Rage of Angels

In the mail was a notice from the American Bar Association announcing its annual convention in Acapulco. Jennifer was in the midst of handling half a dozen cases, and ordinarily she would have ignored the invitation, but the convention was going to take place during Joshua's school vacation and Jennifer thought about how much Joshua would enjoy Acapulco.



She said to Cynthia, "Accept. I'll want three reservations."



She would take Mrs. Mackey along.



At dinner that evening, Jennifer broke the news to Joshua. "How would you like to go to Acapulco?"



"That's in Mexico," he announced. "On the west coast."



"That's right."



"Can we go to a topless beach?"



"Joshua!"



"Well, they have them there. Being naked is only natural."



"I'll think about it."



"And can we go deep-sea fishing?"



Jennifer visualized Joshua trying to pull in a large marlin and she contained her smile. "We'll see. Some of those fish get pretty big."



"That's what makes it exciting," Joshua explained seriously. "If it's easy, it's no fun. There's no sport to it."



It could have been Adam talking.



"I agree."



"What else can we do there?"



"Well, there's horseback riding, hiking, sightseeing - "



"Let's not go to a bunch of old churches, okay? They all look alike."



Adam saying, If you've seen one church, you've seen them all.



The convention began on a Monday. Jennifer, Joshua and Mrs. Mackey flew to Acapulco on Friday morning on a Braniff jet. Joshua had flown many times before, but he was still excited by the idea of airplanes. Mrs. Mackey was petrified with fear.



Joshua consoled her. "Look at it this way. Even if we crash, it'll only hurt for a second."



Mrs. Mackey turned pale.



The plane landed at Benito Juarez Airport at four o'clock in the afternoon, and an hour later the three of them arrived at Las Brisas. The hotel was eight miles outside of Acapulco, and consisted of a series of beautiful pink bungalows built on a hill, each with its private patio. Jennifer's bungalow, like several of the others, had its own swimming pool. Reservations had been difficult to get, for there were half a dozen other conventions and Acapulco was overcrowded, but Jennifer had made a telephone call to one of her corporate clients, and an hour later she had been informed that Las Brisas was eagerly expecting her.



When they had unpacked, Joshua said, "Can we go into town and hear them talk? I've never been to a country where nobody speaks English." He thought a moment and added, "Unless you count England."



They went into the city and wandered along the Zocalo, the frenetic center of downtown, but to Joshua's disappointment the only language to be heard was English. Acapulco was crowded with American tourists.



They strolled along the colorful market on the main pier opposite Sanborn's in the old part of town, where there were hundreds of stalls selling a bewildering variety of merchandise.



In the late afternoon, they took a calandria, a horse-drawn carriage, to Pie de la Cuesta, the sunset beach, and then returned to town.



They had dinner at Armando's Le Club, and it was excellent.



"I love Mexican food," Joshua declared.



"I'm glad," Jennifer said. "Only this is French."



"Well, it has a Mexican flavor."



Saturday was a full day. They went shopping in the morning at the Quebrada, where the nicer stores were, and then stopped for a Mexican lunch at Coyuca 22. Joshua said "I suppose you're going to tell me this is French, too."



"No, this is the real thing, gringo."



"What's a gringo?"



"You are, amigo."



They walked by the fronton building near the Plaza Caleta, and Joshua saw the billboards advertising jai alai inside.



He stood there, wide-eyed, and Jennifer asked, "Would you like to see the jai alai games?"



Joshua nodded. "If it's not too expensive. If we run out of money we won't be able to get home."



"I think we can manage."



They went inside and watched the furious play of the teams. Jennifer placed a bet for Joshua and his team won.



When Jennifer suggested returning to the hotel, Joshua said, "Gosh, Mom, can't we see the divers first?"



The hotel manager had mentioned them that morning.



"Are you sure you wouldn't like to rest, Joshua?"



"Oh, if you're too tired, sure. I keep forgettin' about your age."



That did it. "Never mind my age." Jennifer turned to Mrs. Mackey. "Are you up to it?"



"Certainly," Mrs. Mackey groaned.



The diving act was at La Quebrada cliffs. Jennifer, Joshua and Mrs. Mackey stood on a public viewing platform while divers carrying lighted torches plunged one hundred and fifty feet into a narrow, rock-lined cove, timing their descent to coincide with the arrival of incoming breakers. The slightest miscalculation would have meant instant death.



When the exhibition was over, a boy came around to collect a donation for the divers.



"Uno peso, por favor."



Jennifer gave him five pesos.



She dreamed about the divers that night.



