Rage of Angels (30 page)

Adam sat down to a tumultuous burst of applause that became
a standing ovation. Jennifer found herself on her feet applauding with the others, but her thoughts were on Adam’s last words. It was as though he had been speaking directly to her. Jennifer turned and headed toward the exit, pushing her way through the crowd.

As Jennifer approached the door she was hailed by a Mexican lawyer with whom she had worked a year earlier.

He kissed her hand gallantly and said, “What an honor to have you in our country again, Jennifer. I insist you have dinner with me this evening.”

Jennifer and Joshua had planned to go to The Maria Elena that night to watch the native dancers. “I’m sorry, Luis. I have an engagement.”

His large, liquid eyes showed his disappointment. “Tomorrow then?”

Before Jennifer could answer, an assistant district attorney from New York was at her side.

“Hello, there,” he said. “What are you doing slumming with the common folk? How about having dinner with me tonight? There’s a Mexican disco called Nepentha, where they have a glass floor lit from underneath and a mirror overhead.”

“It sounds fascinating, thanks, but I’m busy tonight.”

A few moments later Jennifer found herself surrounded by lawyers she had worked for and against all over the country. She was a celebrity and they all wanted to talk to her. It was half an hour before Jennifer could break free. She hurried toward the lobby, and as she moved to the exit, Adam was walking toward her, surrounded by the press and secret service men. Jennifer tried to retreat, but it was too late. Adam had seen her.

“Jennifer!”

For an instant she thought of pretending she had not heard him, but she could not embarrass him in front of the others. She would say hello quickly and be on her way.

She watched as Adam moved toward her, saying to the press, “I have no more statements to make now, ladies and gentlemen.”

A moment later Adam was touching her hand, looking into her eyes, and it was as though they had never been apart. They stood there in the lobby, surrounded by people, and yet they might have been completely alone. Jennifer had no idea how long they stood there looking at each other.

Finally, Adam said, “I—I think we’d better have a drink.”

“It would be wiser if we didn’t.” She had to get out of this place.

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.