Angel of Death. Christian Russell

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СКАЧАТЬ it ready to leave. He gently pushed the woman away from the door, went out and started climbing down the stairs. Tommy stormed out of his playroom.

      “Daddy, you’re home!” he exclaimed joyfully. Then he noticed the suitcase and asked a little sadly. “Are you going some place, dad?”

      Mark nodded. He took the boy in his arms and kissed him.

      “When will you be back?” his son asked.

      The man avoided a direct answer. “Tomorrow I’ll be here to take you to the game like I promised.” He kissed the boy again and put him down. “Run, now, go finish the Michael Jordan puzzle!”

      Tommy ran into his room and the spouses looked at each other in silence.

      “Tell me, Mark, are you sure that damned actress whose life they say you’ve saved has nothing to do with it? I saw you both in the paper and you did look like her guardian angel.”

      Mark looked at her in surprise. Was that the typical wife syndrome, that is hate for any woman who comes near her husband? Or was it the famous feminine intuition? He favored the latter. His wife was an intelligent woman who had worked for years as a reporter. So he shook his head pretty unconvincingly, which she didn’t fail to notice.

      “We’ll talk on the phone, Cathy,” he said on his way out.

      She shouted angrily behind him. “Watch out for that door, Mark, don’t let it hit you!” Then she dropped on the couch and wiped the cream off her face with a towel.

      Tommy showed up in the hall again. He had finished the game and wanted to show it to his father. He noticed he was gone and asked his mother. “Where did Daddy go?”

      “He went to a hotel,” Cathy said, still in shock.

      “But why, mummy?” the child insisted candidly.

      Cathy put him on her lap and stroked his head. “I don’t know, Tommy! He got bored here, probably. It happens sometimes, you know. When men grow bored, they start a war or move out to a hotel.”

      CHAPTER NINE

      Sunday, October 18

      It had been raining all morning. It had slowed down toward noon but small raindrops kept falling from the sky. Mark had called Dorothy yesterday and given her the address of the Bossert Hotel where he was staying. After an embarrassing pause the actress had acknowledged sending the car to the hotel and asked him not to let her down, he must come, he was the guest of honor.

      Mark had hardly finished reading the editorial in The New York Times when the phone rang. The receptionist told him that there was a limo waiting for him outside. He looked at his watch: 16:55. These Whellers are so damn punctual! He changed his clothes quickly and went downstairs. When he saw the long expensive car which was taking the entire driveway, he felt sorry for not having taken a taxi to South Orange.

      A chauffeur in a brand new uniform opened the back door for him. Du Nancy got in the car without very much enthusiasm. The inside was as roomy as his hotel room. There were a TV, a phone, a fridge, and a mini bar. He realized that the only thing missing was a bathroom. Well, he couldn’t be too sure of that.

      It took them over an hour to get there. As soon as they entered South Orange Avenue the rain stopped as if by miracle. More than that, the sun started shining. Mark thought it probably never rained at their parties. The Whellers wouldn’t have that.

      When they reached the gates a big man came out of a small house close by. The chauffeur pulled down the window. “Who are you bringing?” the guard asked.

      “Mr. Du Nancy,” the chauffer answered boastfully.

      “OK, I’ll let Miss Dorothy know. She told me to call her the minute you get here.”

      The big gates opened and they entered a huge park full of century-old trees. After about two hundred yards Mark finally saw what the actress had called ‘her uncle’s villa.’ The Louvre could have easily moved its masterpieces there. Outside the huge building were several fountains and small greenhouses. Lots of elegant people were moving around the tables full of goodies. Others were talking lively. No one seemed to be paying any attention to the limo.

      The chauffer pulled up by the steps. He got out to open the door for the guest and was unpleasantly surprised to find him on the lowest step already. There was a reason behind Mark’s hurry, though: Dorothy Wheller was waiting for him on top of the steps with a big smile on her face.

      “I’m so glad you could come, Mark!” she told him while he kissed her hand. She looked at him again and burst into laughter when she saw his haircut. Then she took him by the arm and they entered a huge reception room. At a single glance the agent could recognize a lot of celebrities from showbiz, sports or politics. He stood still, overwhelmed.

      “What is it, Mark?” the woman asked.

      “I wonder what’s a guy like me doing in a place like this. This is like a walking Who’s Who edition.”

      “It’s not like that. You should see the Academy Governor’s Ball after the Oscars have been awarded.”

      “I don’t know what that is like, but I think I’m the only one here whose biography hasn’t been published.”

      “You’re exaggerating it. Don’t tell me you feel awkward.”

      “Oh, no, I don’t feel awkward. I’m often invited to reception halls where planes can take off.”

      Dorothy smiled and managed to make him move. “Let’s go, Uncle Henry’s waiting for us.”

      The senator was standing by the door talking passionately to an impressive elderly man. He saw them and waved to them to draw near. “Patrick, let me introduce my rescuer to you: Mark Du Nancy. He’s a real hero.” He then pointed to his interlocutor. “This is Judge Patrick Hurst from the Supreme Court.”

      “The real hero checked out of hospital last Friday,” Mark tried to remind them of Paulardis’s existence.

      “By the way, how’s your young colleague doing?” the politician made up for his mistake.

      “He’s all right. The bullet just grazed his shoulder. Anyway, senator, we’ve informed our bosses and Beck’s called Washington.”

      “Jesus, the ‘Monster’ will have the Secret Service guys all over me again,” Henry Wheller said. “They’re so boring with all that stuff in their ears!”

      The judge was staring at Mark, holding his hand to his forehead as if he wanted to recall something. “Yes, of course!” he exclaimed. “Du Nancy—the N.Y. Rangers left forward. You scored second from Ray Bourque’s pass in the All Star-Game in ’88. Am I right?” he asked reaching out his hand.

      “You are,” Mark said. “Only Ray’s going to play in the All Star-Game again next January whereas I haven’t held that stick in my hands for years.” He felt, however, flattered for being recognized for the most glorious day of his life. So he shook the judge’s hand vigorously. Hurst gave him the up and down and seemed satisfied by what he saw.

      “You know, Henry.... Years back I saw this guy break Messier down like a twig.”

      “And СКАЧАТЬ