‘You little prick,’ a familiar voice said. ‘Running away ain’t gonna get you but nowhere, baby!’
He recognized her voice immediately. It wasn’t difficult. ‘Rio. How did you find me?’
‘I smelt you out, baby.’ She laughed. ‘We still friends?’
He relaxed. ‘Yeah, but I want to talk to you.’
‘To me.’ She paused. ‘And my friends?’
‘Listen, that was strictly a one-time scene.’
‘Sure, sure. And you hated it—right?’
Once again he experienced the excitement he’d known that time in her apartment. ‘I don’t go that route,’ he said slowly.
‘Oh, come on,’ she replied mockingly. ‘This is me you’re talking to. And I am right here at the Fontainebleau with two divine new friends who are aching to meet you. Shall we come to you, or will you sashay your nice, tight ass over here?’
His throat was dry and constricted. ‘I can’t see you today,’ he said weakly. Nick had given strict instructions that nobody was to leave the house.
Her voice purred raunchily over the phone. ‘But Angelo, baby. I am naked and horny, and I never take no for an answer. My friends are naked and horny and very, very willing to do anything your little heart desires. They are also very impressed with your advance publicity. I showed them the pictures—pictures I’m sure you wouldn’t want Daddy to see. So come on over now, baby.’ He had wanted to go, and now he had to go. The only problem was getting out.
* * *
The only problem was getting in.
More than anyone, Mary Ann August realized how heavily guarded the Bassalino mansion was. She had lived there all those months, and she knew Enzio’s stringent methods for keeping strangers out.
However, she was banking on the fact that she wasn’t a stranger. She was Enzio’s girlfriend, his mistress, and as far as everyone was concerned, she had gone to New York with him just over a week before. And it was perfectly logical that she’d come back with him. She didn’t think Enzio would have bothered to announce the fact he was sending her away. He’d obviously told Alio, had him do his dirty work, but apart from that—well, she was sure she knew him well enough to know he kept things to himself.
Mary Ann August had a plan. It was risky. But with luck and guards she knew on the gate, things might just work out.
* * *
‘I’m going to the airport,’ Nick said.
‘Hey, I’ll go with you.’ Angelo saw a way out. Drive to the airport with his brother and then get conveniently lost.
‘No.’ Nick shook his head. ‘You stay here and take over from me. There’s no way of knowing what their next move is.’
Angelo hesitated. He didn’t want to argue with Nick, but then again he was desperate to get out.
Nick was already on his way to the door. Angelo decided to hang back. It would probably be simpler to split when Nick wasn’t there anyway.
‘Sure, I’ll take care of everything,’ he said. ‘You can depend on me.’
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Enzio awoke around five. His bedroom overlooked the pool, and when he got up he walked over to the window and gazed out for a while.
He felt old and tired. Feelings he wasn’t used to. Age was a son of a bitch. In two months’ time he would be seventy years old. Frank was only thirty-six, and the bastards had murdered him—a man in his prime, a Bassalino.
Enzio swore to himself, a slow murmuring of never-ending curses. A prayer of obscenities.
He would have liked to have gone to Rose; she was the only one who could possibly understand the pain he was going through.
But it was impossible. Rose had sworn never to talk to him again, and he knew his wife. She would try and punish him for the rest of his days. Not that he let it bother him. She was lucky he hadn’t thrown her out.
Perhaps he should visit the girl he’d imported from New York—the one Kosta Gennas had brought him—what was her name? Mabel? No, Miriam. That was it, Miriam. She had been sent to the house and installed in the usual room, but so far he’d not visited her.
‘Filth!’ With a sudden show of anger he spat on the floor. They were all filth, these women he could buy. Besides, he could summon no sexual interest. At his age it was becoming more difficult.
He lay once again on his bed. Maybe he would sleep some more; perhaps he would feel better in a while.
Images of Frank as a child kept flashing before him. They’d called him Frankie, and the kid was a tough little monkey. He remembered the day Frankie lost his first tooth. The day he learned to swim. The time at school he beat up a boy twice his size. Oh, that had made Enzio so proud! When Frankie was thirteen he’d taken him to his first girl—an eighteen-year-old hooker. Frankie had performed like a man. From that day on they’d called him Frank.
Enzio chuckled, although his eyes were filled with tears.
The door to his room opened quietly. For a moment he couldn’t quite make out who it was standing there. Then he recognized Mary Ann August, with her teased blond hair, small red bikini, long legs, and large breasts.
‘Hi, baby-sweetie-pie,’ she said, smiling nicely.
He grunted, struggling to sit up. Hadn’t he sent her away? Hadn’t Alio dealt with her?
Mary Ann swayed toward the bed. ‘How’s Mommy’s big bad man?’ she cooed, at the same time undoing the tie on her bikini top, allowing her breasts to tumble out.
Enzio’s mind was muddled. Alio must have screwed up. Anyway, so what? Mary Ann August was just what he needed now. She knew what he liked, his fads and fancies.
Suddenly he wasn’t an old man of nearly seventy, he was a Bassalino, a stud.
Reaching the bed, she leaned over him, her breasts dangling tantalisingly over his face. He opened his mouth and attempted to cram in an obliging nipple.
