The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set (137 page)

People would believe it.
 
It was human nature to believe the worst, particularly when you’re dealing with someone who has a past like Max, who once was responsible for the collapse of the stock market and thus for shattering millions of financial dreams.

The public still hated him.
 
This would only fuel their ire.

To stay at her house, he had blackmailed her with the tapes he had from the past, but just as she told him earlier, the more she thought about it, the less concerned she was.
 

All those years ago, when they secretly filmed the crowds coming undone at his parties, she made every effort to steer clear of the cameras.
 
He assumed she was on those tapes, but she knew where the cameras were hidden and kept clear them.
 
Be he was on those tapes, along with everyone else he wanted to hang if they didn’t come through with the inside information he wanted.
 
Carra was so certain of this, she was willing to bet on it now as she prepared to take him down.

“How are you alive?” Wolfhagen asked Andrews.

“Well, let’s see, Max.
 
Obviously, I didn’t die.
 
Doesn’t that suck?
 
People got to me in time.
 
I was taken to the hospital Gregorio Marañón in Madrid and was brought back from the dead.
 
And now it looks as if I’m about to bite it again.”

“That’s because he made a mistake,” Carra said.
 
“When Spocatti drove a knife into his side, he told him that he was being taken out for taking the stand against you.
 
Three weeks ago, he reached out to me because he knows I hate you.
 
He thought I’d want my own revenge and that we could help each other.
 
What he didn’t know is that I already had taken out the Coles and that I already tried to kill him.”

“So, why are you waiting?” Andrews asked.

She thought of Maggie Cain.
 
“Because you called at the right time.
 
Because I’m using you as bait.”
 
She snapped her fingers.
 
“And then you’re gone, too.”

“Why did you kill Wood?” Wolfhagen asked.
 
“She put me away.
 
You should have been thrilled by that.
 
Why take her out for it?”

“I didn’t kill Wood.
 
Her death is as much a shock to me as it is to everyone else.
 
I’ve given it some thought and the only thing I can think of is that someone you burned knew you were in town.
 
It likely was a past member of your club, probably someone you threatened with one of your tapes.
 
They saw an opportunity to nail you for whatever you did to them and they acted on it.”
 

She shrugged.
 
“What better way to implicate you in her death than to cut off her head, put it in a Tiffany box and send it to you at the Plaza?
 
Some would think you were in danger.
 
But others know your reputation.
 
They’d see another angle.
 
They’d think you sent it yourself because it’s the last thing a murderer would do.
 
They’d think you did it so you could hide in plain sight.
 
They know how crafty you are, Max, and I have to admit, it is good.
 
If you weren’t going to die tonight, somebody was betting that by sending you her head, you’d be crippled by it.
 
Just know that I didn’t kill Wood—and that we might never know who killed her.
 
Life always doesn’t give us answers, but I do know this—you’ve got plenty of enemies who want to watch you burn.
 
I’m just one of them.”

*
  
*
  
*

While Carra ticked off all the brilliant ways she’d pulled off this operation, Spocatti ticked off all the ways he should get out of it, but not without a brilliant shot of retribution of his own.

He’d been lied to.
 
He’d been tricked.
 
By the expression on Carmen’s face, he knew she was as angry as he, but they refused to let it show.
 
Their faces were blank slates.

Occasionally, they looked at each other—communication in a glance.
 
What he saw in her face was clear—she wanted revenge.
 
She wanted Carra Wolfhagen and Ira Lasker strung up and quartered because they’d actively put their lives at risk by not coming clean with who they really were and what their true objectives were from the start.

But what did she see in his face?
 
Age and experience told him to hold off as long as possible while considering every option before acting.
 
Safety was paramount.
 
Getting out clean was key.
 
He knew what Carra had in mind next and it was so twisted, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to see it go down.
 
But at what cost?
 
How far was he willing to go for his own taste of revenge when and if he was able to turn her own plan against her?

What Carra Wolfhagen and Ira Lasker didn’t understand is that right now, he and Carmen owed them nothing.
 
Their deal was broken the moment the truth was revealed.
 

They’d signed a contract to work with Maximilian Wolfhagen, not Carra Wolfhagen and Ira Lasker.
 
They’d gone into this job with the belief that they needed to murder those people on Wolfhagen’s list in a controlled environment manufactured only by them.
 
They’d never agreed to the unnecessary, amateurish complication they were facing now.
 
