Angelo ambled over to the booth. Vinnie asked him if he knew a Dr. Jack Stapleton at the morgue. Angelo shook his head.

“I’ve never seen him,” Angelo said. “But Vinnie Amendola mentioned him when he called this morning. He said Stapleton was all fired up about Franconi because Franconi is his case.”

“You see, I’ve gotten a few calls myself,” Vinnie said. “Not only did I get a call from Vinnie Amendola who’s still sweating it because we leaned on him to help us get Franconi out of the morgue. I also got another call from my wife’s brother who runs the funeral home that took the body out. Seems that Dr. Laurie Montgomery paid a visit and was asking about a body that doesn’t exist.”

“I’m sorry that this has all gone so badly,” Raymond said.

“You and me both,” Vinnie said. “To tell you the truth, I can’t understand how they got the body back. We went to some effort knowing the ground was too hard to bury it out in Westchester. So we took it way the hell out off Coney Island and dumped it into the ocean.”

“Obviously, something went wrong,” Raymond said. “With all due respect, what can be done at this point?”

“As far as the body is concerned, we can’t do anything. Vinnie Amendola told Angelo that the autopsy was already done. So that’s that.”

Raymond moaned and cradled his head. His headache had intensified.

“Just a second, Doc,” Vinnie said. “I want to reassure you about something. Since I knew the reason why an autopsy might cause problems for your program, I had Angelo and Carlo destroy Franconi’s liver.”

Raymond raised his head. A ray of hope had appeared on the horizon. “How did you do that?” he asked.

“With a shotgun,” Vinnie said. “They blasted the hell out of the liver. They totally destroyed this whole portion of the abdomen.” Vinnie made a circling motion with his hand over his right upper quadrant. “Right, Angelo?”

Angelo nodded. “The entire magazine of a pump action Remington. The guy’s gut looked like hamburger.”

“So I don’t think you have as much to worry about as you think,” Vinnie said to Raymond.

“If Franconi’s liver was totally destroyed, why is Jack Stapleton asking whether Franconi had a transplant?” Raymond asked.

“Is he?” Vinnie asked.

“He asked Dr. Levitz directly,” Raymond said.

Vinnie shrugged. “He must have gotten a clue some other way. At any rate, the problem now seems to be focused on these two characters: Dr. Jack Stapleton and Dr. Laurie Montgomery.”

Raymond raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“As I already told you, Doc,” Vinnie continued. “If it weren’t for Vinnie Junior and his bum kidneys, I wouldn’t have gotten involved in all this. The fact that I’ve since gotten my wife’s brother into this situation compounds my problem. Now that I got him involved I can’t leave him dangling, you see what I’m saying? So, here’s what I’m thinking. I’ll have Angelo and Franco pay a visit to these two doctors and take care of things. Would you mind that, Angelo?”

Raymond looked hopefully at Angelo, and for the first time since Raymond had seen Angelo, Angelo smiled. It wasn’t much of a smile because all the scar tissue precluded most facial movement, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting Laurie Montgomery for five years,” Angelo said.

“I suspected as much,” Vinnie said. “Can you get their addresses from Vinnie Amendola?”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to give us Dr. Stapleton’s,” Angelo said. “He wants this messy situation cleared up as much as anybody. As far as Laurie Montgomery is concerned, I already know her address.”

Vinnie stubbed out his cigarette and raised his own eyebrows. “So, Doc, what do you think of the idea of Angelo and Franco visiting the two pesky medical examiners and convincing them to see things our way? They have to be convinced that they are causing us considerable inconvenience, if you know what I mean.” A wry smile appeared on his face, and he winked.

Raymond let out a little laugh of relief. “I can’t think of a better solution.” He worked his way along the curved, velvet banquette seat and stood up. “Thank you, Mr. Dominick. I’m much obliged, and apologize again for my thoughtless outburst when I first arrived.”

“Hold on, Doc,” Vinnie said. “We haven’t discussed compensation yet.”

“I thought this would be covered under the rubric of our prior agreement,” Raymond said, trying to sound businesslike without offending Vinnie. “After all, Franconi’s body was not supposed to reappear.”

“That’s not the way I see it,” Vinnie said. “This is an extra. Since you’ve already bargained away the tuition issue, I’m afraid we’re now talking about recouping some of my initiation fee. What about twenty thousand? That sounds like a nice round figure.”

Raymond was outraged, but he managed to stifle a response. He also remembered what happened the last time he tried to bargain with Vinnie Dominick: the cost doubled.

“It might take me a little time to get that kind of money together,” Raymond said.

“That’s fine, Doc,” Vinnie said. “Just as long as we have an agreement. From my end, I’ll get Angelo and Franco right on it.”

“Wonderful,” Raymond managed to say before leaving.

“Are you serious about this?” Angelo asked Vinnie.

“I’m afraid so,” Vinnie said. “I guess it wasn’t such a smart idea to get my brother-in-law involved in all this, although at the time we didn’t have much choice. One way or the other, I got to clean it up otherwise my wife will have my balls. The only good part is that I was able to get the good doc to pay for what I’d have to do anyway.”

“When do you want us to take care of those two?” Angelo asked.

“The sooner the better,” Vinnie said. “In fact, you’d better do it tonight!”

CHAPTER 15

MARCH 6, 1997

7:30 P.M.

COGO, EQUATORIAL GUINEA

“AT what time did you expect your guests?” Esmeralda asked Kevin. Her body and head were wrapped in a handsome bright orange-and-green fabric.

“Seven o’clock,” Kevin said, happy for the distraction. He’d been sitting at his desk, trying to fool himself into believing he was reading one of his molecular biology journals. In reality, he was tortured by repeatedly running through the harrowing events of that afternoon.

He could still see the soldiers in their red berets and jungle camouflage fatigues seemingly coming out of nowhere. He could hear their boots pounding against the moist earth and the jangle of their equipment as they ran. Worse yet, he could feel the same sickening terror that he’d felt when he’d turned to flee, expecting at any instant to hear the sound of machine-gun fire.

The dash across the clearing to the car and the wild ride had been somehow anticlimactic to that initial fright. The windows being shot out had an almost surreal quality that somehow couldn’t compare to his first glimpse of those soldiers.

Melanie had once again responded to the event completely differently than Kevin. It made Kevin wonder if growing up in Manhattan had somehow toughened her for such experiences. Rather than expressing fear, Melanie was more angry than afraid. She was furious at the soldiers’ wanton destruction of what she considered her property, even though the car technically belonged to GenSys.

“The dinner is prepared,” Esmeralda said. “I shall keep it warm.”

Kevin thanked his attentive housekeeper, and she disappeared back into the kitchen. Tossing aside his journal, Kevin got up from his desk and walked out onto the veranda. Night had fallen, and he was beginning to worry about where Melanie and Candace could be.

Kevin’s house fronted a small grassy square illuminated by old-fashioned street lamps. Directly across the square was Siegfried Spallek’s house. It was similar to Kevin’s with an arcaded first floor, a veranda around the second, and dormers in its steeply pitched roof. At present, there were lights only in the kitchen end of the house. Apparently, the manager had not yet come home.