Sidney Sheldon (17 page)

In her bed, Kelly could hear Diane quietly sobbing. Kelly’s lips tightened.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
And tears began to roll down her cheeks.

W
HEN DIANE AWAKENED
in the morning, Kelly was sitting in a chair, facing a wall.

“Morning,” Diane said. “Did you get some sleep?”

There was no response.

“We have to figure out what our next move is. We can’t stay here forever.”

No response.

Exasperated, Diane said loudly,
“Kelly, can you hear me?”

Kelly spun around in her chair. “Do you
mind
? I’m in the middle of a mantra.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t—”

“Forget it.” Kelly rose. “Did anyone ever tell you you snore?”

Diane felt a small shock. She could hear Richard’s voice saying, on the first night they had slept together,
Darling, did you know you snore? Let me put it another way. It’s not really a snore. Your nose sings
delicious little melodies through the night like the music of angels.
And he had taken her in his arms and—

“Well, you do,” Kelly said. She walked over to the television set and turned it on. “Let’s see what’s happening in the world.” She began to channel surf and suddenly stopped. A news show was on the air, and the host was Ben Roberts. “It’s Ben!” Kelly exclaimed.

“Who’s Ben?” Diane asked indifferently.

“Ben Roberts. He does the news and interview shows. He’s the only interviewer I really enjoy. He and Mark became great friends. One day—” She suddenly stopped.

Ben Roberts was saying:

“…and in a bulletin just in, Anthony Altieri, the purported Mafia head who was recently acquitted in his murder trial, died this morning, of cancer. He was…”

Kelly turned to Diane. “Did you hear that? Altieri’s dead.”

Diane felt nothing. It was news from another world, another time.

Diane looked at Kelly and said, “I think it would be better if you and I split up. The two of us together are too easy to spot.”

“Right,” Kelly said dryly. “We’re the same height.”

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant. But I could put on whiteface and—”

Diane was looking at her, puzzled. “What?”

“Just kidding,” Kelly said. “Splitting up is a great idea. It’s almost a plan, isn’t it?”

“Kelly—”

“It’s certainly been interesting knowing you, Mrs. Stevens.”

Diane said curtly, “Let’s check out of here.”

T
HE LOBBY WAS
crowded with a convention of women checking in and half a dozen guests checking out. Kelly and Diane waited in line.

Out on the street, looking into the lobby, Harry Flint saw them
and moved out of sight. He picked up his cellular phone. “They just came down to the lobby.”

“Good. Did Carballo get there, Mr. Flint?”

“Yes.”

“Do exactly as I told you. Cover the entrance to the hotel from both corners, so that no matter which way they go, they’re trapped. I want them to disappear without a trace.”

K
ELLY AND DIANE
had finally reached the cashier’s desk.

The cashier smiled. “I hope you’ve had a pleasant stay here.”

“Very pleasant, thank you,” Diane said.
We’re still alive.

A
S THEY WALKED
to the lobby door, Kelly asked, “Do you know where you’re going now, Mrs. Stevens?”

“No. I just want to get away from Manhattan. What about you?”

I just want to get away from you.
“Back to Paris.”

The two of them stepped outside and carefully looked around. There was the usual pedestrian traffic and everything seemed normal.

“Good-bye, Mrs. Stevens,” Kelly said, a note of relief in her voice.

“Good-bye, Kelly.”

Kelly turned to the left and started walking toward the corner. Diane looked after her a moment, then turned to the right and began walking in the other direction. They had taken no more than half a dozen steps when Harry Flint and Vince Carballo suddenly appeared at opposite ends of the block. The expression on Carballo’s face was vicious. Flint’s lips were turned up in a half-smile.

The two men began closing in on the women, pushing their way through the pedestrians. Diane and Kelly turned to look at each other, panicky. They had been ambushed. They both hurried back toward
the entrance of the hotel, but the doorway was so crowded that there was no way for them to get back inside. There was nowhere to go. The two men were getting closer.

