This book is dedicated with love 22 страница

Adam shook his head. “Overruled.”

He took her arm and led her into the crowded bar. They found a table at the rear of the room.

“I’ve called you and I’ve written to you,” Adam said. “You never called me back and my letters were returned.”

He was watching her, his eyes filled with questions. “There isn’t a day that’s gone by that I haven’t thought about you. Why did you disappear?”

“It’s part of my magic act,” Jennifer said lightly.

A waiter came to take their order. Adam turned to Jennifer. “What would you like?”

“Nothing. I really have to leave, Adam.”

“You can’t go now. This is a celebration. The anniversary of the revolution.”

“Theirs or ours?”

“What’s the difference?” He turned to the waiter. “Two margaritas.”

“No. I—” All right, she thought, one drink. “Make mine a double,” Jennifer said recklessly.

The waiter nodded and left.

“I read about you all the time,” Jennifer said. “I’m very proud of you, Adam.”

“Thank you.” Adam hesitated. “I’ve been reading about you, too.”

She responded to the tone in his voice. “But you’re not proud of me.”

“You seem to have a lot of Syndicate clients.”

Jennifer found her defenses going up. “I thought your lecture was over.”

“This isn’t a lecture, Jennifer. I’m concerned about you. My committee is after Mike Moretti, and we’re going to get him.”

Jennifer looked around the bar filled with lawyers. “For God’s sake, Adam, we shouldn’t be having this discussion, especially in here.”

“Where, then?”

“Nowhere. Michael Moretti is my client. I can’t discuss him with you.”

“I want to talk to you. Where?”

She shook her head. “I told you I—”

“I have to talk about us.”

“There is no us.” Jennifer started to rise.

Adam put his hand on her arm. “Please, don’t go. I can’t let you go. Not yet.”

Reluctantly, Jennifer sat down.

Adam’s eyes were fastened on her face. “Do you ever think of me?”

Jennifer looked up at him and did not know whether to laugh or cry. Did she ever think of him! He lived in her house. She kissed him good morning every day, made his breakfast, went sailing with him, loved him. “Yes,” Jennifer said finally, “I think of you.”

“I’m glad. Are you happy?”

“Of course.” She knew she had said it too quickly. She made her voice more casual. “I have a successful practice, I’m well off financially, I travel a great deal, I see a lot of attractive men. How is your wife?”

“She’s fine.” His voice was low.

“And your daughter?”

He nodded, and there was pride in his face. “Samantha’s wonderful. She’s just growing up too fast.”

She would be Joshua’s age.

“You’ve never married?”

“No.”

There was a long moment, and then Jennifer tried to continue, but she had hesitated too long. It was too late. Adam had looked into her eyes and he had known instantly.

He clasped her hand in his. “Oh, Jennifer. Oh, my darling!”

Jennifer could feel the blood rushing to her face. She had known all along that this would be a terrible mistake.

“I have to go, Adam. I have an appointment.”

“Break it,” he urged.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” All she wanted to do was get out of there, to get her son away from there, to flee back home.

Adam was saying, “I’m supposed to fly back to Washington on an afternoon plane. I can arrange to stay over if you’ll see me tonight.”

“No. No!”

“Jennifer, I can’t let you go again. Not like this. We have to talk. Just have dinner with me.”

He was pressing her hand tighter. She looked at him and fought with all her strength and found herself weakening.

“Please, Adam,” she begged. “We shouldn’t be seen together. If you’re after Michael Moretti—”

“This has nothing to do with Moretti. A friend of mine has offered me the use of his boat. It’s called the Paloma Blanca. It’s docked at the Yacht Club. Eight o’clock.”

“I won’t be there.”

“I will. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Across the room, at the crowded bar, Nick Vito was sitting with two Mexican puttanas a friend had delivered to him. Both were pretty and coarse and underage, the way Nick Vito liked them. His friend had promised they would be special, and he had been right. They were rubbing up against him, whispering exciting promises in his ear, but Nick Vito was not listening. He was staring across the room at the booth where Jennifer Parker and Adam Warner were seated.

“Why don’t we go up to your room now, querido?” one of the girls suggested to Nick.

Nick Vito was tempted to walk over to Jennifer and the stranger she was with and say hello, but both girls had their hands between his legs and were stroking him. He was going to make one hell of a sandwich.

“Yeah, let’s go upstairs,” Nick Vito said.

The Paloma Blanca was a motor sailer and it shone proud and white and gleaming in the moonlight. Jennifer approached it slowly, looking around to make sure that no one had observed her. Adam had told her he would elude the secret service men and apparently he had succeeded. After Jennifer had seated Joshua and Mrs. Mackey at Maria Elena, she had taken a taxi and had had the driver drop her off two blocks before the pier.

