The Financial Terrorist Page 8

  “It’s my father-in-law’s car. He lent it to us for our stay here.”

  The police returned the guns. Their licences had been checked in the interim. Suddenly, they were respectful. Whatever checks they had made, Charles and Jacqui were regarded as VIPs. Soon the ambulance arrived for the driver and Jacqui nodded to show it was her father’s men.

  Charles commandeered a stationary cab, one that seemed not to have been hit in the gunfire. He told the driver to take them the short distance to the hotel, giving him twenty dollars for his trouble.

  As they walked into the hotel, Charles asked Jacqui, “What did your father say?”

  “He will have guards on the driver night and day. The man has worked for him for a couple of years. He also wants us to fly in his executive jet to California tomorrow rather than take a scheduled flight. We will leave from La Guardia rather than JFK, and he will have a car pick us up. I know the driver in this case. It’s his regular one. He wants us to use the jet internally for all trips. He is going to assign us new security. Our old friend, Claire, will be joining us. Strange, isn’t it, we were talking of her the other day. He’s put his organisation on red alert. He was shaken about the shooting.”

  At the Pierre, the doorman took a double take when he saw them. Charles and Jacqui were both pretty soaked and shivering. An anxious duty manager came up to them. Charles calmed him down and told him to show the police up to their suite when they came. “But give us fifteen minutes to shower and change,” he asked.

  They walked upstairs and stripped off. A hot shower and a fresh set of clothes later, they were fine. Jacqui was drying her hair when there was a knock on the door. A check on the spy hole established it was the detectives. Charles decided to be discreet and placed his gun on a table by the door before he opened it. They walked into the small suite with its sitting room adjoining the bedroom. The door between the rooms was half open and Jacqui sang out, “Charles, why don’t you offer a drink. I’ll need five minutes just to dry my hair.”

  He turned to the police. “Would you like coffee, tea or something more refreshing?” They both opted for coffee. He rang down. It would be with them in a matter of minutes. One could always guarantee good service, especially with a reservation through the legendary Di Maglio. The management must have been quaking in their boots.

  They waited for Jacqui and the coffee. There was an awkward silence, then one of the detectives spoke. “While we’re waiting for your wife, perhaps you could give us your details, and tell us how you came to be involved in this shoot-out?”

  “My name is Charles Rossi. I am Chief Executive of the International Bank of Europe in the UK. My wife is a director of the bank. She is Jacqueline Rossi. Her family name was Di Maglio.”

  As usual in such company, there was an immediate exchange of looks at the sound of the legendary Mafia name.

  “I am here to see US regulators. We are acquiring a US banking group. We were with the New York Federal Reserve Bank today, we went for a meal in mid town tonight and were heading back up to our hotel. Then the car was attacked at traffic lights.”

  “Do you both always carry guns?”

  “In New York we do. You recognised the family name of my wife. I expected you to. That’s why I mentioned it. Wouldn’t you think it wise to carry guns? In any case we are allowed to. We carry them legally.”

  “Isn’t it unusual for a banker and his wife to handle such a situation like professionals?”

  “I have been trained in such things. I always thought it could come in useful. It did today. Jacqui has also been trained.”

  “Why was your driver wearing a bullet proof vest?”

  “I asked myself the same question when I saw he’d survived a blast of a sub machine gun. Perhaps he feels uneasy north of 42nd Street. How should I know why he wore one? You should ask him?”

  “Oh, we will, Mr Rossi, as soon as the doctors allow us.”

  At that moment, Jacqui came in. She must have realised that the conversation with the detectives was not going that well for she had changed. She was wearing a pair of body hugging jeans and a low cut sweater. They showed all the curves that they should. Her hair was loose and she had avoided much make-up beyond a splash of bright red lipstick. She looked very much like a walking invitation to bed. There were three men in the room and they all thought the same. Two were going to have to leave. And those two were not going to ask difficult questions. They were just keen to watch the body move.

