Rage of Angels
“Yes,” he said. “I’m all right.”
Michael Moretti glanced up at the clock on the wall. “It’s all over.” He turned to face Jennifer. “Your boyfriend’s in the river by now.”
She was watching him, her face pale. “You can’t—”
“Don’t worry. You’re going to have a fair trial.” He turned to Gino Gallo. “Did you tell her that Adam Warner was going to be blown away in New Canaan?”
“Just like you told me, boss.”
Michael looked at Jennifer. “The trial’s over.”
He rose to his feet and walked over to where Jennifer was sitting. He grabbed her blouse and pulled her to her feet.
“I loved you,” he whispered. He hit her hard across the face. Jennifer did not flinch. He hit her again, harder, then a third time, and she fell to the floor.
“Get up. We’re taking a trip.”
Jennifer lay there, dizzy from the blows, trying to clear her head. Michael hauled her roughly to her feet.
“You want me to take care of her?” Gino Gallo asked.
“No. Bring the car around the back.”
“Right, boss.” He hurried out of the room.
Jennifer and Michael were alone.
“Why?” he asked. “We owned the world, and you threw it away. Why?”
She did not answer.
“You want me to fuck you once more for old times’ sake?” Michael moved toward her and grabbed her arm. “Would you like that?” Jennifer did not respond. “You’re never going to fuck anyone again, you hear? I’m going to put you in the river with your lover! You can keep each other company.”
Gino Gallo came back into the room, his face white. “Boss! There’s a—”
There was a crashing sound from outside the room. Michael dived for the gun in his desk drawer. He had it in his hand when the door burst open. Two federal agents came through the door, guns drawn.
“Freeze!”
In that split second, Michael made his decision. He raised the gun and turned and fired at Jennifer. He saw the bullets go into her a second before the agents started shooting. He watched the blood spurt out of her chest, then he felt a bullet tear into him, and then another. He saw Jennifer lying on the floor, and Michael did not know which was the greater agony, her death or his. He felt the hammer blow of another bullet, and then he felt nothing.
63
Two interns were wheeling Jennifer out of the operating room and into Intensive Care. A uniformed policeman followed at Jennifer’s side. The hospital corridor was a bedlam of policemen, detectives and reporters.
A man walked up to the reception desk and said, “I want to see Jennifer Parker.”
“Are you a member of her family?”
“No. I’m a friend.”
“I’m sorry. No visitors. She’s in Intensive Care.”
“I’ll wait.”
“It could be a long time.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Ken Bailey said.
A side door opened and Adam Warner, gaunt and haggard, entered, flanked by a team of secret service men.
A doctor was waiting to greet him. “This way, Senator Warner.” He led Adam into a small office.
“How is she?” Adam asked.
“I’m not optimistic. We removed three bullets from her.”
The door opened and District Attorney Robert Di Silva hurried in. He looked at Adam Warner and said, “I’m sure glad you’re okay.”
Adam said, “I understand I owe my thanks to you. How did you know?”
“Jennifer Parker called me. She told me they were setting you up in New Canaan. I figured it was probably some kind of diversionary ploy, but I couldn’t take a chance, so I covered it. Meanwhile, I got hold of the route you were taking and we sent some choppers after you to protect you. My hunch is that Parker tried to set you up.”
“No,” Adam said. “No.”
Robert Di Silva shrugged. “Have it your way, Senator. The important thing is that you’re alive.” As an afterthought he turned to the doctor. “Is she going to live?”
“Her chances are not very good.”
The District Attorney saw the look on Adam Warner’s face and misinterpreted it. “Don’t worry. If she makes it, we’ve got her nailed down tight.”
He looked at Adam more closely. “You look like hell. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”
“I want to see Jennifer Parker first.”
The doctor said, “She’s in a coma. She may not come out of it.”
“I would like to see her, please.”
“Of course, Senator. This way.”
The doctor led the way out of the room, with Adam following and Di Silva behind him. They walked a few feet down the corridor to a sign that said INTENSIVE CARE UNIT—KEEP OUT.
The doctor opened the door and held it for the two men. “She’s in the first room.”
There was a policeman in front of the door, guarding it. He came to attention as he saw the District Attorney.
“No one gets near that room without written authorization from me. You understand?” Di Silva asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Adam and Di Silva walked into the room. There were three beds, two of them empty. Jennifer lay in the third, tubes running into her nostrils and wrists. Adam moved close to the bed and stared down at her. Jennifer’s face was very pale against the white pillows, and her eyes were closed. In repose, her face seemed younger and softer. Adam was looking at the innocent girl he had met years ago, the girl who had said angrily to him, If anyone had paid me off, do you think I’d be living in a place like this? I don’t care what you do. All I want is to be left alone. He remembered her courage and idealism and her vulnerability. She had been on the side of the angels, believing in justice and willing to fight for it. What had gone wrong? He had loved her and he loved her still, and he had made one wrong choice that had poisoned all their lives, and he knew he would never feel free of guilt for as long as he lived.