Jennifer had picked up the phone half a dozen times to call Adam to say she would not meet him. She had started to write a note, then had torn it up. From the moment she had left Adam at the bar, Jennifer had been in an agony of indecision. She thought of all the reasons why she should not see Adam. Nothing good could possibly come of it, and it could lead to a tremendous amount of harm. Adam’s career could be at stake. He was riding on a crest of public popularity, an idealist in a time of cynicism, the country’s hope for the future. He was the darling of the media, but the same press that had helped to create him would be out there waiting to push him into the abyss if he betrayed their image of him.

And so Jennifer had made up her mind not to see him. She was another woman, living a different life, and she belonged to Michael now…

Adam was waiting for her at the top of the gangplank.

“I was so afraid you weren’t coming,” he said.

And she was in his arms and they were kissing.

“What about the crew, Adam?” Jennifer finally asked.

“I sent them away. Do you still remember how to sail?”

“I still remember.”

They hoisted the sail and sheeted in for a starboard tack, and ten minutes later the Paloma Blanca was heading through the harbor toward the open sea. For the first half hour they were busy navigating, but there was not a moment when they were not acutely aware of each other. The tension kept mounting, and they both knew that what was going to happen was inevitable.

When they finally cleared the harbor and were sailing into the moonlit Pacific, Adam moved to Jennifer’s side and put his arms around her.

They made love on the deck under the stars, with the soft, fragrant breeze cooling their naked bodies.

The past and the future were swept away and there was only the present holding the two of them together in its swiftly fleeting moments. For Jennifer knew that this night in Adam’s arms was not a beginning; it was an ending. There was no way to bridge the worlds that separated them. They had traveled too far from each other and there was no road back. Not now, not ever. She would always have a part of Adam in Joshua, and that would be enough for her, would have to be enough for her.

This night would have to last her the rest of her life.

They lay there together, listening to the gentle susurration of the sea against the boat.

Adam said, “Tomorrow—”

“Don’t talk,” Jennifer whispered. “Just love me, Adam.”

She covered his lips with small kisses and fluttered her fingers delicately along the strong, lean lines of his body. She moved her hands down in slow circles until she found him, and her fingers began to stroke him.

“Oh God, Jennifer,” Adam whispered, and his mouth began to move slowly down her naked body.

“The cocksucker kept givin’ me the malocchio,” little Salvator Fiore was complaining, “so I finally hadda burn ‘im.”

Nick Vito laughed, for anyone who was stupid enough to fool around with the Little Flower had to be out to lunch. Nick Vito was enjoying himself in the farmhouse kitchen with Salvatore Fiore and Joseph Colella, talking over old times, waiting for the conference in the living room to end. The midget and the giant were his best friends. They had gone through the fire together. Nick Vito looked at the two men and thought happily, They’re like my brothers.

“How’s your cousin Pete?” Nick asked the giant Colella.

“He did cancer and he’s under the hammer, but he’s gonna be okay.”

“He’s beautiful.”

“Yeah. Pete’s good people; he’s just had a little bad luck. He was back-up man on a bank job, but it wasn’t his stick, and the fuckin’ cops tagged him and put him away. He did hard time. The hacks tried to turn him around but they was spinnin’ their wheels.”

“Hell, yes. Pete’s got class.”

“Yeah. He always went for big bucks, big broads and big cars.”

From the living room there came the sound of raised, angry voices. They listened a moment.

“Sounds like Colfax has a bug up his ass.”

Thomas Colfax and Michael Moretti were alone in the room, discussing a large gambling operation that the Family was about to start in the Bahamas. Michael had put Jennifer in charge of making the business arrangements.

“You can’t do it, Mike,” Colfax protested. “I know all the boys down there. She doesn’t. You must let me handle it.” He knew he was talking too loudly, but he was unable to control himself.

“Too late,” Michael said.

“I don’t trust the girl. Neither did Tony.”

“Tony’s not with us anymore.” Michael’s voice was dangerously quiet.

Thomas Colfax knew that this was the moment to back down. “Sure, Mike. All I’m saying is that I think the girl’s a mistake. I grant you she’s smart, but I’m warning you, before she’s through she could send us all away.”

It was Thomas Colfax whom Michael was concerned about. The Warner Crime Commission investigation was in full swing. When they reached Colfax, how long would the old man stand up to them before he cracked? He knew more about the Family than Jennifer Parker could ever know. Colfax was the one who could destroy them all, and Michael did not trust him.

Thomas Colfax was saying, “Send her away for awhile. Just until this investigation cools down. She’s a woman. If they start putting pressure on her, she’ll talk.”

