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Angel Page 24

by Barbara Taylor Bradford


  Nevertheless, Kevin drew closer to Neil and dropped his voice when he said, ‘It’s taken a month or so, but things are starting to break open for me at last. Tony’s finally got me worked in with the lower echelon of the Rudolfo family. I’m on back-slapping terms with several soldiers, and one caporegime. And I’ll tell you this, Neil, you were right about them. The Rudolfos are up to their armpits in drugs, putting millions of dollars’ worth of shit out on the street every week, dealing every goddamned thing from smack to crack, just as you said they were.’

  ‘And they’re into the unions, loan sharking, prostitution, gambling, bank fraud, and every other kinda scam that’s ever been invented. They’ve gotten away with it all for too many years, those bastards have, and we’ve just gotta nail ’em, and nail ’em good, and the charges, when they’re made, just gotta stick, Kev.’ Suddenly looking well pleased with himself, Neil finished with a satisfied grin, ‘Just like the Feds’ case against Gotti is sticking.’

  ‘I know it has to stick, Neil, and it will. It’s going well, so don’t worry, but we do need a bit more time. We can’t blow it now, not at this stage of the game.’

  ‘Okay, okay, I’ll give you time, but not too much. The longer you drag things out the more you’re spreading yourself thin. Putting yourself at risk.’

  ‘I’ll be all right, so will Tony. Like him, I’ve been working undercover for too many years to make a slip.’

  ‘I know, I know, just watch your back, okay?’

  Kevin nodded. He finished his beer, pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘How about another? One for the road? Or something stronger?’

  ‘Another beer’s fine, kid. Thanks.’

  Neil stubbed out his cigarette and immediately put another one in his mouth, wishing he could quit. But he couldn’t. If he didn’t buy it with a bullet, he’d probably drop dead of lung cancer or a heart attack. But what the hell, life was a risk whatever you did. He struck a match, brought it to the end of the cigarette. So he might as well go up in flames, right? He laughed, a silent, cynical laugh.

  Kevin returned to the table carrying two glasses of beer and sat down. ‘Cheers,’ he said, and took a long swallow, leaving a fine line of froth on his upper lip. He wiped it away with his hand, and grinned at Neil. ‘So, Gotti’s up to his ass in trouble… Yea!’

  Neil couldn’t help laughing. ‘He sure as hell is, did ya see the Daily News the other day? They’re calling him the Al Capone of the nineties. That’s gonna go to his big head.’

  ‘I saw the same story. Funny thing is, he’s going to trial in Brooklyn, which happens to be Capone’s old stomping ground.’

  ‘And Gotti’s as well, don’t forget,’ Neil answered, leaning across the table. ‘What I hear is that most of the underworld think he won’t make it this time, that the government will finally nail him. Yeah, it looks as if the Teflon Don’s gonna go down. Is that what you’re hearing out on the street?’

  ‘Sure is. And our division’s done a pretty damned good job of it, bringing in as much stuff as we have. I can’t believe that Gotti would be so dumb, shooting his mouth off the way he has.’

  ‘Listen, the guy’s a nut, in my opinion. On the other hand, how was he to know that the Ravenite Social Club was bugged? Nor did he ever think that his lawyer would get thrown off the case. Let’s face it, Bruce Cutler has been his lucky charm, in a way. But a lotta the wiseguys say he’s nobody to blame but himself, that he talked about a lotta things a boss shouldn’t talk about—murders, Cosa Nostra, and he sure as hell shouldn’t have talked at the club. His headquarters, for God’s sake! He should’ve taken a walk to talk. In the street.’

  ‘I heard he even admitted that he had a guy whacked, that it’s on one of the tapes.’

  Neil nodded. ‘Look, I’m pretty damned sure he’ll go down, and that he’ll be behind bars for a helluva long time. He’ll get life. The racketeering charges against him are gonna stick, Kevin. So, that’s Gotti and Gravano the stooly outta the way. And look, the shit’s spinning in the fan in the Colombo family. One of their guys just got hit, and there’s gonna be a full-blown civil war, I think, with family members pitted against each other.’

  ‘Some are taking the side of Persico, others are backing the acting boss, Little Vic Orena. The talk around my neck of the woods is that Orena’s trying to really take over while Persico’s in jail.’