She giggled and began fiddling with his clothes.
He closed his eyes and sighed as he felt the erection beginning.
His mouth was full of her when she shot him precisely and silently straight through the heart.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Angelo left the house soon after Nick. It was easy. Just walk out, climb into his old souped-up black Mustang, drive to the gates, wave at the guards as they let him through. Easy. After all, he was a Bassalino, too, so who dared to stop him?
He switched on the radio. Drake. Loud and clear. Great. He felt good, a little high, just enough. Frank’s death had completely unnerved him. A fucking bomb right in the middle of New York—that was one hell of a way to go. But he couldn’t pretend he was heartbroken. Okay. Sure. So Frank was his brother. But he’d always been a mean bastard. There had never been any love lost between the two of them.
The thought of seeing Rio again filled him with elation. She was sending for him. He wasn’t phoning her, groveling for a chance to prove himself. She’d tracked him down and flown to Miami especially to see him.
He put his foot down a little harder on the accelerator. Mustn’t keep her waiting. Rio was not a woman to keep waiting.
He turned the radio louder. The disc jockey was talking in rhyming slang, jazzing his audience up.
Angelo couldn’t help laughing aloud. Usher reminded him of his first scene with Rio. He turned the radio up full volume so the sound flooded all around him in a deafening roar. Revving the engine, he shoved his foot down to the floor.
‘Rio, baby,’ he shouted. ‘Here I come!’ He failed to see the red light ahead. The car plunged through the junction and smashed straight into the side of a massive oil tanker.
Angelo was killed instantly, but on the car radio Usher sang on…
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
‘Hey.’ Nick gripped her by the arms and stared intently into her green eyes.
Lara smiled. ‘You came to the airport yourself.’
‘I couldn’t wait any longer. Has anyone ever told you you’re the most beautiful woman in the world?’
‘I love you, Nick,’ she said simply. ‘That’s why I came.’
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‘Hey, here’s a lady who says it like it is.’ He kissed her. ‘I love you, too, princess. You got any suitcases?’
She nodded. ‘One.’
He took her hand, holding it tightly as they walked through the terminal to wait for her luggage.
‘Listen to me,’ he said. ‘There’s so many things I want to tell you.’
‘There’s plenty I have to tell you, too, Nick.’
‘Okay. So we have all the time in the world, don’t we?’
‘We certainly do.’
He stopped walking, pressed his hands around her face, and kissed her, a long, slow kiss. ‘It’s so great to see you. When we get back to the house you’ll meet my family. They’re not like other people’s families. It’s all very heavy at the moment. I’ll explain later. Right now I just want you near me. Is that okay with you?’
She nodded. It was fine with her. Thank God he was all right. Soon she had to warn him about Dukey, tell him the whole story. And when he knew, what then? Would he still want her? Or would that be it?
She sighed deeply. If they were going to have a relationship, the truth had to be told.
‘There’s my suitcase.’ She pointed out her Vuitton bag.
Nick signaled a porter, and they set off for the car.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Mary Ann August left Enzio’s room quietly. Outside his door was the suitcase she’d packed neatly with her possessions. She’d found her things where she’d left them and had encountered no problems getting past the guards. All she’d had to do was stroll through the grounds in her red bikini as if she still lived there.
She wasn’t sure why she decided to shoot Enzio. It had all seemed so easy; the little gun he’d given her for her own protection was still in the jewelry case. And he was such a cold bastard. Leaving her in New York. Sending Alio along to take his turn. Shipping her off to a whorehouse in Los Angeles as if she were less than nothing. Keeping all her things.
Now that it was done she started to shake.
What if she couldn’t get away?
What if someone found him before she could escape?
She hurried down the hallway, and to her horror, just as she was about to pass his wife’s room, the door opened and the crazy woman called Rose appeared.
Rose Bassalino never left her room. Mary Ann had lived in the house for months, and she knew the door was never opened.
Rose stepped into the hallway, and they faced each other. She had wild, matted black hair, and penetrating, insane eyes.
Mary Ann shuddered as the woman smiled at her—a strange, faraway smile. And then Rose Bassalino lifted the knife she was carrying and, taking Mary Ann by surprise, plunged it into her stomach.
Mary Ann slid silently to the floor. Rose drew the long knife out of the girl’s body and continued along the hallway until she reached Enzio’s room.
He was asleep in bed, the covers drawn tightly around his chin.
Rose began to laugh as she plunged the knife into him.
Plunge, laugh, plunge, laugh.
It was the same knife he’d used so many years ago to murder Charles Cardwell.
A strange and wonderful justice.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
It was nearly five when Leroy parked his Mercedes some distance away from the Bassalino mansion. He was beginning to feel tired; it had been a long day.
Stepping from the car, he stretched, at the same time taking stock of his surroundings. There was no one around to observe him. He’d taken care of most of the work on his last trip.
Opening the trunk of his car, he took out a small canvas carryall, opened it, and scanned the contents. Finally satisfied, he set off for the house.
* * *
‘Christ! We’ve been sitting here forever,’ Nick complained. ‘Goddamn traffic.’