  The coffee briefly interrupted the more relaxed atmosphere. Jacqui served it, bending close to the detectives.

  “How else can we help you?” she asked in a slightly huskier voice than normal. At the same time she lent forward. There were two sharp intakes of breath. Two men looked at her, totally captivated by the fluttering of her eyelashes. They were besotted by the way she was moistening her lips, looking open mouthed at the tip of her tongue peeping from between her crystal white teeth . They were longing for a glimpse of her breasts as she bent towards them. It was like watching fireflies around a light. It was incredible.

  They hardly asked another question. Charles thought they were going to beg to let them stay just to carry on looking, but, in the end, they ambled over to the door. They had contacts for California, they had no further reason to stay. Charles closed the door behind them and, relieved, shot the bolt.

  “You bitch,” he said laughing. “The poor guys will be working all night feeling frazzled. They then go home and their wives will have a day job. You’ve condemned them to days of anguish.”

  She looked at him wide-eyed, “What about you?”

  “I’m immune to temptation. I can withstand all your attempts at seduction. I decide, not you.”

  She laughed mockingly as she sat on the edge of the bed and wiggled herself out of her jeans. Keeping her eyes on Charles she gyrated out of her sweater. She bent down and her lips brushed against his. Her breath, so sweet and warm, breathed into his mouth. Her scent, softly sweet and exciting, wafted all over him. He took her in his arms. He felt her body. He shut his eyes. Her hair was on his face. Her lips and tongue were on his mouth. Her breasts were caressing his chest. Her thighs were folded against his. Their legs were intertwined.

  Neither could take any more and they pulled themselves away. But it was only to tear off their clothes. Then they were together again. Their breath was coming faster and faster. Their minds were focused on the wonder of the moment as they slowly lay together on the bed and relived an experience they had known some thousand or so times. But, nevertheless, it was an experience that was unique and demanded only to be repeated in another form, in another mood, at another time.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  That morning, they packed quickly and headed off to La Guardia for Los Angeles International Airport, or LAX as it is more commonly called. The driver locked the doors the moment they were in the car, and smiling broadly at them alongside him was Claire. Charles looked at her. Claire whose gentle looks and ash blond hair hid the classical charms of a Di Maglio killing machine. She was a willowy figure in a black woollen dress, a protector from the past. Jacqui kissed her on both cheeks and Charles did, too.

  “Well, I’ll be looking after you both. And I’m longing to see the little one again. I got her a couple of presents, just for California. It’s what every baby needs. There’s a two piece bikini with a designer motif and matching sun hat and glasses. And there’s a beauty case with genuine make up. They’re all washable and non-allergic. You don’t mind?”

  “No, of course not,” replied Jacqui laughing. “That’s sweet of you to think of her.”

  They were chatting away. Charles half listened as they left Manhattan and sped through the grim streets of New York on that cold, wet morning. The few who were up that early on a Saturday looked universally miserable. The buildings changed and were now grimy reminders of the poorer side of the city. Life appeared to move lethargically outside the buzz of Manhattan. They moved to the f
reeways that cut between the buildings and created islands of tenements bathed in the smoky waste of the cars and trucks that were their main scenery. They could have been excused for wondering if they were in the richest country in the world or some lesser developed one.

  Charles looked out for people walking in this concrete-clad, half-world. But he could find none. The only sign of movement came from the cars and trucks on freeways and streets; occasionally one could glimpse a shadow by a window in one of the tenements and imagine that was caused by a real person. The sidewalks appeared redundant in their emptiness. Life was a four wheeled affair travelling erratically in and out of the city.

  They pulled into the gloom of La Guardia. Airports are never much fun. Flying is the ultimate American utility. The airports in New York are run without enthusiasm. Nobody seems to care and the passenger is just a passer-by using the pathways and escalators, stopping occasionally for fast food, the odd piece of shopping and the interminable queues to get through their chosen departure gate. La Guardia is pleasing from the air. Otherwise it is grim.

