The Intervention Part 16

The Opera House began to s.h.i.+mmer. Thousands of people were pouring from the auditorium and the balconies onto the grand staircase for intermission. Ca.s.sidy and Grondin waited patiently, silhouetted against the brilliance.

[Fireflower.]

All right, Kier said to them. This is what I want you to do.

The performance was running long, and Montedoro and Falcone decided to spend this final intermission relaxing in their box, rather than attempt another sortie into the high-society crush out on the Grand Tier lobby. Three of the bodyguard were given permission to take a smoke break and Joe Porks was sent for a magnum of champagne. Mike LoPresti, whose musical tastes ran more toward cabaret singers than divas, appeased his boredom by using the binoculars to inspect the decolletages of the elegant ladies down on the main floor.

The two dons made favorable comments about the rousing curtain-closer ensemble that had ended Act Three. La Favorita, they agreed, was somewhat of a potboiler - which explained why the Met hadn't mounted a production since Caruso in 1905 -but it did have some soaring melodies, and Pavarotti was in splendid voice. Vicenzu Falcone was old-fas.h.i.+oned enough to express regret that the heroine was being portrayed by a black soprano.

Montedoro shrugged. "At least she's not fat, and she's got a great legato. So if her color bugs you, close your eyes during the duets. "

"Look, Guido, I don't mind a chocolate Carmen or Aida - but there oughta be limits. When I was in stir I saw Price do Tosca on Live from the Met and it was f.u.c.kin' grotesque! What next? A j.a.p Rigoletto? It's all the fault of that d.a.m.n Kraut, Bing. He squanders a bundle building this house, and we got trick chandeliers, no privacy, everything open like a G.o.ddam goldfish tank - and the singers gotta blast out their voiceboxes to fill the thing. The old Met was better. "

"Nothing stays the same forever, Vince. Us old farts gotta change with the changing times. "

"Sez you! You're only sixty-seven and you don't have arteries sludged up like a Jersey backwater at low tide. " Falcone lowered his voice and began to speak in Sicilian dialect. "And you don't have a U. S. attorney standing on your t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es, ready to defy G.o.d and the Madonna and the Bill of Rights in order to make certain that you die in prison. Piccolomini, that head of a p.r.i.c.k! Do you know why he pursues me? He intends to run for senator, and I am to provide him with his ticket to Was.h.i.+ngton. Illegal wiretaps, suborned witnesses, planted evidence - he doesn't care how he incriminates one. You had better guard your own precious a.r.s.e, friend Guido. "

"I always have, " Montedoro said in English. The perfect acoustics of the auditorium filled the place with white noise during the interval, so the conversation between the two dons was inaudible even to LoPresti and the single remaining bodyguard, who were only a few feet away. Nevertheless, the man whom the newspapers called Boss of Bosses leaned very close to his old friend and spoke in the tongue of secrecy. "Do you think that I'm blind to the government conspiracy against Our Thing? I saw it coming years ago, when that s.h.i.+tter-of-wisdom Robert Kennedy declared war on us. For this very reason, my own Family has diversified, distanced itself from the less savory sources of income. The Montedoro Borgata is legitimate, Vicenzu! Well - very nearly so. My sons, Pasquale and Paolo, have more three-piece-suits on their payroll than a Wall Street brokerage. You don't find c.u.n.ting zealots like Piccolomini poking into our affairs. Not when they can spend their time more profitably pursuing the greatest importer of heroin and cocaine on the East Coast. "

"Perhaps I should peddle pizza?" Falcone growled.

Montedoro chuckled. "Why not? See here - I know that your gross profits are tremendous, rising with each pa.s.sing month. But you are having difficulty laundering the money. And some of your impatient young men complain that their share is slow in filtering down to them. I happen to know that the Sortino Borgata has the same problem, and there are rumors about Calcare's operation, too. It is the unprecedented quant.i.ty of money - the drug money - so inconvenient! But there are new methods of handling this embarra.s.sment of riches, Vicenzu -tricks of modern finance. "

"Hah! You suggest that we hand the money over to you for safekeeping, my dear old friend?"

