THE TAINTED TRUST (Volume 2 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 6

       New York. Friday, July 18, 1980.

Standing beside their bags and wearing faded jeans, T-shirts, and well worn sneakers, Mike and Karen King had just emerged from a cab near the entrance to the Plaza Hotel in New York. Mike, tired and unshaven for twenty-four hours, paid the driver and hurried to the front door. He approached the portly doorman who was dressed neatly in an olive colored suit, long-coat, and matching top hat. "Excuse me. I'm looking for a man named Louis Visconti. Would you..."

"Are you Mr. King?" the doorman interrupted with a broad smile.

Mike nodded.

"Mister Visconti's been expecting you. He's right in there," the doorman said, pointing to a man standing just inside the glass front doors. "He's the good looking young man in the beige suit. Will you be staying at the hotel this evening?" he asked, his arm raised to summon a bellboy.

Mike stuffed a ten dollar bill into the doorman's shirt pocket. "No. We'll be leaving after we have lunch with Mr. Visconti. I would appreciate if you'd store our bags until then."

The doorman winked, smiled and nodded, then Mike and Karen proceeded to the lobby.

Visconti flashed his irresistible white smile and extended his right hand to Mike. "Hi. I'm Louis Visconti. I saw the doorman pointing to me and knew you had to be Mike King." He shifted his focus to Karen and was instantly captivated by her beauty. "Hello," he sang, his grey eyes penetrating her clothing.

"Louis, please meet my wife, Karen," Mike said with a disapproving scowl.

Visconti grasped Karen's hand with both of his own. "Pleasure to meet you, Karen," he said, then motioned toward the lobby with his left arm, his eyes still riveted on Karen. "I took the liberty of making reservations. Would you like to follow me?"

Mike and Karen followed Visconti through the lobby and into the ornate dining room. They stopped at a beautifully decorated and windowed alcove.

"I hope you like this. We can dine in comfort here," Visconti said, then pulled out a chair for Karen. "From what little information Alfred gave me about you, I assumed you would appreciate the privacy."

Karen liked Visconti's appearance and demeanor, but had difficulty determining why. Strangely, she felt attracted to him. The complete big city package, Visconti was slick, clean, sharp, and super suave. He exuded confidence.

A waiter materialized carrying menus. "Would you like to order lunch now, Mister Visconti? Or perhaps you would like to relax for a while with a beverage?"

Visconti turned to face his guests. "What's your pleasure?"

"White wine, please," Karen ordered.

Mike placed his hand on the waiter's forearm. "Bring us the whole bottle. We're celebrating."

"What are we celebrating?" Visconti asked, puzzled.

"Karen and I were married yesterday."

Visconti flashed another of his irresistible smiles. "Congratulations," he declared, then turned again to face the waiter. "Peter, bring us the best in the house, chilled."

The waiter nodded. "Just give me a few minutes, Mr. Visconti," he said, then hurried from the table.

"So, you were married yesterday. Any plans for a honeymoon?" Visconti asked, then eased himself into the chair next to Karen's.