From Manhattan With Revenge Boxed Set

by Christopher Smith

  It was difficult to stand. The room was slick with water, which had smothered some of the smoke. People were calling for calm, but no one was listening. Jean-George Laurent had just been shot in the head. Tootie Staunton-Miller was still lying on top of him, her face squarely lodged into the hollow core of his meat face. Addison Miller was trying to lift her up. His face was grief-stricken, slick with water and shining because of it. There was a killer among them, people feared it and they wanted out.

  “This doesn’t happen to people like us!” Lorvenia Billiups screamed. “Why is this happening!”

  “It’s Leana Redman,” Frieda Zulrika Teeple said. “That bullet was meant for her. She’s always been trouble. She’s the one they’re after, just like last time. Keep away from her!”

  “Somebody help me,” Count Luftwick hollered. “I can’t see. You fucking people know I’m blind. Where’s my wife? Where’s the countess? Why isn’t she helping me? She wants me to die, I know it!”

  As ropes of insanity spun out to form nooses in the room, Alex inched closer to his mark, who now was washed clean thanks to the sprinklers. Her hair was falling down her back in thick wet curls. The man she was with earlier was assisting the others in putting all of his muscle behind the door, trying to force it open. Security was making an effort to gain some semblance of control, but they might as well have been talking into a vacuum.

  Alex looked at Leana and reached for his gun. If he held it low and concealed it against his side, no one would know it was he who shot her. There was too much confusion. He looked behind him to see his way out. With all the scrambling, it would be difficult to get to Carmen and the corridor, but not impossible.

  Leana Redman was thirty feet away from him. He removed his gun, held it low and was about to shoot when the room was plunged into darkness.

  Alex whirled around and waited for the generators to kick in. They didn’t, at least not immediately. Instead, the security lights flickered and dimmed as if a child was playing with a switch.

  Above the crowd, far to Alex’s right, a gunshot rang into the room, causing shrieks of fear as people either fell to the floor or tried to find a way out. It was Carmen. He knew it was her. She was calling to him. She was asking him to come with her.

  His hand was in the same position it had been when he had the gun poised at Leana. Had she moved? He wasn’t sure, but he nevertheless fired four quick shots in similar directions. He heard the buckling of knees, the falling back of those who were either injured or dead, and hoped that one of them was her.

  He turned around and took flight in the dark, shoving people out of his way as he neared the corridor and shouted out Carmen’s name.

  Another gunshot cracked, this time not far in front of him. He ran to it while people openly started to weep at the sound of it. Everything appeared to be happening in slow motion.

  The lights started to flicker and for an instant, he saw her face. It was the most welcomed sight he’d ever seen. He did love her. She was pointing above the crowd toward the corridor, where people were moving more freely now. They could escape through the side exit, which would lead to the front of the building, but the moment he reached Carmen, she stopped him.

  “The Grille Room,” she said. “We take those stairs and exit on the side of the building. Not the front. The side. Hurry!”

  He grabbed her wrist and steamrolled forward with her. Together, they trampled people in an effort to get to the stairs, down over them to the foyer below and then to the exit.

  Other people were rushing alongside them. Outside, the night was alive with the sound of sirens.

  Carmen and Alex joined the flood of those leaving this hell they created and as they did, the lights behind them spit at their backs, almost as if they were aware of their escape and cursing the injustice of it.

  EPILOGUE

  ONE MONTH LATER

  In the month following the incident at The Four Seasons, Leana Redman remained in her Park Avenue penthouse, unwilling to leave until they caught the people responsible for killing Jean-George Laurent and for potentially trying to kill her.

  People called, including her mother and half-brother, Michael, but in spite of the news coverage that had blanketed the city for so long as investigators tried to learn who the murderer was, there was not one call from her father.

  She tried to tell herself that she wasn’t surprised or disappointed, but she was just lying to herself. Her mother told her that he’d never change, which was the truth. He was expecting her to call him, but she wouldn’t. More than ever, she was beginning to care less and less about him. She knew it was unhealthy for her to spend much more time wondering why he was the way he was. He didn’t care for her. As difficult as it was, she needed to accept that.

  One morning after many late-night discussions with Mario, much of which involved the security he wanted to have in place for her when she did emerge, she decided she couldn’t stay like this forever. At the very least, she owed it to Harold to pick herself up and move forward with her dreams. Not following them was exactly what he didn’t want. He had entrusted her with his money for a specific reason and that reason wasn’t just to succeed, but to take on her father and succeed.

  For herself and for Harold, she needed to see it through.

  On some level, the better part of her life always had been at risk, whether because of the drugs she nearly overdosed on in her youth or because she was saddled with her father’s enemies now as an adult. She needed to pick herself up, go to the hotel and get back to work. Three weeks ago they started to refurbish it. She needed to be there and be part of it. She needed to oversee the work that was being done and offer her input. This was her baby and she had to attend to it.

  And so she did.