Kelly turned to Diane, and as she watched, stunned, Diane smiled and waved cheerily at Flint and then at Carballo.

“Have you gone crazy?” Kelly whispered.

Diane, still smiling, took out her cell phone and spoke into it rapidly. “We’re in front of the hotel now…. Oh, good. You’re around the corner?” She grinned and gave a victory sign to Kelly. “They’ll be here in a minute,” she said loudly. She looked at Flint and Carballo and said into the phone, “No, there are only two of them.” Diane listened and then laughed. “Right…. They’re here? Okay.”

As Kelly and the two men looked on, Diane stepped off the curb into the street, scanning the oncoming cars. Diane started signaling to an approaching car in the distance and excitedly waved it over. Flint and Carballo had stopped, puzzled by what was happening.

Diane pointed to the two men. “Over here,” she shouted into the oncoming traffic, waving wildly. “Over here.”

Flint and Carballo looked at each other and made a quick decision. They turned back to where they had come from and disappeared around the corners.

Kelly was staring at Diane, her heart pounding wildly. “They’re gone,” she said. “Who—who were you talking to?”

Diane took a deep breath to steady herself. “Nobody. My battery is dead.”

K
ELLY WAS STARING
at Diane, dumbfounded. “That was great. I wish I had thought of that.”

Diane said dryly, “You will.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Get out of Manhattan.”

“How?” Kelly asked. “They’re going to be watching all the train stations—airports, bus stations, car rental—”

Diane thought for a moment. “We can go to Brooklyn. They won’t be looking there.”

“Fine,” Kelly said. “Go ahead.”

“What?”

“I’m not going with you.”

Diane started to say something and then changed her mind. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mrs. Stevens.”

Diane said, “Well, then, we—Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

Kelly watched as Diane hailed a taxi and started to enter it. Kelly stood there, hesitant, trying to make a decision. She was standing alone on an unfamiliar street, with nowhere to go, and no one to go to. The taxi door closed, and the cab started to move.

“Wait!” Kelly shouted.

The taxi stopped. Kelly hurried up to it.

Diane opened the door, and Kelly stepped in and settled back in her seat.

“What made you change your mind?”

“I just realized I’ve never seen Brooklyn.”

Diane looked at Kelly a moment and shook her head.

The driver asked, “Where to?”

“Take us to Brooklyn, please,” Diane said.

The taxi started. “Anyplace special?”

“Just drive around.”

Kelly looked at Diane incredulously. “You don’t know where we’re going?”

“I’ll know when we get there.”

Why did I come back?
Kelly was asking herself.

During the ride, the two of them sat silent, side by side. In twenty minutes, they were crossing the Brooklyn Bridge.

“We’re looking for a hotel,” Diane told the driver. “I’m not sure which—”

“You want a nice hotel, lady? I know just the one. It’s called the Adams. You’ll like it.”

T
HE ADAMS HOTEL
was a five-story brick building with a canopy in front and a doorman in attendance.

When the taxi pulled up at the curb, the driver asked, “Does this look okay?”

Diane said, “This looks fine.”

Kelly said nothing.

They got out of the taxi, and the doorman greeted them. “Good day, ladies. Are you checking in?”

Diane nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you have luggage?”

Diane said glibly, “The airline lost our bags. Is there anyplace around here where we can shop and pick up some clothes?”

“There’s a very nice ladies’ shop at the end of the block. Perhaps you would like to check in here first. Then we can have your things sent directly to your room.”

“Fine. Are you sure they’ll have a room for us here?”

“This time of the year, there’s no problem.”

T
HE CLERK BEHIND
the hotel desk proffered registration forms. As Kelly signed hers, she said aloud, “Emily Brontë.”

Diane glanced at the clerk to see if there was any recognition on his face. Nothing.

Diane wrote: Mary Cassatt.

The clerk took their registration cards. “And do you wish to pay by credit card?”