Las Brisas had its own beach, La Concha, and early Sunday morning Jennifer, Joshua and Mrs. Mackey drove down in one of the pink canopied jeeps that the hotel supplied to its guests. The weather was perfect. The harbor was a sparkling blue canvas dotted with speedboats and sailboats.



Joshua stood at the edge of the terrace, watching the water skiers race by.



"Did you know water skiing was invented in Acapulco, Mom?"



"No. Where did you hear that?"



"I either read it in a book or I made it up."



"I vote for 'made it up.'"



"Does that mean I can't go water skiing?"



"Those speedboats are pretty fast. Aren't you afraid?"



Joshua looked out at the skiers skimming over the water. "That man said, 'I'm going to send you home to Jesus.' And then he put a nail in my hand."



It was the first reference he had made to the terrible ordeal he had gone through.



Jennifer knelt and put her arms around her son. "What made you think of that, Joshua?"



He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess because Jesus walked on water and everyone out there is walking on water." He saw the stricken look on his mother's face. "I'm sorry, Mom. I don't think about it much, honest."



She hugged him tightly and said, "It's all right, darling. Of course you can go water skiing. Let's have lunch first."



The outdoor restaurant at La Concha had wrought-iron tables set with pink linen, shaded by pink-and-white-striped umbrellas. Lunch was a buffet and the long serving table was crowded with an incredible assortment of dishes. There were fresh lobster and crab and salmon, selections of cold and hot meats, salads, a variety of raw and cooked vegetables, cheeses and fruits. There was a separate table for an array of freshly baked desserts. The two women watched Joshua fill and empty his plate three times before he sat back, satisfied.



"It's a very good restaurant," he pronounced. "I don't care what kind of food it is." He stood up. "I'll go check on the water skiing."



Mrs. Mackey had barely picked at her food.



"Are you feeling all right?" Jennifer asked. "You haven't eaten anything since we arrived."



Mrs. Mackey leaned forward and whispered darkly, "I don't want Montezuma's Revenge!"



"I don't think you have to worry about that in a place like this."



"I don't hold with foreign food," Mrs. Mackey sniffed.



Joshua ran back to the table and said, "I got a boat. Is it okay if I go now, Mom?"



"Don't you want to wait a while?"



"What for?"



"Joshua, you'll sink with all you've eaten."



"Test me!" he begged.



While Mrs. Mackey watched on shore, Jennifer and Joshua got into the speedboat and Joshua had his first water-skiing lesson. He spent the first five minutes falling down, and after that, performed as though born to water skiing. Before the afternoon was over, Joshua was doing tricks on one ski, and finally skiing on his heels with no skis.



They spent the rest of the afternoon lazing on the sand and swimming.



On the way back to Las Brisas in the jeep, Joshua snuggled up against Jennifer and said, "You know something, Mom? I think this was probably the best day of my whole life."



Michael's words flashed through her mind: I just want you to know this has been the greatest night of my life.



Early Monday morning Jennifer arose and got dressed to attend the convention. She put on a full-flowing dark green skirt and an off-the-shoulder blouse embroidered in giant red roses, that revealed her patina of suntan. She studied herself in the mirror and was pleased. Despite the fact that her son thought she was over the hill, Jennifer was aware that she looked like Joshua's beautiful thirty-four-year-old sister. She laughed to herself and thought that this vacation was one of her better ideas.



Jennifer said to Mrs. Mackey, "I have to go to work now. Take good care of Joshua. Don't let him get too much sun."



The huge convention center was a cluster of five buildings joined by roofed circulation terraces, sprawled over thirty-five acres of lush greenery. The carefully tended lawns were studded with pre-Columbian statues.



The Bar Association Convention was being held in Teotihuacan, the main hall, holding an audience of seventy-five hundred people.



Jennifer went to the registration desk, signed in and entered the large hall. It was packed. In the crowd she spotted dozens of friends and acquaintances. Nearly all of them had changed from conservative business suits and dresses to brightly colored sport shirts and pants. It was as though everyone was on vacation. There is a good reason, Jennifer thought, for holding the convention in a place like Acapulco instead of in Chicago or Detroit. They could take off their stiff collars and somber ties and let themselves go under a tropical sun.



Jennifer had been given a program at the door but, deep in conversation with some friends, had paid no attention to it.



A deep voice boomed over the loudspeaker, "Attention, please! Would you all please take your seats? Attention, please! We would like to get the meeting started. Would you sit down, please!"



Reluctantly the small groups began to break up as people started to find seats. Jennifer looked up to see that half a dozen men had mounted the dais.



In the center was Adam Warner.



