Fifth Ave 02.5 - From Manhattan With Love (4 page)

“Now we go after Jean-Georges.
 
We take him out, which will send a message to the rest of the group.
 
If anyone is their unofficial leader, it’s him.
 
If we manage to kill him, we tell them why we did it.
 
We know they want us dead.
 
We tell them to stand down or they’ll be joining Jean-Georges in hell.”

“Which is exactly where he’ll end up.”

“The man’s a monster,” she said.
 
“I’ve declined four jobs from him because he wanted me to cross a line.
 
I’m no angel, but I don’t kill children.
 
Ever.
 
There were times he wanted me to knock off some business associate’s kid, but I refused.
 
What’s worse is how he wanted me to kill them.
 
It was sick.
 
The man’s a pervert.
 
I have zero problem seeing him dead.”

“You know the moment his associates hear about this, they’ll hire someone else to kill us.”

“Not if we blackmail them.
 
That’s what they’re afraid of.
 
That’s why we’re in this situation now.
 
They’re worried that we know too much.
 
They think we’ll bilk them for money or send what we know to the press.
 
The problem is time.
 
We need to kill Jean-Georges tonight.
 
There’s no time to wait.
 
If we wait for the ‘right’ moment, we’ll be dead.
 
So we act now.
 
We send a photo of his dead body to the group and warn them that if they come after us, we send everything we know about them to the press and to the police.”

“Then we leave.”

“That’s right.
 
Just before boarding our flight, we send the picture and the threat from the airport.
 
I have a place in Bora Bora that nobody knows about.
 
We go there and lie low.”

“For how long?”

“Until we have to leave for any outstanding commitments.”

“My next one is in five weeks.”

“Mine is in seven.”

“So, we’ll have five weeks together.”

“Think you can handle it?”

“That’s not the question.”

“What is?”

CHAPTER SIX

“You need to call Jean-Georges,” she said.
 
“Tell him that you’ve emailed the photo and that you were shot.
 
You’ve got tracking on your phone.
 
Use the GPS to find out where he is.
 
Make it quick.
 
Tell him you’re bleeding and can’t talk.”

He plucked the phone from his inside blazer pocket and Carmen saw the butt of his gun.
 
She figured it was there.
 
To make sure she remained quiet, he held up his hand while he dialed.
 

Jean-Georges, whose full name was Jean-Georges Laurent, was part of a powerful business syndicate that had corporations and enemies all over the world.
 
They were in bed with governments and with corporate leaders.
 
For years, it had been Alex and Carmen who took care of the enemies, but that obviously no longer was the case.

The man answered on the third ring.
 
Alex said what she told him to say while the GPS got a hook on his location.
 
“Did you hear me?” Alex said.
 
“She shot me.
 
I’m in no shape to fly.
 
I’ll catch the flight tomorrow or the next day.
 
Now, I need to get to a pharmacy and find something to remove the bullet and stop the bleeding.
 
I’ll be looking for the money in my account tomorrow morning.
 
I’ll talk to you later.”
 

He turned off the phone and looked at Carmen.
 
“He’s out,” he said.
 
“There was an orchestra.
 
It sounded like a crowd.
 
People talking over each other.
 
Light laughter.”

“Let me see your GPS.”

Alex pointed to the blinking dot.
 
“He’s at 99 East 52nd Street.”

“Do a search for it.”

He pressed a button.
 
“Four Seasons.”

“If there’s an orchestra, it’s a private event.”
 
She looked at her watch.
 
“It’s still early.
 
Depending on the event, he could be there for another few hours.
 
I have a contact who can get us in, assuming she’s not there herself.”

“Who’s that?”

“Mamie van Marais.”

“Didn’t you take out her husband?”

“Two years ago.
 
Now Mamie wipes her ass with his money.
 
She owes me and she knows it.
 
If anyone can get us inside, she can.”

She pulled out her own phone, found van Marais’ number and dialed it.
 
When the line was answered, Carmen said, “I need to speak to Ms. van Marais.”

“Who shall I say is calling?”

“Tell her it’s Carmen.”

Carmen waited less than a minute before Mamie van Marais picked up the phone.
 
“I asked you never to call me here.”

“You would’t have a ‘here’ if it wasn’t for me, Mamie.
 
This is important.
 
