‘Oh, God!’ Raymond voiced. Nervously he chewed the quick of his thumb.
It was more than trouble. It was potential disaster. With his attempts
at retrieving his medical license tied up in the quagmire of the
judicial system, his current work situation was all he had, and things
had only recently been clicking. It had taken him five years to get
where he was. He couldn’t let it all go down the drain.
‘What is it?’ Darlene asked. She reached out and pulled Raymond’s hand
away from his mouth.
Raymond quickly explained about the upcoming autopsy on Carlo Franconi
and repeated Taylor Cabot’s threat to scrap the entire enterprise.
‘But it’s finally making big money,’ Darlene said. ‘He won’t scrap it.’
Raymond gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘It isn’t big money to someone
like Taylor Cabot and GenSys,’ he said. ‘He’d scrap it for certain.
Hell, it was difficult to talk him into it in the first place.’
‘Then you have to tell them not to do the autopsy,’ Darlene said.
Raymond stared at his companion. He knew she meant well, and he’d never
been attracted to her for her brain power. So he resisted lashing out.
But his reply was sarcastic: ‘You think I can just call up the medical
examiner’s office and tell them not to do an autopsy on such a case?
Give me a break!’
‘But you know a lot of important people,’ Darlene persisted. ‘Ask them
to call.’
‘Please, dear . . .’ Raymond said condescendingly, but then he paused.
He began to think that unwittingly Darlene had a point. An idea began to
germinate.
‘What about Dr. Levitz?’ Darlene said. ‘He was Mr. Franconi’s doctor.
Maybe he could help.’
‘I was just thinking the same thing,’ Raymond said. Dr. Daniel Levitz
was a Park Avenue physician with a big office, high overhead, and a
dwindling patient base, thanks to managed care. He’d been easy to
recruit and had been one of the first doctors to join the venture. On
top of that, he’d brought in many clients, some of them in the same
business as Carlo Franconi.
Raymond stood up, extracted his wallet, and plopped three crisp
one-hundred-dollar bills on the table. He knew that was more than enough
for the tab and a generous tip. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to make a
house call.’
‘But I haven’t finished my entree,’ Darlene complained.
Raymond didn’t respond. Instead he whisked Darlene’s chair out from the
table, forcing her to her feet. The more he thought about Dr. Levitz,
the more he thought the man could be the savior. As the personal
physician of a number of competing New York crime families, Levitz knew
people who could do the impossible.
CHAPTER 1
———
MARCH 4, 1997
7:25 A.M.
NEW YORK CITY
JACK Stapleton bent over and put more muscle into his pedaling as he
sprinted the last block heading east along Thirtieth Street. About fifty
yards from First Avenue he sat up and coasted no-hands before beginning
to brake. The upcoming traffic light was not in his favor, and even Jack
wasn’t crazy enough to sail out into the mix of cars, buses, and trucks
racing uptown.
The weather had warmed considerably and the five inches of slush that
had fallen two days previously was gone save for a few dirty piles
between parked cars. Jack was pleased the roads were clear since he’d
not been able to commute on his bike for several days. The bike was only
three weeks old. It was a replacement for one that had been stolen a
year previously.
Originally, Jack had planned on replacing the bike immediately. But he’d
changed his mind after a terrifyingly close encounter with death made
him temporarily conservative about risk. The episode had nothing to do
with bike riding in the city, but nonetheless it scared him enough to
acknowledge that his riding style had been deliberately reckless.
But time dimmed Jack’s fears. The final prod came when he lost his watch
and wallet in a subway mugging. A day later, Jack bought himself a new
Cannondale mountain bike, and as far as his friends were concerned, he
was up to his old tricks. In reality, he was no longer tempting fate by