Michael studied him and made his decision. “All right, Tom. Maybe you’ve got a point there. Jennifer may not be dangerous, but on the other hand, if she’s not with us a hundred percent, why take unnecessary chances?”

“That’s all I’m suggesting, Mike.” Thomas Colfax rose from his chair, relieved. “You’re doing the wise thing.”

“I know.” Michael turned toward the kitchen and yelled out, “Nick!”

A moment later Nick Vito appeared.

“Drive the consigliere back to New York, will you, Nick?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Oh. On the way I want you to stop and deliver a package for me.” He turned to Thomas Colfax. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, Mike.” He was flushed with his victory.

Michael Moretti said to Nick Vito, “Come on. It’s upstairs.”

Nick followed Michael up to his bedroom. When they were inside, Michael closed the door.

“I’d like you to make a stop before you get out of New Jersey.”

“Sure, boss.”

“I want you to drop off some garbage.” Nick Vito looked puzzled. “The consigliere,” Michael explained.

“Oh. Okay. Whatever you say.”

“Take him out to the dump. There won’t be anyone around at this time of night.”

Fifteen minutes later the limousine was headed for New York. Nick Vito was at the wheel, with Thomas Colfax in the passenger seat beside him.

“I’m glad Mike decided to sideline that bitch,” Thomas Colfax said.

Nick glanced sideways at the unsuspecting lawyer seated beside him. “Uh-huh.”

Thomas Colfax looked at the gold Baume & Mercier watch on his wrist. It was three o’clock in the morning, long past his bedtime. It had been a long day and he was tired. I’m getting too old for these battles, he thought.

“How far out are we driving?”

“Not far,” Nick mumbled.

Nick Vito’s mind was in a turmoil. Killing was a part of his job and it was a part he enjoyed, because of the sense of power it gave him. Nick felt like a god when he killed; he was omnipotent. But tonight, he was bothered. He could not understand why he had been ordered to blow away Thomas Colfax. Colfax was the consigliere, the man everyone turned to when they were in trouble. Next to the Godfather, the consigliere was the most important man in the Organization. He had kept Nick out of the slammer a dozen times.

Shit! Nick thought. Colfax was right. Mike should never have let a woman come into the business. Men thought with their brains. Women thought with their pussies. Oh, how he’d love to get his hands on Jennifer Parker! He’d fuck her until she cried ‘Uncle’ and then—

“Watch it! You’re going off the road!”

“Sorry.” Nick quickly steered the car back into his lane.

The dump was a short distance ahead. Nick could feel the perspiration popping out under his arms. He glanced over again at Thomas Colfax.

Snuffing him out would be a cinch. It would be like putting a baby to sleep but, goddamn it! it was the wrong baby! Someone was giving Mike a hand job. This was a sin. It was like murdering his old man.

He wished he could have talked it over with Salvatore and Joe. They could have told him what to do.

Nick could see the dump ahead to the right of the highway. His nerves began to tighten, just as they always did before a hit. He pressed his left arm against his side and felt the reassuring bulk of the short-barreled.38 Smith & Wesson nestling there.

“I could use a good night’s sleep,” Thomas Colfax yawned.

“Yeah.” He was going to get a long, long sleep.

The car was nearing the dump now. Nick checked the rearview mirror and scanned the road ahead. There were no cars in sight.

He put his foot on the brake suddenly and said, “Goddamn it, it feels like I’m getting a flat.”

He brought the car to a stop, opened the door and stepped out onto the road. He slipped the gun out of its holster and held it at his side. Then he moved around to the passenger side of the car and said, “Could you give me a hand?”

Thomas Colfax opened the door and stepped out. “I’m not very good at—” He saw the raised gun in Nick’s hand and stopped. He tried to swallow. “W-What’s the matter, Nick?” His voice cracked. “What have I done?”

That was the question that had been burning inside Nick Vito’s mind all evening. Someone was running a game on Mike. Colfax was on their side, he was one of them. When Nick’s younger brother had gotten in trouble with the Feds, it had been Colfax who had stepped in and saved the boy. He had even gotten him a job. I owe him, goddamn it, Nick thought.

He let his gun hand drop. “Honest to God, I don’t know, Mr. Colfax. It ain’t right.”

Thomas Colfax looked at him a moment and sighed. “Do what you have to do, Nick.”

“Jesus, I can’t do this. You’re my consigliere.”

“Mike will kill you if you let me go.”