"Suppose, " Montedoro said softly, "that we revive the Commission? Suppose that the Five Families work together instead of at cross-purposes? The Commission was a good idea - only ahead of its time. But now, with this ma.s.sive influx of dirty money that must be invested if it is not to be p.i.s.sed away in bankers' percentages, we need to unify to survive. "

"Oh, s.h.i.+t, " said Falcone in English. "Now you're startin' to sound just like that Chicago a.s.shole, Camastra. "

A troubled look crossed Montedoro's face. "Al Camastra phoned me last night. He knew we'd be getting together. How did he know that, Vince?... And what Al had to say worried me. "

The door at the back of the box opened and Joe Porks came in, a tray of empty flute gla.s.ses in his hands and a big bottle of champagne tucked under one arm. He nodded deferentially to the dons and went over to LoPresti. The two whispered together. LoPresti, scowling, headed for the door while Joe Porks undid the cork wire on the magnum. There was a juicy pop. Joe began to pour.

Falcone was distracted by the actions of his minions. There was a creeping sensation behind his stiffly starched collar, which seemed suddenly to constrict his windpipe. He ran a finger behind the collar and grunted to clear his throat. "Camastra! He always means trouble. Him and that smarta.s.s Irish consigliere of his. What kinda c.r.a.p was he shovelin' this time?"

Before Montedoro could answer, the door to the box opened again. LoPresti stood there, his face gray and drawn, and behind him were three men in evening clothes. The quartet edged inside and the door closed. The lone soldier on guard duty started up from his seat, groping in his armpit, and then crumpled to the floor with a m.u.f.fled crash. He twitched and lay still.

"Jesus Christ, " said Joe Porks. His fingers tightened on the champagne bottle.

"Don't even think of trying it, Porcaro, " said one of the shadow men behind LoPresti. "Take his piece, Mike. "

The two dons gaped. LoPresti stepped over to his enforcer, who seemed to be paralyzed, and removed a .38 Detective Special from his shoulder holster. Joe Porks stood like a battered mannequin in an After Six display window, a full gla.s.s of bubbly in one hand and the big bottle in the other. Sweat poured down his forehead and his acne-pitted cheeks.

Falcone lurched to his feet to confront his Underboss. "Mike, what the f.u.c.k's going on here?"

LoPresti's mouth worked as if he were trying to overcome a spasm of lockjaw. There were tears of rage in his eyes. He handed the revolver to one of the men behind him and then went to a seat beside Falcone and slowly lowered himself into it.

The shortest of the three intruders now stepped forward into the light. He was a man in his mid-thirties whose dark hair grew in a widow's peak, and his face wore one of the most compelling and terrifying expressions that the two dons could remember having seen during their unquiet lives.

Montedoro remained seated. "A visitor from Chicago, " he said in a neutral tone. "O'Connor, isn't it?"

Yes.

"Al Camastra mentioned your name when we spoke on the phone last night. Do you intend to kill Vince and me?"

No. But I will explain certain matters to you.

Montedoro nodded. His glance took in the sagging LoPresti and motionless Joe Porks, who was teetering a bit with the champagne but didn't spill a drop.

May we sit down? The intermission is nearly over.

Montedoro inclined his head graciously.

Your a.s.sociates whom we met outside are resting in the men's lounge. They'll probably feel much better after a good night's sleep. The fellow on the floor will require prompt hospitalization. Porcaro and LoPresti, however, will receive their treatment from me.

O'Connor's two companions had gone to Joe Porks and relieved him of his burdens. They guided him to the fourth seat at the front of the box near to LoPresti and sat him down, then retired again to the shadows. The five-minute-warning chime sounded. People began returning to their seats in the boxes to the right and left. They paid no attention to the mobsters and their uninvited guests.

"He's talking, " Falcone whispered, his eyes bulging with terror, "but he ain't talking. "

Montedoro was staring at Kieran with shrewd speculation. "So you're Camastra's edge. No wonder he made you. No wonder he raised you to consigliere. "

"I have other talents as well, Don Guido. If you help reorganize the Commission and put it into efficient operation, you may benefit from my unique abilities yourself. And so may Don Vicenzu, and other businessmen of honor. " But first we must settle another matter.

