was, the whole thing would never have happened ...' Carter said 'Did she ever turn up again?' 'She wrote to him once from London to say she was well, but never wanted to see him again. She'd British nationality because of her old man. Don Antonio put people on to it, but they never managed to find her. After that, he grew more and more into himself.' 'Would he see you?' 'See me?' Luciano frowned. 'I don't get you.' 'If you were in Sicily,' Carter said. 'If he knew you were there. If the word was out, would he see you?' Luciano was genuinely astonished and it showed. 'You're crazy. You've got to be.' 'You're right,' Carter said. 'After all, look what you'd be giving up. Another twenty laps round the exercise yard 61 tomorrow and the day after that. Thirty to fifty years, isn't that your sentence? I should say you'll be able to apply for parole around 1956 but I wouldn't count on it.' 'Fuck you!' Luciano said. 'I shouldn't even be in here in the first place.' 'All right,' Carter said. 'So maybe this could be a way out.' 'Go to hell!" Carter sat there staring at him for a moment, then he got up and went into the outer office where the Warden was sitting talking to a secretary. Carter took a card from his wallet and passed it across. 'Would you mind getting that number for me? It's priority one. The code word is Scorpion. That gets you through right away.' The Warden's eyes widened as he read the card and he whistled softly. T certainly will.' Carter stood at the window, coughing over a cigarette. In spite of Luciano's attitude, every instinct told him he was on the edge of something hugely important. When the Warden finally called him, he came to the phone at once. 'Is that you, Carter?' the voice at the other end of the line said. 'How goes it?' 'Problems, Mr President/ Carter said and started to explain. Luciano was standing at the window looking down into the exercise yard when the door opened and Carter and the Warden entered. Luciano said, 'Can I go now?' The Warden moved round the desk and sat down. 'I'm afraid not, Mr Luciano. Colonel Carter's got a car waiting. You're being transferred to Washington under his care.' 'Transferred?' Luciano cried. 'To Washington? What for?' 'Let's just say for the good of your health,' the Warden said. 'They've got one of the best chest clinics in the country in Washington and we've been worried about that cough of yours for some time now.' Luciano turned to Carter. 'You'll have to do better than this, Professor.' Carter smiled. 'Oh, I intend to, Mr Luciano. You can count on it.' It was late evening as the Packard turned along Constitution Avenue and moved towards the White House. Carter and Luciano were seated together in the rear and Luciano wound down the windows and looked out at the lights of Washington. 'I hear it's impossible to get a hotel bed in this town these days, is that true?' 'Not if you know the right people.' The Packard turned in at the White House and delivered them to the West Basement entrance where Carter presented his pass to the Secret Service agents on duty. Luciano wore a dark felt slouch hat and a trenchcoat over a grey tweed suit, clothes he had selected for himself from the prisoners' stock at Great Meadow. He stood there, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, obviously amused by the proceedings. 'Is this for real, Professor? I mean, you wouldn't kid a guy,' he asked as they waited. 'No, Mr Luciano,' Carter told him. 'It's real enough.' An aide appeared, a young Marine lieutenant in razor-sharp uniform. 'Colonel Carter? If you'd come this way the President will see you now.' When they entered the Oval Office, the room was in half-darkness, the only light the table lamp on the massive desk, an array of service flags behind it. President Roosevelt was seated in his wheelchair at the desk working on some 63 papers, the inevitable long cigarette-holder jutting from his mouth. He looked up at Carter and smiled. 'Colonel Carter, how are you?' 'Fine, Mr
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