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"Wonderful. I accept. But only if there'll be good food."
"We will marry as soon as I am released next week."
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"My family's putting on one of those old-time southern
'ya'll come down' affairs. There will be ribs, corn bread, okra stew, baked ham, hush puppies…"
"Okay, I confirm even before I get the invitation."
"Just leave some for the rest of us," Innes joked.
"Then you'll have to return for the baptism," Wentworth added.
"They've asked Bob and me to be godparents," Colleen said.
Speedy laughed and extended his congratulations. He asked if he could ask some follow-up questions, then produced a folder with enlarged photos and papers.
He showed a photo to Wentworth. "Does this face look familiar?" It was of a sixtyish, dour-looking man with a broad face, bald pate and a moustache.
"That's the guy at the Hyatt. He's the one who took Yakov away. He seemed to be in charge."
"He's Semion Mogilevich. The top dog in the Russian mob, the so-called Red Mafia, now," Speedy noted.
"He kept me from finishing Yakov," Wentworth said bitterly.
"It's more like he saved you the trouble -- and legal problems. Yakov challenged him as tsar of Russian gangsterdom in America. They had a blood feud going back years in Russia. Seems Yakov had knocked off some of his business cohorts, then had to flee here to get away from the heat. Then Mogilevich follows him here. They both discover in America green pastures for their nefarious affairs. Next thing you know, they're at it again. Rival Russian gangs battling it out in New York and other North American cities. Trouble is, Yakov bit off more than he could chew when he took on the Italian-American mafia."
"You think Malandrino made a deal with Mogilevich, as well as with you FBI guys?" Innes asked.
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"We strongly believe it, but have no evidence to back it up. In any case, word on the street in Brighton Beach is that they had drugged Yakov in the Hyatt, dragged him away and took him to some location nearby New York.
People say that his captors waited for him to regain consciousness, fed him, let him rest. Then, after he was alert and healthy, they bound him naked and dipped him slowly into a vat of acid."
Everybody winced, except Lydia, who stared coldly out the hospital window.
"We'll never find the body. He could be sharing quarters with Jimmy Hoffa in some bridge foundation, or his bones could be at the bottom of the East River."
"What went wrong with Yakov's execution of the Selmur/Dennison plot to kill Jalbert and 50,000 other people?" Colleen inquired.
"Seems Mogilevich got to the chopper crew and bought them off. They cut and ran without doing the job."
"And Mogilevich?" Innes asked. "Sounds like you're saying this Mogilevich character is going to be around for quite a while."
"Or the next guy after he gets his. Whether Mogilevich succeeds or fails, the Russians are here to stay," Speedy said.
"Then what's this -- the risk, the blood, all the effort --
all about?"
Speedy shrugged. "It's the flip side of the American Dream, I guess."
CNN announced that President Corgan was making a special appearance to address the nation. The President came on. He sat at an ersatz oak desk in a mock study with facade bookcases and an artificial fire in a faux fire place.
"Turn the volume up. This should be interesting," Innes said.
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Laying on thick the wise old great uncle routine, Corgan began with a homily his father used to tell him when he was "knee-high to a Holstein calf."
Colleen histrionically put an index finger into her open mouth to indicate she was ready to puke.
"Papa Corgan was an infantryman in France during the Second World War. By the way, he returned to his farm after seeing 'Gay Paree.' And he raised seven wonderful children, each of whom did their patriotic duty in defending this country." Corgan riveted his sympathetic eyes on the viewers. "He learned about life from living on a farm. He said that when you have aggressive or other deviant cattle among the herd, you separated them out for the greater good of the herd. It wasn't the farmer's fault that some cattle turned out bad. It was just part of nature's imperfections. So it was with troops in war, he'd say. For the greater good of the unit, you set the bad apples apart and got rid of them."
Wentworth began to hum "Old MacDonald Had a Farm."
Corgan got up from his Hollywood set desk, stepped to the front and sat on the edge. He crossed his arms, glanced at the floor briefly in feigned concentration, then again looked directly into the camera with liquid, cheerful eyes.
"Hold on to your wallets everyone!" Innes warned.
"As you know, two senior officials recently were taken into custody for violating the trust of the American people."
"That's another way of saying, 'Two of my closest advisers were arrested on felony charges," Colleen interjected.