‘Calm down,’ Lara said, squeezing his hand.
They were crawling along a three-laned highway, every lane slow-moving.
‘It usually takes no more than fifteen minutes to the house,’ he said impatiently, lighting up a cigarette. ‘Today we’ll be lucky to make it in an hour.’
He knew he should have waited for Lara at the house; it was stupid to have left. Things could be moving, information might be coming through, and he should be there.
‘It seems like there’s some kind of accident up ahead,’ the driver said. ‘Looks like a bad one. Once we’re past it’ll be clear.’
‘Take the next turnoff,’ Nick instructed. ‘I know a shortcut.’ He squeezed her hand back. ‘We’ll be there soon, baby.’
* * *
Leroy strolled toward the gates of the Bassalino mansion, pausing several yards away.
One of the guards stepped out of the security gatehouse and watched him warily.
Very slowly Leroy reached into his blue canvas bag.
‘Yeah?’ the guard started to question, his hand tightening on a pistol stuck in his belt.
In one fluid movement Leroy produced a hand grenade from his bag, deftly removed the pin, and flung it at the guardhouse, throwing himself flat on the ground. Seconds later the earth shook from the explosion.
Leroy counted to five, jumped up, grabbed his bag, and ran past the flames into the grounds of the main house. Running fast, he dodged and weaved through the trees.
He could see the mansion. The front door was open, and men were racing out with guns drawn. Lots of dumb white motherfuckers. They didn’t know what hit ’em.
Under the cover of the tall trees Leroy managed to get to the back of the house. Nobody spotted him. The assholes didn’t even think to let the dogs loose. Even if they had, he was prepared.
Stealthily he made his way over to a back window. It took him less than a minute to dig up wires he’d buried on his last visit. Connect them, set the timer. Preparation. That was the secret. What a fucking brilliant scheme!
Get moving, he thought to himself. Never cut it too fine.
He started to run from the house, doing a fast countdown in his head.
Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.
Keep on running.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Zero.
POW! The first explosion, and, at intervals of five seconds, more explosions all around the house, just as he’d planned it.
Suddenly, with a leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach he realized he’d made one fatal mistake. He realized it when he saw the pack of ferocious German shepherds heading in his direction.
His blue canvas bag. He’d left it on the ground by the back window, and in it was the fresh steak he’d brought to keep the dogs happy.
‘Shit!’ Leroy uttered.
It was the last word he ever spoke.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Cass Long was alone when she saw the news on television.
Her first reaction was of an almost satisfied shock, until the full horror of the event overpowered her as television cameras hovered in a helicopter above the wreck that had once been the Bassalino mansion.
The scene was one of devastation. Fires were still burning, while police and firemen swarmed all over the place. A row of blanket-covered victims was lined up beside the swimming pool.
‘It has not been established,’ the newscaster said, ‘how many bodies are still to be recovered from the house. However, authorities seem certain there are more to come.’ The newscaster paused as further information was relayed to him. ‘It appears that a series of bombs were placed around the house, triggered to go off at short intervals. We will have more news on that later. The owner of the Miami mansion, Enzio Bassalino, was a well-known underworld figure in Chicago in the late twenties, along with his contemporaries Al Capone and Legs Diamond. In recent years, Mr. Bassalino has lived in seclusion and retirement at his house in Miami with—’
Cass clicked the television off. For a moment she stared at a framed photograph of Margaret hanging on the wall.
It was time to take up the work again. Time to go out in the world and try to achieve some of Marga
ret’s goals.
Cass knew exactly who she could turn to.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Lara would always remember the fear and the panic of that afternoon with Nick. They were less than minutes from the house when the explosions started.
‘What is it?’ she’d asked fearfully. There was a noise like long rumbling peals of thunder.
‘Jesus Christ!’ Nick yelled. ‘Move this fucking car!’ he screamed at the driver.
As they drew closer they both saw smoke and flames coming from the house. ‘Stop!’ Nick instructed urgently. ‘Turn the car around and take her back to the airport. Fast. Put her safely on a plane.’
Jumping from the car, he ran toward the house. It was a nightmare scene.
‘Nick!’ she screamed after him. ‘Be careful. Oh, God! Be careful.’
He didn’t hear her; he’d vanished into the smoke, and the driver was already turning the car around and racing off in the other direction.
‘Nick,’ she cried out in vain. ‘Oh, Nick, I love you.’
The driver followed his instructions. He took her to the airport and put her on a plane to New York. She was too numb to argue.
When she arrived she went straight to Cass’s apartment. Rio was already there.
‘Have you seen the news?’ Cass asked.
Lara held her breath. ‘What exactly happened?’ She knew it was something terrible.
‘Dukey scored,’ Rio said without emotion. ‘He had someone burn the Bassalino mansion down. They’re all dead. So much for our efforts.’
‘Dead?’ Lara asked blankly. ‘How do you know?’
‘It’s all over the television,’ Cass said grimly. ‘Nobody had a chance. The house was surrounded with explosives. It was a death trap.’
Shortly after that Dukey arrived, smoking a big cigar. He smiled at everyone. ‘This is a celebration,’ he said triumphantly. ‘We did it my way.’