Angel of Death. Christian Russell
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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 a close friend to the Republican leader in the Senate, old Wheller was feared as much as he was respected. He spent a good deal of his fortune on charity, funding and running several humanitarian foundations. That was the man whose integrity and life Mark and his team were responsible for.
The April incident, when Du Nancy had saved his life, had aroused the indignation of the entire American public. It had been proved, however, that the attempter, a certified schizophrenic, had not chosen Henry Wheller on purpose but at random, driven by the idea that killing a most reputed politician would make him famous.
* * * * * * *
It was almost 5:00 p.m. and Mark couldn’t believe that, after all that fuss, he would enjoy two hours of quiet. They were in a box at the Majestic and were going to watch a jubilee celebrating three hundred performances of The Taming of the Shrew starring Ralf Wheller, the senator’s brother. The beloved actor had recently announced his retirement on his sixty-fifth birthday. His farewell performance, another Shakespearean play, Macbeth, was to open the new Royal Willis Theater on November 15th.
In the box, apart from Mark and his two men, were also the senator, his eternal friend and at the same time opponent, Democratic Congressman Forbes, the senator’s private secretary, and his niece, the famous actress Dorothy Wheller, temporarily shooting on location in New York. She was escorted by one of the studio’s bodyguards whom Mark had strategically placed outside the box door.
On the stage the lines came fast one after the other making the audience laugh or applaud. However, Mark wasn’t paying too much attention to the play. He was rather overwhelmed by the presence of the young actress sitting just a few steps away from him. He had never seen a woman so tantalizing. He had seen several of her movies but had never imagined that she could be just as alluring in reality despite her discreet makeup. She possessed that kind of classic beauty that can never be defiled. The best comparison that came to his mind was the statue of a Greek goddess. He slightly blushed picturing himself in a museum watching its official uncovering. He had recently seen a thriller whose action took place in a jail for women. Dorothy Wheller, the protagonist, was cropped close and her face was full of bruises. He had noticed that only an extremely beautiful woman could be movieed like that without damaging her charisma.
As far as Mark could remember, she had married a famous plastic surgeon back in 1996. The guy, however, had turned out to be the leader of an extreme right organization. Newspapers at the time had claimed his own wife had turned him in once she had found out his trade. Once he had been found, Daniel Daschner, for that was the man’s name, had taken refuge inside a building in the Queens together with an entire arsenal. In the fire exchange with the Feds he had been shot to death.
Steimberg