The Love Killers (21 page)

The thought of seeing Rio again filled him with elation.
She
was sending for
him. He
wasn't phoning
her,
groveling for a chance to prove himself. She'd tracked
him
down and flown to Miami especially to see him.

He put his foot down a little harder on the accelerator. Mustn't keep her waiting. Rio was not a woman to keep waiting.

He turned the radio louder. The disc jockey was talking in rhyming slang, jazzing his audience up.

Angelo couldn't help laughing aloud. Usher reminded him of his first scene with Rio. He turned the radio up full volume so the sound flooded all around him in a deafening roar. Revving the engine, he shoved his foot down to the floor.

‘Rio, baby,' he shouted. ‘Here I come!' He failed to see the red light ahead. The car plunged through the junction and smashed straight into the side of a massive oil tanker.

Angelo was killed instantly, but on the car radio Usher sang on…

‘Hey.' Nick gripped her by the arms and stared intently into her green eyes.

Lara smiled. ‘You came to the airport yourself.'

‘I couldn't wait any longer. Has anyone ever told you you're the most beautiful woman in the world?'

‘I love you, Nick,' she said simply. ‘That's why I came.'

‘Hey, here's a lady who says it like it is.' He kissed her. ‘I love you, too, princess. You got any suitcases?'

She nodded. ‘One.'

He took her hand, holding it tightly as they walked through the terminal to wait for her luggage.

‘Listen to me,' he said. ‘There's so many things I want to tell you.'

‘There's plenty I
have
to tell you, too, Nick.'

‘Okay. So we have all the time in the world, don't we?'

‘We certainly do.'

He stopped walking, pressed his hands around her face, and kissed her, a long, slow kiss. ‘It's so great to see you. When we get back to the house you'll meet my family. They're not like other people's families. It's all very heavy at the moment. I'll explain later. Right now I just want you near me. Is that okay with you?'

She nodded. It was fine with her. Thank God he was all right. Soon she had to warn him about Dukey, tell him the whole story. And when he knew, what then? Would he still want her? Or would that be it?

She sighed deeply. If they were going to have a relationship, the truth had to be told.

‘There's my suitcase.' She pointed out her Vuitton bag.

Nick signaled a porter, and they set off for the car.

Mary Ann August left Enzio's room quietly. Outside his door was the suitcase she'd packed neatly with her possessions. She'd found her things where she'd left them and had encountered no problems getting past the guards. All she'd had to do was stroll through the grounds in her red bikini as if she still lived there.

She wasn't sure why she decided to shoot Enzio. It had all seemed so easy; the little gun he'd given her for her own protection was still in the jewelry case. And he was such a cold bastard. Leaving her in New York. Sending Alio along to take his turn. Shipping her off to a whorehouse in Los Angeles as if she were less than nothing. Keeping all her things.

Now that it was done she started to shake.

What if she couldn't get away?

What if someone
found
him before she could escape?

She hurried down the hallway, and to her horror, just as she was about to pass his wife's room, the door opened and the crazy woman called Rose appeared.

Rose Bassalino
never
left her room. Mary Ann had lived in the house for months, and she knew the door was
never
opened.

Rose stepped into the hallway, and they faced each other. She had wild, matted black hair, and penetrating, insane eyes.

Mary Ann shuddered as the woman smiled at her—a strange, faraway smile. And then Rose Bassalino lifted the knife she was carrying and, taking Mary Ann by surprise, plunged it into her stomach.

Mary Ann slid silently to the floor. Rose drew the long knife out of the girl's body and continued along the hallway until she reached Enzio's room.

He was asleep in bed, the covers drawn tightly around his chin.

Rose began to laugh as she plunged the knife into him.

Plunge, laugh, plunge, laugh.

It was the same knife he'd used so many years ago to murder Charles Cardwell.

A strange and wonderful justice.

It was nearly five when Leroy parked his Mercedes some distance away from the Bassalino mansion. He was beginning to feel tired; it had been a long day.

