The Financial Terrorist Page 9

  There was a noise to the left. A man darted forward. Charles pulled his gun clear of his jacket and Claire brought up her gun. The man was alone. He looked at them in panic. He bolted down the stairs. Charles shrugged his shoulders. Claire had already concealed her gun. He slipped his hand back under his jacket.

  They were now near the car. The driver was about ten yards ahead of the rest of them. He activated the remote control. A roar filled the air.

  Charles threw himself in front of Jacqui and Juliet and pulled them down to the ground. His body protected them from the force of the explosion. He felt the rush of air buffet him and smelt the acrid smoke.

  The driver was blown backwards as he took almost the full force of the blast. The suitcase he was carrying flew through the air and landed a few feet away.

  Claire threw herself down on the ground and rolled onto her back. She had drawn her gun again and was scouring the area for movement.

  Charles checked out Jacqui and Juliet. They were fine.

  The shocked nanny had been blown off her feet, was unhurt and just looking on in horror. She believed Charles to be a banker, and did not understand what was happening. The sight of his gun must have thrown her. The poor girl was just twelve hours out of London and apparently in the centre of a dangerous attempt on their lives.

  Charles still had his gun drawn as he went over to the driver. He was still breathing. He was coming around. He seemed bruised and battered, but otherwise in one piece.

  “Cover Jacqui and Juliet,” yelled Claire. “Someone could try to snatch them.”

  Two men came running towards us. “Stop,” yelled Claire. “Stop or I fire.”

  They stopped and shouted, “What’s happening? We heard an explosion.”

  “Move away,” shouted Claire.

  The driver came to them, “Let’s go? I’m OK. I can drive. I’m just all shaken up.”

  Charles thought he was concussed. The poor guy had lost his memory. The blazing wreck that risked setting alight the cars it had crashed into meant nothing to him.

  “That wasn’t our car,” he yelled. He wasn’t concussed. He had read Charles’ thoughts.

  “Then let’s go. Check the car first. Look inside and underneath.”

  He nodded and went to a space several cars along from where the blast had occurred. He rolled on the floor and looked underneath. He looked through the windows. He opened each door. Then he jumped in and, waving Jacqui to take cover, backed out of the car space and towards the exit. He motioned to Jacqui to get to the car and she ran forward. Charles did too, grabbing the case from the floor. Claire covered them from the rear. Jacqui bundled herself into the car and cuddled Juliet. She wouldn’t have understood what had happened but she was trembling. Jacqui was holding her and keeping her quiet, it must have been the noise that frightened her more than anything else.

  The nanny just stood transfixed. Charles yelled at her to get over to the car, pulling her that way when she did not react. She got in and sat in the rear seat, her eyes wide in horror and her mouth open in terror. Jacqui whispered something to her and she seemed to recover a bit.

  Charles skirted the car. He looked at Juliet again. He noticed she clutched the little case of toys she had been holding. Charles jumped in the front of the car. That would let Claire cover the back. Her gun would be better at disabling any vehicle following them. She ran over and jumped into the car, which was already moving, slamming the door behind her.

  “Open the window,” she instructed the driver. And she pointed the gun out of it, monitoring the area. Charles had his drawn too and was monitoring the road ahead.

  The driver punched a button on his mobile as the car gathered speed and screeched out of the car park and into the open. There was the sound of sirens approaching. The flashing lights would indicate the emergency services. There would be ambulances as well as the required police and fire-fighters. They suspected the latter were the ones needed most.

  There was a voice from the mobile. The driver shouted back to it, “This is eight four zero seven. I am carrying VIPs. There has been an attempt on their lives in the airport car park area. I am heading for Santa Monica. Request an escort.”

  “This is Police Central. We read you. Identify VIPs”

  “Charles Rossi, UK banker. Jacqueline Di Maglio, his wife. We also have their baby daughter, one nanny and one private bodyguard, female.”

  “We read you. We have them registered. You will be getting a motorcycle escort in around two minutes. Head on down the freeway. Retain radio contact. That is two drivers, both with an armed rider. “

  The driver let the radiophone run. Charles said nothing. “Mummy, what was the bang?” a small voice in the rear of the car asked.

  “Oh, just something old cars do sometimes, darling. Our cars never do that because we don’t have old ones. Isn’t it silly of people to let their car make such a big bang?”

  Juliet appeared to agree. She then piped up, “Why is Auntie Claire playing with a gun? I thought only boys played with them.”

  “She likes to sometimes. She’s playing with daddy. Look he has a gun too.”

  Once again that explanation was accepted. The conversation carried on like that while the driver sped towards Los Angeles. Cars around them hooted as they weaved between them at speed. Then they saw the flashing lights and sirens of two motorcycles. They drew up by the side of them and checked the occupants. They then drew ahead of them and sped along, lights flashing and sirens roaring as they cleared the traffic. The driver had put on his warning lights.

  Claire sat by the open rear window, her gun on her lap but ever vigilant. Jacqui looked calm and was whispering and playing with a now totally unconcerned Juliet. The nanny was still in a state of shock, sitting bolt upright with her mouth half open. Charles turned to the driver, “Is the car bullet-proof?”