  Charles turned to Claire. “Are you carrying a gun? We are. Do we go through a check?”

  “No. You only do that when you use public airlines. We will be heading straight out to the jet by the hanger. I’m obviously armed too. We still do not know who attacked you. But we plan to find out if the driver wakes up today.”

  “How will you question him away from the police?”

  “That’s quite simple. We own the hospital. One of the doctors will take him to the theatre for an operation on his leg. He has a couple of bullets in it. Before we anaesthetise him, he will be questioned. Then, as he is brought back from surgery, he’ll be dealt with. We can’t have him spilling the beans to the cops about our interrogation. The shit deserves it anyway. He betrayed us. The penalty is clear.”

  She was right. If Di Maglio was not brutal in meting out punishments, then there would be anarchy among his men. Nobody could relax for one moment with those people around, but one had to employ such undesirables given the things they were used for. If you spared them, they would get back at you. You had to kill or be killed.

  Di Maglio would execute the man without compunction. Charles and Jacqui, in reality, were no different; they were just in another market where there was less need for such action. But the security chief from Associated, the two detectives and the secretary had all been disposed of in a single day for similar reasons.

  Charles recalled Di Maglio telling him once that they were alike; now he realised that was truer than he had thought. Though Charles dealt in money and Di Maglio in drugs, extortion and prostitution, they were both ruthless and would do all necessary to achieve their aims.

  They were now at the plane. They got on and their luggage was loaded. That did not take long, as Jacqui was quick to point out. They had not bought clothes for California as they had planned to return home first. Charles expected that meant that Jacqui would head straight to Rodeo Drive and come back laden with new outfits. He didn’t mind and, indeed, these days often accompanied her and let her buy things for him. Money was never an issue when you have billions in the bank, making close to ten million in interest each month.

  The jet was comfortable. Claire knew her way around. They had coffee, fruit juice and croissants. She said they could have a full breakfast if they wished, but they declined. They went over papers sent from the office. There was little of importance and they got through that quickly. The phone rang and Claire answered. She handed it to Charles. It was Di Maglio, “The police interviewed the driver early this morning before we could get to him. He spun a strange yarn. He claims that he was given money by some Russians to help kidnap you two. And he says the Russians were after me as well. He claims they are Russian Mafia. And the strangest thing of all is that he says the gang is led by Rastinov.”

  “But that’s impossible. I thought he was dead.”

  Di Maglio’s voice was grim. “I did, too, but we have heard a couple of rumours recently. There have been some strange things happening around here. It could be true. We are investigating. But tell Claire to be really alert. I want to send extra guards. You’ll need them in London as well. We’ll talk about it when we meet.”

  Charles relayed what he had said to the girls. Jacqui went quite pale. She had seen more of Rastinov than the others. She had experienced the brutality of his men and had lost their first child due to him. Charles realised that the thought of him alive must traumatise her, and he had no doubt they would need to ensure that, if the brute were still alive, he really died next time. And that the next time had better be soon.

  Charles had had one brief meeting with him and then thought he had seen him dead. Surely he could not have been mistaken? Surely it was Rastinov who died in the shoot-out at the Russian Mafia bunker in the South of France? He thought back to those horrific events. They had fought the Russian Mafia and killed the main leaders. They had identified them. If Rastinov were alive, he must have had a double or a double was now acting his part. That would be the only rationale. Charles thought back to the thick of the battle. It had been a bloodbath with so many victims. There would have been no time to double check. It was possible they could have been misled. It astounded him that could be the case. He had been an amateur at the time, but the Di Maglio men had accompanied him and they were experts. He couldn’t believe that they would all have been deceived.

  Jacqui interrupted this reverie, “What will we do?”

