Sins of the Flesh (4 page)

Daniel started to sweat when he caught sight of the Fire Island ferry and heard the blast of its warning horn. It was about ready to leave the slip. He pressed his foot on the gas and roared into the parking area. Without bothering to lock the car, he sprinted toward the ferry, briefcase in hand, his trousers sticking to his legs, his collar and tie askew. He made it on board without a second to spare, then checked his watch as he tried to pull himself together. By the time he got back to Washington he'd look like something the cat dragged in.

An hour later Daniel boarded the train that would take him to Union Station in downtown Washington just blocks away from his office on K Street. Now his rushing was over, and he had a four-and-a-half-hour ride ahead with nothing to do but think. He deliberately ignored the pressing legal work packed neatly away in his bulging briefcase. The two corporate mergers he had been working on could wait. If the corporation heads themselves were to issue him an ultimatum to get to work, he'd hand over the briefcase and thank them for their consideration. But that wouldn't happen, of course, because they'd waited patiently until his calendar was free. Apparently he was in demand.

Daniel settled back in the scratchy seat and closed his eyes, but his questioning thoughts still tripped over one another in his head. God, what if Rocky couldn't help? What if he couldn't get to France? Mickey was depending on him, counting on him to come through for her. And the faceless Philippe, he was waiting, too. A white knight, a savior…What if…what if…Think positive, Daniel, he told himself. If anyone can get you to Europe, it's Rocky and Jerry.

He took a moment to savor his long-standing friendship with two of the finest men he'd ever met. Of course, their friendship was nothing like the one he had with Reuben, but it was damn close. Eventually his thoughts drifted and he slept, an uneasy, restless sleep, but one that would allow for a clear head on his arrival.

Some instinct, or maybe it was the shuffle of the passengers gathering their belongings together, woke him as the train slowed and pulled into Union Station. With only his briefcase to worry about, he elbowed his way off the train and headed for the row of phone booths on the concourse. With dismay he stared at the line of weary travelers waiting to use the phones, and then he ran, tie flapping and coattails
swoosh
ing, leaving behind him the stale, urine-smelling air.

Swinging through the revolving door of the office building he owned, Daniel raced up to the fourth floor, for once preferring not to wait for the elevator. Breathing heavily, he opened the plate-glass door with his firm's name emblazoned in gold lettering and dashed to his mahogany-paneled office, calling over his shoulder to his wide-eyed secretary, “Get Rocky on the phone and bring me an ice-cold soda.”

His chair, a deep burgundy Morris and a gift from Jerry Vanderbilt, welcomed him with a resounding, comforting
swoosh,
like a well-worn slipper. He drained the Coca-Cola when it was brought to him and set the green bottle to dancing on his desk. Then he bellowed to Irene, his secretary, to bring him two more from the small compact kitchen. He was working on the second bottle when Irene buzzed him. “Mr. Rockefeller is on the line, Mr. Bishop.”

Daniel gagged on a mouthful of soda, the fizz bubbling in his nose. He cleared his throat before reaching for the phone. “Daniel here, Rocky.”

The voice on the other end was low and filled with subdued excitement. “We did it! Don't ask any questions, but if you can be at Dulles Airport at five-thirty, we have a Red Cross plane that will take you in. Actually, it's one of Jerry's planes, his grandfather's. Vintage, to say the least, but in tiptop shape. It will set down at Heathrow in London, and the Red Cross insignia will see you through. My daddy called F.D.R. and got clearance.”

Daniel had put all his faith in his friends, and they had come through again. He couldn't speak.

“Say something, you son of a bitch!” Rocky urged with a hearty laugh. “A small show of excitement will do.”

“I…I honestly didn't think you'd be able to…” Daniel sat up and tried to pull his thoughts together. “Listen, Rocky, I have to talk to you. Where the hell are you?”

“You called me and you don't know where I am?…Some lawyer you are. I'm at Dulles. Your secretary called my office, and they told her where to reach me. Jerry's here now seeing to the outfitting of the plane. You know, goodies and that sort of thing. Oh, and don't worry about clothes, we've got that covered, too.”