  After a shower and changing into a pair of jeans and a sweater, she went downstairs into the kitchen, where Mario was preparing himself breakfast. It was cool outside and he had a fire going in the sitting room just off the kitchen. He looked over at her when she came in.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  She put her arms around him and kissed him. “Making anything good?”

  “The kitchen might need to be gutted, but the stove works. Here. I made you an omelet.” He slid it onto a white plate as she sat at the granite bar and smiled at him.

  “You made that omelet for yourself.”

  “So what? I’ll make another. Juice?”

  She nodded.

  “Coffee?”

  “If I can have the entire pot.”

  “You can have whatever you want. What’s on your agenda today?”

  She leaned back as he poured her coffee into her favorite mug and felt a groundswell of relief and gratitude when she said, “Something different.”

  He put the omelet in front of her. He was playing it cool and she loved him for it. “What’s that?”

  She picked up her fork and dug in. “I think I need to get out,” she said. “One more day here and I’ll likely have mold on me.” She pointed down at her omelet. “This, by the way, is delicious.”

  “It’s the cheese.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s fantastic.”

  He cracked two eggs and started beating them in a bowl. “So, what’ll you do? I’m doing my soup kitchen runs today. Want to join me? I could use a hand unloading the food.”

  Ever since she’d known him, the one thing he’d never given up was helping those less fortunate than himself. He’d taught her plenty about that. There wasn’t a soup kitchen in New York that hadn’t benefitted because of his efforts. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to work,” she said.

  He sprinkled cheese into the bowl with some peppers and onions and she could sense that he was suppressing a smile. “Work, huh? You ready for that?”

  “I’m ready,” she said. “In fact, I think I’m beyond ready. I’ve been pretty self-indulgent lately. It’s time for that to end.”

  Just hearing the words spoken aloud thrilled her as much as it unnerved
her. She was no fool. She knew what she was facing. She knew the expectations and the burden that would come her way when the press found out she was back on site and working to turn her hotel into something unforgettable. She also knew the comparisons that would be made between her and her father, and her and Celina. Was this Redman as talented as that Redman? Did Leana have what her sister had? What her father had?

  She didn’t know. But in spite of all the pitfalls and all the things that could go wrong over the next year, there was one thing she couldn’t deny, and that was the rush of excitement and adrenalin that shot through her senses now and made her feel as alive as the first time she met and fell in love with Mario.

  She could do this.

  She could feel Harold in her heart, Mario at her back and even Celina, on some ethereal level, cheering her on.

  It was time for her to make a name for herself--and not just by writing a check.

  * * *

  Save for the black bikini bottom she wore, Carmen Gragera walked naked onto the dock of her round Bora Bora hut, which stretched deep into the Pacific ocean, and looked down at the impossibly clear blue water before she dove into it. Below her, she could see a wave of fish scatter in her wake and it occurred to her again that if this wasn’t paradise, she’d never see it in her lifetime.

  She heard another splash come behind her and popped to the surface just as Alex did. They smiled at each other, circled each other and eventually swam toward one another. After spending four weeks with him here, if this wasn’t love she was feeling, she wasn’t sure what it was.

  “What are we having for dinner?” he asked.

  “Whatever you poke with your spear.”

  “So, it might be you on the menu?”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  “Whatever keeps you happy.”

  “Did you get the goggles?”

  “I put them on the edge of the dock.”

  “Want to explore?”

  He swam over, snatched the goggles and tossed one of them to her. They put them on. “Think we’ll see sharks again. It’s been days.”

  “You never know.” She spit a jet of water at him. “But in case we do see them, just know I’m getting out of the water this time. You won’t trick me into hiding behind some reef like you did last time. They came too close. They freak me out.”

  “They’re just black-tipped reef sharks. They have zero interest in us. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “That would be you. In the bedroom. And believe me, it’s more than enough.”

  They dove beneath the surface, which now looked pristine to Carmen with the goggles in place. Scores of black fish she wished she knew the names of were swimming in schools along with brightly colored yellow fish, sea turtles, iridescent blue fish with happy yellow tails, the occasional manta ray, a few massive bat rays and, near the bottom, the choral reef that sustained so many of them. She looked up and on the other side of the hut, and saw a gathering of other fish lingering along the bottom of her speed boat.

  She fanned out her arms, lifted herself to the surface to take a breath and then dove down again. Apparently, their presence was now known, because within seconds, each was surrounded by dozens of curious yellow- and black-striped fish, which were their favorites because they were gentle, beautiful, curious and fearless.

  Carmen looked across at Alex, who was floating among them, turning in circles while they followed his rhythms. She was about to do the same when what looked like a harpoon shot into the water and came within inches of cutting through him.

  He was so distracted by the fish while he flipped over and over that he didn’t see or hear it. And so she quickly kicked over to him just as another harpoon sliced through the water.

  This time he saw and heard it; it carved between them and speared one of the turtles. Blood entered the water, which would call other beasts neither wanted to deal with.