  “Your father’s people must kill Rastinov. There is no alternative. It looks as if we are heading for a bout of gang warfare again. We will have to be careful. We need to be armed at all times. And we should make sure that we have adequate protection for Juliet. I want you to concentrate on her safety, Claire. I’d quite like you to come back with us to London as well. I’ll talk to Di Maglio about it. Would you agree?”

  “I’d love to. Where would I live?”

  “We may need to bring you and Maria to the house. It depends. I’ll talk to Di Maglio and get his take.”

  Claire nodded, “He’ll agree with you. It looks like the peace is over. Something has happened in the Russian Mafia. The deal we agreed two years ago appears dead. I guess that’s why Di Maglio wanted you all to meet up in California.”

  The festive atmosphere had been dispelled. They were all serious now as they thought through the precautions they would need to take. This meant being armed day and night. It meant checking security at all times. Charles cursed the link between the evil world of Di Maglio and them. Then he calmed down. It couldn’t be helped.

  They started to lose height as the pilot brought them towards Los Angeles. The sight of the sea and a glimpse of the sun behind fluffy clouds helped dispel the gloom.

  “Come on,” joked Charles. “We’ve lived with Rastinov before and I suspect we’ll have to again. This is the same world you used to live in, Jacqui. You never liked it but it didn’t scare you.”

  “You’re right. It’s just that we had stopped thinking of the past. I had felt so safe. But you’re right, we’ll manage.”

  She was smiling again as they disembarked. “The London flight arrives in forty five minutes. Let’s hang around for it and surprise Juliet.”

  They waited in the crowded arrival hall. Claire, who had disappeared for a moment, returned and told them to come with her. She had got the cases to the waiting driver and so he would take them to the car. They had now VIP treatment. That meant that they could get through to the passengers as they left the planes and before customs and immigration.

  Juliet saw them the moment she came round the corner. The nanny put her down and she toddled towards them. She jumped into Jacqui’s outstretched arms and they kissed each other happily. Then she saw Charles and the process was repeated. It was a sight that made many of the other passengers smile as they passed. A little girl and the chatter of baby talk for her parents. Then Claire came forward and gave Juliet a kiss.

  They
whisked through customs. Their case was the first out, emblazoned as it was with priority stickers. They grabbed it and headed out. A tall man in a chauffeur’s outfit came up to Claire and said something. She nodded and he grabbed the case. They headed to the parking lot. Jacqui was carrying Juliet and the nanny was following.

  “Charles,” whispered Claire. “These places are dangerous. Keep an eye open. Keep hold of your gun. This place is moments from the freeway and then there are several options for anybody to take. We haven’t got full security yet. Be careful.”

  “Is the driver armed?”

  “Yes. But he’s not the best. He is outstanding as a driver. He’ll evade any pursuer. But he’s not one for guerrilla combat. It really is up to you and me.”

  “Jacqui’s armed as well. I know she’s carrying Juliet, but once she’s in the car we have another gun.”

  Claire was looking around from right to left. She glanced up as well. Car parks are places where it’s easy to hide. She was incredibly nervous. Charles wondered whether she was not over sensitive.

  “These guys managed to win over one of the Di Maglio drivers. That’s not easy. The man knew he was dead meat if he was found out and caught. They can’t kill him today but he’ll not see the week out, you can bet at that. They must have spent a lot on persuading him. They got you in a good spot and at a good time. You must have been under surveillance. They’ll know you were booked on a flight for LA, they may even know you’ve switched to a private jet if they have spies at the airports. They may know that Juliet’s on this flight. And they can guess that we will not be on full security. Of course, I’m nervous, this is the best opportunity they’ll have.”

  Charles’ hand felt for his gun. He held it under his jacket. Claire was wearing a longish coat and he suspected she had an Uzi or something similar. The outline was clear. He realised that this was intentional, if they were to be ambushed the attackers would go for her first. They would know she was armed. That way the others would have a bit extra time. They would have that small extra chance to get away.