Fifth Ave 01 - Fifth Avenue (44 page)

“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.
 

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.