And they never would have taken this route because it could have been handled so much more professionally.

He knew others were coming.
 
He knew there were plans for them, too.
 
An idea occurred to him on how to turn this when Carra called over to them.
 
“Are you ready?” she asked.

Ready for what, he wondered.
 
Ready to scrap this deal and get out now?
 
Or did he and Carmen have time to pursue other options?
 
He didn’t know.

“We’ve been ready,” he said.
 
“You’ve been wasting valuable time.”

She tilted her head at him.
 
“Then let’s finish this.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

11:36 p.m.

When they left Roberta’s, they drove in silence.
 
The safe house was on the Upper West Side, far and away from the orange glow they could see flickering above the East Side of Manhattan.
 
Traffic was thick.
 
They were barely moving.

Maggie was looking out the passenger-side window, obviously reeling from Roberta’s repeated insistence that she was going to kill him.

Did he believe it?
 
No.
 
Could he explain how Roberta had seen the fire and the people burning before it was announced that terrorists had attacked the Upper East Side with explosives?
 
No.
 
But he did know one thing—Maggie Cain was not a killer.

She was someone doing her best under difficult circumstances.
 
She was alone and she was frightened.
 
This was beyond what she’d expected.
 
After her experiences with Wolfhagen, which literally disfigured her, she had difficulty trusting people for good reason.

Marty understood her now.
 
She was the first to see a connection when the Coles died, and then presumably Andrews.
 
Though she couldn’t be sure about it, she hired him to watch Wolfhagen, likely thinking he was somehow behind it.
 
But now that Mark Andrews might be alive, they had to at least scope the safe house and see if it was true.

He called Roz again at the FBI and had yet to hear from her.

He called Hines, but since the explosions had yet to reach him.

He reached out and squeezed Maggie’s hand, which she squeezed back.
 
He tried to call Jennifer again but it still was a rapid busy signal.

His mind went through a mental check list.
 
Gloria was safe.
 
His daughters were safe.
 
But right now, he knew he was on the cusp of something that was either going to lead to more answers and a better direction, or possible death if they entered the safe house and it wasn’t Andrews.

His cell phone rang.

Startled, each looked at it in his palm.
 
“It’s Roberta,” Marty said.

He answered it.
 
“Was she on the news?”

She wasn’t.
 
“It was another woman,” Roberta said.
 
“She interviewed a few police officers, but no one by the name of Hines or Patterson.”

“Did you see her anywhere in the background?
 
Maybe she was making the rounds for a larger story.
 
She’s their top reporter.
 
Did you see—”

Roberta interrupted him.
 
“There’s no best way to tell you this.”

A car rushed past them, horn blaring.
 
He wasn’t focusing.
 
He righted the car and slowed for the red light ahead of them.
 
“Tell me what?” he said.

“She’s missing.
 
You haven’t seen the images I’ve seen.
 
That woman reporter went on air and the last thing she said was that the Channel One family also was affected.
 
They mentioned Jennifer.
 
They’re searching for her, but they can’t find her.
 
When the buildings let go, they lost her.
 
They said there’s too much rubble.
 
Too much chaos.
 
I’m so sorry.
 
They’ve put out an alert that if anyone does see her to please contact the station immediately.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

11:36 p.m.

“Get rid of Bobby’s body,” Carra said to Spocatti and Carmen.
 
“Wipe up his blood.
 
He’s been there awhile, so he’s probably stuck to the floor, poor thing, but clean it the best you can.
 
There are towels at the bar.
 
He can’t be there when Spellman and Cain arrive.”

“
If
they arrive,” Spocatti said.

“Oh, they’ll be here,” Carra said.
 
“Love is a funny thing.
 
Maggie Cain now knows her beloved is alive.
 
They had a lovely chat.
 
She’s flooded with hope.
 
When they come in, take them out, then finish off Andrews.”
 

She looked down at Mark.
 
“Sorry,” she said.
 
“But you’ve seen too much.
 
And do you really want to be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of your life?”

He didn’t answer.
 

“I didn’t think so.”
 
She looked at Spocatti.
 
“Then we do what we discussed earlier—call the police and get out of here.
 
Each of you has your checks.
 
You’ll never have to see us again.
 
Just cash them in and move on.”
 
She bowed her head to them.
 
“And, thank you.
 
We couldn’t have done any of this without you.”