Captain Tanner replaced the receiver, pleased with himself. In the past he had found Michael Moretti to be a very appreciative man. This could be the big big one, the one that could enable him to retire. He stepped out of the telephone booth into the cold October air. one, the one that could enable him to retire. He stepped out of the telephone booth into the cold October air.

There were two men standing outside the booth, and as the captain started to step around them, one of them blocked his way. He held up an identification card.

"Captain Tanner? I'm Lieutenant West, Internal Security Division. The Police Commissioner would like to have a word with you."

Michael Moretti hung up the receiver slowly. He knew with a sure animal instinct that Nick Vito had lied to him. Thomas Colfax was still alive. That would explain everything that was happening. He He was the one who had turned traitor. And Michael had sent Nick Vito out to kill Fiore and Colella. Jesus, he had been stupid! Outsmarted by a dumb hired gunman into wasting his two top men! He was filled with an icy rage. was the one who had turned traitor. And Michael had sent Nick Vito out to kill Fiore and Colella. Jesus, he had been stupid! Outsmarted by a dumb hired gunman into wasting his two top men! He was filled with an icy rage.

He dialed a number and spoke briefly into the telephone. After he made a second telephone call, he sat back and waited.

When he heard Nick Vito on the phone, Michael forced himself to keep the fury he felt out of his voice. "How did it go, Nick?"

"Okay, boss. Just like you said. They both suffered a lot."

"I can always count on you, Nick, can't I?"

"You know you can, boss."

"Nick, I want you to do me one last favor. One of the boys left a car at the corner of York and Ninety-fifth Street. It's a tan Camaro. The keys are behind the sun visor. We're going to use it for a job tonight. Drive it over here, will you?"

"Sure, boss. How soon do you need it? I was going to-"

"I need it now. Right away, Nick."

"I'm on my way."

"Good-bye, Nick."

Michael replaced the receiver. He wished he could be there to watch Nick Vito blow himself to h.e.l.l, but he had one more urgent thing to do.

Jennifer Parker would be on her way back soon, and he wanted to get everything ready for her.

59.

It's like some kind of G.o.dd.a.m.ned Hollywood movie production, Major General Roy Wallace thought, Major General Roy Wallace thought, with my prisoner as the star. with my prisoner as the star.

The large conference room at the United States Marine Corps base was filled with technicians from the Signal Corps, scurrying around setting up cameras and sound and lighting equipment, using an arcane jargon.

"Kill the brute and hit the inkies. Bring a baby over here..."

They were getting ready to put Thomas Colfax's testimony on film.

"It's extra insurance," District Attorney Di Silva had argued. "We know that no one can get to him, but it will be good to have it on the record, anyway." And the others had gone along with him.

The only person absent was Thomas Colfax. He would be brought in at the last minute, when everything was in readiness for him.

Just like a G.o.dd.a.m.n movie star.

Thomas Colfax was having a meeting in his cell with David Terry of the Justice Department, the man in charge of creating new ident.i.ties for witnesses who wished to disappear.

"Let me explain a bit about the Federal Witness Security Program," Terry said. "When the trial is over, we'll send you to whichever country you choose. Your furniture and other belongings will be shipped to a warehouse in Washington, with a coded number. We'll forward it to you later. There won't be any way for anyone to trace you. We'll supply you with a new ident.i.ty and background and, if you wish, a new appearance."

"I'll take care of that." He trusted no one to know what he was going to do with his appearance.

"Ordinarily when we set people up with a new ident.i.ty, we find jobs for them in whatever field they're suited for, and we supply them with some money. In your case, Mr. Colfax, I understand that money is no problem."

Thomas Colfax wondered what David Terry would say if he knew how much money was salted away in his bank accounts in Germany, Switzerland and Hong Kong. Even Thomas Colfax had not been able to keep track of it all, but a modest estimate, he would guess, would be nine or ten million dollars.

"No," Colfax said, "I don't think money will be a problem."

"All right, then. The first thing to decide is where you would like to go. Do you have any particular area in mind?"

It was such a simple question, yet so much lay behind it. What the man was really saying was, Where do you want to spend the rest of your life? Where do you want to spend the rest of your life? For Colfax knew that when he got to wherever he was going, he would never be able to leave. It would become his new habitat, his protective cover, and he would not be safe anywhere else in the world. For Colfax knew that when he got to wherever he was going, he would never be able to leave. It would become his new habitat, his protective cover, and he would not be safe anywhere else in the world.

"Brazil."

It was the logical choice. He already owned a two-hundred-thousand-acre plantation there in the name of a Panamanian corporation that could not be traced back to him. The plantation itself was like a fortress. He could afford to buy himself enough protection so that even if Michael Moretti did finally learn where he was, no one would be able to touch him. He could buy anything, including all the women he wanted. Thomas Colfax liked Latin women. People thought that when a man reached the age of sixty-five he was finished s.e.xually, that he no longer had any interest, but Colfax had found that his appet.i.te had grown as he had gotten older. His favorite sport was to have two or three beautiful young women in bed with him at the same time, working him over. The younger the better.

"Brazil will be easy to arrange," David Terry was saying. "Our government will buy you a small house there, and-"

"That won't be necessary." Colfax almost laughed aloud at the thought of his having to live in a small house. "All I will require of you is that you provide me with the new identification and safe transportation. I'll take care of everything else."

"As you wish, Mr. Colfax." David Terry rose to his feet. "I think we've covered just about everything." He smiled rea.s.suringly. "This is going to be one of the easy ones. I'll begin setting things in motion. As soon as you're finished testifying, you'll be on an airplane to South America."

"Thank you." Thomas Colfax watched his visitor leave and he was filled with a sense of elation. He had done it! Michael Moretti had made the mistake of underestimating him, and it was going to be Moretti's final mistake. Colfax was going to bury him so deep that he would never rise again.

And his testimony was going to be filmed. That would be interesting. He wondered whether they would use makeup on him. He studied himself in the small mirror on the wall. Not bad Not bad, he thought, for a man my age. I still have my looks. Those young South American girls love older men with gray hair. for a man my age. I still have my looks. Those young South American girls love older men with gray hair.

He heard the sound of the cell door opening, and he turned. A marine sergeant was bringing in Colfax's lunch. There would be plenty of time to eat before the filming began.

The first day, Thomas Colfax had complained about the food that was served to him, and from then on General Wallace had arranged for all of Colfax's meals to be catered. In the weeks that Colfax had been confined at the fort, his slightest suggestion had become their command. They wanted to do everything they could to please him, and Colfax took full advantage of it. He had had comfortable furniture moved in, and a television set, and he received a daily supply of newspapers and current magazines.

The sergeant placed the tray of food on a table set for two, and he made the same comment he made every day.

"Looks good enough to eat, sir."

Colfax smiled politely and sat down at the table. Roast beef rare, the way he liked it, mashed potatoes and Yorkshire pudding. He waited as the marine pulled up a chair and sat down across from him. The sergeant picked up a knife and fork, cut off a piece of the meat and began to eat. Another of General Wallace's ideas. Thomas Colfax had his own taster. Like the kings of ancient times Like the kings of ancient times, he thought. He watched as the marine sampled the roast beef, the potatoes and the Yorkshire pudding.

"How is it?"

"To tell you the truth, sir, I prefer my beef on the well-done side."

Colfax picked up his own knife and fork and began to eat. The sergeant was mistaken. The meat was cooked perfectly, the potatoes were creamy and hot and the Yorkshire pudding was done to a turn.

Colfax reached for the horseradish and spread it lightly over the beef. It was with the second bite that Colfax knew something was terribly wrong. There was a sudden burning sensation in his mouth that seemed to shoot through his whole body. He felt as though he were on fire. His throat was closing, paralyzed, and he began gasping for air. The marine sergeant sitting across from him was staring at him. Thomas Colfax clutched his throat and tried to tell the sergeant what was happening, but no words would come out. The fire in him was spreading more swiftly now, filling him with an unbearable agony. His body stiffened in a terrible spasm and he toppled over backwards to the floor.

The sergeant watched him for a moment, then bent over the body and lifted Thomas Colfax's eyelid to make sure he was dead.

Then he called for help.

60.

Singapore Airlines Flight 246 landed at Heathrow Airport in London at seven-thirty A.M. A.M. The other pa.s.sengers were detained in their seats until Jennifer and the two FBI agents were out of the plane and in the airport's security office. The other pa.s.sengers were detained in their seats until Jennifer and the two FBI agents were out of the plane and in the airport's security office.

Jennifer was desperately anxious to see a newspaper to find out what was happening at home, but her two silent escorts denied her request and refused to be drawn into conversation.

Two hours later, the three of them boarded a TWA plane bound for New York.

In the United States Court House at Foley Square an emergency meeting was taking place. Present were Adam Warner, Robert Di Silva, Major General Roy Wallace, and half a dozen representatives from the FBI, the Justice Department and the Treasury Department.

"How the h.e.l.l could this have happened?" Robert Di Silva's voice was trembling with rage. He turned to the general. "You were told how important Thomas Colfax was to us."

The general spread his hands helplessly. "We took every precaution we could, sir. We're checking now to see how they could have smuggled prussic acid into-"

"I don't give a s.h.i.t how they did it! Colfax is dead!"

The man from the Treasury Department spoke up. "How much does Colfax's death hurt us?"

"A h.e.l.l of a lot," Di Silva replied. "Putting a man on a witness stand is one thing. Showing a lot of ledgers and accounts is something else. You can bet your a.s.s that some smart attorney's going to start talking about how those books could have been faked."

"Where do we go from here?" a man from the Treasury Department asked.

The District Attorney replied, "We keep doing what we're doing. Jennifer Parker's on her way back from Singapore. We have enough to put her away forever. While she's going down, we're going to get her to pull Michael Moretti down with her." He turned to Adam. "Don't you agree, Senator?"

Adam felt ill. "Excuse me."

He quickly left the room.

61.

The signalman on the ground, wearing oversized earm.u.f.fs, waved his two semaph.o.r.es, guiding the jumbo 747 toward the waiting ramp. The plane pulled up to a fixed circle and, at a signal, the pilot cut the four Pratt & Whitney turbofan engines.

Inside the giant plane a steward's voice came over the loudspeaker, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have just landed at New York's Kennedy Airport. We thank you for flying TWA. Will all pa.s.sengers please remain in their seats until a further announcement. Thank you."

There were general murmurs of protest. A moment later the doors were opened by the ramp crew. The two FBI agents seated with Jennifer in the front of the plane rose to their feet.

One of them turned to Jennifer and said, "Let's go."

The pa.s.sengers watched with curiosity as the three people left the plane. A few minutes later the steward's voice came over the loudspeaker again. "Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen. You may now disembark."

A government limousine was waiting at a side entrance to the airport. The first stop was the Metropolitan Correctional Center at 150 Park Row, that connected into the United States Court House at Foley Square.

After Jennifer had been booked, one of the FBI men said, "Sorry, we can't keep you here. We have orders to take you out to Riker's Island."

The ride to Riker's Island was made in silence. Jennifer sat in the back seat between the two FBI men, saying nothing, but her mind was busy. The two men had been uncommunicative during the entire trip across the ocean, so Jennifer had no way of knowing how much trouble she was in. She knew that it was serious, for it was not easy to obtain a warrant of extradition.

She could do nothing to help herself while she was in jail. Her first priority was to get out on bail.

They were crossing the bridge to Riker's Island now, and Jennifer looked out at the familiar view, a view she had seen a hundred times on the way to talk to clients. And now she she was a prisoner. was a prisoner.

But not for long, Jennifer thought. Michael will get me out. Michael will get me out.

The two FBI men escorted Jennifer into the reception building and one of the men handed the guard the extradition warrant.

"Jennifer Parker."

The guard glanced at it. "We've been expecting you, Miss Parker. You have a reservation in Detention Cell Three."