Falcone said hesitantly, "It wasn't me ordered the hit, O'Connor. You know that, don't you? You're a counselor. Untouchable. But LoPresti was burned because you undercut us on the bidding last year for the Montreal Connection. That was a pipeline he sweat blood to bring in, and the froggies were all ready to deal - until you convinced 'em otherwise. " He gave a weak laugh. "Maybe now we know how you convinced 'em. "

"I'm not a miracle-worker, " Kieran said. "My... influence isn't long-lasting and it certainly doesn't extend over distances. What I offered Montreal was a better deal and safer conditions of transfer, using the Saint Lawrence Seaway. No danger of hijacking, no payoffs to cops or customs, and payment direct to Switzerland. Chapelle explained all that to LoPresti. It was a simple business matter, Don Vicenzu, but your man chose to treat it as a personal affront. He's stupid and shortsighted and vindictive, and so is his animal, Porcaro. "

"I agree, " said Falcone.

The lights in the Opera House were dimming and the patrons settled down. Applause greeted Maestro Lopez-Cobos as he entered the pit and motioned for the players in the orchestra to rise.

Then there will be peace between Chicago and the Falcone Family, Don Vicenzu?

The don spoke in a harsh whisper. "I swear it. I swear it. "

And you are a witness to this, Don Guido?

"I am, " said Montedoro.

The hall had become very dark. The conductor raised his baton and the pianissimo notes of an organ began the overture to Act Four of La Favorita. LoPresti and Porcaro sat beside Falcone with only the rise and fall of their s.h.i.+rt-fronts signaling life, apparently held in a trance by the two a.s.sociates of O'Connor who were glaring at the backs of their necks. Kieran rose to his feet and put his right hand on Porcaro's head and his left on LoPresti's. The paralyzed men started violently and O'Connor himself suppressed a groan.

This... is not revenge, you understand. Only simple justice. A restoration of order. Don Guido, your men should be able to cope with the disposal of this pair without too much difficulty. It will be an educational experience for them. We will send them in on our way out.

And then O'Connor and the two men with him were gone, and the gold brocade curtain opened on the handsome Ming Cho Lee set of a monastery courtyard in Spain. The stage illumination lit the faces of the audience. Falcone was aware of a faint, peculiar odor. He leaned over and saw that the eye sockets of his henchmen had become streaming wells of dark fluid, and that neither man was breathing even though they both sat very straight in their luxurious chairs.

2.

ALMA-ATA, KAZAKH SSR, EARTH.

10 JULY 1979.

HE WAS THE most self-effacing member of the delegation of Indian parapsychology scholars visiting Kazakh State University, and afterward many staff members at the Bioenergetics Inst.i.tute (including the Director) denied that he had been there at all. But the truth was that he had been the one who arranged for the tour in the first place, as a pretext for meeting Yuri and Tamara.

The visitors had seen nothing of the laboratory where the young biophysicist and his wife worked, since it was under the Cosmic security cla.s.sification. Instead they toured the Kirlian facility, where scanning devices purported to monitor the nonphysical aura of living things. Although one or two of the delegates asked indiscreet questions about corona discharge effects and water vapor, most were suitably impressed. In the afternoon there was a tea, presided over by the Director of the Inst.i.tute, where the delegates were given the opportunity to mingle with the various project supervisors and a few of the percipient subjects whose psychic powers were under a.n.a.lysis. Yuri and Tamara were there, introduced simply as "biocommunications specialists. " They said very little and slipped away early, and forgot about the group of Indian scholars almost at once. Their attention was fully occupied by the matter of Abdizhamil Simonov. There were rumors that Andropov himself was taking a personal interest in the KGB's inquiry into the mind-controller's sudden death.

That evening, as Tamara was putting little Valery and Ilya to bed, Yuri received a phone call from the Director.

"A distinguished member of the Indian Paraphysics a.s.sociation tour group has asked for a personal meeting with you and your wife. " The Director's voice was strained and overly formal. "He was told that such an appointment would be difficult to arrange, since it would have to be approved by Moscow. This did not deter him. He... prevailed upon me to phone the Comrade Academician himself with the request. It was approved. "

Yuri could only say, "How unusual!"

