As far as their accommodations were concerned, Stephanie had no idea of what to expect, since it had not been discussed. Daniel had made all the arrangements prior to leaving for Italy, while she had seen to Butler’s fibroblast culture and had visited her family. On the twenty-second of March, exactly three weeks away, she knew where they would be staying. At that time, Ashley Butler would arrive, and she and Daniel would move with Butler to the enormous Atlantis hotel to take advantage of the reservations Butler had made. Stephanie imperceptibly shook her head at the thought of all they had to accomplish before the senator got there. She hoped his tissue culture was doing well back in Cambridge. If it wasn’t, there was no way they would make the three-week deadline to do the implant.
After a half hour of driving, they began to see some of the hotels off to their left on what the driver said was Cable Beach. Most of the structures were large high-rises and, as such, not particularly inviting to Stephanie. Next came the town of Nassau itself, which was far more bustling than Stephanie had envisioned, with a profusion of cars, trucks, buses, scooters, mopeds, and pedestrians. Yet with all its hustle and bustle, imposingly elegant banks, and colorful but official-appearing colonial buildings, there was the same sense of general happiness that Stephanie had noted earlier. Even being stuck in traffic was not only tolerated by the people she saw but seemingly enjoyed.
The taxi took them over a high, arched bridge to Paradise Island, which the driver said had been called Hog Island in colonial times. He said the original developer, Huntington Hartford, had felt the name was not an attraction. Both Stephanie and Daniel agreed. On the island side of the bridge, the driver pointed out a modern shopping plaza to the right and the gigantic Atlantis resort to the left.
“Are there clothing stores in the shopping area?” Stephanie questioned. She turned to look back. The shops appeared to be unexpectedly upscale.
“Yes, ma’am. But they’re expensive. If you’re looking for islandwear, I recommend Bay Street in town.”
After a short drive east, the taxi turned north onto what turned out to be a long, serpentine driveway lined with particularly lush, dense vegetation. At the entrance stood a sign proclaiming: PRIVATE, THE OCEAN CLUB, FOR GUESTS ONLY. What particularly impressed Stephanie was that the hotel itself could not be seen until the taxi made the final turn.
“This looks heavenly,” she commented as the taxi pulled in under the porte cochere to be met by doormen in crisp white shirts and Bermuda shorts.
“It’s supposed to be one of the best hotels,” Daniel announced.
“You got that right, man,” the driver commented.
The resort turned out to be even better than Stephanie could have hoped. It comprised low, two-story buildings scattered along a gorgeous concave stretch of beach and mostly hidden by flowering trees. Daniel had managed to reserve a ground-floor suite, from which the white-sand beach was a mere step away, across an expanse of manicured lawn. After they had put away their few clothes and arranged their toiletries in the marbled bath, Daniel turned to Stephanie. “It’s five-thirty. What do you think we should do?”
“Not much,” Stephanie responded. “It’s almost midnight for us European time, and I’m bushed.”
“Should we call the Wingate Clinic and let them know we’re here?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, although I’m not sure what it will accomplish, since we’ll undoubtedly go over there in the morning. It would probably be more helpful if you went back to the lobby and arranged for a rent-a-car. What’s more important is for me to call Peter and see if he’s ready to overnight some of Butler’s fibroblasts. There’s really little we can do before we have them. Then after I call Peter, I need to call my mother. I promised her I’d get in touch with her to give her an address as soon as we got situated here in Nassau.”
“We’re going to need some more clothes,” Daniel said. “How about this? I’ll go get a rent-a-car, you make your calls, and then we’ll head back to that shopping plaza near the bridge and see if there are any decent clothing shops.”
“Why not just do the rent-a-car. I’m ready to take a shower, get something to eat, and hop into bed. There will be time for clothes shopping tomorrow.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Daniel admitted. “My eagerness at having finally gotten here to Nassau has me fired up, whereas in actuality I’m bushed too.”