  “That’s what they tell me,” quipped the driver.

  Charles looked closer at him. He was a tall man. He was dusty and dirty from the blast, but one could see that he must normally look impeccable. His hair was carefully trimmed, he was clean and the creases were still visible in his trousers. He must be ex-military. “Where did you learn to drive?”

  “Here in LA.”

  “You know what I mean. You’re at over a hundred, you’re relaxed and you are in total control on a crowded freeway.”

  “I was in the army. I learnt to do this type of driving there. I drove VIPs for the Government. Then I started working for Mr Di Maglio in California. The money’s better than in the army and it’s a lot less tedious. I organise all his car needs on the West Coast.”

  “You’re good. What do you make of the explosion?”

  “It wasn’t very powerful. It was made to scare rather than to kill. I guess it was made for us. Someone saw me park. They wouldn’t have booby-trapped this car as some pretty sophisticated devices protect it. I would have been aware of it the moment I pressed the remote control, although I always do a visual check as well as a precaution. I always activate the remote twenty yards or so from the car. If they have booby trapped it, you’ve a better chance of surviving at that distance.”

  “How did the remote set off the other car?”

  The driver shook his head. “I don’t think it did. I think that someone had set up the other car and blew it up as we approached. I think that it was chance that it happened around the time I activated the control. In fact I think it happened a few seconds after I had activated it. I remember hearing the beep of the car and the lights were already flashing on it.”

  Claire chimed in at this point, “I agree. Someone is trying to scare you. First of all there was the attack in New York. That was made to scare rather than to kill or hurt. Now we have had this. It’s very bizarre.”

  “How do we get a police escort?” asked Charles. “I wouldn’t have thought my father- in- law had that much influence with the West Coast authorities.”

  The driver laughed, “H
e has a lot of influence. They hardly want you hurt. We’ll also have a police car waiting at the hotel.”

  Claire called out at that moment, “Helicopter overhead. It’s not marked. Not police. Nor is it the TV people. Can we find a way of identifying it?”

  The driver punched the button on his radiophone again, “This is us heading to Santa Monica under escort. We have unidentified helicopter approaching us. Please can you identify?”

  A voice came back, “Understood. We are checking.”

  “It’s coming closer and lower,” called Claire. “I can’t shoot at it. I wouldn’t do much good with this thing and it would be dangerous. There are too many others around.”

  “Let’s hope that your analysis is right. If it’s the opposition, let’s hope that they still only want to scare us.”

  The helicopter was coming in fast and swooping lower. A voice came over the radio.

  “Helicopter identified as belonging to Zorba Import/Export of Seattle. No knowledge of principals. We have asked them to move off, but they have asked for proof of our authority. Stand by.”

  “That’s a lot of help,” Claire called out laconically. “The thing is almost on top of us.”

  The helicopter swooped down. A man was leaning out of it. He was armed with what looked like a rocket launcher. There was a flash and something roared by them. Minutes later it was weaving its way into the hills. Then in the distance they heard an explosion as it hit the side of the hill.

  Charles muttered, “That was not a full force rocket. That was more a firework. We are still being stalked and they are still trying to frighten us. But hold on, it looks as if they are going to fire something else.”

  The driver was watching through the rear view mirror, waiting for the flash that would tell him it was time to act. As the rocket launcher fired, he swerved to the inside lane and onto the hard shoulder. He stamped down on the accelerator and the car leapt forward. The speedometer was at over a hundred and forty and, for the first time, they could feel the car bumping, weaving and grinding on the road. The rocket sped behind them and hit the protective barrier, exploding, showering the freeway with metal and causing cars to swerve as they got caught in the blast. They realised this was no firework. It was likely that there had been crashes, but they were too far ahead to be able to tell.

  The helicopter zoomed towards them again. Jacqui called out, “There’s a police helicopter coming the other way. It’s going to intercept it.”

  At that moment, the pilot must have seen the police. He turned left and headed into the hills. The police helicopter was in full pursuit. Jacqui watched them carefully. Claire watched the road behind. Charles monitored the road ahead.

  Jacqui called out, “They’ll get away. They are faster than the police. They’ll have a rendezvous in the hills. And blow up their helicopter. We’ll do a check on Zorba, but I suspect I know who’ll we able to trace the ownership to.”

  Charles nodded grimly. She was right. The owners would be linked to the Russian Mafia. He was also certain that they would trace the car that had exploded to them as well. They already had established the link between them and the attack in New York. He still, though, could not understand why they were so persistent and so open. The news of the attack would now be on the TV stations. The three of them had been in too public places. Charles wondered if it would affect the bid they were making for PAF.

  The driver had drawn back onto the main carriageway and was holding his speed. The motorcyclists had clung to them like a glove. The riders had been aware of the events in the air but they had found it harder to manage their bikes at that speed than the driver in the car had. The convoy was, in any event, close to their turn off point now. They were now probably safe from further attack, but they couldn’t be sure. Nobody relaxed.

