Read Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series) Online
Authors: Christopher Smith
He nodded, and sensed
that she wanted to change the subject.
He saw her glance down at his hands.
“Shining shoes?”
“We need to look our best
tonight.
By the way, your dress
arrived from the cleaners.
I’ve got
to give it to you.
It’s beautifully
understated.
Some people will
notice you, but not enough to matter.
You nailed it.”
“What do you think of the
color?”
“Considering what we’re
there for?
Red was a good choice.”
“I want to show you
something.”
She went into her
bedroom, and came back with a box, which was opened.
“What is it?”
“The end of Leana
Redman.”
“All of that in a
box?
When did that arrive?”
“Yesterday.
You were getting coffee when it
came.
I forgot to show it to you.”
“I kind of wish I was
taking her down.”
“All you have is
George.
I have Michael and
Leana.
We can switch if you’d like,
Vincent.”
“Can’t.
The invitations.
Remember?”
“Right.
My name on hers.
Your name on his.”
He looked at the
box.
“What do you have?”
“A hair clip that isn’t
just a hair clip.”
She removed the
red band from the box, and held it up for him.
“It matches your
dress.
What else is it?”
“What do you think?”
She pressed a button, shook the clip
hard, and a switchblade was revealed.
“How did you find that?”
“Online.
There is all sorts of clever equipment
to protect women.
I even got a can
of pepper spray in case I need to blind that bitch before I cut her throat.
Since we know they likely are going to
use some sort of metal detection, I bought this.
It will sound an alarm, for sure, but
once they wave their wand over me, they’ll see that it’s just a pretty red hair
clip with a metal lock that caused the commotion, and I’ll be allowed to go
through.
Clever?”
“Always.”
“How are you handling
George?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
She shrugged.
“What’s the name on your
invitation again?”
“It certainly isn’t Maria
Leonard from the
Times
.”
“That would be something
of a giveaway....”
“I’m Ginger Hines.”
“Jesus.”
“I know.
I forgot your name.”
“You don’t want to
remember.”
“Oh, yes, I do.”
He buffed his shoe,
admired it, and put it down.
“Worst
name ever.
What was I
thinking?
I should have stuck with
Antonio Benedetti.”
“So, remind me.”
“Apparently, because I’m
Italian, I thought it was good to go with the stereotype.
I’m Vicenzo Massara.
“Actually, that’s not
bad.
At least you got a version of
Vincent in there.”
“What matters is that it
gets me through the door.
I’m ready
for this to be over.
It all ends in
a few hours.
It’s going to be
intense.
Be prepared for that.
Security will be everywhere—we
need to be aware of that.
Not that
we won’t be.
When we’re finished,
we return here, we debrief, we regroup, and we toast with champagne to
celebrate.”
“You bought champagne?”
“It’s in the fridge.
I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”
“Tell that to Piggy
French.”
“I didn’t say I was
serving you tea.”
“True.”
“After tonight, Cullen
needs to send the additional money to our accounts.
If he doesn’t do so immediately, we seek
him out, we threaten him, and if he balks, we kill him.
He knows who he’s dealing with.
Hopefully, he’ll follow through.
I’m fairly certain he will, but you
never know in these situations.
That’s why threats tend to get us what we signed up for.
When all is said and done, we kiss
cheeks, we part ways, and hopefully we connect again.
Would you like that?”
Given their history
together, she looked at him coolly.
“We’ll see how tonight goes, Vincent.
Don’t get your hopes up.
I still haven’t forgotten our last job together.
”
When they arrived at The
Park, Leana quickly glanced around the buzzing space.
She was beyond pleased with what she
saw, but right now, before she got into checking the details, she needed to
find Sean.
She spotted him across
the room, next to where the orchestra would play.
He was pointing to the windows and at
each entrance as he talked to his team, some of whom already were in black tie.
“Sean,” she said.
He turned to her.
Leana held out her arms
and gave him a hug, which he awkwardly returned while Mario and Anastassios
looked on with a smile.
“What’s this?” Sean said.
“Gratitude.”
“You’ve had a hell of a
morning.”
“My morning has nothing
on what you went through last night.”
He looked over at
Mario.
“I’m sorry about
everything.”
“There’s no need to be
sorry, Sean.
They got what they
deserved.
It’s been a long time
coming, and frankly, I’m happy that it happened.”
Leana released herself
from him, but she held on to his hands, which were so large, they engulfed
hers.
She looked up at him.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Leana, I lied to you
about your father.
I apologize for
that.
