Angel of Death. Christian Russell
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her?” Mark asked, lending her his handkerchief.
The woman wiped her face. “She died in a car crash in ’73, a year after I was born. About one hundred young people, all on motorcycles, came to her funeral. They looked like hippies and Uncle Henry didn’t want them around. My father pleaded with him but to no result. Do you know what those people did? They left their motorcycles outside the gate you came through today. Then they took their guitars and sang Blowing in the Wind, Dylan’s song, the song of the flower-power generation. Then...they left.”
The actress was crying again. Mark hugged her affectionately.
“Calm down, girl. I’m sure your mother’s very proud of you where she is now.”
She looked up. “Do you really think so?”
“I know so!”
Slowly their lips drew close. They touched each other for a second then pulled back, frightened. Each pair of eyes was devouring the other. Their lips touched again, this time in a real, long, passionate kiss.
“I thought you’d never do that,” the woman said.
“But I’ve just done it and I don’t even know if it’s right.”
“If you felt you should do that, then it’s all right.”
They kissed each other again, hungry for each other’s love. Then they let go of each other only at the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs.
She glanced at him affectionately and asked, “Tell me, Mark...are you surprised at my feelings? In that French restaurant, didn’t you sense the attraction I feel for you?”
“I did. But I thought it was as much my merit as it was the merit of that double brandy.”
She smiled and tried to say something but gave it up.
“Come on, tell me. What would you like to know?”
“Why are you staying at a hotel?” The question had been on her lips the whole evening.
“Because my wife and I are separated. I’m filing for divorce.”
Dorothy looked somehow relieved. Still she wanted to clear things up. “When I invited you to this party you told me you were hardly on speaking terms with your wife. That means I had nothing to do with your decision, right?”
“Of course you didn’t.”
She couldn’t help kissing him again at the risk of being seen. “Were you that good a hockey player?”
Mark showed her his hands. “As you can see, I’m not wearing any champion ring. But I could have been good. I was rather a white hope when an accident bowled me out. I did score sixty-eight goals two seasons in a row with the NY Rangers, though.”
“Is that much?”
“Not really. Lemieux scored over 600 throughout his career and the Czech Jagr scored over 100 last season alone. They make several millions a year, that’s true. In three seasons in the NHL I barely made $350,000. With it I had a house built and furnished.”
“Listen. I promised I’d teach you how to dance. You’ll teach me how to skate in return. Deal?”
“OK. I’d be glad to.”
“Now, before going downstairs, I’d like to make a proposition. I’m going to LA tomorrow. I must have a look at the scripts for two new movies. I’ll be back the day before Halloween.”
The man darkened all of a sudden. He had just counted ten days of separation from the woman who had stolen his heart.
Dorothy decided to cheer him up and went on, “I’d love to spend the Halloween night with you at my place. I’ve got a villa in Greenwich Village on 13th Street. How about it?”
Mark had noticed she hadn’t said the ‘Halloween evening’ but the ‘Halloween night.’ The words had made his heart throb with joy. He nodded.
“OK then,” she said cheerfully. “And now let me introduce you to another dozen of boring important people.”
CHAPTER TEN
Friday, October 10
When the mailman brought him the package, Thanatos had just been out shopping with Orin. Orin was a black ten-year-old kid whose moans had drawn his attention to a sewer about a month before. He had found him there, ragged, dirty, and hungry. He had pulled him out of that swamp and noticed that his whole body was burning. The kid was obviously ill and Thanatos took him to hospital, being afraid it might be pneumonia. The doctor on duty assured him it was just the flu. He took the kid home and treated him with hot tea and Rimantadine. Orin got well quickly and started eating like a wolf as if to make up for one year of starvation. At first, Thanatos decided to find him a place in a foster home. He could do that thanks to the connections he had made as a lawyer specialized in juveniles’ problems. But the little black boy had grown fond of him and Thanatos kept postponing their separation. When, just a few hours before, he had told the child they were going shopping, Orin had jumped with joy. “Wow, you’re going to take me to Fifth Avenue?”
They had wandered around Brooklyn. He had bought him a full set of clothes; everything from underwear to winter clothes. When he asked the kid what kind of toys he wanted, Orin shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Never had any!”
Thanatos had bought him a PlayStation and six CDs. Now, while the boy was trying on his clothes, Thanatos opened the package. It contained ten DVD-ROMs and a note: When you take Dorothy Wheller there, use No. 1. He smiled. It appeared that the tone he had used when ordering Eddie to speed up the work on the ‘Island’ had yielded good results. He was now looking at something he had been dreaming of for years: the ‘Island.’
He looked at Orin who was admiring himself in the mirror having a hard time believing all those nice things were his. The boy’s delicate features and his dark complexion reminded him of another face, just as innocent: that of little Nadir. From now on, he said to himself looking at the DVD-ROMs, I won’t have to search the dark corners of my mind any longer. For tonight I’ll go there and meet them all, the good and the bad. But only the thought of it sent shivers down his spine and made his heart beat faster. He felt like a drug addict who was going to take a double dose after a long period of abstinence. He would set the Sony game for the boy, showing him some routine moves, then he would begin his ‘pilgrimage.’
He went up to Orin who was still in front of the mirror. “Come on, kid, let’s check on that video game.”
When he took the boy by the hand, he caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. Roy Hussel’s face actually, to which he hadn’t grown accustomed yet, although it was nice-looking. Roy Hussel, the lawyer specialized in children’s rights, had really existed until two years before. He had lived in Chicago and had been a mediocre professional. Thanatos had picked him for two reasons: he had no family and was very handsome. Stupid but good-looking.
Thanatos had been embarrassed while reading his Ph.D. dissertation. It was pathetic. Obviously that was the reason why he had been assigned to juveniles’ protection. On September 14th 1996, the plastic surgery Daniel Daschner performed on his brother was a success. Once his bandages were removed, Thanatos saw his new face for the first time. The Chicago lawyer’s face. The next day he killed Hussel, taking over, beside his face which he already owned, the life and career of the poor bastard. Then all of a sudden he decided to move to New York. Judge Forlles from the Children’s Court in Brooklyn had kindly granted him the transfer. After only two months of activity he told him, though: “I don’t get it, man. You came here with poor credentials but I see you’re incredibly good at what you’re doing. Why don’t you join a law firm? You can handle civil suits as well as criminal ones.” Thanatos had skillfully turned down the offer, “I like what I’m doing. I love children!” Besides, he had the best cover. This job could bring him closer to the Whellers and especially Dorothy any time.
“Now I’ll show you how to use the PlayStation,” he said when they got to Orin’s room. He