Angel of Death. Christian Russell

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СКАЧАТЬ teased him. “Your luck seems to be working better and better. The first time they put a hole through your hat, now they didn’t even touch you.”

      “Thanks, Patrick,” the senator laughed, “but I’d rather not put it to the test again. Well, what can you do? Friends come and go but enemies add up. Look at us, boring these young people. Dorothy, be a good host and introduce our guest to Sarah and Ralf. Then enjoy yourselves too. Show him around the house, dance a little....”

      Mark had barely mumbled something when he felt a hand dragging him to the end of the room.

      “Mr. Celebrity always surrounds himself with mystery or only when dealing with silly girls?” Dorothy pricked him.

      “I wasn’t that famous. Besides, that happened a very long time ago.”

      They walked past the people who were having a friendly chat by the entrance. From where they were standing now they could have a view of the entire room. In the opposite corner, on a very imposing rostrum, the man noticed a large orchestra in golden outfits. They were skillfully playing a tango using almost all the musical instruments he could think of. A lot of couples were dancing passionately in the middle of the room. To the left, several dozens of elderly people were sitting at a long table. At its head Mark recognized the actress’s father: Ralf Wheller. Dorothy had stopped and was now looking confusedly about the room.

      “What’s the matter?” Mark asked.

      “I’m trying to locate my sister. I want to introduce you to her.”

      She finally found her—she was about twenty feet away from them. She was accompanied by two men who looked like gigolos. As they were drawing near, Du Nancy took a good look at her. Sarah was trying to hide about ten years behind her sad eyes and thick makeup. She was that kind of woman whose worst nightmare was a rainy day. She’s probably fifteen years older than her sister, Mark thought. As far as he knew, Sarah Wheller had been one of Hugh Heffner’s last ‘bunny girls’ in the early ’80s and was still longing for those times. Quickly labelled as a sex-symbol, she had been in several movies and then she started losing her charm and the movie people lost their interest in her. She was currently with Little Carnegie Theater only.

      “My dear sister, this is Special Agent Mark Du Nancy.”

      Sarah took a little bow. These Whellers seem to be very fond of their manners, Mark thought. The Du Nancys also cared for theirs but they also had other things to attend to. That was why he only kissed her hand.

      “Oh, the man whose name is on everyone’s lips these days,” the woman exclaimed. “Nice to meet you. It seems you’re leading a pretty interesting life.”

      She didn’t wait for an answer, just nodded at them and resumed her conversation with her companions. Before they left, Mark noticed her dress. It was incredibly short and so sheer you could almost read her mind.

      “Is she married?” he asked a little later out of pure curiosity.

      “From time to time,” Dorothy smiled.

      Now a group of four waiters were carrying a huge cake to the long table. There were many burning candles in it, sixty-five to be exact. They placed it before Ralf Wheller. The actor started to blow out the candles as the crowd were cheering and singing ‘Happy Birthday.’ With the help of his table companions he managed to do it in less than thirty seconds.

      Old Wheller was a living legend of the New York stage. He had been Broadway’s golden boy and a special guest star to the Shakespeare festivals in Central Park. In the ’60s he had been Christopher Plummer’s co-star in Othello. He had been on the same stage with Laurence Olivier and Barbara Stanwyck. He hadn’t had too much to do with the movie business although the Los Angeles studios had always courted him whenever they did a Shakespeare movie. He had only given in once: at the request of his friend Richard Burton he had played a minor part in one of the latter’s historical movies.

      One of Wheller’s close friends, an actor himself, stood up and started to praise his life and career. Ralf protested but to no result. The other guests urged him to listen to the speech. At some point a gorgeous young woman went up to the actor and whispered a few words into his ear, at the same time pointing to something in the room. The speaker had just come to the part about the immortality of Wheller’s roles. Ralf interrupted him.

      “Stop, Frank! Our life, the life of the immortals, is still short and I want us to enjoy every minute of it. Especially now that I’ve reached an age when the candles have come to cost more than the cake. Let’s do something useful and pleasant for a change. There,” he pointed to a place close by, “you’ll see a group of young actresses who’d be more than happy to get advice from some seasoned guys like yourselves. What do you say, shall we join them?”

      “I think it’s your advice they’re after, not some poor actor’s,” Frank said.

      “OK then,” Ralf replied, “you can come too. The least you can do is to revel in their beauty.”

      “I’m afraid that’s not possible either, Ralf. Do you remember that thing they used to put in our tea back in Korea? I guess it’s already started to take its effect on me.” He gave his colleague a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Go get them, buddy!”

      The brave sixty-five-year-old birthday boy stood up and made for the group of starlets. They surrounded him affectionately hanging on every word he said.

      Mark and Dorothy joined them. The man noticed that the young women were all very beautiful and elegant. It was obvious the success of the party was due to the perfect combination of fine liquor and beautiful women. The younger daughter managed, not without some difficulty, to pull her father from the group of starlets.

      “Come on, dad, how could you? Even your rheumatism is older than them.”

      “But that was completely innocent. I was just giving them some stage directions.”

      “Cut it, dad!” the daughter laughed. “You claim you’re harmless but always seem to find time for one last romance.”

      “That’s where you’re wrong, Dorrie,” the old man said seriously. “To me, my last romance will always be the memory of my first one.”

      The young woman was moved realizing he was thinking of her mother. She pointed to the agent. “Let me introduce Mark Du Nancy to you, the man who saved my uncle and me.”

      Ralf Wheller shook his hand smiling warmly. “Nice to meet you. I owe it to you twice, Mr. Du Nancy.” Then he cordially took them both by the shoulders. “You see, there are several special traffic rules for the last part of the road. Sometimes it feels good to break them, though. Old age is nothing but an anesthetic that nature’s chosen to prepare us for death. And, like any anesthetic, it may work or it may not. Tragedy begins when it doesn’t, because old age would be bearable if only the soul grew old with the body.”

      “Your body’s holding up pretty well,” Mark said. And it wasn’t entirely groundless for Ralf Wheller looked, indeed, five or six years younger. “You don’t show your age at all.”

      “Of course, I don’t. And you know why? Because everything that’s old about me is falling off: my hair, my teeth,” the actor laughed. “Anyway, at my age, you can’t complain about the diseases that get a fair share of your body.”

      He waved to a waiter who was carrying a tray full of champagne glasses and offered each of them СКАЧАТЬ