Free Ghosts of Manhattan by George Mann Page B

lost, banished by the ache he felt for this woman and the sound of her voice. It was a curse, and he knew it. It would be his downfall. Celeste was his Achilles' heel. He played a game with her; let her think that he was something he was not, feigned disinterest. But truthfully, he was so very much in love with her that he knew he would do whatever she wanted. Knew he would-
    The loud report of a gun firing echoed around the enclosed space. A woman screamed. Gabriel spun around on his seat to see a group of figures standing at the foot of the stairs, half-hidden in shadow. The music stopped abruptly.

    Gabriel shifted nervously on his seat. Was this what Johnny Franco's goons had been expecting? He tried to weigh up the situation. There were five of the newcomers. Two of them were huge, wrapped in long black overcoats and wearing hats. They stood motionless at the back, near the bottom of the stairs, as if waiting for permission to move. Two more were smaller men, each clutching pistols in their fists. The one on the right brandished a smoking barrel; he had evidently fired the initial warning shot. Between these two stood a thin, gangly man in an immaculate evening suit. His hands were steepled before his chest and his head was slightly bowed, as if in thought or prayer. Everyone in the room-including Gabriel-seemed to be waiting for him to speak. Even Johnny Franco, who Gabriel imagined was bristling inside, had maintained his cool, and was evidently biding his time, waiting to see what move the intruders would make next.
    The moment stretched. Then, finally, the figure came to life, stepping forward so that Gabriel could just make out his face in the stillshimmering lights from the stage. His expression was serene, as if he were enjoying the interlude he had created. Nevertheless, Gabriel felt his hackles rising. There was something about this man, about the manner in which he carried himself, that spoke of violence and danger.
    The man turned his head to survey the crowd, and Gabriel noted that the uppermost half of his left ear was missing. He didn't know who the man was, or who he purported to work for, but he had a notion. The Roman. Only the Roman would have the audacity to pull a stunt like this.
    When the mobster finally addressed the gathered audience, it was with a soft, deliberate voice that sent shivers coursing down Gabriel's spine. "I apologize for the disturbance, ladies and gentlemen." He paused, as if carefully weighing his next words. "We will not detain you for very long. We have simply come to escort the lady from the premises, and then we'll allow you all to carry on with your evening." Gabriel felt his jaw clench as he realized that the man was indicating the stage-and, therefore, Celeste. What could these mob men possibly want with her?
    The two goons on either side of the speaker-the men with guns-stepped forward. That was enough for Johnny Franco. With a bellow of rage he leapt out of his seat, accompanied by his small army of bodyguards and fellow crooks, and swung around to face the newcomers, brandishing a handgun boldly before him. "Now, I don't know who the hell you guys think you are, but this is my club, and I'm gonna give you one chance to quit before it starts getting messy."

    Gabriel took the opportunity to glance over at Celeste, who was still hanging on to the microphone stand, clearly distressed, unsure how things were going to play out. He wanted to go to her. He needed to get her out of there. But he didn't want to give the crooks any more reason to start a firefight in such a confined space. He needed to wait for his moment. His hand went to his pocket, clasped around the butt of his service revolver. He felt a spike of adrenaline. And then, just as suddenly, he felt himself jerked back into the war.
    Explosions flared before his eyes, scattering the dead that lay heaped on the muddy banks of the abandoned trenches. He could hear the whistle of projectiles swarming down on their