  ‘Fucking mobsters! There’s gonna be blood in the streets, you’ll see.’

  ‘Flowing through Little Italy, and a few other prime spots around town,’ Kevin said, and punched Neil on the arm. ‘Don’t look so miserable. Law and order is winning out. Last week I heard that the two Gambino brothers are about to face charges in another racketeering trial. Apparently old silver-throat Gravano is singing another hit song for the Manhattan district attorney. This time he’s nailing the Gambinos. They’re purported to have a stranglehold on the trucking business in the garment industry.’

  ‘So I heard,’ Neil said. He looked at his watch. ‘I gotta go, kid. I’m glad we had this meet. Same time next week, okay?’

  ‘You’re on, Neil. Just let me know where.’

  They grabbed their overcoats and left the bar together. Out on the sidewalk, Kevin said, ‘I’m going thataway,’ and nodded in the direction of Fortieth Street.

  ‘Aha, off to see your uptown girl tonight, eh?’ Neil leered wickedly.

  ‘No. She’s away. I’ve got an old buddy in from out of town. We’re gonna break bread together.’

  ‘Take it easy, Kev, and remember what I said—watch your back. At all times.’

  ‘You gotta deal, Neil. And you, too. Watch yourself.’

  ‘Sure, kid.’

  Kevin hailed a cab, got in swiftly and told the driver to head to Lexington and Forty-fifth Street. Once there, he paid, got out and took another taxi across town to Sixth Avenue and Fifty-eighth, where he alighted again. He made it down the street at a rapid pace, went into the Wyndham Hotel, crossed through into Jonathan’s, the hotel restaurant, looked around, returned to the lobby and went into the men’s room.

  Five minutes later he was hailing his third cab outside the popular show business hotel, and told the driver he wanted to go to Park and Fifty-second Street. Within minutes he was paying again and getting out. This time he walked, taking Fifty-second up to Fifth Avenue, and then heading towards Fifty-sixth Street. Several times he glanced behind him, now quite positive that he was not being followed by anyone.

  When he arrived at Fifty-sixth Street he went immediately to the entrance of Trump Tower, pushed through the doors and strode over to the security desk.

  ‘Mr Gavin Ambrose please.’

  ‘Your name, sir?’

  ‘Kevin Madigan.’

  The guard dialled, spoke into the phone and then replaced the receiver. ‘You can go up. Sixtieth floor, sir.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Kevin swung away from the desk and headed in the direction of the elevator banks.

  ***

  ‘This is one hell of a view!’ Kevin exclaimed as he walked around the vast living room of the apartment where Gavin was staying. ‘Jesus! New York looks sensational! All bright lights and tall sky and buildings shooting to the heavens. Makes me positively dizzy. I’ve never been so high up in my life.’

  ‘Sure you have. We once went up to the top of the Empire State together.’ Gavin smiled as he handed him a glass of wine. ‘Come on, come away from all that plate glass. Let’s sit down and catch up.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Kevin said, taking the wine. He followed Gavin across the room to an arrangement of large white sofas and chairs. These were placed around a huge, antique Chinese coffee table made of black-lacquered wood and inlaid with mother-of-pearl flowers.

  He lowered himself onto one of the sofas. ‘So, what the hell are you doing in a place like this? It looks like an expensive whore’s habitat.’

  ‘God, what will you say next!’ Gavin exclaimed. ‘And how does an expensive whore’s habitat look, anyway?’

  ‘Overwhelming
ly plush, lush, and reeking of dough. Lottsa dough. Hey, who does this place belong to, Gav?’

  ‘I’m honestly not sure, I found it through a real-estate agent. But I think it’s owned by some European billionaire tycoon, who prefers to stay in Europe, apparently. I’m renting it for a few months.’

  ‘Oh.’ Kevin looked across at him, gave him a hard stare and raised a brow. ‘Stuff not good back at the old rancho?’

  Gavin laughed. ‘Not good. Not bad. Nothing. That’s where it’s at between me and Louise. Nothing new on that front. I just happen to have a yen for the East Coast these days. After all, I’m forever dubbed an East Coast “ethnic” actor, so I thought to myself why not come back here for a short while.’

