He was pleased by this. He released her from the embrace and asked to see it.
Leana removed the gun from her inside jacket pocket. It felt cold and heavy and threatening in her hands. She gave it to Mario. “Is it loaded?”
He checked. “It’s loaded. Where do you live?”
Leana told him. Mario leaned forward and gave the driver directions. He wanted that note. Before killing Eric Parker, he planned on nailing it to the man’s forehead.
* * *
After securing the apartment, Mario told his men to wait for them in the hall. “We won’t be long,” he said. “Make sure no one comes near here.”
He closed the door and looked across the room at Leana. She was removing the note from her bedside table. Watching her now, he felt the same deep love, the same strong physical attraction, the same sense of wanting to protect her, that he felt when they were together for those brief six months.
He thought of Lucia then and realized that whatever love he once felt for her was nothing compared to the love he felt for Leana. And how could it ever compare? With Leana, love came naturally. With Lucia, their lives had been arranged by their fathers from birth. It always was known that Antonio De Cicco’s first-born son would marry Giovanni Buscetta’s first-born daughter.
For Lucia Buscetta, the marriage was a welcome event--her attraction to Mario De Cicco was great. For Mario, the marriage was a cruelty imposed on him by his father. At the age of eighteen, he was told to marry a young woman he barely knew, let alone loved. Then, as now, there was nothing he could do about the arrangement.
At least not while his father was alive.
“Here it is,” Leana said.
“Let me see it.”
Leana waited until he finished reading it. “Well?”
“When were you sent this?”
“A little after nine-thirty this morning.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“A messenger?”
“What did he look like?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Try to remember.”
She thought back. Although only hours had passed since she’d seen the man, she was surprised at how difficult it was to conjure an image of him. “He was blond,” she said. “And he had an earring.”
“Was it the guy who chased you that day in the park?”
“No,” Leana said. “That man had dark hair. And, besides, I’d never forget what he looked like.”
“What kind of earring was this messenger wearing?”
“A small gold hoop, I think.”
“Which ear?”
“Right. No, left.” She looked at him. “Left.”
“Was he tall?”
“He actually was kind of short.”
“Did he seem nervous?”
“Not at all. He actually was impatient, as if he had a thousand other errands to run.”
“What else can you remember?”
“Nothing. It happened so quickly, I’m surprised I remember as much as I do. Why is this so important?”
“It’s important because whoever delivered this note and that gun to you might be the man who’s been hired to kill you.” He saw fear cross her face and said, “Look--why don’t you start packing? The sooner we’re out of here, the sooner you can move into your new apartment.”
He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, then on the lips. She was scared and his heart went out to her. “I promise you’ll like it. It has lots of windows and high ceilings and hardwood floors and a kitchen that’s bigger than this whole apartment.”
“What good will a big kitchen do me?” Leana said. “I can’t cook.” She thought of all the terrible pots of coffee she had made for Michael and said, “I can’t even make a pot of coffee without screwing it up.”
“So?” Mario said, smiling. “We’ll drink tea. And you don’t have to worry about dinner. I’ll cook for you--just like old times. Okay?”
Leana thought of his wife and children, thought of all the times they had been separated in the past because of them, and decided that she didn’t want it to be like old times. It was time for her to have something real. A relationship with Mario couldn’t be. Circumstances would always prevent it. She made the mistake of falling in love with a married man and foolishly thought that something good would come from it.
Her mind went to Michael. What would he think when he came here and found her gone? She had no way of getting in touch with him. Michael always called her. On her cell, it always said that his was a private number. Worse, they always met at her apartment. For the first time, she realized how absurd that was. They were together so much and yet he hadn’t given her his number or told her where he lived.
Mario placed his hand on her arm. “We should leave,” he said. “Is there anything you want to bring with you?”
Leana went to a bureau across the room.
She pulled out shirts and pants and shorts and underwear, tossing them all into the suitcase Mario held open for her. She didn't see the clothes. She didn't see what personal items she tossed into the bag. She saw only Michael and Eric, Louis, Celina and her parents, and could not believe how much her life had changed in the two short weeks since the opening of The Redman International Building.
She wondered if her life would ever be what she’d dreamt it to be and decided it would. I will make it, Leana thought. I will make it to the top. And then a thought occurred to her. If I live.
“You ready?” Mario asked.
“There’s something I want to give you,” she said, walking the few steps to her bed. Hidden beneath it was a locked metal box. Leana lifted it onto the bed and removed a key from her bedside table. She unlocked the box. Inside were pictures of her mother and her father and Celina, old letters from old friends--and the $25,000 check Philip Quimby gave her in exchange for the counterfeit jewels.
She handed the check to Mario. “Tonight, I saw a woman whose sole possessions were her three hungry children and a few torn garbage bags filled with God knows what. I might be leaving my home tonight, but I’m leaving to move into another home that will keep me warm and dry. That woman and her children should be so lucky.”