Jennifer stood there, frozen, as Adam walked to the chair next to the microphone and took a seat. She felt her heart begin to pound. The last time she had seen Adam had been when they had had lunch at the little Italian restaurant, the day he had told her that Mary Beth was pregnant.



Jennifer's immediate impulse was to flee. She had had no idea Adam would be there and she could not bear the thought of facing him. Adam and his son being in the same city filled her with panic. Jennifer knew she had to get out of there quickly.



She turned to leave as the chairman announced over the loudspeaker, "If the rest of you ladies and gentlemen will take your seats, we will begin."



As people around her began sitting down, Jennifer found herself conspicuous by standing. Jennifer slid into a seat, determined to slip away at the first opportunity.



The chairman said, "We are honored this morning to have as our guest speaker a nominee for the presidency of the United States. He is a member of the New York Bar Association and one of the most distinguished members of the United States Senate. It is with great pride that I introduce Senator Adam Warner."



Jennifer watched as Adam rose, accepting the warm applause. He stepped to the microphone and looked out across the room. "Thank you, Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen."



Adam's voice was rich and resonant, and he had an air of authority that was mesmerizing. The silence in the room was total.



"There are many reasons why we are gathered here today." He paused. "Some of us like to swim and some of us like to snorkel..." There was a swell of appreciative laughter. "But the main reason we are here is to exchange ideas and knowledge and discuss new concepts. Today, lawyers are under greater attack than at any time in my memory. Even the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court has been sharply critical of our profession."



Jennifer loved the way he used our, making him one with the rest of them. She let his words wash over her, content just to look at him, to watch the way he moved, to hear his voice. At one point he stopped to run his fingers through his hair, and it gave Jennifer a sharp pang. It was a gesture of Joshua's. Adam's son was only a few miles away and Adam would never know.



Adam's voice grew stronger, more forceful. "Some of you in this room are criminal lawyers. I must admit I have always considered that to be the most exciting branch of our profession. Criminal lawyers often deal in life and death. It is a very honorable profession and one of which we can all be proud. However" - his voice grew hard - "there are some of them" - and now Jennifer noticed that Adam was disassociating himself by his choice of the pronoun - "who are a disgrace to the oath they have taken. The American system of jurisprudence is based on the inalienable right of every citizen to have a fair trial. But when the law is made a mockery of, when lawyers spend their time and energy, imagination and skill, finding ways to defy that law, finding ways to subvert justice, then I think it is time something must be done." Every eye in the room was fastened on Adam as he stood there, eyes blazing. "I am speaking, ladies and gentlemen, out of personal experience and a deep anger for some of the things I see happening. I am currently heading a Senate committee conducting an investigation of organized crime in the United States. My committee has found itself thwarted and frustrated time after time by men who hold themselves to be more powerful than the highest enforcement agencies of our nation. I have seen judges suborned, the families of witnesses threatened, key witnesses disappear. Organized crime in our country is like a deadly python that is squeezing our economy, swallowing up our courts, threatening our very lives. The great majority of lawyers are honorable men and women doing honorable jobs, but I want to give warning to that small minority who think their law is above our law: You're making a grave mistake and you're going to pay for that mistake. Thank you."



Adam sat down to a tumultuous burst of applause that became a standing ovation. Jennifer found herself on her feet applauding with the others, but her thoughts were on Adam's last words. It was as though he had been speaking directly to her. Jennifer turned and headed toward the exit, pushing her way through the crowd.



As Jennifer approached the door she was hailed by a Mexican lawyer with whom she had worked a year earlier.



He kissed her hand gallantly and said, "What an honor to have you in our country again, Jennifer. I insist you have dinner with me this evening."



Jennifer and Joshua had planned to go to The Maria Elena that night to watch the native dancers. "I'm sorry, Luis. I have an engagement."



His large, liquid eyes showed his disappointment. "Tomorrow then?"



Before Jennifer could answer, an assistant district attorney from New York was at her side.



"Hello, there," he said. "What are you doing slumming with the common folk? How about having dinner with me tonight? There's a Mexican disco called Nepentha, where they have a glass floor lit from underneath and a mirror overhead."



"It sounds fascinating, thanks, but I'm busy tonight."



A few moments later Jennifer found herself surrounded by lawyers she had worked for and against all over the country. She was a celebrity and they all wanted to talk to her. It was half an hour before Jennifer could break free. She hurried toward the lobby, and as she moved to the exit, Adam was walking toward her, surrounded by the press and secret service men. Jennifer tried to retreat, but it was too late. Adam had seen her.



"Jennifer!"



For an instant she thought of pretending she had not heard him, but she could not embarrass him in front of the others. She would say hello quickly and be on her way.



