Chapter 26

David and Josh were eating breakfast. David's chest was still painful, and his neck was stiff, but he was thanking his lucky stars he wasn't pissing blood. All-in-all it had turned out pretty good he mused. Frank Costello wanted to get rid of Vito Genovese, and David wanted to get rid of Dewey. They could help each other.

Pondering the morality of deals with mobsters, David shrugged mentally and decided that the consequences were to far in the future to worry about in the present. He just hoped that it all wouldn't come back to haunt him.

His thoughts were interrupted by Josh, who sprayed his coffee all over the newspaper he had just opened, and started to read. "Hey Josh," David smiled, "Did you just realise you're drinking coffee and not your beloved tea?"

Josh turned to David with a look of fear in his eyes. "This isn't a laughing matter, David." Tossing the Times toward him he said "Page 3, in not so small print."

After shaking the excess coffee from the paper, David leisurely opened the paper and started reading. "Holy Cow!" he exclaimed. "Wait till the girls see this! They'll hit the roof!"

"Why will we hit the roof?" Julia asked as she and Liz entered the room. They were already dressed for the day, and looked fantastic. Both were dressed in muted tones. Julia wore an ensemble of light grey flannel and was carrying a bold checked over coat. Liz wore a similar style in a dark grey wool. They had been to the hairdresser the day before and they looked a million bucks!

David silently handed over the paper. As Julia and Liz read it David couldn't help but admire the skill of the surgeon, who had already done some work on Liz's injury's.

Liz's bandages had been reapplied at the Surgeon's rooms, and were more discrete. The news they had been given had been generally positive. The surgeon had promised that she would not show scars on her face, but that there was some nerve damage, and her smiles and frowns would look a little lopsided. Liz had been relieved at the news.

Josh's response, on the other hand, had been very angry. He had cursed the Communists and swore vengeance on Stalin, the factory that had produced the bomb, the Russian air force and the bomber crew who had done this to his Princess. According to Julia, Josh's performance had ended with Liz consoling him as he had fumed and tried to comfort her! In her words — cute and romantic.

All of a sudden, David's reflective mood was shattered, as Julia started to use some very unladylike language. Liz was looking worried, but as Julia continued to swear, never once repeating a word or phrase, she began to smile, until breaking in on Julia's rant, she laughed, "Stop it Julia, You know what the surgeon said! I'm not to stress the stitches!"

Julia stopped and replied, "I'm so sorry Liz. I didn't mean to go off like that! Are you OK?" Her fury had turned to concern. But as she could see that Liz was OK, her face took on a dark fury. "Dammit! How did the press get hold of this?" As she threw the paper down on the dining table. Everyone's attention went straight to the headline — "Pretty Princess? English Princess seeks beauty treatment!" The tone of the article was insulting, to say the least. The writer, it seems, had sources who reliably informed him that the Princess of England (sic) had come to New York's most famous face surgeon for treatment to improve her looks. The writer went on the reflect on the inbred ugliness of the European aristocracy. David was relieved to note that there was no mention of his "engagement" to Liz. That would have been even worse!

"Cheer up Julia! It could be worse" he said without thinking.

She glared at him, and responded icily "And how could it be any worse than this?"

He faltered "Um, er..." Torture by the Japanese, kidnap and beatings by the Feds and Mafia, Shit! Doing a landing on a heavily defended beach would have been preferable to Julia's scrutiny.

"Look you guys," Josh drawled in a terrible attempt at a James Cagney accent, "enough with the fighting! See! We have bigger problems than that! See!" Liz laughed again, and Julia began to relax.

'How are we going to handle this?' she pondered. 'At least I thought to give the surgeon's receptionist a fake address.' She smiled inwardly, 'Old habits die hard'.

"Anyone had an inspiration about what we can do?" She asked out loud. "Because I haven't even got one good idea.' She continued, "We have to go back for more surgery today, and I am sure that there will be at least one reporter waiting there for us."