She nodded toward the check. “Would you donate that to the shelter and see to it that it’s put to good use?”
Mario looked touched. “Of course, I will.”
“I start work soon,” she said, and saw by the change in Mario’s expression that he knew nothing about this. “We haven’t discussed that yet,” she said. “I was going to tell you about it over dinner that night--but you didn’t show. Where were you, anyway?”
He was about to tell her the truth, but then decided now wasn’t the time to tell her about the threat against Lucia’s life. “I told you I was with Lucia,” he said. “It was her birthday.”
Leana shook her head in disappointment. “No, it wasn’t, Mario. Lucia’s birthday is a week after my own. I haven’t forgotten that. So, why the lie?”
He was surprised she remembered. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to, but there’s a reason for it. Something happened at home.”
“What’s happened at home?”
“I’ll tell you later. Right now, I want to know about this job.”
Leana stilled the wave of stubbornness that rose within her. He was helping her now. She decided to answer the question. “Louis Ryan asked me to manage his new hotel. I start next week.”
“Louis Ryan?” Mario said. “The developer?”
“Yes,” Leana said. “The developer.”
“But the man’s a crook,” Mario said. “Everyone knows that. And your father hates him.” His last words lingered in the air. “Which is why you took the job.”
“Maybe,” Leana said. “But the job also is a great opportunity. It was Harold who suggested it, Mario.”
“Your father’s own best friend suggested this?”
“He set up the appointment.”
Mario was incredulous. “Something isn’t right here,
Leana. You’ve got to see that.”
“Everything’s perfectly right,” she said. “Harold wouldn’t have suggested that I meet Louis if it wasn’t. Now, look. I don’t want to discuss this now. If you want to do so later, fine. What’s more important is that soon I’ll have an income of my own. I’ll finally be independent. That’s a big step for me, Mario. Don’t ruin it.”
Mario tried to accept what she’d just told him--but he couldn’t. He couldn’t believe she was going to work for Louis Ryan. Did the woman have no sense? All of Manhattan knew how Louis Ryan and George Redman felt about each other. He knew that if Leana took this job, sooner or later she would take the brunt of that hatred.
So, we’ll talk later, he thought.
When they left the apartment, they walked swiftly to Mario’s car. It was parked at the curbside, perhaps 500 feet away. In the distance, the Washington Arch glowed and the faint sounds of a reggae band carried in the breeze.
They had just reached the car when someone called out Leana’s name from across the street. Leana turned and glimpsed the person at the same moment Mario opened the car’s rear passenger door and shoved her inside.
She slid across shiny black vinyl.
Her head struck the driver’s side headrest and she was aware of a sharp pain in her left shoulder.
Mario withdrew his gun, leaned into position.
His men followed suit.
Someone on the sidewalk--a woman--screamed at the sight of the drawn guns.
Leana lifted her head and looked out the side window.
Standing frozen in the middle of Fifth Avenue, traffic curling to a stop around him, was Michael Archer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
At midnight that evening, Louis Ryan left the party on Anastassios Fondaras’ yacht, returned to his office at Manhattan Enterprises and locked in a wall safe the DVD Fondaras gave him upon leaving the ship.
He fixed himself a drink, finished it and fixed himself another.
He walked the few steps to his desk and sat. He stared at the glittering facade of the Redman International Building and sipped.
He waited.
The knock came at twelve-thirty. Ryan glanced at his watch. It was about time Spocatti showed. Louis hadn’t seen or heard from him all day.
“Come in,” he called.
The door swung open and Spocatti stepped inside. He approached Louis’ desk.
During the weeks they had come to know each other, a deep respect had grown between the two men. While Louis admired Spocatti’s mind and intellect, Spocatti felt a strong sense of camaraderie toward Louis. As far as he was concerned, anyone who could make his own son believe that a person by the name of Stephano Santiago actually existed deserved respect.
“I assume everything went well,” Louis said.
Spocatti stopped fifteen feet before reaching Louis’ desk. Instinct made him move left while he stared at the floor-to-ceiling windows behind Ryan.
“There were a few problems,” he said. “And I’ll tell you about them when you either move away from the windows, or close the drapes.”
Louis wrinkled his brow. “You think I’m at risk?’
“Anyone who has wealth and power is at risk, Louis. Especially those as hated as you. Why open yourself to a potential sniper when you can prevent it?”
“Because I happen to like the view,” Louis said, but he opened a desk drawer and flipped a switch, anyway. The curtains whispered shut. “Now that I’m safe from predators, tell me what happened.”
“Cain and his men are dead.”
Louis sat motionless. Vincent told him everything--about the chase, the cab driver, Michael’s manuscript, the fire.
“Michael had a gun?”
“Hidden beneath his bed.”
“And he shot Cain?”
