(Continuation of Bullets and Frozen Bananas)

Heather Bianchi looked down from the 18th floor of 610 Newport Center, expecting a call from Alex Carter. Alex took his orders from Heather and Heather only. Sighing, Heather looked out to the Newport Harbor and the massive yachts. She knew her boss, Marco Rossi, wasn’t a patient man. Issues from the last-standing wealthy Greek family made their acquisitions difficult. Damian Argyris, head of the family, was bound and determined to keep Heather and her boss, Marco, out of their family business. Damian made absolutely sure anyone who crossed his family was dealt with in the most violent of ways. Loud. Public. And messy. Those were the signs of the Argyris family. Even with the noise and violence, the Newport Beach Police and Los Angeles Homicide detectives still had no leads that traced back to the family. Instead, the police officers investigating the case traced some of the violence to a biker gang, one regularly seen frequenting Ginos on the Newport Beach pier. No one named Gino was affiliated with the restaurant. Italian crime families learned long ago to distance themselves from the ownership and day-to-day operations, especially after John Gotti Jr.’s indictment and prison sentence.

Heather kicked the thick glass window and turned her attention to the swimming pool and three women sunbathing and drinking what she could only assume were margaritas or mimosas. Tired of the violence and the family business, she kicked the glass again, wondering where Alex was. The vibrating phone startled her, making her gasp. Looking around the conference room area she was grateful no one else was near her, her personal assistant typing away on a small laptop across the room. Sally wore a tiny headset, visible only when you were close enough.

“This is Heather,” she answered. “Yes. That’s what I said, isn’t it, Alex? Mr. Rossi was very clear about that. What do you mean? No, Alex. I told you what Mr. Rossi wants, and anything less than that? It’s unacceptable. And you know what he’ll do if you can’t deliver, right?” Heather turned around to see Sally packing her things into a small tote bag on the table. “I have urgent business to attend to Alex. Call me when your assignment is complete. And, Alex?” She walked over to Sally, Sally holding up five fingers to indicate their departure in five minutes, “I better not hear anything else other than, ‘It’s done,’ when you call me again. Understand?” Heather hung up, shaking her head.

“Everything okay, boss?” Sally asked, slinging her bag over her left shoulder. Heather nodded yes. “Okay. We need to be outside in five minutes.” Sally glanced at her watch. “Make that three minutes,” she said, pushing Heather to the doors of the conference room. Outside the conference room were four express elevators, each going nonstop to the first floor. Inside the elevator were two buttons: one pointing up, the other pointing down. The down button could be activated from the eighteenth floor, but only a magnetic key card would allow access to the top floor. Sally and Heather had one of these cards. The elevator doors opened, and Sally got on before her boss did. “I did book the tickets for your flight to Chicago, leaving Thursday at 11:43. You will arrive in Chicago at 4:17. Dinner service is at 7:30, and I have a car picking you up from the Marriott at 6.” Sally handed Heather a printed copy of her itinerary. “Your bags are packed in the car and the driver will be checking your bags at United curbside in Santa Ana. You have been sent electronic copies of your baggage tags and ticket.” She walked out of the building with her boss. “Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you?”

“No, Sally. It’s a fundraising dinner. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.” Waiting for the driver to open the town car door, Heather pulled her sunglasses out of her purse. “Make sure that Alex has his assignment completed before you direct his call to me, understood?”

“Yes, boss.” Heather saw Sally turn around and walk back to the building. She made it inside before the driver closed the door.