"You will meet this Dr. Urgyen Bhotia in the main lobby of the Hotel Kazakhstan as soon as possible. He is a Tibetan resident of Darjeeling, and he wishes to speak to you about certain studies he has made that are relevant to your work. Show him every courtesy. " Before Yuri could respond, the Director hung up.

Tamara came out of the children's bedroom with lifted brows.

He transferred the amazing gist of the conversation to her in an instant, adding: I have no idea what this is all about but we are going to have to see this guru and postpone our discussion with Alla and Mukan until later tonight I'll call them while you get Natasha to baby-sit.

When everything was arranged, they took a bus across town to the soaring new hotel on Lenin Avenue, where only the most distinguished visitors were housed. No sooner had they come into the air-conditioned lobby than the strangely influential Tibetan was there bowing. He was a short, st.u.r.dy man with very brown skin, dressed in crisply pressed trekker's garb.

"Dr. Gawrys and Madame Gawrys-Sakhvadze, I am Urgyen Bhotia. I thank you profoundly for coming here, and apologize for causing you inconvenience. I hope you will forgive my summoning you in such a precipitate manner, but I have waited nearly five years for this moment. " Shall we stroll outside in the cool of the evening?

Yuri froze in the act of shaking hands. Tamara said: I think that would be wise. Have you taken the cable car up Koktyube Hill?

Not yet but I hear it provides a marvelous view of the city.

Yuri said: You know us and our work? How can this be?

The Tibetan laughed and said, "This is not my first visit to your lovely city of Alma-Ata, but it is my first opportunity to enjoy it with all my physical senses! Let us walk. "

He casually took an arm of each of them when they were outside and guided them across Abai Avenue into the gardens of the Lenin Palace of Culture as though he were the host and they the visitors. The fountains were lit with the coming of dusk and the spray from them was cooling and welcome. A heavy scent of flowers arose from the formal gardens and Urgyen paused to admire them.

"So many lush growing things in this splendid, modern city! The aether sings with vitality. " He might have been any age from forty to sixty. His head was shaved and his cheeks were such a bright red that they might have been rouged. His teeth were very white and perfect and his eyes, almost hidden in a ma.s.s of deep creases when he smiled, were an unusual hazel color.

Tamara said, "It is clear that you are one of the adept - unlike your colleagues. You will please tell us how you came to know of our psychic faculties and of our work, since both are closely guarded state secrets. "

"I know you, " the Tibetan said, "because I have been blessed with an ability to perceive the bioplasma of the brightest ones across great distances. My vision extends only throughout Asia. But for more than twenty years now, since leaving Tibet, I have studied the soul manifestation by means of what you would call remote-viewing. I saw the two of you for the first time in 1974, when you were newly come to Alma-Ata, a double mind-star more brilliant than any I had found before. Since then I have watched, I rejoiced in the birth of your two brilliantly ensouled sons, and now I antic.i.p.ate with you the coming of your third child, a daughter. "

"It is a girl?" Tamara exclaimed.

"Most a.s.suredly. " Urgyen searched the faces of the young couple, ruefully acknowledging the mental barricades they had erected against him. "Please do not be afraid of me. My only wish is to help you at this very difficult time, when you two and the many immature minds under your care find yourselves at a moral crossroads. "

"You say you have watched us, " Yuri stated. "How close has your astral scrutiny been? Have you read our minds?"

"You know from your own remote-viewing studies that such a thing is impossible. Nor can I read them now unless you freely give access. Nevertheless, I am aware of the temptations bedeviling you and the dangers that you face. I asked myself and the Compa.s.sionate Lord if it was my duty to advise you. "

"And what, " Yuri inquired coldly, "did your heavenly oracle say?"

"I was helped to understand that, in spite of certain inhumane actions you have abetted, you are both persons of goodwill. You have rejected the false joy of the great determinism that hands over the individual conscience to a group and evades personal responsibility. You know you are free, and you know you will have to make choices. Too many people of your nation deny this difficult truth. They do not understand that the human mind must cultivate both soul and spirit if it is to be integral. "

"You will have to explain that, " Yuri said.

They walked on, across the palace concourse and into trees where cicadas were beginning to buzz.