Nick knew that Colfax was telling the truth. Michael Moretti was not a man to tolerate disobedience. Nick thought of Tommy Angelo. Angelo had been the wheel man on a fur heist. Michael had ordered him to take the car they had used and have it crushed in a compactor in a New Jersey junkyard the Family owned. Tommy Angelo had been in a hurry to keep a date, so he had dumped the car on an East Side street, where investigators had found it. Angelo had disappeared the next day, and the story was that his body had been put in the trunk of an old Chevy and compacted. No one crossed Michael Moretti and lived. But there is a way, Nick thought.

“Mike don’t have to know it,” Nick said. His usually slow brain was working rapidly, with an unnatural clarity. “Look,” he said, “all you gotta do is blow the country. I’ll tell Mike I buried you under the garbage so they’ll never find you. You can hide out in South America or somewhere. You must have a little dough stashed away.”

Thomas Colfax tried to keep the sudden hope out of his voice. “I have plenty, Nick. I’ll give you whatever—”

Nick shook his head fiercely. “I ain’t doin’ this for money. I’m doin’ it because”—How could he put it into words?—“I got respect for you. The only thing is, you gotta protect me. Can you catch a mornin’ plane to South America?”

Thomas Colfax said, “No problem, Nick. Just drop me off at my house. My passport’s there.”

Two hours later, Thomas Colfax was on an Eastern Airlines jet. It was bound for Washington, D.C.

It was their last day in Acapulco, a perfect morning with warm, soft breezes playing melodies through the palm trees. The beach at La Concha was crowded with tourists greedily soaking up the sun before returning to the routine of their everyday lives.

Joshua came running up to the breakfast table wearing a bathing suit, his athletic little body fit and tan. Mrs. Mackey lumbered along behind him.

Joshua said, “I’ve had plenty of sufficient time to digest my food, Mom. Can I go water skiing now?”

“Joshua, you just finished eating.”

“I have a very high metabolism rate,” he explained earnestly. “I digest food fast.”

Jennifer laughed. “All right. Have a good time.”

“I will. Watch me, huh?”

Jennifer watched as Joshua raced along the pier to a waiting speedboat. She saw him engage the driver in earnest conversation, and then they both turned to look at Jennifer. She signaled an okay, and the driver nodded and Joshua began to put on water skis.

The motor boat roared into life and Jennifer looked up to see Joshua beginning to rise on his water skis.

Mrs. Mackey said proudly, “He’s a natural athlete, isn’t he?”

At that moment, Joshua turned to wave at Jennifer and lost his balance, falling against the pilings. Jennifer leaped to her feet and began racing toward the pier. An instant later, she saw Joshua’s head appear above the surface of the water and he looked at her, grinning.

Jennifer stood there, her heart beating fast, and watched as Joshua put the water skis back on. As the boat circled and began to move forward again, it gained enough momentum to pull Joshua to his feet. He turned once to wave at Jennifer and then was racing away on top of the waves. She stood there watching, her heart still pounding from fright. If anything happened to him…She wondered whether other mothers loved their children as much as she loved her son, but it did not seem possible. She would have died for Joshua, killed for him. I have killed for him, she thought, with the hand of Michael Moretti.

Mrs. Mackey was saying, “That could have been a nasty fall.”

“Thank God it wasn’t.”

Joshua was out on the water for an hour. When the boat pulled back into the slip, he let go of the tow rope and gracefully skied up onto the sand.

He ran over to Jennifer, filled with excitement. “You should have seen the accident, Mom. It was incredible! A big sailboat tipped over and we stopped and saved their lives.”

“That’s wonderful, son. How many lives did you save?”

“There were six of them.”

“And you pulled them out of the water?”

Joshua hesitated. “Well, we didn’t exactly pull them out of the water. They were kinda sittin’ on the side of their boat. But they probably would have starved to death if we hadn’t come along.”

Jennifer bit her lip to keep from smiling. “I see. They were very lucky you came along, weren’t they?”

“I’ll say.”

“Did you hurt yourself when you fell, darling?”

“Course not.” He felt the back of his head. “I got a little bump.”

“Let me feel it.”

“What for? You know what a bump feels like.”

Jennifer reached down and gently ran her hand along the back of Joshua’s head.

Her fingers found a large lump. “It’s as big as an egg, Joshua.”

“It’s nothing.”

Jennifer rose to her feet. “I think we’d better get started back to the hotel.”

“Can’t we stay a little while longer?”

“I’m afraid not. We have to pack. You don’t want to miss your ball game Saturday, do you?”

He sighed. “No. Old Terry Waters is just waitin’ to take my place.”

“No chance. He pitches like a girl.”

Joshua nodded smugly. “He does, doesn’t he?”

