Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series) (3 page)

“We’re clear.”

“They die last.”

“You might be missing a leg, but I’m not missing an ear.
 
I got it.”

“Your account number?”

Spocatti gave it to him.

Cullen’s fingers danced over the keys and the money was
transferred.
 
“There,” he said.
 
“Your first payment.”
 
He cocked his head to the side.
 
“I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

“Jason, the gentleman who escorted you here, is an
assassin.
 
He’s been briefed on
every person on Ryan’s list.
 
Under
Louis’ orders, he’s to join you on this mission.
 
From him, I think you’ll find answers to
all of your questions about why Louis wants to murder the people you’re
unfamiliar with.
 
He knows their
secrets.
 
He also knows where they
eat, work and sleep.
 
He’s been
covering them for months.
 
He might
prove invaluable to you, especially if you find yourself in a pinch.”

“I assume he’s gathered information on them.
 
Do you have access to that?”

“Of course.”

“You have access to it now?”

“Everything Jason knows, I know.
 
He gives me daily updates.
 
It’s all tucked away in a file.
 
He’s very good about it.
 
And I should mention that I’ll be
needing daily updates from you, as well.
 
Unfortunately, each of us knows that anything can happen to either of
you in the field.
 
If, God forbid,
something does go wrong, I’ll at least have a record of what you know and where
you left off before the unthinkable happened.
 
Then, with that information, I’ll be
able to arm the next person so they can take over from there.
 
Make sense?”

Spocatti smiled.

*
 
*
 
*

In the hallway outside Cullen’s office, Jason was waiting for
them with his hands behind his back.
 
When Cullen gave him the word, he returned Spocatti’s guns, magazine
loader and knife.
 

“Mr. Spocatti has graciously agreed to take the job.
 
He will be leading this mission.
 
You will take direction from him and, no
doubt, learn from him.
 
It’s no
secret that he’s one of the world’s best.”

Jason nodded.
 
“I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m not.”
 
In a
flash, Spocatti lifted his gun and shot the man in the forehead.
 
Blood and brain matter spattered into
the room as he fell back and slammed backward onto the floor.

“Oh, dear,” Cullen said.
 
He stooped over Jason, who was busy convulsing and bleeding out, and was
absolutely cool when he spoke.
 
“Why
would you ever do a thing like that?”

Spocatti put his knife and guns back where they
belonged.
 
“I don’t work with
amateurs.”

“What gave you the impression that he was an amateur?”

“The weight of the guns,” Spocatti said.
 
“He should have removed the clips.
 
I could have threatened you in
there.
 
He should have known that
you never, ever trust someone like me with a loaded gun.”

“I think he knows that now,” Cullen said.
 
“Or maybe not.
 
Poor Jason.
 
Look at him―no longer moving.
 
Eyes wide open.
 
He doesn’t look the same, does he?
 
Already going pale.
 
He seemed so shrewd for someone so
young.
 
He’s probably approaching
the light as I speak.
 
He’s likely
hovering above us, watching and not fully understanding.
 
A cherub hovering along the
ceiling.”
 
His eyes flicked up to
meet Spocatti’s.
 
“What will you do
now?
 
Certainly, you can’t do this
alone.”

“I don’t intend to.
 
I’ll be working with one of my own.”
 

“Who?”

“I’ll
let you know as soon as I know if they’re available.
 
Or available and willing, in this
case.
 
And I’ll need that file Jason
gathered for you.
 
The one I asked
you about earlier?
 
The one I asked
you about before I killed poor Jason?
 
I assume it’s electronic.
 
Just send it to me through an encrypted email.
 
And do it immediately, please.”
 
He stepped over the body and started
toward the elevator.
 
“Sorry for the
mess,” he said.
 
“Best to use bleach
and one of those little brushes Elizabeth Redman uses to scrub the shit off
toilets in prison.
 
That’ll do the
job.
 
Scrub, scrub, scrub.
 
I’ll be in touch.”

CHAPTER
TWO

In the limousine, Spocatti called Carmen Gragera, the
assassin with whom he worked two years ago on a Wall Street job, and again a
year ago on another job in which she sought revenge for her lover’s
murder.
 
When they finished that
job, she severed ties with him because she felt he betrayed her.
 
He hadn’t, though he could see her side
of it.
 
From her perspective, it
appeared as if he came close.

She answered on the third ring.
 
“Vincent,” she said.

“Carmen.
 
Sorry I
haven’t been in touch.
 
How are
you?”

“How I am is irrelevant.
 
It’s been a year.
 
You
haven’t been in touch because you knew better.
 
Good for you.”

There was a coldness in her voice that caught him off
guard.
 