Urgyen said, "A month ago there was a meeting of leaders in Vienna. The President of the United States and the Soviet President Leonid Brezhnev signed a strategic arms limitation treaty. At one of their conferences, which took place in the Soviet emba.s.sy in Vienna, a person from your Bioenergetics Inst.i.tute named Simonov exerted coercive and mind-altering force upon the American President, throwing him into a state of confusion and irrationality that still persists... The Chairman of your KGB was so elated by Simonov's success that he made arrangements to send the man to Was.h.i.+ngton, where he would be able to exert his inimical influence upon other American leaders, as ordered. The plan was aborted when Simonov dropped dead while jogging on the university campus. "

"An autopsy showed that his heart was enlarged and weakened, " Yuri said. "It is a disability that often accompanies great psychic exertion. I myself am under a physician's care for similar symptoms. "

"Exactly, " said Urgyen sadly.

They walked in silence. Ahead was the brightly lit funicular station, the goal of many other evening strollers.

Tamara said, "Abdizhamil Simonov was a tribal shaman before he was recruited to the Inst.i.tute, a petty and vicious man who resisted all our efforts to dissuade him from cooperating in Andropov's scheme. He was half mad, a menace to world peace. The KGB thought they could control him, but we knew they could not. "

Urgyen nodded. "There was also Ryrik Volzhsky, a strong coercer and an incorrigible corrupter of children. You have in your special program at the Inst.i.tute more than sixty youthful psychics. When Volzhsky persuaded your Director to a.s.sign him to the pedagogical staff, both of you admonished him to restrain himself. He laughed. Two days later he was found drowned in the Bolshaya Alma-Atinka River. "

"The normals can only agonize in their impotence when confronted by evil, " Yuri said. "They can only utter foolish curses or wish the destruction of the wicked. We are more fortunate. "

"The soul would say so, but not the spirit, " said the Tibetan.

They came to the ticket office, where Yuri paid. Then the three of them got into one of the crowded red-and-yellow cablecars. The other holidaymakers made room for pregnant Tamara near the window, and a moment later they were soaring up the hillside, suspended in the clear air, with the discussion now relegated to telepathy.

Yuri said: So you presume to judge me and castigate me with your pious Eastern word-play... Soul and spirit! Talk instead of life and death! Talk of a pair of fearful children become the toys of power-corrupted old men who would use marvelous mind-powers as weapons rather than dedicate them to the good of humanity!

Urgyen said: But if you kill even in a cause that seems just are you any better than your oppressors?

Tamara said: We regretted the deaths bitterly. Yuri acted only after serious reflection.

Urgyen said: In Tibet in the eleventh century the poet Milarepa had mental powers like yours. He was able to strike his enemies dead from afar. But only after he renounced his usurpation of G.o.d-power did he become a saint.

Yuri said: We aren't saints. We are only persons wanting to survive. Yes I killed and because I am a Pole and a Catholic I was tormented and I wish there had been another way but there was not. Once I was timid little Jerzy s.n.a.t.c.hed from my parents in Lodz bullied and cajoled into mental slavery thinking there was no helping it. Then came Tamara! In Leningrad the scientists studied us and tested us and the military men tried to convince us that our duty was unquestioning loyalty and service to the state. But Tamara knew better and helped me to know also. Her dear father was exiled because he dared to protest and publicize the GRU's treatment of us and of other psychics.

Urgyen said: Your unhappy memories are clear to me... and I see what you are reluctant to state directly: that even then you thought it necessary to kill...

Yuri said: Why can't you understand!

Tamara said: There was a cold-blooded brute the chief of the GRU. Yes he was the first. He would have locked us away treated us as equipment rather than human beings to further his ambition. We were to be his secret weapon to spy with remote-vision on Chairman Andropov of the KGB. When our enemy died the GRU lost control of the psychic-study program. Andropov and Brezhnev became fervent believers in the mind-powers, coopted the project and promised us and the other adepts that we would now be treated as honored Soviet citizens. It was 1974. Six months after Papa's exile. I was 16 and Jerzy/Yuri 22. We were given permission to marry and sent to Alma-Ata.

Yuri said: We expected a barbarous outpost in Central Asia with camel caravans and fierce nomads and bazaars. Imagine our surprise at this green new city with the great university where we could study as well as be studied.