Free Fifth Ave 01 - Fifth Avenue by Christopher Smith

open and Celina hurried out.   She slipped through the crowd, avoiding the questioning stares, not stopping until she came upon the twin glass doors that were across the lobby.
    Curtains of rain were billowing down the avenue, lashing the windows and the reporters on the sidewalk.   She turned to ask a doorman for an umbrella and came face to face with the man from security who had given her Leana’s message.
    He nodded at her.
    Celina moved in his direction.
    “That message you gave me--you’re certain it came from my sister?”  
    “She told me herself she was your sister.”
    She had to be certain it was Leana who did this.   “Describe her for me."
    “She has long dark hair and she’s pretty.   I only talked to her for a few seconds.”
    “What she was wearing?”
    “A white dress, I think.   It left one of her shoulders bare.”
    Celina turned away from the man, her stomach sinking.   She was about to leave when she saw her father moving in her direction, sifting through the crowd, his expression grim.   “We need to talk,” he said.
    She wanted out of here, but she didn’t want to tip him off.   She followed him to an area just behind the waterfall.
    “I just got off the phone with RRK.   They’re worried about what happened today.   I think they’re going to back out of the deal.   They're waiting to see what the police find.”
    “And?”
    “If there’s even the slightest hint that those spotlights were rigged in protest of our deal with WestTex, they’ll pull financing.   Richards says it’ll be a public relations nightmare if we takeover that company in lieu of what’s happening in the Middle East.”
    “Maybe in the beginning,” Celina said.   “But when the public learns what we’ve done, we'll be fine.”
    “They're panicking,” George said.   “They know that until WestTex is ours, our agreement with Iran is only verbal.   They feel there’s a strong possibility the Navy won’t move into the Gulf on the date we’ve been given.   They're going to pull out.   I can feel it.”
    “So, let’s find someone else.”
    “Agreed.   I’m having lunch with RRK tomorrow.   If it falls apart, how do you feel Ted Frostman at Chase?”
    “I like Ted,” she said.   “He’s a good guy.   Think he’ll play?”
    “Maybe.   And God knows he owes us.   I’ll set up a meeting with him.”
    “Are we good here?" she said.   "I’d like to go home.”
    George looked at her in surprise.   “Home?   Are you all right?”
    If she told him what had happened, it would ruin his evening.
    “Today was pretty intense,” she said.   “And I’m feeling every bit of it.”   She looked over the crowd.   “The party will wind down soon.   I’ve spoken to everyone I needed to speak to.   If you don’t mind, I’d like to call it a day.”
    It was pouring when she left Redman International. Those members of the press who hadn’t been invited inside immediately started taking her picture.   She nodded at the short, white-haired doorman standing beneath the canopied entrance and together, they hurried toward the limousine parked at the curb.
    The press followed, recording her exit for the world.   Lights popped.   She stepped into the back of the car, told the driver to get her out of there and was home fifteen minutes later, packing Eric’s belongings.
     

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER NINE       
     
    The morning after the party, George Redman was showered, shaved and in his black track suit at a time most people were still in bed asleep.   Before meeting RRK for lunch, he planned on running three miles in Central Park.
    He stepped out of his dressing room and moved to where his wife lay motionless in their bed.   They had made love last night and the sheets were now twisted impossibly around her pale legs. “I’ll see you at breakfast,” he said, bending to kiss her on the cheek. “Will you be up?”
    Elizabeth murmured something in her sleep, lifted her