“I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with a significant delay tomorrow night to make up,” Taylor had quipped.

“I’ll do my best,” Rodney had responded.

So Taylor wasn’t listening to the stereo or watching the TVs. Instead he was carefully reading the financial report scheduled to be released at the GenSys stockholders’ meeting scheduled the following week. But that didn’t mean he was unaware of what was going on around him. He was very much aware of the sound of the wind, the sputtering of the fire, the music, and alert to the various reporters’ banters on the TVs. So when the name Carlo Franconi was mentioned, Taylor’s head snapped up.

The first thing Taylor did was lift the remote and turn up the sound of the central television. It was the local news on the CBS affiliate. The anchors were Jack Williams and Liz Walker. Jack Williams had mentioned the name Carlo Franconi, and was going on to say that the station had obtained a videotape of the killing of this known Mafia figure who had some association with Boston crime families.

“This tape is quite graphic,” Jack warned. “Parental discretion is recommended. You might remember that a few days ago we reported that the ailing Franconi had disappeared after his indictment, and many had feared he’d jumped bail. But then he’d just reappeared yesterday with the news that he’d struck a deal with the New York City’s DA’s office to plea-bargain and enter the witness-protection program. However, this evening while emerging from a favorite restaurant, the indicted racketeer was fatally shot.”

Taylor was transfixed as he watched an amateur video of an overweight man emerge from a restaurant accompanied by several people who looked like policemen. With a casual wave, the man acknowledged the crowd who’d assembled and then headed to an awaiting limousine. He assiduously ignored questions from any journalists angling to get close to him. Just as he was bending to enter the car, Franconi’s body jerked, and he staggered backward with his hand clasping the base of his neck. As he fell to his right, his body jerked again before hitting the ground. The men who’d accompanied him had drawn their guns and were frantically turning in all directions. The pursuing journalists had all hit the deck.