Rocky paused to temper his natural exuberance with the gravity generally reserved for his courtroom monologues. “We want to help, Daniel, and if you need us to go with you—and Jerry is hoping you do, you should see him scrambling around this plane—we can say good-bye to jurisprudence at the drop of a hat. Whatever you need, you know it's yours.”

Daniel's eyes misted. “There are a couple of things I've got to handle first. I shouldn't be too long. We'll talk when I get there, okay?”

“You bet.” The exuberance was back. Daniel smiled and shook his head. Rocky and Jerry were doing for him what he was trying to do for Mickey. Friends…that said it all. Somehow he'd find a way to thank these two men, but for now he'd have to push ahead.

 

Richard Rockefeller, Rocky to his intimate friends, was a tall, imposing man with crisp golden-brown hair that curled about his ears and forehead. Shrewd gray-green eyes gazed benevolently from beneath thick, fringed lashes that women would have killed for. A chiseled jaw, complete with cleft, and strong, even white teeth completed the saintly look Rocky strived for. He had worked on “the look” for years to get it just right. But Daniel knew Rocky's boyish, innocent look was a facade. His friend was the toughest, meanest, nastiest courtroom lawyer on the East Coast, and proud of the fact that he'd never lost a case. Oh, he'd settled out of court at the eleventh hour, but he'd never let any arbitration be construed as an admission of guilt on the part of his client. Daniel knew that if he was ever in legal trouble, Rocky would be the man he'd turn to.

As he hurried across the busy airfield, Daniel tried to hide his smile when he caught his first glimpse of Rocky. His friend was standing just outside the plane's open hatch dressed in what he called clam diggers and deck shoes, absorbed in arguing about something to one of the crew. When Rocky turned to him and Daniel saw the noticeable hole gaping near the armpit of his friend's stretched-out T-shirt, he lost the battle. Grinning openly, he climbed the steps to join Rocky and slapped him on the back as they shook hands.

“Where's Jerry?” Daniel yelled over the noise of the hubbub surrounding the plane.

Rocky cocked a thumb over his shoulder toward the inside of the waiting plane. “Believe it or not, he's outfitting a bed for you back there—complete with satin quilt,” he joked. “It's a long flight.” Daniel couldn't help thinking Rocky was the one who really wanted to get on that plane with him.

“Come on, I have a bottle of the best waiting for us inside,” Rocky said with a wink, “and I think we're all in need of a stiff drink.”

Daniel held back. “Rock, I don't know how I can…”

The two friends looked into each other's eyes as the wind began to whip across the tarmac. “What?” said Rocky, grinning. “Thank me? Forget it. If it wasn't for you, I'd never have gotten through law school, and I don't mean just your tutoring. You're a damn good friend, Daniel, and I hope you consider me one. Hey, Jerry,” he bellowed, sauntering off, “Crusader Bishop is here.”

Daniel followed him into the cool, damp belly of the plane, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dimness. When they found Jerry, the men shook hands all around again, vigorously thumping one another on the back the way they'd done in college. With smirks and self-conscious grins, the three of them hunkered down together, hands jammed into their pockets. The display of emotion and friendship was over, now it was time for business.

Jerry was the shortest of the three, but what he lacked in height he made up in pure, hard muscle. He had bright, inquisitive eyes and curly red hair that stood out like a fire bush around his ears. Daniel always thought he looked like a precocious squirrel. But he was a good buddy, the kind of guy you wanted on your side no matter what. Well, they were on his side now and hadn't asked why.

“Okay, fella, let's hear it,” Rocky said, uncorking a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He offered it to Jerry, who took a swig and then passed it on to Daniel. Daniel took a good pull, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and passed it on to Rocky.

Thirty minutes later two pairs of eyes stared back at Daniel in wonder. “This has the makings of an Academy Award film,” Jerry said quietly, trying to wring one last drop from the now-empty bottle. “Daniel, this could be…hell, it's…” Jerry turned to Rocky. “I think we should go along, Rock. This turkey could get caught by the Germans and he'd try and talk his way out of it.” He sounded worried, which surprised Daniel. When he replied, Rocky sounded just as worried.