“Yes, we—”

“No,” Diane interrupted quickly.

Kelly looked at her and reluctantly nodded.

“Luggage?”

“It’s coming. We’ll be back.”

“You’ll have suite 515.”

The clerk watched them walk out the door.
Two real beauties. And alone. What a waste.

T
HE FOR MADAME
shop was a cornucopia. There were women’s clothes of every description, and a leather section with handbags and suitcases.

Kelly looked around and said, “It looks like we’ve lucked out.”

A saleslady walked up to them. “May I help you?”

“We’re just browsing,” Diane told her.

The saleslady watched as they started walking through the store.

“Look!” said Kelly. “Stockings.” She grabbed half a dozen pairs. Diane followed suit.

“Panty hose…”

“Bras.”

“Slips.”

Soon their arms were laden with lingerie.

The saleslady hurried over. “Let me help you.”

“Thank you.”

The saleswoman relieved them of their burdens.

Diane and Kelly began to move down the aisles.

Kelly was examining a rack of slacks. She selected four pairs and turned to Diane. “No telling when we’re going to be able to shop again.”

Diane picked out some slacks and a striped summer dress.

“You can’t wear that,” Kelly said. “Stripes will make you look fat.”

Diane started to put it back, then looked at Kelly and handed the dress to the saleslady. “I’ll take this.”

T
HE SALESWOMAN WATCHED
in amazement as Kelly and Diane went through the rest of the racks. By the time they had finished, their selections filled four suitcases.

Kelly looked at them and grinned. “That should hold us for a while.”

When they went to the cashier, she asked, “Will that be cash or credit card?”

“Credit—”

“Cash,” Diane said.

Kelly and Diane opened their purses and divided the bill. They both had the same thought:
Cash is running low.

Kelly said to the cashier, “We’re staying at the Adams. I wonder if you could—”

“Have your things delivered? Certainly. Your names?”

Kelly hesitated a moment. “Charlotte Brontë.”

Diane looked at her and said quickly, “
Emily.
Emily Brontë.”

Kelly remembered. “Right.”

The cashier was watching them, a confused expression on her face. She turned to Diane. “And your name?”

“I—er—” Diane’s mind was spinning. What name had she signed? Georgia O’Keeffe…Frida Kahlo…Joan Mitchell?

“Her name is Mary Cassatt,” Kelly said.

The cashier swallowed. “Of course.”

N
EXT TO THE
For Madame shop was a drugstore. “We’re in luck again.” Diane smiled.

They hurried inside and began a second shopping spree.

“Mascara.”

“Blush.”

“Toothbrushes.”

“Toothpaste.”

“Tampons and panty liners.”

“Lipstick.”

“Hair clips.”

“Powder.”

B
Y THE TIME
Diane and Kelly arrived back at their hotel, the four suitcases had already been delivered to their room.

Kelly stared at them. “I wonder which are yours and which are mine?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Diane assured her. “We’re going to be here for maybe a week or more, so we might as well just put everything away.”

“I suppose so.”

They began busily hanging up dresses and slacks, putting their lingerie in drawers, and placing their toilet articles in the bathroom.

When the suitcases were emptied and everything had been put in place, Diane took off her shoes and dress and gratefully sank down on one of the beds.

“This feels wonderful.” She sighed contentedly. “I don’t know about you, but I’m having dinner in bed. Then I’m going to take a nice, long, hot bath. I’m not moving from here.”

A pleasant-faced, uniformed maid knocked and came into the suite, carrying an armful of fresh towels.

Two minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom. “If there’s anything you need, please ring for me. Have a good evening.”

“Thank you.” Kelly watched her leave.

Diane was browsing through a house magazine she had picked up at her bedside. “Do you know what year this hotel was built?”

“Get dressed,” Kelly said. “We’re leaving.”

“It was built in—”

“Get dressed. We’re getting out of here.”

