Fifth Avenue

BOOK FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

“It really is special,” the Realtor said. She was standing in the center of the large, empty foyer and her voice echoed off the stark white walls. “As you know, apartments on Fifth are rare, especially in the 50s and 60s. And this is a penthouse, which obviously further amplifies its appeal.” She let a silence go by. “If you want to make a statement and live on Fifth Avenue, this is the place to do so. Few in the city are better.”

She allowed the man a moment to take in the space.

“Let’s take a tour,” she said.

The apartment was large and airy. It comprised two floors and boasted sweeping views of the city. It was completely white throughout-white walls, white carpets, white woodwork, white marble floors in the bathrooms, white fireplace in the library, everywhere white, white, white.

“From what I hear, the owners are arty, eccentric types,” the Realtor said as they moved through the living room and stepped into the dining area. “They’re old money from Iceland and word has it that they missed their country so much that they surrounded themselves in white, in a sense giving them the illusion of being lost in a blizzard.”

“You don’t say?”

She caught the sarcasm and couldn’t help a laugh. “It’s what we’ve been asked to say. Whether it’s true, I can’t say. But I can confirm that the apartment was featured this year in Architectural Digest.”

The man walked down a bright hallway and stepped into the library. She followed. “This is my favorite room,” she said. “The windows sell it. That’s a true New York view. You easily could fit two-hundred people in here for entertaining. And at night, it’s magnificent. With that backdrop, you can imagine how beautiful it is in here.”

The man moved to the far set of windows. Hands clasped behind his back, he looked across 53rd Street to the city’s newest hotel.

The woman stepped behind him. “And then you have that,” she said. “The largest hotel in New York. Four thousand rooms, all of them booked for the weekend. Tonight is the opening night party. You’ve heard that Leana Redman is managing the hotel?”

“Didn’t she just bury her sister yesterday?”

“She did.”

“And now she opens that hotel tonight,” he said. “That’s a pretty quick recovery, wouldn’t you say?”

The woman didn’t say. “Do you like the view?”

“Very much,” he said. “But I wonder if I might see it at night?”

“Of course,” she said. “I could show it to you tomorrow evening.”

“No,” the man said. “I’m leaving the country tomorrow morning. I won’t be back for weeks and you may have sold it by then.” He turned away from the window and looked at her. “I’d like to see it tonight. And, if the view is as spectacular as you say it is, it’s likely that I’ll just write you a check for the full amount.”

The woman kept her features neutral, but her mind was working. After calling in a number of favors, she had secured an invitation to the opening of The Hotel Fifth. She had spent a fortune on her dress and almost as much on having it tailored to her body. There was no way she could show this apartment tonight. The connections she could make tonight were invaluable.

And yet this apartment had been on the market for months. The asking price was $25 million. Because of the recession, here was the first person in weeks to show genuine interest in it. She couldn’t lose this sale, for professional and personal reasons.

The man was watching her, waiting for a response. “If it’s a problem,” he said, “I can always look elsewhere. I really need to wrap this up today.”

“No,” the woman said. “That isn’t necessary. It’s just that I’ve been invited to that party tonight. Leana Redman and I are friends. She invited me herself. It’s important that I attend and help her through what likely will be a difficult evening.”

His gaze met hers levelly. Unflinchingly.

The woman sensed he didn’t believe her.

“Look,” he said. “If this party means so much to you, I wouldn’t mind coming here alone tonight and checking out the view for myself. Just give me a key and I’ll return it to you tomorrow morning, before my plane leaves.”

“That’s actually against the law,” the woman said. “I’m not allowed to do that.”

“It’ll just be me.”

“I could get into trouble,” she said. “I could lose my license.”

“Or you could make a $2 million commission. Who will know?”

“The doormen.”

“Doormen can be dealt with,” he said. “A little charm, a lot of money-and they become your best friends.”

She thought about this and made her decision. “All right,” she said. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble. And if this stays between us.”

“Of course,” the man said, gazing across at the hotel. “Just between us.”

They awoke in each other’s arms to the abrupt sound of music.

Michael lifted his head from the pillow and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. He would have given anything to have awakened anywhere in the world but here. He knew Leana had to get ready for the day and so he let the music play. She moved closer to him and murmured something.

Michael put his arm around her and gently kissed the back of her neck. Neither had slept well. More than once in the night he turned to find her looking at him, her face pale and watchful in the moonlight, her eyes heavy and dead with memories of Harold and Celina.

Yesterday morning, at her sister’s funeral, he stood alongside her and her parents at an elegant Connecticut cemetery. He was a fraud grieving for a woman he hadn’t known, yet easily could have saved.