“So you're intending to pull off something much bigger than a reconnaissance tour to size up the situation,” Rocky said flatly. He took in and let out a great breath before continuing. “You could get stuck there, Daniel. Just because we get you in doesn't mean you're going to get out.”

Daniel placed a hand on each of his friends' shoulders. “I know. And that's why you two are staying here. If there's one thing you two are good at, it's covering your asses. Now I need you to cover mine. I'm simply out of town on business, emergency business. Check with my secretary, she'll be expecting you. Return whatever calls look like trouble. Especially from Reuben. I wouldn't put it past him to fly East if he gets an urge to. I think I rattled him last night. He'll be able to get through on the phone to the island now, and Rajean will have him call the office. Reuben has this…this sixth sense when it comes to me, and he'll act on it. He's not to know, and neither is my secretary.”

“Daniel, what if something goes wrong?” asked Rocky. “What if you do get stuck; what do you want us to do?”

“Whatever you have to. The Red Cross will be our go-between, right, Jerry?”

“That's the ticket,” Jerry said, patting the curving wall of the Red Cross transport plane.

The men talked then of details, coming up with solutions to potential problems. When they had finished their conversation, Daniel spoke. “Then I guess I'm in the hands of the angels, as the saying goes. You know, you guys are the greatest—Jesus, there's a war going on; France is full of Germans; my world is upside down, and you…I didn't know where to turn…and I know this is probably the craziest thing I've ever done, but I have to do it. You have to understand, I am what I am because of Mickey and Reuben. I can't turn my back; I just can't. If you hadn't come through, I'd probably…”

“Be swimming your way over,” Rocky said, finishing Daniel's sentence. “We thought of that,” he continued cheerfully. “Look, Daniel, we understand, and both of us feel you're doing the right thing. We're worried, and that's natural and normal. We're here for you for whatever that means, and don't give another thought to things here. We'll handle that.”

When the last round of backslapping and handshakes was over, the three men walked to the plane's open door.

“Anytime you're ready, this bird is cleared for take-off. Top priority and all that shit.” Jerry grinned. “Here,” he said, holding out a small velvet sack.

“What's this?” Daniel asked, feeling the weight of the bag in his hands.

“It's a bag full of goddamned diamonds. In case you have to pay for…you know…anything…” Jerry said, and cleared his throat.

Daniel's eyebrows shot up. “I hope these aren't the family jewels,” he said lightly. His throat was so constricted, he thought he would cry.

Rocky was next, dangling a money belt in front of him stuffed full of French francs. “You never know,” he said, shrugging. “I had my father tap a line of credit for you at the Paris bank. I don't know if it will do you any good, but it's there. The franc is…by the time you need it, it might be worthless. All of this is just a precaution, Daniel.”

There was nothing for Daniel to say, and he didn't try. Jerry's and Rocky's eyes were as misty as his own as the three men stood and walked to the yawning opening of the transport. “I guess I'll be seeing you…whenever,” Daniel said, his voice faltering.

“You better have some good French wine with you when you get back,” Rocky called as he and Jerry climbed down the stairs.

“I'll take a real French maid, one with…” Jerry put his hands in front of his chest and drew them out as far as they would go, his eyes twinkling.

“You wouldn't know what the hell to do with her, who are you kidding?” Daniel shouted back. He could hear both men whooping as the plane's engines began to sputter. With a last wave Daniel turned to settle himself safely for the long journey.

Jerry and Rocky watched as the huge big-bellied plane taxied down the runway. As the wind swirled about them, they stood and waited until the plane was a speck in the now-clearing sky. “If he's who he is because of this Mickey and Reuben, then we're who we are because of him. Do you agree, Jerry?”

“All the way.”

They walked back to Rocky's waiting car in silence, both of them fighting the urge to cross their fingers and pray.

“Do you think it'll be okay?” Jerry asked. “I don't know if I could do what he's about to do. That loyalty, where the fuck does he get it? We have it all, Rock—the money, the power, the mainline families…You know what he comes from….”

“Daniel's special. And we're doing what we have to do just the way Daniel is. He rubbed off on us, and I'm glad. Look, there's nothing else we can do for now. Should we camp out at his office, or what?”