As soon as Daniel left the room, Stephanie sat herself down at the desk. She was surprised and pleased to see she had a reasonable signal on her cell phone. As she’d suggested to Daniel, she made her first call to Peter, and as she suspected, he was still at the lab.
“John Smith’s culture is doing fine,” Peter said, in response to Stephanie’s question. “I’ve been prepared to overnight a cryopreserved aliquot for several days. I expected to hear from you on Tuesday.”
“A minor problem held us up unexpectedly,” Stephanie said vaguely. She smiled wryly at how much of an understatement that was, considering they had to flee out of Italy by car to avoid arrest and leave their luggage behind.
“Are you ready for me to ship it?”
“Absolutely,” Stephanie said. “Pack it up with the usual HTSR reagents, plus the collection of dopaminergic gene probes and growth factors I put together. And I just thought of something else. Include the ecdysone construct with the tyrosine hydroxylase promoter we used with our recent mouse experiments.”
“My gosh!” Peter intoned. “What on earth are you guys up to down there?”
“It’s best if I don’t explain,” Stephanie said. “What are the chances you could ship the whole consignment out tonight?”
“I don’t see why not. Worst case, I have to drive it out to Logan, but that’s not a problem. Where do you want it sent?”
Stephanie thought for a moment. Her first thought was to have it come to the hotel, but then she thought it would be wise to limit its travel as well as get it into a liquid-nitrogen freezer, which she assumed the Wingate Clinic would have. Asking Peter to hold on, she used the house phone to contact the concierge’s desk to get Wingate’s island address. It was 1200 Windsor Field Road. She then passed it on to Peter along with the clinic’s phone number.
“I’ll get this in FedEx tonight,” Peter promised. “When will you be back?”
“I’d say a month, maybe a little less.”
“Good luck with whatever the hell you are doing!”
“Thanks. We’ll need it.”
Stephanie stared out at the pink-and-silver-tinted ocean with its gentle swells. A line of cumulus clouds was aligned along the horizon. Each was tipped with a dab of intense rose-purple from the setting sun off to her left. The sliding glass door was open, and a gentle breeze scented with some exotic flower caressed her face. The vista and ambience was luscious and calming after the frenetic days of travel and intrigue. She could feel herself begin to relax in such a serene environment, aided by the news about how well Butler’s fibroblast culture had progressed. The nagging worry that it had gone sour had lurked in the back of her mind ever since she had left on the trip. All in all, she began to entertain the idea that perhaps Daniel’s optimism about the Butler project might ultimately be reasonable, despite her intuition to the contrary and despite the trouble she and Daniel had experienced in Turin.
Once the sun set, night fell precipitously. Torches were lit along the edge of the beach to flicker in the breeze. Stephanie picked up her cell phone again and dialed her parents’ number. She wanted her mother to have the name of the hotel, the room number, and the phone number, in case her mother took a turn for the worse. As the call went through, Stephanie found herself hoping her father wouldn’t answer. It was always so awkward trying to have a conversation with him. She was pleased when she heard her mother’s soft voice.
Although Tony had no reason to think that his headstrong sister wouldn’t carry out her threat to languish in the Bahamas while her company tanked, he’d been entertaining the hope that she’d see the light after what he??
?d told her, cancel the trip, and do what she could to turn things around. But such was not to be the case, as her phone call to their mother had just proved. The bitch and her freaking boyfriend were in Nassau, staying at some posh oceanfront resort in a suite, no less, with a view of the beach. It was galling.
Tony shook his head at her nerve. Ever since she’d gotten into Harvard, she’d been thumbing her nose at him every time he turned around, which he’d tolerated since she was his kid sister. But now she’d gone too far, especially considering the academic nerd she was hooked up with. A hundred grand was a lot of money, no matter how you looked at it, and that wasn’t even considering the Castiglianos’ share. The whole situation wasn’t right, that was for damn sure, yet she still was his kid sister, so things weren’t as clear as they could have been.