If anyone should be thanking
me, it’s not you.”
“There’s every reason to
thank you.
Anastassios told me
everything.
You’ve put your life on
the line for me ever since you were brought on board.
Last night you went above the call.
It doesn’t matter to us that what you
were prepared to do involved Mario’s family.
Mario and I have discussed it.
If he had known what you and Anastassios
knew, he said he would have handled it in his own way, with a similar outcome.”
“I hope that’s true, Mr.
De Cicco.”
“It’s Mario.
And it is true.
My father was planning to murder my
wife, the one person who means everything to me.
I hope he rots in prison until he’s
dead, right along with the rest of them.
Leana mentioned her gratitude a moment ago.
Please accept mine.
Those people you and Anastassios took
down are my family only by blood.
They mean nothing to me.”
Sean nodded.
Leana released his hands, and saw his
eyes flick up to meet Anastassios’.
“You told them about Pepper?”
“I did.”
“What’s your assessment?”
Mario asked Sean.
“That’s difficult to
answer, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t act, which I already have.
If I’m wrong, so be it.
Maybe Pepper really did see a doctor
that day and made the mistake of leaving her briefcase behind.
But if I’m right?
It’s safe to say that right now, Gordon
Elling is second-guessing himself, his potential actions, his hopes for a
future that doesn’t involve jail, and the loss of all that matters to him.”
“Either that, or he’s
going to be more driven than ever,” Leana said.
Sean looked at her.
“I’ve prepared for that, too,” he said.
In his office on
Forty-Second Street and Fifth, Gordon Elling opened the manila envelope that
had just been hand-delivered to a doorman at the lobby’s front desk.
The envelope was marked “URGENT: GORDON
ELLING” in red ink.
Given the apparent
urgency of the situation, the envelope had been hustled up to his office,
delivered to his assistant, and walked swiftly to his desk, where he was going
over his plans for Leana Redman’s death, and making certain he saw no holes in
the plan.
“It’s marked ‘urgent,’”
the man said.
“Should I stay?”
“I’ll call you if I need
you.”
Elling waited for the
door to click shut before he spilled everything, which included photographs and
a letter, onto his desk.
He started
with the photographs.
Several were
of Pepper Redman entering his building with a briefcase, others were of her
coming out of the building without one, and a few other shots were of her
stepping into his limousine.
These
must have been taken the other day, when they had their last conversation.
In one of the shots, when
the door was at its widest and Pepper’s ass was facing the camera, he clearly
could see his own face looking at her as she stepped inside.
The final shot was of the
limousine pulling away.
The license
plate was the main focal point.
Gordon Elling didn’t use a limousine service.
That limousine belonged to him.
Shooting the plate number was
intentional.
So, he was dealing with a
threat, but from whom?
He picked up the letter
and read.
It took him a second read
to believe what he was reading.
He
read it a third time to understand exactly what was expected of him.
At first, fear seized
him.
He knew what this could mean
if it happened.
He knew it would
destroy him.
He knew he would go to
jail because of this.
They would
lock him away for life because of this.
But then anger, which
always was swift to rise up within Elling, took hold of him and snuffed the
fear.
“Seriously?” he said out
loud.
“You think you can take on
me, and this is how you want to play it?
You think I’m just going to sit back and let this happen?”
He tossed the letter onto his desk.
“Game on, motherfucker.
Tonight, you die.”
When Marty Spellman
arrived at The Park, Leana and Mario wasted no time leading him to her office
because there was no time to waste.
Leana still needed to double-check everything in the lobby, and speak to
Zack Anderson and make certain that he was good to go, and they each needed to
get ready for the party.
But this took precedent
over all of it.
They sat on the sofas
that faced each other.
Marty leaned
toward them.
He had an intense look
on his face that unsettled Leana.
He looked at Mario.
“First, I’m sorry about what happened last
night.
To be betrayed like that by
a family member is something I can’t imagine.
I’m sure you’re still trying to absorb
it, Mario.
I’ve been thinking of
you since I heard the news.”
“I appreciate that,”
Mario said.
“But this is exactly
something my father would do.
I’m
not surprised—neither is Leana.
Should we have seen it coming?
I don’t know.
Until
recently, we’ve had no contact with my family.
They’ve been out of our lives for three
years.
But given their plans to
murder my wife?
That they humiliated
her and nearly cost her her eyesight?
My family got exactly what they deserved.
I’ve said it several times, and I’ll say
it again—I hope they burn in hell for what they’ve done.”