Stepping from the car, he stretched, at the same time taking stock of his surroundings. There was no one around to observe him. He'd taken care of most of the work on his last trip.

Opening the trunk of his car, he took out a small canvas carryall, opened it, and scanned the contents. Finally satisfied, he set off for the house.

* * *

‘Christ! We've been sitting here forever,' Nick complained. ‘Goddamn traffic.'

‘Calm down,' Lara said, squeezing his hand.

They were crawling along a three-laned highway, every lane slow-moving.

‘It usually takes no more than fifteen minutes to the house,' he said impatiently, lighting up a cigarette. ‘Today we'll be lucky to make it in an hour.'

He knew he should have waited for Lara at the house; it was stupid to have left. Things could be moving, information might be coming through, and he should be there.

‘It seems like there's some kind of accident up ahead,' the driver said. ‘Looks like a bad one. Once we're past it'll be clear.'

‘Take the next turnoff,' Nick instructed. ‘I know a shortcut.' He squeezed her hand back. ‘We'll be there soon, baby.'

* * *

Leroy strolled toward the gates of the Bassalino mansion, pausing several yards away.

One of the guards stepped out of the security gatehouse and watched him warily.

Very slowly Leroy reached into his blue canvas bag.

‘Yeah?' the guard started to question, his hand tightening on a pistol stuck in his belt.

In one fluid movement Leroy produced a hand grenade from his bag, deftly removed the pin, and flung it at the guardhouse, throwing himself flat on the ground. Seconds later the earth shook from the explosion.

Leroy counted to five, jumped up, grabbed his bag, and ran past the flames into the grounds of the main house. Running fast, he dodged and weaved through the trees.

He could see the mansion. The front door was open, and men were racing out with guns drawn. Lots of dumb white motherfuckers. They didn't know what hit 'em.

Under the cover of the tall trees Leroy managed to get to the back of the house. Nobody spotted him. The assholes didn't even think to let the dogs loose. Even if they had, he was prepared.

Stealthily he made his way over to a back window. It took him less than a minute to dig up wires he'd buried on his last visit. Connect them, set the timer. Preparation. That was the secret. What a fucking brilliant scheme!

Get moving, he thought to himself. Never cut it too fine.

He started to run from the house, doing a fast countdown in his head.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

Keep on running.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Zero.

POW! The first explosion, and, at intervals of five seconds, more explosions all around the house, just as he'd planned it.

Suddenly, with a leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach he realized he'd made one fatal mistake. He realized it when he saw the pack of ferocious German shepherds heading in his direction.

His blue canvas bag. He'd left it on the ground by the back window, and in it was the fresh steak he'd brought to keep the dogs happy.

‘Shit!' Leroy uttered.

It was the last word he ever spoke.

Cass Long was alone when she saw the news on television.

Her first reaction was of an almost satisfied shock, until the full horror of the event overpowered her as television cameras hovered in a helicopter above the wreck that had once been the Bassalino mansion.

The scene was one of devastation. Fires were still burning, while police and firemen swarmed all over the place. A row of blanket-covered victims was lined up beside the swimming pool.

‘It has not been established,' the newscaster said, ‘how many bodies are still to be recovered from the house. However, authorities seem certain there are more to come.' The newscaster paused as further information was relayed to him. ‘It appears that a series of bombs were placed around the house, triggered to go off at short intervals. We will have more news on that later. The owner of the Miami mansion, Enzio Bassalino, was a well-known underworld figure in Chicago in the late twenties, along with his contemporaries Al Capone and Legs Diamond. In recent years, Mr. Bassalino has lived in seclusion and retirement at his house in Miami with—'

Cass clicked the television off. For a moment she stared at a framed photograph of Margaret hanging on the wall.

It was time to take up the work again. Time to go out in the world and try to achieve some of Margaret's goals.

Cass knew exactly who she could turn to.

Lara would always remember the fear and the panic of that afternoon with Nick. They were less than minutes from the house when the explosions started.

‘What is it?' she'd asked fearfully. There was a noise like long rumbling peals of thunder.