The big Cadillac crunched over the gravel and came to a halt in front of the Castigliano Brothers Plumbing Supply store. Tony turned off his headlights and killed the engine. But he didn’t get out of the car immediately. Instead, he sat for a moment to calm himself down. He could have just called and given the information to either Sal or Louie over the phone. But because it was his sister, he had to know what they had in mind. He knew they were just as pissed as he was, but without the restraint from having a family member involved. He didn’t care what they did to the boyfriend. Hell, he wouldn’t mind pushing him around himself. But his sister was another thing entirely. If she were to be pushed around, Tony wanted to be the perpetrator.
Tony opened the door and was assaulted by the putrid smell of the salt marsh. He couldn’t understand how anyone could hang around a place where every time the wind changed direction, it smelled like rotten eggs. It was a moonless night, and Tony walked carefully. He didn’t want to trip over a discarded sink or any other debris.
Since it was after hours, the store was closed, as evidenced by a sign in the door’s window. But the door was unlocked. Gaetano was behind the cash register, totaling the day’s receipts. He had a nub of a yellow wooden pencil tucked behind his surprisingly small ear, dwarfed by his large head.
“Sal and Louie?” Tony questioned.
Gaetano motioned toward the rear with his head without interrupting what he was doing. Tony found the twins at their respective desks. After a slapping handshake and the usual curt greeting with each, Tony sat down on the sofa. The twins eyed him expectantly. The only light in the room came from small, hooded desk lamps on each desk, emphasizing the twins’ cadaverous faces. From Tony’s perspective, their eye sockets were mere black holes.
“Well, they are in Nassau,” Tony began. “I was hoping I could come here and tell you differently, but that’s not the case. They just checked into a ritzy resort called the Ocean Club. They are in suite 108. I’ve even got the phone number.”
Tony leaned over and put a small piece of paper on Louie’s desk, which was closer to the sofa than Sal’s.
The door opened, and Gaetano’s head popped in. “You want me or what?”
“Yeah,” Louie said, as he picked up the paper with the phone number and glanced at it.
Gaetano stepped into the room and closed the door.
“Any change in the company’s prospects?” Sal asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Tony said. “If there had been, my accountant would have told me.”
“It’s like this twerp’s flipping us off,” Louie said. He laughed mirthlessly. “Nassau! I still don’t believe it. It’s like he’s asking us to beat the crap out of him.”
“Is that what you are going to do?” Tony asked.
Louie looked over at his twin. “We want him to get his ass back here and save the company and our investment. Am I right, brother?”
“Damn straight,” Sal said. “We’ve got to let him know who’s involved here and emphasize we want our money back, come hell or high water. Not only does he have to get his ass back here, he’s got to have a clear idea of what the consequences are if he ignores us or thinks he can hide behind a bankruptcy filing or some other legal shenanigan. He needs to be knocked around good!”
“What about my sister?” Tony asked. “She’s not blameless in this mess, but if she’s going to be knocked around, I want to be the person doing the knocking around.”
“No problem,” Louie said. He tossed the slip of paper with the phone number onto his desk. “Like I said Sunday: Our beef’s not with her.”
“Are you ready to go to Nassau, Gaetano?” Sal asked.
“I can leave first thing in the morning,” Gaetano said. “But what should I do after I deliver the message? Should I hang around or what? I mean, what if he doesn’t get the message?”
“You’d better be damn sure he gets the message,” Sal said. “I don’t want you to have the mistaken impression this is some sort of paid vacation. Besides, we need you up here. After you give him the message, you get your ass back to Boston.”
“Gaetano has a point,” Tony said. “What will you do if this asshole ignores the message?”
Sal looked at his brother. There was an apparent immediate meeting of the minds as each nodded. Sal looked back at Tony. “If this twerp wasn’t around, could your sister run the company?”
Tony shrugged. “How am I supposed to know?”
“She’s your sister,” Sal said. “Doesn’t she have a Ph.D.?”
“She’s got a Ph.D. from Harvard,” Tony said. “Big deal! All it’s done is make her impossible to get along with, thinking she’s so high and mighty. And as far as I know, it only means she knows a ton of stuff about germs and genes and all that crap, not how to run a company.”