“He killed Cain--at the same moment I killed the man who was blocking the doorway to his apartment. I told you we couldn’t trust Cain, Louis. I warned you not to use him. The man made his own rules, would kill for the hell of it. If I hadn’t gone on a hunch to Michael’s apartment, your son would be dead. I saved his life after Cain burned the manuscript Michael was working on. By the time I reached him, the apartment was in flames and Michael had passed out from the smoke in the room. I had to carry him out of the building.”
Things were moving too quickly. Louis only hired Cain to frighten Michael, to strengthen his belief in a man called Stephano Santiago. None of this was supposed to have happened.
“Did anyone see you carry him out of the building?”
“Lot’s of people saw me. Some wanted to help.”
“Did anyone recognize Michael?”
“I can’t be sure of that. There was too much confusion.”
“Where did you bring him?”
“To my apartment. I tried to reach you but you were out. Where were you tonight?”
“Doesn’t matter. How long did Michael stay with you?”
“Until his lungs cleared. They were filled with smoke.”
There wasn’t a trace of concern on Louis’ face. Michael was alive. That’s what mattered.
“Where is he now?”
“On a plane headed to Europe with Leana.”
“And?”
“Michael is scared. He needs the money and he’s ready to marry. Leana’s the challenge.”
“She’ll marry him,” Louis said. “She has to.”
Although Spocatti had wondered for weeks why this marriage was so important to Ryan, he decided not to ask why.
“What about Mario De Cicco?” Louis asked.
“He’s going to be a problem.”
“How much of a problem?”
Spocatti shrugged. “Depends on how much you wanted to use Eric Parker. Next time you send him roses, it might be to his grave.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that Parker went through with his threat. He had a contract put out on Leana Redman.”
“He did what?”
“Relax,” Spocatti said. “De Cicco found out about it. He’ll use his contacts to have it canceled, he’ll track down Parker and he’ll kill him himself.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Technology is a wonderful thing, Louis.”
“What else have you heard?”
“Plenty. Seems De Cicco’s concerned about you. He doesn’t like the fact that you’re going to be Leana’s new employer. He’s angry about it and told his men to get a complete rundown on you and Michael by the end of the week.”
“He doesn’t know Michael’s my son, does he?”
“Not now,” Spocatti said. “But if his men dig deep enough, he will. Right now, he’s more concerned with the reason Harold Baines sent Leana to you. He knows Harold is George Redman’s best friend. He knows something isn’t right. He’s a smart man.”
“Not as smart as me.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Don’t forget,” Louis said, “I’ve got you.”
“And he’s got the Mafia. Things are changing, Louis. Things aren’t as simple as they once were. Things are getting serious.”
“It’s nothing we can’t handle.”
“We’re talking about the Mafia, Louis.”
“And I’m talking about an extra $10 million if you stay with me. That’s over and above the money I’ve already offered you. Half will be in your Swiss account by the end of next week. You’ll get the other half when Redman is dead.”
There was a silence.
“You said you were the best, Vincent.”
“I am, Louis--but the best are never fools, not even for money.” He corrected himself. “Especially not for money.”
“I need to know if you’re still in,” Louis said.
Spocatti weighed the situation, had a few ideas and then he nodded. “I want that money in my account by tomorrow morning. Not next week.”
“Done.”
“And from now on, we do things my way.”
“I can
’t agree to that.”
“Then we compromise. It’s my ass out there. I’m not losing it for you.”
“No one’s asked you to.”
Spocatti laughed. “Right,” he said. “So, what do you want me to do next?”
Louis told him.
* * *
From the doorway of her husband’s study, Elizabeth Redman stood removing her jewelry while George, standing at the far right wall of windows, finished the last of his Scotch.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
It was a moment before he turned to her. “Not really.”
She walked over to where he was standing and put her arms around him. “You can talk to me,” she said. “You know I'm here for you.”
“I know you are.” He kissed the back of her hand. "Why else would you throw a drink in Ryan's face?"
"That was a mistake," she said. "But I have to admit it felt good."
"You're human, Elizabeth. And remember--nobody likes Ryan. He provoked us. They'll side with you."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
“Last night, in your sleep, you said Leana’s name twice. You’re worried about her, aren’t you?”
George nodded.
“Do you think it’s true what Louis said about her tonight?”
“I don’t know,” George said. “But I was planning on finding out when you came in.” He released himself from the embrace and walked to his desk. He picked up a phone and started dialing.
Elizabeth stepped to his side. “Who are you calling?”
“Who do you think?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little late to call? Helen might be in bed. You’ll disturb them.”
“I don’t care if I disturb them. If Harold’s been speaking to Louis Ryan about my daughter, I want to know about it.”
“You know you can’t believe a word Ryan says.”
“I understand that,” he said. “But I also know my daughter. And you’ve seen how Harold’s been acting lately. There’s a reason behind it and this might be it.”
“Why didn’t you just confront him about it on the ship?” she said. “We could be beyond this now.”
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