Yesterday afternoon, while Leana tried to rest, Louis phoned, again threatening him with Santiago. Silently, bitterly, Michael listened, but what Louis didn’t know is that Michael knew that Santiago didn’t exist and that Michael no longer believed that George Redman killed his mother. Meeting the man and seeing how he spoke about his mother altered the landscape. He wanted to confront his father with his lies, but instead he spun some of his own, reassuring Louis that he also wanted Redman dead, that meeting the man had solidified his resolve.

His words still lingered in his mind. “I asked him, Dad. I asked him how Mom died, and you should have seen the look on his face. It was as though I had accused him of murder.”

“And that surprised you?” Louis said.

“I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t,” Michael said. “I don’t trust you. I never have and-after this experience-I never will. But this is now personal for me, too. When I saw the look on Redman’s face, I knew he pulled that trigger and I want him dead for it. What you need to understand is this-once it’s over, I never want to see you again. You’ll pay off Santiago-just as you promised-and you will give me money to start over with. A lot of money. Those are my terms. Either you meet them or I’m out of here. Now, tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

There was a silence, almost as if Louis had been expecting something different from his son, perhaps another disappointment, certainly not this.

“All right,” Louis said. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll discuss everything in detail then.”

Momentarily relieved, Michael hung up the phone, knowing that if his plan was going to work, if he was going to protect Leana and her family, he would have to assume the role of a lifetime and convince his father that his resolve was genuine.

Leana turned to him, her eyes warm and liquid in the bedroom’s muted light. She was beautiful, he thought. If it cost him his own life, he would see to it that no further harm came to her or her family. He would see to it that his father was stopped. If Michael was wrong and George Redman had indeed killed his mother, then he would have to be brought to justice another way-not like this.

He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “Are you ready for this?”

Leana shrugged. “No. And I hope they’re not expecting too much from me tonight,” she said. “I’m not up to this at all.”

And here was the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

Last night, while they were relaxing in bed, it came to Michael that if his father would murder Celina, then he almost certainly planned the same fate for Leana. Louis didn’t want Leana to manage his hotel. He only gave her that job to publicly humiliate her father. And Louis wouldn’t stop there. Before Redman was murdered, Michael knew his father meant for the man’s family to die before him-so George would feel the pain Louis himself had felt for years.

On the clock radio, the music stopped and a segment on the morning news began. Last night, they’d intentionally turned up the volume so they wouldn’t oversleep. Ordinarily, he would have shut off the machine. But this bedroom was wired, and if the radio’s volume was loud enough, Spocatti wouldn’t hear what he was about to say.

“Then don’t do it,” he said quietly. “Don’t go.”

Leana looked surprised. “What are you talking about?” she said. “I have to go.”

“No, you don’t. Call Ryan and quit. You told me last night you don’t want this job. We can be back in Europe by the end of the day.”

“I can’t do that to Louis, Michael. He’s done too much for me. It isn’t right.”

“Ryan’s using you. You told me so yourself. Didn’t you tell me that you only took this job to hurt your father?”

“That was only part of the reason.”

“Maybe so, but the other night was a turning point. He cares about you. He came here because he wanted to tell you himself about Harold. Yesterday, I saw him reach for your hand at Celina’s funeral. Last night, he called to see how you were. Don’t mess with this, Leana. You finally have a chance to build a meaningful relationship with your father. Don’t you see how precious this is? I would give anything to be in your place to have a father who cares for me the way yours is beginning to care for you. Don’t deny him another chance.”

“I don’t plan to,” she said. “But I’m going through with tonight’s opening. This isn’t about my father anymore, Michael. This is about me-my abilities. All of New York will be there tonight. Those who matter will finally be watching me. I’ve waited too long for this. If I quit and go to work for my father-assuming he’ll hire me-there’s no telling how long I’d have to wait for a moment like this.”

She looked at him with such impatience, Michael was taken aback.

“Don’t you see?” she said. “Ever since I was a kid I’ve watched my sister and him shine. Since I was a kid, I knew I could do everything they could do-but I wasn’t given the chance.” She stepped out of bed and moved naked to the bathroom.

“I don’t want to discuss this,” Leana said. “I’m opening that hotel tonight and I hope you’ll be there to support me-”

She stopped suddenly and turned toward the radio, her eyes widening as it was announced that WestTex, the floundering shipping company George Redman reportedly paid $10 billion for, had become Redman International’s earlier that morning.

“Watch Redman International’s stock when the Dow opens this morning,” the commentator said. “How this plays out will be critical for George Redman. If it falls any further, some critics say Redman will be a prime candidate for a takeover himself. In related news, the same isn’t true for Anastassios Fondaras, the Greek shipping magnate who went public moments ago as Iran’s new chief exporter of oil.”