  ‘That’s great, Gav, I’m glad you’re here. It’s like old times. However, what about Paris? Rosie told me you’re starting preproduction soon on Napoleon and Josephine. And that she’s doing the costumes.’

  ‘She is, and I am. Once I’ve finished the last bit of postproduction here, on Kingmaker. We have some looping to do with a couple of actors, and I’ve moved a small group over to New York. Part of my production team. They’ll help to expedite things. We’ll work for about two to three weeks. Then I’m going to beat it back across the Atlantic, and take up residence in Paris for at least six months. Maybe longer.’

  ‘And this place?’

  ‘It’s yours, if you want it, Kev.’

  ‘You’ve gotta be kidding!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What would I do with a place like this?’

  ‘Live in it, I suppose.’ Gavin’s mouth twitched with hidden laughter. ‘I mean, it’s certainly an improvement on Ninety-fourth and First, isn’t it?’

  ‘I guess,’ Kevin replied. ‘But I’m not living in my own apartment at the moment. I’m hunkered down in the Village, in a sublet on East Tenth Street. Under a different identity, naturally. I’m working undercover.’

  ‘When are you not?’

  Kevin caught the sudden, almost imperceptible change in Gavin’s voice. There was just the faintest echo of disapproval; and perhaps that was regret clouding Gavin’s cool grey eyes. Gavin had the most honest eyes he’d ever seen. Kevin made no response, sipped his drink, leaned back against the overstuffed white sofa and crossed his long legs.

  ‘It’s taking its toll on you, Kev,’ Gavin said after a moment, staring at his oldest and closest male friend. ‘It’s beginning to show, kiddo.’

  Always defensive when it came to his job, Kevin was about to say he didn’t know what Gavin was talking about, and then he changed his mind. He wasn’t going to play stupid games with a guy he loved, who was like a brother to him, and who was always there for him no matter what. Had always been there.

  Slowly he nodded his head. ‘The hours have been rough lately,’ Kevin admitted and grimaced. ‘And being undercover can get to be a strain at times.’

  ‘That’s not surprising. It can also get to be very dangerous.’

  ‘The whole world’s dangerous these days, Gav.’

  ‘I know. But you’re right in the middle of it all. In the fray. Pitting yourself against criminals. And bullets fly and anybody who’s not got his eyes peeled can get hit. And as long as you’re with the Crime Intelligence Division you’ll be right in the centre of the danger zone. A target. Cannon fodder, as they used to say.’

  Kevin shrugged. ‘Well, the perks are great,’ he shot back, and burst out laughing at his own absurdity. But making fun of the danger made it all easier to handle sometimes.

  ‘Like hell the perks are great!’ Gavin scoffed and lifted his wine glass off the table, took a sip, quickly went on, ‘Rosie worries about you. Nell worries about you. And yours truly worries about you. Why don’t you pack it in, Kevin?’

  ‘Can you stop being an actor?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘There’s your answer.’

  ‘But I’m not in danger of being killed—’

  ‘Like hell you’re not. Turn in a lousy performance and you don’t know what might happen to you. There’s always some nut out there, some nut ready to commit mayhem.’

  Gavin shook his head. ‘You’re incorrigible. But I suppose you gotta do what you gotta do.’

  ‘Spot on, man.’

  Gavin lolled against a mound of white wool pillows and murmured, ‘Come on, Kevin, quit. I’ll give you a job.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Being my assistant.’

  ‘Shit, that’s a handout, Gavin!’ Kevin cried with a flash of momentary anger. ‘I don’t need your handouts.’

  ‘It’s not a handout, Kev. It really isn’t. I do need somebody to take care of a vast amount of stuff for me.’

  ‘How about a secretary? That’s who guys in your position normally employ.’

  ‘I have a secretary. I need an assistant, somebody to take care of certain things for me, financial and otherwise. Somebody I can trust. And let’s face it, you’re like family. We are family, Kevin, after all the years we’ve been together.’

  ‘Did Nell put you up to this?’

  ‘No way, man. No way. But she’d be happy to see you come in from the cold.’

  ‘It’s not for me. Thanks, Gav, I know you mean well, but a job like that is not my speed.’

  ‘The offer holds. It’ll always be open for you.’