"And how fast we forget about poor Horvath,"
Wentworth added.
"These men, for whatever reasons, turned out to be bad apples. They contravened their oath of office and to me as PERMANENT INTERESTS
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your President. But I have taken vigorous action and have instituted a shake-up in the White House staff and at the State Department."
Speedy grimaced. "I'm afraid to hear the punch line."
"I am taking the unprecedented step of appointing concurrently as my Chief of Staff and as National Security Adviser a man who has demonstrated the brilliance, integrity and trust to take on such weighty duties simultaneously. I am naming Bernard Scher, a man whose character and dogged commitment to seeking the truth has won the respect of Congress as well as the Executive Branch and the American people."
Innes's and Colleen's jaws went slack. "He can't be serious," she gasped.
Scher joined the President. They shook hands. Scher was his usual, smug, puffed-up self. Both grinned into the camera as it panned off.
There was stunned silence in the room. Finally, Lydia spoke.
"This country is just like the Soviet Union. I'm sorry, but Brezhnev and the other incompetent mediocrities would feel very comfortable here." She shook her head.
"One difference," Innes rejoined. "The election."
Innes and Colleen left the hospital. Innes walked with his hands in his pockets and his head low. Colleen sensed that something was bothering him.
"Bob. Don't let all that get you down. As you said, there will be payback time in November. Jalbert's bound to win by a landslide. Thing's will definitely look up."
Innes looked at her without saying a thing. He was about to speak, but held back.
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Colleen sensed that Innes was struggling with himself.
She looked deeply into his eyes. Her lips trembled. "What is it, Bob? Is it…is it…us?"
He gave a short nod.
The dilemma of their relationship would finally be resolved. But it could go either way and the mere possibility that it might end panicked her. Tears welled in her eyes and fell down her cheeks, but she did not avert her gaze.
Innes reached out and gripped both hands on her shoulders. "Colleen. I, uh…"
"Is this it? Bob… Are we…? The knuckles of her clenched fists whitened.
"Carolyn came to see me. She brought the kids. She wants me back. The kids miss me, and I them."
She broke from his grip, turned away from him and covered her mouth with both hands. The noise and commotion of the city faded from her consciousness.
There was only Innes and she, and he was fast receding from the picture.
He placed a hand on the back of her neck. "Colleen, I…"
She broke free from him, stepped away and just looked at her lover horrified.
"Colleen." He approached her again, shaking his head.
"Co
lleen. I'm not going back. I want to be with you. I'm divorcing Carolyn. But I'll still be close to my children. I love them too much."
"Ohh, Bob!" She ran into his arms. Their kiss sent the pain away. After a minute, she drew her head back and searched his face.
"Bob, promise me something?"
"You name it."
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"That wonderful life we've talked about. Let's do it.
Make it happen."
"You mean leave Washington?"
She
nodded.
"'And may you be safe from every harm,' milady." They kissed and embraced in the glory of the radiant midday sun.
At that moment, they existed only for one another.
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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The victorious prince stood on the steps outside the Federal Building in Brooklyn. The crowd of hardhatters, blue-collar youths and housewives bellowed, "Atta way, Al! Show 'em Al!" Local reporters jostled to ask questions.
Big Al Malandrino, clad in a blue-gray, perfectly fitted Brioni suit, drank it all in. He held his arms up for calm.
As the crowd obliged, Al held up a sheet of paper.
"After years of persecuting me, of violating my civil rights, of impugning me as an Italian-American, a loyal and patriotic citizen of this great country, the Federal government has finally notified me -- in writing -- that I am what I've been saying all along -- a legitimate businessman."
His admirers yelped, hollered, cheered and clapped.
"You tell 'em, Al!" "Give 'em hell, Al!"
He waved one hand to solicit quiet. Poking the sheet of paper with his forefinger, Al declared, "The United States Federal Bureau of Investigation has written me this letter
'thanking you for your cooperation in bringing to justice certain dishonest senior Federal officials who, through their nefarious criminal acts, committed a gross disservice to the PERMANENT INTERESTS
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American people.' Signed, 'Dominic Berlucci, Chief, Investigations Division.'"
More
applause.
"I'm making an announcement. To show that I am a responsible citizen who cares deeply about this country, I am contributing money and people to elect as our next president Roger Jalbert, the best man for the job! God bless America!"
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR