Rage of Angels (39 page)

Jennifer asked, “What does that mean?”

Michael said slowly, “Nothing. Because that’s not where Adam Warner is going to die.”

The twin bridges of the Garden State Parkway were not named on the map. The Garden State Parkway crossed the Raritan River between the Amboys, splitting into the two bridges, one northbound and the other southbound.

The limousine was just west of Perth Amboy, heading toward the southbound bridge. Adam Warner was seated in back, with a secret service man beside him, and two secret service men in front.

Agent Clay Reddin had been assigned to the senator’s guard detail six months earlier, and he had come to know Adam Warner well. He had always thought of him as an open, accessible man, but all day the senator had been strangely silent and withdrawn.
Deeply troubled
were the words that came to Agent Reddin. There was no question in his mind but that Senator Warner was going to be the next President of the United States, and it was Reddin’s responsibility to see that nothing happened to him. He reviewed again the precautions that had been taken to safeguard the senator,
and he was satisfied that nothing could go wrong.

Agent Reddin glanced again at the probable President-to-be, and wondered what he was thinking.

Adam Warner’s mind was on the ordeal that was confronting him. He had been informed by Di Silva that Jennifer Parker had been arrested. The thought of her being locked away like an animal was anathema to him. His mind kept returning to the wonderful moments they had shared together. He had loved Jennifer as he had never loved another woman.

One of the secret service men in the front seat was saying, “We should be arriving in Atlantic City right on schedule, Mr. President.”

Mr. President.
That phrase again. According to all the latest polls, he was far ahead. He was the country’s new folk hero, and Adam knew it was due in no small measure to the crime investigation he had headed, the investigation that would destroy Jennifer Parker.

Adam glanced up and saw that they were approaching the twin bridges. There was a side road just before the bridge and a huge semitrailer truck was stopped at the entrance on the opposite side of the road. As the limousine neared the bridge, the truck started to pull out, so that the two vehicles arrived at the bridge at the same time.

The secret service driver applied his brakes and slowed down. “Look at that idiot.”

The shortwave radio crackled into life. “Beacon One! Come in, Beacon One!”

The agent in the front seat next to the driver picked up the transmitter. “This is Beacon One.”

The large truck was abreast of the limousine now as it started across the span. It was a behemoth, completely blocking out the view on the driver’s side of the car. The limousine driver started to speed up to get ahead of it, but the truck simultaneously increased its speed.

“What the hell does he think he’s doing?” the driver muttered.

“We’ve had an urgent call from the District Attorney’s office. Fox One is in danger! Do you read me?”

Without warning, the truck veered to the right, hitting the side of the limousine, forcing it against the bridge railing. In seconds, the three secret service men in the car had their guns out.

“Get down!”

Adam found himself pushed down onto the floor, while Agent Reddin shielded Adam’s body. The secret service agents rolled down the windows on the left side of the limousine, guns pointed. There was nothing at which to shoot. The side of the huge semitrailer blotted out everything. The driver was up ahead, out of sight. There was another jolt and a grinding crash as the limousine was knocked into the railing again. The driver swung the wheel to the left, fighting to keep the car on the bridge, but the truck kept forcing him back. The cold Raritan River swirled two hundred feet below them.

The secret service agent next to the driver had grabbed his radio microphone and was calling wildly into it, “This is Beacon One! Mayday! Mayday! Come in all units!”

But everyone in the limousine knew that it was too late for anyone to save them. The driver tried to stop the car, but the truck’s huge fenders were locked into it, sweeping the limousine along. It was only a matter of seconds before the huge truck would edge them over the side of the bridge. The agent driving the car tried evasive tactics, alternately using the brake and the accelerator to slow down and speed up, but the truck had the car cruelly pinned against the bridge railing. There was no room for the car to maneuver. The truck blocked off any escape on the left side, and on the right side the limousine was being pushed against the iron railing of the bridge. The agent fought the wheel desperately as the
truck pressed hard into the limousine once again, and everyone in the car could feel the bridge railing start to give way.

The truck was jamming harder now, forcing the limousine over the side. Those in the car could feel the sudden list as the front wheels broke through the railing and went over the edge of the bridge. The car was teetering on the brink and each man, in his own way, prepared to die.

Adam felt no fear, only an ineffable sadness at the loss, the waste. It was Jennifer he should have shared his life with, had children with—and suddenly Adam knew, from somewhere deep within himself, that they had had a child.

The limousine gave another lurch and Adam cried out once aloud at the injustice of what had happened, what was happening.

From overhead came the roar of two police helicopters as they swooped down out of the sky, and a moment later there was the sound of machine guns. The semitrailer lurched and all motion suddenly stopped. Adam and the others could hear the helicopters circling overhead. The men remained motionless, knowing that the slightest movement could send the car over the bridge, into the waters below.

There was the distant scream of police sirens drawing nearer, and a few minutes later the sound of voices barking out commands. The engine of the truck roared into life again. Slowly, carefully, the truck moved, inching away from the trapped car, removing the pressure against it. The limousine tilted for one terrible instant, and then was still. A moment later, the truck had been backed out of the way and Adam and the others could see out of the left-hand windows.

There were half a dozen squad cars and uniformed policemen with drawn guns swarming over the bridge.

A police captain was at the side of the battered car.

“We’ll never get the doors open,” he said. “We’re going to bring you out through the windows—real easy.”

Adam was lifted out of the window first, slowly and carefully,
so as not to upset the balance of the car and send it over the side. The three secret service men were next.

When all the men had been removed from the car, the police captain turned to Adam and asked, “Are you all right, sir?”

Adam turned to look at the car hanging over the edge of the bridge, and then at the dark water of the river far below.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m all right.”

Michael Moretti glanced up at the clock on the wall. “It’s all over.” He turned to face Jennifer. “Your boyfriend’s in the river by now.”

She was watching him, her face pale. “You can’t—”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to have a fair trial.” He turned to Gino Gallo. “Did you tell her that Adam Warner was going to be blown away in New Canaan?”

“Just like you told me, boss.”

Michael looked at Jennifer. “The trial’s over.”

He rose to his feet and walked over to where Jennifer was sitting. He grabbed her blouse and pulled her to her feet.

“I loved you,” he whispered. He hit her hard across the face. Jennifer did not flinch. He hit her again, harder, then a third time, and she fell to the floor.

“Get up. We’re taking a trip.”

Jennifer lay there, dizzy from the blows, trying to clear her head. Michael hauled her roughly to her feet.

“You want me to take care of her?” Gino Gallo asked.

“No. Bring the car around the back.”

“Right, boss.” He hurried out of the room.

Jennifer and Michael were alone.

“Why?” he asked. “We owned the world, and you threw it away.
Why
?”

She did not answer.

“You want me to fuck you once more for old times’ sake?” Michael moved toward her and grabbed her arm. “Would you like that?” Jennifer did not respond. “You’re never going to
fuck anyone again, you hear? I’m going to put you in the river with your lover! You can keep each other company.”

Gino Gallo came back into the room, his face white. “Boss! There’s a—”

There was a crashing sound from outside the room. Michael dived for the gun in his desk drawer. He had it in his hand when the door burst open. Two federal agents came through the door, guns drawn.

“Freeze!”

In that split second, Michael made his decision. He raised the gun and turned and fired at Jennifer. He saw the bullets go into her a second before the agents started shooting. He watched the blood spurt out of her chest, then he felt a bullet tear into him, and then another. He saw Jennifer lying on the floor, and Michael did not know which was the greater agony, her death or his. He felt the hammer blow of another bullet, and then he felt nothing.

Two interns were wheeling Jennifer out of the operating room and into Intensive Care. A uniformed policeman followed at Jennifer’s side. The hospital corridor was a bedlam of policemen, detectives and reporters.

A man walked up to the reception desk and said, “I want to see Jennifer Parker.”

“Are you a member of her family?”

“No. I’m a friend.”

“I’m sorry. No visitors. She’s in Intensive Care.”

“I’ll wait.”

“It could be a long time.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Ken Bailey said.

A side door opened and Adam Warner, gaunt and haggard, entered, flanked by a team of secret service men.

A doctor was waiting to greet him. “This way, Senator Warner.” He led Adam into a small office.

“How is she?” Adam asked.

“I’m not optimistic. We removed three bullets from her.”

The door opened and District Attorney Robert Di Silva hurried in. He looked at Adam Warner and said, “I’m sure glad you’re okay.”

Adam said, “I understand I owe my thanks to you. How did you know?”

“Jennifer Parker called me. She told me they were setting you up in New Canaan. I figured it was probably some kind of diversionary ploy, but I couldn’t take a chance, so I covered it. Meanwhile, I got hold of the route you were taking and we sent some choppers after you to protect you. My hunch is that Parker tried to set you up.”

“No,” Adam said. “No.”

Robert Di Silva shrugged. “Have it your way, Senator. The important thing is that you’re alive.” As an afterthought he turned to the doctor. “Is she going to live?”

“Her chances are not very good.”

The District Attorney saw the look on Adam Warner’s face and misinterpreted it. “Don’t worry. If she makes it, we’ve got her nailed down tight.”

He looked at Adam more closely. “You look like hell. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

“I want to see Jennifer Parker first.”

The doctor said, “She’s in a coma. She may not come out of it.”

“I would like to see her, please.”

“Of course, Senator. This way.”

The doctor led the way out of the room, with Adam following and Di Silva behind him. They walked a few feet down the corridor to a sign that said INTENSIVE CARE UNIT—KEEP OUT.

The doctor opened the door and held it for the two men. “She’s in the first room.”

There was a policeman in front of the door, guarding it. He came to attention as he saw the District Attorney.

“No one gets near that room without written authorization from me. You understand?” Di Silva asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Adam and Di Silva walked into the room. There were three beds, two of them empty. Jennifer lay in the third, tubes running into her nostrils and wrists. Adam moved close to the bed and stared down at her. Jennifer’s face was very pale against the white pillows, and her eyes were closed. In repose, her face seemed younger and softer. Adam was looking at the innocent girl he had met years ago, the girl who had said angrily to him,
If anyone had paid me off, do you think I’d be living in a place like this? I don’t care what you do. All I want is to be left alone.
He remembered her courage and idealism and her vulnerability. She had been on the side of the angels, believing in justice and willing to fight for it. What had gone wrong? He had loved her and he loved her still, and he had made one wrong choice that had poisoned all their lives, and he knew he would never feel free of guilt for as long as he lived.

He turned to the doctor. “Let me know when she—” He could not say the words. “—what happens.”

“Of course,” the doctor said.

Adam Warner took one long last look at Jennifer and said a silent good-bye. Then he turned and walked out to face the waiting reporters.

Through a dim, misty haze of semiconsciousness, Jennifer heard the men leave. She had not understood what they were saying, for their words were blurred by the pain that gripped her. She thought she had heard Adam’s voice, but she knew that could not be. He was dead. She tried to open her eyes, but the effort was too great.

Jennifer’s thoughts began to drift…Abraham Wilson came running into the room carrying a box. He stumbled and the box opened and a yellow canary flew out of it…Robert Di Silva was screaming,
Catch it! Don’t let it get away!
…and
Michael Moretti was holding it and laughing, and Father Ryan said,
Look, everybody! It’s a miracle!
and Connie Garrett was dancing around the room and everyone applauded…Mrs. Cooper said,
I’m going to give you Wyoming
…
Wyoming
…
Wyoming
…and Adam came in with dozens of red roses and Michael said,
They’re from me,
and Jennifer said,
I’ll put them in a vase in water,
and they shriveled and died and the water spilled onto the floor and became a lake, and she and Adam were sailing, and Michael was chasing them on water skis and he became Joshua and he smiled at Jennifer and waved and started to lose his balance, and she screamed,
Don’t fall
…
Don’t fall
…
Don’t fall
…and an enormous wave swept Joshua into the air and he held out his arms like Jesus and disappeared.

For an instant, Jennifer’s mind cleared.

Joshua was gone.

Adam was gone.

Michael was gone.

She was alone. In the end, everyone was alone. Each person had to die his own death. It would be easy to die now.

A feeling of blessed peace began to steal over her. Soon there was no more pain.