  Kevin sighed. ‘Thanks. I sound rude and ungrateful and churlish. It was a grand offer, honestly it was. But I’m a cop, just like my dad was a cop, and my grandfather and his dad before him, and so on and so forth. And I don’t think I’d be happy doing anything else, I really don’t.’

  ‘I guess I know that deep down… I think I’ve always known it. Anyway, what’s happening with you and Nell? Are you going to make it permanent?’

  Kevin fixed his dark eyes on Gavin’s lighter ones, and they exchanged a long look; it was the kind of look only old friends can share.

  At last Kevin answered. ‘I’ve thought about it a lot lately. I’ve even asked her to marry me. She’s thought about it. But she’s never said yes.’

  ‘More’s the pity, you’re made for each other.’

  ‘Tell Nell.’

  ‘I will, with your permission.’

  ‘Sure, go ahead. Anyway, you were a bit evasive earlier. What’s really happening between you and Louise?’

  ‘Nothing much. She lives in my house, spends my money, and screws a senator from Washington.’ Gavin shrugged. ‘If my grandfather were alive he’d call me a dumb guinea.’

  ‘And mine would say I’m a dumb Mick.’

  They grinned at each other, and Kevin said, ‘But are you going to stay with Louise? Seriously, what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m not going to do anything to rock any boats right now—’

  ‘Don’t you think that moving back East is going to rock something?’

  ‘I haven’t moved back permanently. I’ve merely rented an apartment in New York, my home town, while I finish postproduction on a movie. Then I’m proceeding to France to make a movie there. I’m giving her a lot of rope meantime. Miles and miles of it. She’ll hang herself eventually. I can wait. I’m in no hurry.’

  ‘So there’s nobody special in your life?’

  Gavin shook his head. ‘No sweet and lovely lady to brighten my days. Just my work. That’s enough.’

  ‘You’ll meet somebody one day.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Kevin asked, ‘Do you have a cook here, or what?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘I just wondered where you planned for us to eat? You loathe going out to restaurants… that famous sexy mug of yours causes such trouble.’

  ‘So do you hate going out, Kev. Don’t blame it entirely on me.’

  Kevin said, ‘Did you ever think you’d become such a famous actor you couldn’t go to dinner in a public place for fear of being recognized and mobbed by half-crazed women? Or that I’d be reluctant to go with you for fear of getting myself and you whacked by gangsters on the prowl for me?’

 
; ‘No, I didn’t,’ Gavin answered and a quick smile flashed. ‘But as I just pointed out, we’re a couple of dumb guys.’

  Gavin rose, walked across the room, then swung to face Kevin. ‘As a matter of fact, we are going out tonight.’

  ‘Oh. Where?’

  ‘Downtown. To Bobby De Niro’s Tribeca Screening Room. I’ve rented it for the evening. Just for the two of us. I’m going to screen Kingmaker for you, and then we’re going to eat at Bobby’s Tribeca Grill.’

  ‘That sounds great, and I guess we’re both safe there.’

  ‘That’s a sure thing. I can guarantee it, Kevin.’

  THIRTY

  It was icy weather, and the drizzling rain was rapidly turning into snow that coated the car windows with a film of frosty white.

  ‘Bad night, Vito,’ the chauffeur said, flipping the switch of the windshield wipers. ‘A bad night to be driving all the way to Staten Island.’

  ‘We’re dry in here. Carlo,’ Vito replied in his gravelly voice, ‘and warm. So it’s no problem. Why doan ya put a disc in? Johnny’s disc. The new one, ya know, Fortune’s Child.’

  ‘Sure, Vito,’ Carlo mumbled, and did as he had been asked.

  Immediately Johnny Fortune’s golden voice echoed around the close confines of the car, and Vito settled himself in the corner of the back seat, smiling inwardly, filled with pleasure as he listened to Johnny’s rendition of You and Me (We Wanted It All).

  He was very proud of his nephew. The big star. Johnny was bigger than anybody around today. There had been others before him just as big, but they had had their day in the sun. Now it was his Johnny’s turn. At age thirty-eight Johnny Fortune was ‘it,’ at the top of the charts, and everybody’s favourite. Not only in America but around the world.

  He sighed with pleasure and closed his eyes for a moment, soothed by the sound of that velvet voice. Sighing again, Vito thought: He sings like an angel, my Johnny does.

 

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