammed lobby. “For years these people, these members of New York society, have ignored me. Like the Baron and Baroness over there. Do you know how many times I’ve been invited to one of their famous dinner parties, Leana? Zero. Zero times. They’ve had that fucking penthouse on Fifth for twenty-five years and I’ve never stepped foot in it. But when I hire you to manage the hotel, the whole world comes running. Life’s funny that way, isn’t it?”
“Either that or you made the right decision in hiring me. Tell me what you know.”
It was as though the question went unheard.
Louis held her slightly closer and turned her so they were dancing in front of the orchestra. “I’m sorry to hear what happened to your father today,” he said. He saw the disbelief in her eyes and said, “I mean that. Believe it or not-despite my feelings for the man, I do respect him. And I do admire the balls it took for him to buy WestTex. If it had worked out for him, if Iran only waited a while longer, your father would have made history. Now, I’m afraid he’ll lose everything.”
“Louis-”
“What do you think he would have thought of this, Leana? Do you think he would have liked the hotel?”
“I really don’t care.”
“But I do.”
“Then we’ll discuss it later.”
“No,” Louis said. “Let’s discuss it now. I don’t think your father would like any of this. Years ago, when we worked together, he didn’t respect my ideas. It was George’s way or no way.” He shrugged. “But maybe I’m wrong. It’s tough to trump what I’ve just built. At the very least, if he was here, he’d be jealous and wish it was his own.”
Leana tried to step away from him, but his grip was so firm, she knew she would create a scene if she did so. She glared at him. “What’s the matter with you?” she said. “Let go of me. People are watching.”
“Then stop struggling.” He held her closer and said softly in her ear, “I thought you wanted me to tell you about the man who murdered your sister?”
His mouth was now so close to her face, she could smell the alcohol on his breath. He had been drinking. Incredulous, Leana said, “What I want is for you to stop playing games.” It came to her that they were barely moving, that people at the surrounding tables were watching them, wondering what they were talking about.
“All right,” Louis sighed. “This is what I know. It seems that your father made an enemy years ago. I don’t know the man’s name-Spocatti will tell you that later-but I do know that your father destroyed the man. First he tried through business, but then it became personal.”
People were dancing around them, smiling that faintly secretive smile so many people of wealth assumed.
“The man is out for revenge,” Louis said. “He wants Redman to see what it feels like to lose the most important things in his life-including his business, his daughter and who knows what else, maybe you and your mother.”
Louis nodded at a woman as she breezed past them and touched his arm.
“Tell me who he is.”
Louis was about to speak when a ripple of excitement went through the crowd, followed by the distinct sound of shattering glass. There was the sound of men shouting somewhere in the distance.
Louis said, “What the hell…?” But Leana was already gone, moving toward the bar that was near the east entrance.
The head of security, a former marine lieutenant, saw her and intercepted. “No need to be alarmed, Ms. Redman. Everything’s taken care of.”
Leana looked past the man and saw several members of security muscling two members of her bar staff from the lobby.
“What happened?”
The man glanced at the crowd, then took Leana gently by the arm. “Let’s talk where it’s more private.”
Leana followed him through a set of doors that led to the outer lobby, where the barmen were being handcuffed. She studied them for a moment and thought they looked vaguely familiar, as if she’d met them somewhere before.
“What have they done?” she asked.
Before the lieutenant could respond, a door swung open and Louis Ryan stepped into the room. His face was flushed. His forehead was shiny. He glanced over at the two barmen, then looked with confusion at Leana. “What’s going on?” he asked.
Leana refused to look at him. “Obviously there’s been a problem,” she said.
Louis turned to the lieutenant. “What kind of problem?”
The lieutenant nodded at the two barmen, who were now leaning against a marble wall, waiting in angry silence. “We received an anonymous call asking us to check the bar staff. I gathered a few of my men, we came upon these two, saw they were armed and brought them here. Unfortunately, they decided to put up a struggle. Otherwise, no
one in that lobby would have known that these gentlemen existed at all.”
“Who are they?” Louis asked.
The lieutenant shrugged. “We don’t know. But something tells me these boys have been through this before. We’ll find out who they are once the police bring them downtown. We’ll print them, we’ll run a check and we’ll find out who they are.”
He must have noted the guarded look on Louis’ face, because he said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Ryan. We’ll wait until after the party to contact the police. These boys aren’t in a hurry and neither am I. There’s no need to cause a commotion on a night like this.”
Louis nodded his thanks.
The lieutenant turned to Leana. “But I am going to have to insist that you forgo your speech, Ms. Redman. I know what happened to your sister. I understand her death might be connected with the bombs that exploded on top of your father’s building. If that’s the case then you are not safe and I can’t take the risk of having you at that podium tonight.”
He glanced over at the two barmen, then with disappointment at the three men watching them. “I thought security was tight tonight,” he said, more to the three men than to Louis and Leana. “We took every conceivable precaution against this very thing happening and I’m embarrassed to say that these men somehow slipped through. While I think they’re an exception, I can’t be sure there aren’t others. I need you to forget the speech and allow me to shadow you for the rest of the evening.”
Leana couldn’t conceal her disappointment. All her life she had waited for this moment and now it was being taken from her. A wave of stubbornness rose in her. “I have to give that speech,” she said. “People are expecting it.”
“I’m sorry,” the lieutenant said. “But as long as I’m in charge of security, I won’t allow it.” He studied her for a moment. “Is this speech really so important to you? Think about what you’re saying. We’ve just proved that mistakes have been made. There’s no telling who else is in that crowd.”
He was right. There was no telling what could happen if she stood at that podium. The presence of these barmen suggested there could be others.
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