‘Jesus Christ!' Nick yelled. ‘Move this fucking car!' he screamed at the driver.

As they drew closer they both saw smoke and flames coming from the house. ‘Stop!' Nick instructed urgently. ‘Turn the car around and take her back to the airport. Fast. Put her safely on a plane.'

Jumping from the car, he ran toward the house. It was a nightmare scene.

‘Nick!' she screamed after him. ‘Be careful. Oh, God! Be careful.'

He didn't hear her; he'd vanished into the smoke, and the driver was already turning the car around and racing off in the other direction.

‘Nick,' she cried out in vain. ‘Oh, Nick, I love you.'

The driver followed his instructions. He took her to the airport and put her on a plane to New York. She was too numb to argue.

When she arrived she went straight to Cass's apartment. Rio was already there.

‘Have you seen the news?' Cass asked.

Lara held her breath. ‘What exactly happened?' She knew it was something terrible.

‘Dukey scored,' Rio said without emotion. ‘He had someone burn the Bassalino mansion down. They're all dead. So much for our efforts.'

‘Dead?' Lara asked blankly. ‘How do you know?'

‘It's all over the television,' Cass said grimly. ‘Nobody had a chance. The house was surrounded with explosives. It was a death trap.'

Shortly after that Dukey arrived, smoking a big cigar. He smiled at everyone. ‘This is a celebration,' he said triumphantly. ‘We did it my way.'

‘Your
way,' Rio said, her voice filled with disgust. ‘You make me want to throw up.'

‘Results,' he boasted. ‘That's all that counts.'

‘You cold bastard!' Lara said, fighting back tears.

He puffed on his cigar. ‘Why don't you call me a
black
bastard—isn't that the kind of name calling people like you do?'

‘You've got no conscience.'

‘Oh, and I suppose you have? Fucking a guy is okay if it works out. But my way is shit.'

‘Your way is murder,' Rio pointed out.

‘They murdered Margaret,' he countered.

‘All those innocent people…' sighed Cass.

‘Fuck it, girl,' Dukey said. ‘Margaret was worth every one of them ten times over. An' let me tell you a little fact of life—there's nobody innocent involved with the Bassalinos.'

Cass shook her head. ‘You don't understand, do you? Margaret wouldn't have approved of any of this. All she'd have wanted was for her work to be carried on.'

‘Get real, Cass.
I
wanted revenge. And
I
got it. Every one of those Bassalino bastards dead. Every mothafuckin' one.'

‘How do you know?' Lara asked flatly.

‘Because
I
took care of it, sugar. I took care of it good.'

* * *

Lara returned to her apartment. Nick was dead and she was through crying. There were no more tears left. Why hadn't she warned him in time? It was all her fault.

She didn't know what she would do now. Everything seemed so hopeless.

When her phone rang she was tempted not to answer. It was probably Prince Alfredo, and she couldn't deal with him right now.

On the fourth ring she changed her mind. Listlessly she said, ‘Hello.'

‘Princess? Is that really you? Thank Christ you got out in time.'

Relief and joy swept over her. ‘Nick! You're safe!'

‘I can't talk. It's a mess here. I'm with the cops now. Jesus, Lara—my mother, father, my whole family…' He started to choke up.

‘Let me fly back. I want to be with you.'

‘No. I'll call you again tomorrow. Just wait for me, sweetheart. You're all I've got.'

‘Nick… There are a lot of things I have to tell you…'

‘Not now.'

‘When?'

‘Soon, baby, soon.'

* * *

She never did tell him. Somehow she couldn't summon the courage. He came to fetch her in New York, and they flew back to California together. A few days later they took off for Hawaii, where they were married in a simple private ceremony. The only person she confided in was Beth, safely back at the commune and happy to be reunited with her little girl and her boyfriend, Max.

‘I don't know how it happened, but it did,' Lara told her sister over the phone. ‘And I'm not telling the others,' she added defiantly. ‘Let them find out for themselves.'