Diane looked up at her. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“No. Something terrible is going to happen.” There was panic in her voice.

Diane sat up, alarmed. “What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know. But we have to get out of here, or we’re both going to die.”

Her fear was contagious, but it made no sense.

“Kelly, you’re not being reasonable. If—”

“I’m begging you, Diane.”

Thinking about it later, Diane never knew whether she gave in because of the urgency in Kelly’s voice or because it was the first time Kelly had called her Diane.

“All right.” Diane got up. “We’ll pack our clothes and—”

“No! Leave everything.”

Diane looked at Kelly in disbelief. “
Leave everything?
We just bought—”

“Hurry!
Now!
”

“All right.” As Diane was reluctantly dressing, she thought,
I hope she knows what she’s doing. If—

“Quick!” It was a strangled scream.

Diane hurriedly finished dressing.

“Faster!”

They grabbed their purses and hurried out the door.

I must be as crazy as she is,
Diane thought resentfully.

When they reached the lobby, Diane found herself running to keep up with Kelly. “Would you mind telling me where we’re going?”

Outside, Kelly looked around. “There’s a park across the street from the hotel. I—I need to sit down.”

Exasperated, Diane followed Kelly into the park. They took seats on a bench.

Diane said, “What are we doing?”

At that instant, there was a tremendous explosion inside the hotel, and from where they sat, Diane and Kelly could see windows being blown out of the room they had been occupying, with debris flying through the air.

In stunned disbelief, Diane watched what was happening.
“That—that was a bomb”—terror crept into her voice—“in our room.” She turned to Kelly. “How—how did you know?”

“The maid.”

Diane looked at her, puzzled. “What about her?”

Kelly said quietly, “Hotel maids don’t wear four-hundred-dollar Manolo Blahnik shoes.”

Diane was finding it difficult to breathe. “How—how could they have found us?”

“I don’t know,” Kelly said. “But remember who we’re dealing with.”

They both sat there, filled with dread.

“Did Tanner Kingsley give you anything when you were in his office?” Diane asked.

Kelly shook her head. “No. Did he give you anything?”

“No.”

They realized it at the same instant.

“His card!”

They opened their purses and took out the business cards Tanner Kingsley had given them.

Diane tried to break hers in half. It would not bend. “There’s some kind of chip inside,” she said, furious.

Kelly tried to bend her card. “In mine, too. That’s how the bastards have been tracking us.”

Diane took Kelly’s card and said angrily, “Not anymore.”

Kelly watched as Diane stepped out onto the road and threw the cards down on the street. Within minutes, they had been run over by a dozen cars and trucks.

In the distance, the sounds of approaching sirens were filling the air.

Kelly stood up. “We’d better get away from here, Diane. Now that they can’t track us anymore, we’ll be all right. I’m going back to Paris. What will you do?”

“Try to figure out why this is happening.”

“Be careful.”

“You, too.” Diane hesitated a moment. “Kelly—thanks. You saved my life.”

Embarrassed, Kelly said, “I feel bad about something. I lied to you.”

“You did?”

“You know what I said about your painting?”

“Yes.”

“I really liked it—a lot. You’re
good
.”

Diane smiled. “Thanks. I’m afraid I’ve been pretty rude to you.”

“Diane?”

“Yes?”

“I never grew up with maids.”

Diane laughed, and the two of them embraced.

“I’m glad we met,” Diane said warmly.

“So am I.”

They stood there, looking at each other, finding it difficult to say good-bye.

“I have an idea,” Diane said. “If you need me, here’s my cell phone number.” She wrote it on a piece of paper.

“Here’s mine,” Kelly replied, and gave it to Diane.

“Well, good-bye again.”

Diane said haltingly, “Yeah. I—Good-bye, Kelly.”

Diane watched Kelly walk away. At the corner, she turned and waved. Diane waved back. As Kelly disappeared, Diane looked up at the blackened hole that was to have been their tomb, and she felt a chill.