When they returned to Las Brisas, Jennifer telephoned the manager and asked him to send a doctor to the room. The doctor arrived thirty minutes later, a portly, middle-aged Mexican dressed in an old-fashioned white suit. Jennifer admitted him into the bungalow.

“How may I serve you?” Dr. Raul Mendoza asked.

“My son had a fall this morning. He has a nasty bump on his head. I want to make sure he’s all right.”

Jennifer led him into Joshua’s bedroom, where he was packing a suitcase.

“Joshua, this is Doctor Mendoza.”

Joshua looked up and asked, “Is somebody sick?”

“No. No one’s sick, my lad. I just wanted the doctor to take a look at your head.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Mom! What’s the matter with my head?”

“Nothing. I would just feel better if Doctor Mendoza checked it over. Humor me, will you?”

“Women!” Joshua said. He looked at the doctor suspiciously. “You’re not going to stick any needles in me or anything, are you?”

“No, senor, I am a very painless doctor.”

“That’s the kind I like.”

“Please sit down.”

Joshua sat on the edge of the bed and Dr. Mendoza ran his fingers over the back of Joshua’s head. Joshua winced with pain but he did not cry out. The doctor opened his medical bag and took out an ophthalmoscope. “Open your eyes wide, please.”

Joshua obeyed. Dr. Mendoza stared through the instrument.

“You see any naked dancin’ girls in there?”

“Joshua!”

“I was just askin’.”

Dr. Mendoza examined Joshua’s other eye. “You are fit as a fiddle. That is the American slang expression, no?” He rose to his feet and closed his medical bag. “I would put some ice on that,” he told Jennifer. “Tomorrow the boy will be fine.”

It was as though a heavy load had been lifted from Jennifer’s heart. “Thank you,” she said.

“I will arrange the bill with the hotel cashier, senora. Good-bye, young man.”

“Good-bye, Doctor Mendoza.”

When the doctor had gone, Joshua turned to his mother. “You sure like to throw your money away, Mom.”

“I know. I like to waste it on things like food, your health—”

“I’m the healthiest man on the whole team.”

“Stay that way.”

He grinned. “I promise.”

They boarded the six o’clock plane to New York and were back in Sands Point late that night. Joshua slept all the way home.

The room was crowded with ghosts. Adam Warner was in his study, preparing a major television campaign speech, but it was impossible to concentrate. His mind was filled with Jennifer. He had been able to think of nothing else since he had returned from Acapulco. Seeing her had only confirmed what Adam had known from the beginning. He had made the wrong choice. He should never have given up Jennifer. Being with her again was a reminder of all that he had had, and thrown away, and he could not bear the thought of it.

He was in an impossible situation. A no-win situation, Blair Roman would have called it.

There was a knock on the door and Chuck Morrison, Adam’s chief assistant, came in carrying a cassette. “Can I talk to you a minute, Adam?”

“Can it wait, Chuck? I’m in the middle of—”

“I don’t think so.” There was excitement in Chuck Morrison’s voice.

“All right. What’s so urgent?”

Chuck Morrison moved closer to the desk. “I just got a telephone call. It could be some crazy, but if it’s not, then Christmas came early this year. Listen to this.”

He placed a cassette in the machine on Adam’s desk, pressed a switch and the tape began to play.

What did you say your name was?

It doesn’t matter. I won’t talk to anyone except Senator Warner.

The Senator is busy just now. Why don’t you drop him a note and I’ll see to—

No! Listen to me. This is very important. Tell Senator Warner I can deliver Michael Moretti to him. I’m taking my life in my hands making this phone call. Just give Senator Warner the message.

All right. Where are you?

I’m at the Capitol Motel on Thirty-second Street. Room Fourteen. Tell him not to come until after dark and to make sure he’s not followed. I know you’re taping this. If you play the tape for anyone but him, I’m a dead man.

There was a click and the tape ended.

Chuck Morrison said, “What do you think?”

Adam frowned. “The town is full of cranks. On the other hand, our boy sure knows what bait to use, doesn’t he? Michael—by God—Moretti!”

At ten o’clock that night, Adam Warner, accompanied by four secret service men, cautiously knocked at the door of Room 14 of the Capitol Motel. The door was opened a crack.

The moment Adam saw the face of the man inside, he turned to the men with him and said, “Stay outside. Don’t let anyone near this place.”

The door opened wider and Adam stepped into the room.

“Good evening, Senator Warner.”

“Good evening, Mr. Colfax.”

The two men stood there appraising each other.

Thomas Colfax looked older than when Adam had last seen him, but there was another difference, almost indefinable. And then Adam realized what it was. Fear. Thomas Colfax was frightened. He had always been a self-assured, almost arrogant man, and now that self-assurance had disappeared.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04