I’m calling in a favor.”

“Carmen, I don’t know how I possibly could do you a favor.
 
We both know how resourceful you are.”

“And you’re one of my resources.
 
Tonight, something is happening at the Four Seasons.
 
I need to get inside.”

“I know what’s happening.
 
That horrible Tootie Staunton-Miller is throwing a party there tonight with her gay husband, Addy.
 
They just completed the restoration on their home on Fifth and although I can’t stand her, I have go give it to her.
 
She did it right.
 
That house is back to what it once was--the grand dame of Fifth Avenue.
 
Fifty rooms!
 
Tootie and Addy have been staying in the Royal Suite at the Waldorf Towers for
years
while waiting for the restoration to be complete and now it is.
 
It has one of the only private indoor swimming pools in New York.
 
Tootie likes to say that to anyone who will listen.
 
In fact, some are saying she says it too often.”

“So, why are they at The Four Seasons?
 
Shouldn’t they be celebrating at their new home?”

“Never,” Mamie said.
 
“Only select people will ever be invited to the home itself.
 
I heard that Tootie had massive photographs installed in the Pool Room at the Four Seasons to give people an idea of how the restoration turned out, but only the best of the very best will ever actually see the house in person.
 
It’s all about positioning, dear.
 
Her popularity will skyrocket thanks to that house.
 
Everyone but the real money will want to say they’ve been invited there.
 
I can hear them now.
 
‘I’m sorry, but Tootie Staunton-Miller invited us to dinner at her grand home on Fifth Avenue so we’ll need to decline.’
 
It’s grotesque.
 
She’s got the best house on Fifth and she’s doing well with her charitable affairs, but she’ll never be as endearing as Addy is.
 
We all love Addy, regardless of his sexual complications.
 
But Tootie?
 
She can toot herself to the moon.”

“I need you to get me in.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Killing your husband wasn’t, Mamie.”

She lowered her voice.
 
“Please don’t talk about that.
 
Ever.
 
It’s awful how Bonzy died.
 
Who knew he had such enemies?”

“I just need for you to get me and one guest into the event.
 
That’s all I’m asking.”

“She knows I loathe her.
 
You’re asking a lot.”

“That’s because I gave you a lot.
 
You have my cell.
 
I expect a call back in five minutes.”

“But who should I say is coming?”

Carmen came up with some bullshit names and a location.
 
“The Mark Edwards of East Hampton.”

It took Mamie four minutes to secure an invitation for them, which would be awaiting them at the reception area.

“Thanks, Mamie.”

“I suppose I should be reading the front page of the Times tomorrow?
 
Final season at the Four Seasons?
 
Death by drowning in the Pool Room?”

“Good-bye, Mamie.”

Carmen looked at Alex.
 
“You have your tux?”

“Never travel without it.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

At their hotel, which was a modest but clean joint on Third Avenue, each rushed to get ready.
 

They had adjoining rooms.
 
Carmen slipped into hers while Alex moved into his.
 
“Twenty minutes,” she said.
 
“We need to hurry.”

Carmen laid out her black cocktail dress and shoes, and added a string of pearls.
 
When she stepped into the shower, she heard a door crack open and knew.
 
Through the glass shower, she watched the door to her bathroom swing open.
 
A very naked Alex walked inside and knocked gently on the glass.
 
“Room for two in there?”

She wanted to say there wasn’t, that they didn’t have time for this because it was too important to screw it up.
 
But she didn’t.
 
She opened the door and watched a rush of steam roll out and cover his feet.
 
She looked at him standing there and wasn’t sure if she ever had seen anything quite as magnificent as what she saw now.
 
He was beautiful.
 

What am I doing?

He stepped behind her and reached for a wash cloth and a liquid bottle of soap on the shower rack across from him.
 
She could feel him growing erect behind her and it was something he made no effort to hide.
 
In fact, he pressed against her and started washing her back with the cloth while his penis slipped between her legs and buried itself between them.
 
He smoothed his way down to her buttocks and then to her legs, coming up again until he reached between her legs and lingered there while keeping the wash cloth barely moving.
 

To her surprise, she climaxed.
 
She caught her breath and after a moment, she turned to face him.
 
He was pouring shampoo into his hands.
 
“Watch your eyes,” he said.