“Well, the twerp’s got a Ph.D. too,” Louie said. “So it seems to me the company wouldn’t be much worse off if your sister were running things. And if she were, you’d have a lot more influence about how things were going.”
“So what are you saying?” Tony asked.
“Hey, am I not talking English here?” Louie questioned.
“Of course you’re talking English,” Sal added.
“Look,” Louie said. “If the head of the company doesn’t get the message, which I think we can count on Gaetano making very clear, then we whack him. Simple as that, and end of story for the professor. If nothing else, that should send a very specific message to your sister that she’d better mend her ways.”
“You’re right about that,” Tony said.
“Are you okay with this, Gaetano?” Sal asked.
“Yeah, sure,” Gaetano replied. “But I’m confused. Do you or don’t you want me to stay down there until we’re sure what his response will be to getting roughed up?”
“For the last time,” Sal said threateningly. “You’re to deliver the message and get back here. If it goes down easily and if the flight schedule is copasetic, maybe you can do it in one day. Otherwise, you’ll stay over. But we want you back here ASAP, because there’s a lot going on around here. If he’s got to be whacked, you’ll go back. Understood?”
Gaetano nodded, but he was disappointed. When the task was first suggested on Sunday, he’d hoped to get a week in the sun out of the deal.
“I’ve got a suggestion,” Tony said. “Since we can’t rule out Gaetano having to return, then I don’t think he should do what he has to do at their hotel. If the professor turns out not to be cooperative, we don’t want him on the run, which he might do if he thinks the hotel is not safe. In the Bahamas alone, there are literally hundreds of islands.”
“You’re right,” Sal said. “We don’t want him to disappear, not with our money on the line.”
“So maybe I should stay down there and keep an eye on him,” Gaetano suggested hopefully.
“What do I have to say to you, you moron,” Sal spat while glaring at Gaetano. “For the last time, you’re not heading south on a holiday. You’re going to do your thing and get the hell back here. This problem with the professor isn’t the only one we’ve got.”
“Okay, okay!” Gaetano said, motioning as if surrendering. “I won’t have my m
eeting with the guy at the hotel. I’ll just use the hotel to spot him, which means I’ll be needing some photos.”
“I thought of that,” Tony said. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out several snapshots. “These were taken of the lovebirds just this past Christmas.” He handed them over to Gaetano, who was still standing at the door.
Gaetano glanced at the photographs.
“Are they okay?” Louie asked.
“They’re not bad at all,” Gaetano responded. Then, looking at Tony, he added, “I have to say, your sister’s a looker.”
“Yeah, well forget it,” Tony said. “She’s off-limits.”
“Too bad,” Gaetano said with a crooked smile.
“One other thing,” Tony said. “With all this airport security nonsense, I don’t think it’s advisable even to pack a gun in a checked suitcase. If Gaetano needs one, it would be better to make arrangements to get one on the island through contacts in Miami. You do have contacts in Miami, don’t you?”
“Sure,” Sal said. “That’s another good idea. Anything else?”
“I think that’s about it,” Tony said. He stubbed out his cigarette and stood up.
fifteen
9:15 A.M., Friday, March 1, 2002
It had been a long, delightful, and rejuvenating morning. With their circadian cycles awry, compliments of their brief European trip, both Stephanie and Daniel had awakened well before the sun had brightened the eastern horizon. Unable to fall back asleep, they’d gotten up, showered, and taken a protracted stroll around the hotel grounds and along the deserted Cabbage Beach, as a cloudless, tropical dawn broke. Back at the hotel, they’d been the first guests for breakfast and had lingered over their coffee while discussing the schedule for creating Butler’s treatment cells. With only three weeks until his scheduled arrival, they knew they were up against a significant time constraint, and they were eager to get started, although they recognized they could do little until the package arrived from Peter. By eight o’clock, they’d called the Wingate Clinic to tell the receptionist they were in Nassau and would arrive at the clinic at about nine-fifteen. She said she’d let the doctors know.