  The poor nanny was still in a state of shock. Charles realised she would not be with them at the end of the trip. He suspected he would need a girl from the Di Maglio operation until they had sorted everything out. They had sworn they would run separate empires. But there were some things one couldn’t avoid. It looked like Maria and Claire would become part of the household. And it now looked as if they were going to have to take on a Mafia trained nanny. Such things existed. Quite simply the Di Maglio stable threw up a trained person for any walk of life. The Mafia had families. So they catered for them. They knew what was needed from cradle to grave. And feeling cynical, Charles wouldn’t have put it past them to have their evil tentacles spreading out even beyond that.

  They had left the freeway and soon the hotel loomed into view. They drew up in front of the main entrance just as a marked police car blocked off the approach road behind them. The outriders jumped off their machines and stood in front of the car. Claire got out. This time her coat concealed her gun. She was careful, though, and checked all around her. “It’s all clear for the lobby.”

  The lobby was crowded and Charles didn’t like it. He turned questioningly to Claire.

  “You’ll be covered. They won’t try here. Not with police all around. We need to get in anyway.”

  Charles signalled to Jacqui to move and she hurried out with Juliet. The nanny followed as if in a trance. The driver was getting the cases. He shook his head at the porter who wanted to carry them. He did not want them out of his sight. Charles grabbed his briefcase and also Jacqui’s, which he handed to Claire. The driver had the other cases. There were four. He had two under his arms and two by the handles. He would not be much good in a fight. Mind you, Claire had said that was not one of his strong points.

  They must have seemed a strange sight. Nobody, luckily, thought of taking any photos. And the press were thankfully not around.

  As the driver strode through the glass door, his upright figure and clean cut looks contrasted with the dust, dirt and grime on his uniform. Only his cap appeared to have escaped from the residue of the blast in the car park. His face was smeared with soot or dirt, or perhaps both.

  Jacqui had dusted herself clean. Her hair was a bit dishevelled, but that could have passed as windblown. Her make up was delicate. A light red lipstick and gentle eye shadow contrasting the olive glow of her smooth, flawless skin. Her long, slim legs peeped out of her coat from time to time on black patent heels that made her look taller than she was.

  Juliet had her arms around her mother’s neck. Her dark long curls blended perfectly with those of Jacqui. Her skin was paler but still had the slight olive hint of her Italian ancestry. She was dressed in a red dress with a matching red bow in her hair. Her face was clean and glowing with innocence and interest as she looked around the lobby. She was evidently still upset, clinging to Jacqui rather than holding on to her.

  The nanny was pale. Her clothes were still dusty from earlier. Her hair was all over the place, her eyes were blank. She was shaking like a leaf. When you have not experienced the works of the world according to Di Maglio, the first time comes as quite a shock.

  Claire had also dusted herself down, although there were signs of dust and grime on the back of her coat. She had rolled onto her back to scan the car park for signs of trouble. Her hair was windswept. The long blond waves were a tangled mass, for she had been peering out of the back window for a good part of the journey. As a result her face was flushed from the wind. Her eyes sparkled from the excitement of the afternoon. Her lips were moist, her breath was coming out in sharp short bursts. It was strange. There was something vibrant about her. The thrill of the chase had a similar impact on Claire to the thrill of the kill for Maria.

  Charles glanced at himself and self-consciously brushed down his clothes. He straightened his tie and smoothed down his hair. This all took a moment. Indeed, his inspection of his companions had all taken a matter of a minute. He was still standing in front of the hotel’s revolving doors. The others were already half way into the lobby. A policeman was approaching, he seemed to feel something was wrong. Charles moved forward and into the hotel. Relieved, the policeman returned t
o his car and continued with his surveillance.

  Charles caught up with the others and put a protective arm around Jacqui. Juliet looked at him and one little hand took hold of his. He smiled back at her and bent forward to kiss her on the head. This was crazy. They needed to distance ourselves from the Di Maglio world of crime. They had to protect Juliet. Jacqui and Charles’ world was the non-violent area of finance. If it ever became violent for them, Charles swore he would leave it. And he meant it. He really meant it

  The management rushed them into their rooms. The driver left, having told them that he would be on call whenever they needed him during their stay. The nanny was still traumatised. She and Claire unpacked the case that held Juliet’s things.

  Charles put on the cartoon channel, which grabbed Juliet’s attention immediately. He pulled off his jacket and tie. Jacqui had hung up her coat. They had a soft drink and all switched off from the violence of the street to watch an episode of ‘Tom and Jerry’

  Soon, Juliet was chortling at the antics of the cat and the mouse. Jacqui and Charles exchanged looks. This would help her forget. The troubled ride would fade into insignificance.

  Claire returned. “The nanny’s asleep. I slipped her a couple of pills when she had a drink. She thought it tasted weird but finished it all the same. I guess it will help her get over the shock. But you’re going to need a new nanny. She asked if I knew if she could get a magazine called ’The Lady’ here. She tells me that’s where the aristocracy advertise for nannies in England. And she swears she will now only work with old money, so you’re hardly going to make it.”

  Charles turned to Juliet, “Mummy and Daddy have got to make a couple of calls darling. Do you want to sit here and watch the television?”

  “Can Auntie Claire sit with me?” said the little voice.

  “I need her to help me. Can you sit alone? We’ll just be over there at the table. We’ll be near.”