Claude
When his mother summoned him to his sister’s room, he was more than a little bewildered. As was his routine these nights, he was in the room occupied by Paddy, staring at his brother who had been his sidekick all their lives. The sight of his brother, shy and unassuming, lying almost lifeless on the large bed, with tubes and bags attached to his poor, frail body, never failed to make Claude want to beat up someone.
Although he did not let on to his other siblings, he talked to Paddy, and told him about everything he had been doing all day. Explained how his father was planning to fight the inaugural bouts in the Ring for the Big Fight on opening day at the Club. And how unfair that was because Claude had wanted to be doing it.
He knew that Mumma made it a point to come and sit and talk to Paddy every evening for an hour, no matter how busy or how tired she was.
Claude was not skeptical about that. In fact, when he was talking, he had a strong feeling that Paddy seemed to be listening. Mumma had told him how she had seen Paddy’s lids twitch when she was speaking to him. So Claude talked and talked, each night before heading off to his own room and flopping down onto his bed.
Now he spun around as one of the nurses entered. Generally, they kept away, respecting his privacy. As he rose, glaring at the hapless woman, she stammered, taking a step backward,
‘Sir, Mrs. Delano wants to see you. She is in Ms. Ria’s room.’
Claude stared.
It was past midnight. Mumma generally went to bed without waiting for Pappa who would probably get back in the early hours of the morning with Uncle James and Piers. What had happened? He pushed past the woman and bounded up the stairs to her room, not bothering to take the elevator.
*
When he burst into her room, he saw his Mumma’s face, suffused with color, angry red spots on her cheeks, making her look gorgeous and yet fierce enough to make his knees tremble. He feared the cold authority his father wielded so effortlessly but his mother’s stormy rages when she flew into a temper, was also best avoided. She rarely became angry; when she did, it was best to keep out of her way. Pappa was the only one who could handle her then and he had a very good idea of exactly How the Mafia Don managed to handle his wife’s rages.
By settling them in bed.
*
The burly young man came to a halt before Proserpina Delano who was in a dressing gown, deep plum in color, her long and heavy mahogany tresses cascading down her back. His sister, Ria, was also in the room, chewing her bottom lip, studying her pretty, manicured feet as though she had just discovered them., completely avoiding Claude’s furtive, questioning look.
So she was alright, he thought, not hurt or unwell. That was a relief. But she looked furious as her eyes sparkled with fury as she met his gaze. She had probably been engaged in her nightly routine of brushing her hair after a bath, chatting with Melissa when she …?
“Are you fit enough to fight on Opening Night at your Pappa’s new Club which is two months away?’ demanded his mother with no preamble and he straightened as the little marbles fell into their slots in his brain.
Ah ha. So THAT was it. Mumma had found out that Pappa was planning to enter the Ring and she was livid.
And…wait!
‘Mumma?’ he said hesitantly, ‘Mumma, what did you say?’
His voice was low as he did his best to keep the excitement under control.
“Mumma?’
Proserpina stood up imperiously and walked over to him.
‘I always knew you were thick-headed, Claude,’ she snapped,’ but are you deaf as well?’
He smarted. Mumma had a real nasty tongue when she was furious and now, she was at a different level of fury. She was shaking with rage.
‘Are you going to stand by, YOU being a trained fighter and all that jazz, and let your old father totter about in the Ring and make a complete ass of himself?’ she said in her low, melodious tones sizzling with anger.
*
Maja
She tossed and turned on the couch in the little front room. Her son had been with her when the Vice Head Mistress, Melissa Lord, had summoned her a second time, to inform them about the suspension. Magnus had looked bored and insolent but Maja had seen his fists tighten in anger. The moment they were out of the office, Maja had turned to him, laying a hand on his shoulder as she tried to talk to him, to appeal to whatever goodness there still was in his nature. But he had rudely thrust her away and run off.
“Magnus, come back, Magnus,’ she had cried as she hurried after him down the school passageway.
As the vacation was on, there were only a handful of people about in and around the school building. She had watched in dismay as he got onto a bike, behind someone she could not identify, and then they rode away. The last she saw of her son was the ugly gesture he made at her, as he showed her the finger. The person riding ahead was in black leather, his face hidden by a helmet and apart from the fact that he seemed lean, she could not form much of an impression about him.
“I have failed,’ she thought as she sagged against the wall, ‘I have failed as a mother.’
Her bottom lip trembled but she was determined not to break down. Squaring her shoulders she headed home but it was all she could do to order a takeaway for Maddie who sat sulking before the TV.
And Magnus had not come home that night or the night after that.
*
Piers
He scowled as the phone pinged. He was in the new office which he would inhabit, at the new Club. His mother had insisted that he keep a tiny idol of the Buddha, in his desk for luck and prosperity. Accordingly, he had done so, more to humour her but also because he did have faith.
Now he studied his phone. More information on the assassin who had tried to kill his family had been sent by his sources. Her name, he had found out, was Hila. A few candid shots accompanied the message and he studied the face of the woman.
The details he had succeeded in getting, had been informative indeed.
She was Hila. An Israeli, former Mossad operative, trained to kill and also, a master at disguise. A woman who could blend in and become part of the group she had infiltrated. Lethal as a soldier. A sentence in one of the reports had jumped out; how she could cleverly pass off as anyone, having been trained to blend in effortlessly.
Curiously, he looked at the woman who had been snapped, her arms folded across her chest, dressed in combat uniform, a photograph that had been taken when she was still in service, he thought.
She was slim with a cap of dark hair but it was difficult to make out the color of her eyes which were staring into the camera and seemed to be looking straight at him. A strong square chin and unsmiling mouth.
She must be around twenty-one or twenty-two, he thought and tapped the phone reflectively. It would be wise to let the Capo know. If she was as good at disguise as she was touted to be, she would be very difficult to spot in a crowd.
Thoughtfully, he left his room, locking it behind him, and strode down the passageway, along the dimly lit corridor, and went to the Capo’s large office which was on the third floor.
*
Philippe looked up as Piers entered. The two men had a strong friendship, forged over the years. And now, the knowledge that Ria was deeply in love with Philippe made Piers respect him all the more, especially after his Pappa had expressed such faith in the older man. Dismissing the other people in the room, Philippe settled down to listen gravely as his friend told him what he feared.
The spies of the Delano mob had uncovered the dastardly plan which was the brainchild of Paval Rudenko.
The Rudenko faction was planning on staging an attack on the new Club on Opening Night, engineered by the Monk, and spearheaded by Hila, the Assassin.