He looked out the window as
the limousine caught a string of green lights and sailed down Fifth.
 
“Are you able to talk?”

“Able or interested?”

“I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m certainly able.
 
I’m just not sure whether I’m interested.”

“You know I meant you no harm, Carmen.
 
You know it turned out well, for you and
the girl.”

“She has a name.
 
It’s Chloe.”

“Fine.
 
Chloe.
 
It’s time we get past
this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s time for us to work together again.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m positive.”

“I’m not.
 
Look,”
she said.
 
“I’d like to get in my
run before it’s too late.
 
So, why
don’t we just cut the bullshit and get to the job?
 
What is it?”

He told her.

“And the pay?”

“Ten million.
 
Half now, half when we’re finished.”

“What’s your take?”

“Slightly more.”

“I’ll bet.
 
You’re
in New York now?”

“I am.”

“The first time we were there, it was a disaster, Vincent.”

“It doesn’t have to be this time.”

“
We blew up a city block.
”

“I hear they’re rebuilding.”

“The second time you crossed a line.”

“That’s only how it appeared.
 
You saw how it went down.
 
You killed Katzev.
 
You got your syndicate.
 
They’re in prison.”

She was silent.

“Look at it this way,” he said.
 
“Four weeks, ten million, then we’re out
and you’re back on your own doing whatever it is you do.
 
I could have called others who would
have jumped at that kind of money, but I called you first.”

“So, I should be flattered?”

He held his tongue.
 
The truth was that they worked well together.
 
The problem was that he didn’t have
anyone else to call who was as good as she was.
 
“I need to know whether you’re in.”

“I’m not the same person, Vincent.”

“Who is?”

“You need to know that.
 
You also need to know that I won’t take your shit this time.
 
We’re equals.”

“We’ve never been equals, Carmen.”

“The hell we haven’t.
 
You wouldn’t have called me otherwise.
 
If you want me, you’ll treat me like
one.
 
Take down these numbers.”
 

He reached for a pen and started writing the numbers on the
palm of his hand.

“You’ve got an hour to get that money into my account.
 
If it’s there, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“Morning,” she said.
 
“I’ll take the red eye.
 
Meet
me at La Guardia.
 
I’ll email you my
itinerary when the money’s there.
 
And Vincent?”

“What?”

“We better not be staying at some rat-infested shithole like
we did on the Wall Street job.
 
That’s not happening again.
 
I won’t wake up to some rat staring me in the face.
 
If I do, I’m out.”

“What if that rat is me?”

“Then I’ll know where to aim.”

The
line went dead.

CHAPTER
THREE

The following morning at seven, Carmen Gragera arrived at
LaGuardia airport from Los Angeles with sunglasses concealing her eyes, her
dark hair pulled away from her face and a tan most would envy.
 
She traveled lightly—just one
bag—which she pulled behind her in such a way that reflected the sort of
elegance that came from having money and the sort of sophistication that came
from frequently traveling the world.

From across the room, Spocatti watched her cut through the
crowds.
 
Although she never once
turned to look for him, he knew that behind those glasses, she was scanning the
room for him.
 
When she spotted him,
she gave him an almost imperceptible nod and kept walking until each was
outside and climbing into the back of the same cab.

“You look well,” he said.
 
“Better than you sounded.”

She took off her glasses and raised her chin while she
studied him.
 
“Give the driver the
address,” she said.
 
“I need a
shower, coffee and something to eat.”

“Long flight?”

“The address.”

Spocatti gave it to the driver, who nudged into traffic and
sped away.

“So, we’re in Tribeca now?” she said.
 
“Good.
 
That’s a step up from the slum you
tucked us in two years ago.”

“It’s also family-friendly,” Spocatti said.
 
“Given how much you love children,
you’ll like seeing lots of happy little tots there, all bouncing and laughing
not with their parents, but with their nannies.
 
Still, better than nothing, wouldn’t you
say?”

She flushed.
 
The
first time they worked together, he killed a child.
 
He felt it was necessary.
 
Carmen disagreed.
 
She hadn’t forgiven him for it and he
knew it.
 
He couldn’t understand
it.
 
For someone as cold-blooded as
she could be, she was unusually soft when it came to kids, so much so that she
had practically adopted a teen named Chloe, whom he helped to save last year
from the syndicate Carmen dismantled.

He put his hand on her knee.
 
“Let’s go to the apartment.
 
You can shower and eat.
 
Then we have the whole night ahead of us
to get into all sorts of trouble.”

Carmen pushed his hand away and started to talk in code while
the cab zigged though traffic.
 
“I
thought we’d relax and discuss things.”

“We’ll discuss things over lunch, then we’ll get ready for
the party.”