She watched as Adam moved toward her, saying to the press, "I have no more statements to make now, ladies and gentlemen."



A moment later Adam was touching her hand, looking into her eyes, and it was as though they had never been apart. They stood there in the lobby, surrounded by people, and yet they might have been completely alone. Jennifer had no idea how long they stood there looking at each other.



Finally, Adam said, "I - I think we'd better have a drink."



"It would be wiser if we didn't." She had to get out of this place.



Adam shook his head. "Overruled."



He took her arm and led her into the crowded bar. They found a table at the rear of the room.



"I've called you and I've written to you," Adam said. "You never called me back and my letters were returned."



He was watching her, his eyes filled with questions. "There isn't a day that's gone by that I haven't thought about you. Why did you disappear?"



"It's part of my magic act," Jennifer said lightly.



A waiter came to take their order. Adam turned to Jennifer. "What would you like?"



"Nothing. I really have to leave, Adam."



"You can't go now. This is a celebration. The anniversary of the revolution."



"Theirs or ours?"



"What's the difference?" He turned to the waiter. "Two margaritas."



"No. I - " All right, she thought, one drink. "Make mine a double," Jennifer said recklessly.



The waiter nodded and left.



"I read about you all the time," Jennifer said. "I'm very proud of you, Adam."



"Thank you." Adam hesitated. "I've been reading about you, too."



She responded to the tone in his voice. "But you're not proud of me."



"You seem to have a lot of Syndicate clients."



Jennifer found her defenses going up. "I thought your lecture was over."



"This isn't a lecture, Jennifer. I'm concerned about you. My committee is after Mike Moretti, and we're going to get him."



Jennifer looked around the bar filled with lawyers. "For God's sake, Adam, we shouldn't be having this discussion, especially in here."



"Where, then?"



"Nowhere. Michael Moretti is my client. I can't discuss him with you."



"I want to talk to you. Where?"



She shook her head. "I told you I - "



"I have to talk about us."



"There is no us." Jennifer started to rise.



Adam put his hand on her arm. "Please, don't go. I can't let you go. Not yet."



Reluctantly, Jennifer sat down.



Adam's eyes were fastened on her face. "Do you ever think of me?"



Jennifer looked up at him and did not know whether to laugh or cry. Did she ever think of him! He lived in her house. She kissed him good morning every day, made his breakfast, went sailing with him, loved him. "Yes," Jennifer said finally, "I think of you."



"I'm glad. Are you happy?"



"Of course." She knew she had said it too quickly. She made her voice more casual. "I have a successful practice, I'm well off financially, I travel a great deal, I see a lot of attractive men. How is your wife?"



"She's fine." His voice was low.



"And your daughter?"



He nodded, and there was pride in his face. "Samantha's wonderful. She's just growing up too fast."



She would be Joshua's age.



"You've never married?"



"No."



There was a long moment, and then Jennifer tried to continue, but she had hesitated too long. It was too late. Adam had looked into her eyes and he had known instantly.



He clasped her hand in his. "Oh, Jennifer. Oh, my darling!"



Jennifer could feel the blood rushing to her face. She had known all along that this would be a terrible mistake.



"I have to go, Adam. I have an appointment."



"Break it," he urged.



"I'm sorry. I can't." All she wanted to do was get out of there, to get her son away from there, to flee back home.



Adam was saying, "I'm supposed to fly back to Washington on an afternoon plane. I can arrange to stay over if you'll see me tonight."



"No. No!"



"Jennifer, I can't let you go again. Not like this. We have to talk. Just have dinner with me."



He was pressing her hand tighter. She looked at him and fought with all her strength and found herself weakening.



"Please, Adam," she begged. "We shouldn't be seen together. If you're after Michael Moretti - "



"This has nothing to do with Moretti. A friend of mine has offered me the use of his boat. It's called the Paloma Blanca. It's docked at the Yacht Club. Eight o'clock."



"I won't be there."



"I will. I'll be waiting for you."



Across the room, at the crowded bar, Nick Vito was sitting with two Mexican puttanas a friend had delivered to him. Both were pretty and coarse and underage, the way Nick Vito liked them. His friend had promised they would be special, and he had been right. They were rubbing up against him, whispering exciting promises in his ear, but Nick Vito was not listening. He was staring across the room at the booth where Jennifer Parker and Adam Warner were seated.



"Why don't we go up to your room now, querido?" one of the girls suggested to Nick.



Nick Vito was tempted to walk over to Jennifer and the stranger she was with and say hello, but both girls had their hands between his legs and were stroking him. He was going to make one hell of a sandwich.



"Yeah, let's go upstairs," Nick Vito said.