  Already she was running out of air and was certain he was as well. She pointed beneath the hut, they dove down as far as they could, but in the whirl of bubbles they left in their wake, the gig was up. Dozens of harpoons started to pierce the water. One cut clean through her hair, severing a lock of it. Alex came beside her, put his arm around her and together, they kicked furiously until they were in the large pocket of air beneath the hut.

  “They’ve found us,” he said.

  “How? Nobody know I live here.”

  “Somebody knows.”

  “That impossible.”

  “Obviously not.” He looked up. “Grab onto one of those beams and pull yourself up. They’re shooting harpoons. One of them could get lodged into our legs.”

  They each scrambled up.

  “I’ve heard no boat,” Carmen said. “You know that’s the only way to get out here. Otherwise, we’re isolated.”

  “They could be scuba diving.”

  She shook her head. “The harpoons came from above. They drove down into the water, not horizontally. They must be shooting at us from the shoreline. We need to get to the other side of the hut and into my boat.” She reached down and dipped her head into the water. “You’ve got your sharks,” she said. “The turtle brought them out. Right below us, they’re tearing it apart.”

  Another harpoon was released and this time it was clear that it was shot from the shore. But instead of going into the water, the harpoon went straight through the house, smashing glass and sailing through open windows before it splashed into the water on the other side of it.

  “They’ve seen my boat,” she said. “That harpoon went through the hut. How are we going to get out of here?”

  “We shield ourselves with the boat. We take it off its moorings and paddle out as far as we can until we can get inside it and get the hell out of here.”

  “You’re telling me that we get in the water with those sharks? I need you to slip your goggles down and have a look into the water. Then tell me what we do.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then he lowered the goggles and dipped his head into the water. When he emerged, his mouth was set. “There must be a hundred of them down there.”

  “I’m assuming the turtle’s gone.”

  “The blood isn’t.”

  “Actually, that could work in our favor. If they see blood rise to the surface, they might think one of us was hit. Maybe dead.”

  Another harpoon shot through the hut, shattering more glass.

  “We’ve got to get to the boat,” he said. “It’s our only chance.”

  “They’ll run out of harpoons,” she said. “We could wait them out until nightfall.”

  “Carmen, it’s morning. They’ll find a way to get out here. We don’t know if they have guns or rifles. They came here to kill us, not frighten us. We can’t stay here.”

  “I can’t believe they’re doing this,” she said. “We warned them that if they came near us, we’d treat them exactly as we treated Laurent.”

  “What if it’s someone else? Someone you’ve crossed in the past?”

  “It could be. I don’t know. None of this makes sense. You know how careful I am. I don’t understand how anyone knows I have a place here.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” he said. “We get to the boat, you slip on the other side of it, I remove it from its moorings and then, once I’m with you, we paddle it out as far as we can. Then, when their harpoons can’t touch us, we get inside, crank the engine and gun it out of here.”

  She knew they had no choice. “What’s the shark situation?”

  He lowered his head into the water and came up quickly, spitting out a mouthful of water. “It’s worse. Now we’ve got hammerheads.”

  “I’m going to be sick.”

  “Let’s move. Get on the other side of the boat.”

  Above them, a harpoon sounded its warning by sinking into the deck.

  Carmen lowered herself into the water and looked down at the sharks below her. She knew exactly where the boat was and swam to the other side of it while never tak
ing her eyes off the roaming, darting swarm.

  So far, the sharks didn’t seem to be interested in them. But how long would that last? They were hungry. It was obvious. The blood in the water would only call for more. Worse for her and Alex is something she hadn’t told him. She started her period this morning, which is why she wasn’t fully naked. She’d taken precautions, such as wearing a black bikini bottom and wearing a tampon, but even a trace of blood in this environment would only create more interest in them.

  She watched him swim over to the moorings. There were two of them. He’d need to lift his hands above the dock and untie each. Because they were shielded by the hut, no one on the shoreline would be able to see him. And they didn’t. Soon, the boat was free and he dove under it to be next to her.

  “Now, we paddle,” he said.

  “How far?”

  “Maybe a quarter of a mile.”

  “Pushing this boat? With those sharks? Deeper water is out there. Bigger fish. It’s dangerous. We don’t know what we’ll find.”

  “It won’t take as long as you think. We paddle and paddle hard, but with our feet beneath the surface. Never break the surface. Are we clear on that? If they hear us, they’ll shoot at us.”

  “Eventually, they’ll see the boat, Alex.”

  “That’s right, but at a distance they might not be able to reach us. That’s a chance we’re going to have to take. Come on,” he said. “Paddle.”

  “I need to tell you something,” she said. “My period started this morning.” She saw the concerned look on his face and didn’t wait for him to speak. “I’m wearing a tampon, but it won’t be enough. The sharks will still smell the blood.”

  “Then we hurry. Keep your head lowered. If a shark comes near you, bash it on top of its head with your fist. If the situation becomes too dangerous, we hope for the best, get into the boat and speed away.”