Angel of Death. Christian Russell

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      Mary O’Gavin had been top of her class at Quantico. She was a beautiful young woman with big blue eyes and a pair of legs that made Sean wish he were a pair of stockings. She hated his passes at her, though. At times like this she would tell him he acted like a silly lover boy from a soap opera.

      A tragic story had made her move here from St. Louis. Nobody knew any details except Beck. Not even Mark. Mary was extremely bright and knew what this job meant to a woman. In the FBI, a female agent had to be twice better than a man to be half as appreciated. But that hadn’t affected her enthusiasm. She still believed in justice. So much justice one who was well past puberty could lucidly hope for. Both she and Steimberg had graduated from law school.

      Dumpy Kulikovski’s presence in the squad was superfluous. A genuine XXL. He thought of himself as their specialist in “shuffling the papers.” Everyone loved the fat Pole for his good heart.

      “Any new files from ‘The Mogul’ yet?” Mark asked.

      “No, it appears we’re going through a peaceful period right now,” Mary answered. “So it’s still the old cases we’re working on.”

      Suddenly one of the phones on Mark’s desk started to ring. The agent picked the receiver.

      “This is he.”

      He listened attentively then said, “OK, boss, I got it: tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. we’ll have to be at LaGuardia.”

      The others looked at him curiously. But Mark lit a cigarette first, took a few draws and only then decided to talk.

      “We’ve got a job for tomorrow. Governor Dukakis is coming here together with Senator Wheller. It seems they’re to attend a gala at the Majestic. Henry Wheller has asked the Mayor to plead with ‘The Mogul’ to put us in charge of their security.”

      “You mean he’s asked for you in particular,” Mary corrected him smiling.

      They all knew what had happened six months before. During the visit of a Republican Congressional delegation, a nutcracker with a gun had jumped right in front of Wheller. Mark, who was close to the senator, had managed to pull him down the moment he had been shot at so the bullet had only hit the senator’s hat. Ever since that day, whenever he came to New York the old senator insisted that his bodyguards be supervised by Du Nancy.

      “Tomorrow morning at nine, Sean, Arty and me will be at LaGuardia and escort him from there,” Mark decided. “Mary, you’ll bring these reports up to date, won’t you?”

      The young woman nodded obediently.

      “It seems the whole family will be at the Majestic. Including Dorothy Wheller, the famous actress, the senator’s niece,” Arty said.

      “Well, in that case, this might even turn out to be a pleasant job,” Sean tried to delude himself.

      “I suggest you stick to your waitresses,” Steimberg said.

      As Arty was a great hockey fan himself, Mark asked him, “How about joining me and Tommy to the Rangers game on Saturday?”

      “He can’t. On Saturdays he cheats on his friends,” Sean put in.

      “Bullshit,” the other said. “I spend them with my wife. Saturdays are our honeymoon days,” Arty’s face lit up.

      “That’s exactly what I meant,” the Greek said.

      Steimberg was about to jump at him, fists tight, but realized the futility of it and gave up.

      “One of these days I’m going to post you on the wall, Paulardis!” he said. Then he suddenly turned serious. “Actually, I can’t make it, Mark, I’ve got Bar Mitzvah on Saturday evening. My elder son, Avy, turns thirteen. I was going to ask you and Tommy over.”

      “Thanks, Arty, but Mike Richter has already promised Tommy to let him shoot a few pucks at his goal after the game. Besides, you know how hard I tried to learn the Hava Nagilah and couldn’t.”

      “Then the invitation stands for the first day of Hanukkah,” Steimberg suggested.

      “Sure, why not,” Mark answered.

      CHAPTER TWO

      Tuesday, October 13

      Early in the morning Mark and Sean asked Beck for one of the department’s cars to go to LaGuardia. ‘The Mogul’ gave them a silver BMW. Together with three NYPD cars they were to escort the two armored limos that Rudolph Giuliani had provided the high officials from Boston with throughout their stay.

      As Steimberg lived in Maspeth, which was on their way to the airport, they had agreed to pick him up from home. Indeed, when they reached his house he and his cute wife were waiting outside.

      “Hi, Ruth,” the Greek said. “When are you going to dump that loser and elope with me?”

      The young woman waved to those in the car and stuck her tongue out to Paulardis. Then, to give him an even more eloquent answer, she gave Arty a long, passionate kiss.

      “Take care,” she shouted to them before going back inside.

      Once in the car Steimberg swelled up like a real Don Juan.

      “She’s got a good reason for doing that, you know,” Sean tried to burst his chewing gum bubble. “The poor woman keeps kissing you hoping you’ll change sometime but you’re still an ugly frog.”

      He received some mumblings in Yiddish in exchange. They drove off to the airport at full speed.

      Eight hours later the male members of the D2 squad, that is Mark, Sean and Arty, were almost exhausted. Since 9:00 a.m. when they had picked the senator from the airport the day had been all comings and goings. Right after the landing, the senator and Governor Dukakis had split up and the former had started his own tour of the city. The World Trade Center, City Hall, and The United Nations were just a few of the stopovers. The man’s energy seemed to surpass that of a teenager, despite the fact that the politician had had a severe heart attack two years before. Even if his office was in Boston and the votes he needed were scattered all over Massachusetts, he never hesitated, wherever he was, to try to win favor for the party to which the Whellers had been loyal for decades.

      Descending from one of the oldest and richest American families, Henry Wheller knew that there were unfortunately too many politicians who didn’t give ordinary citizens any chance to be wrong about them. He rather enjoyed the idea he was not one of them. Always ready to give counsel, legal or even material support to those in need, the Republican senator was one of the most endearing public personalities.

      The first Whellers had arrived in America on the Mayflower. For the next centuries generations of politicians, military or businessmen contributed to increasing the reputation that the clan was enjoying. For several decades two families disputed supremacy in the state of Massachusetts: the Kennedys and the Whellers. The same way as Grandma Rose had until recently represented the uphold of the Kennedy clan, Senator Wheller was now the doyen of the Whellers and none of them would dare come up to the bit with him. A remarkable member of several Senate committees, and СКАЧАТЬ