Talk (15 page)

"Normal" guests were notified to expect security delays as they entered through the elevator bank on Forty-third Street. Celebrity guests were to use the Fifth Avenue entrance and would be led through the underground tunnel to the cafe.

As for the press, only those personally known by DBS were allowed to photograph guests as they arrived.

Jessica's limo pulled up on the Fifth Avenue side of Rockefeller Center. Rush-hour crowds, walking around the police blockades, spotted her and stopped to wave and cheer. She was wearing a stunning navy silk mini- dress with rhinestones and matching navy and rhinestone cowgirl boots. She was also wearing Alicia's contribution to the evening, a big rhinestone tiara which, while hilariously funny, was also extremely flattering. She looked like Miss America or something.

She smiled and waved to people and the press, and Wendy was suddenly there, too, saying hi, showing Jessica the way in as Slim followed the women.

There was quite a crowd assembled in the cafe already, mostly the book-publishing and DBS staffs, plus a number of plainclothes security people. The DBS and Bennett, Fitzallen & Coe publicists were standing at the door to the cafe; Cassy, Langley and Kate Weston came next, followed by Alexandra and Georgiana to round out representation of the party hosts. The cafe tables were covered in white linen tablecloths with elaborate floral centerpieces. Copies of Talk were prominently displayed. A blowup of the book jacket was at one end of the cafe, a blowup of Jessica at the other. A scaled Talk 149

back version of Jessica's band from the show was set up by the bar, a foursome playing jazz. Through the plate- glass windows, Jessica could see the lovely table settings outside on the terrace and the livery for the occasion in white jackets and black-tie.

Jessica greeted all she knew and took her designated position in the middle of the cafe with Cassy's husband, Jackson Darenbrook.

Jessica's literary agent was there, Howard Stewart, and his wife, Amanda Miller. Her AA sponsor and friend, Sam Wyatt, appeared a short time later with his wife, Harriet. People in the book business had come early so as not to miss the celebrity glitter, and Jessica was introduced to buyers and executives from a number of chains with bookstores in the East: Borders and Waldenbooks, Lauriet's-Encore, B. Dalton, Little Professor and others. They were not to be confused with, she was told, the wholesalers like Baker & Taylor and mgram's, or distributors like Anderson's or Levy or Kroger, who were certainly not to be confused with people like Arthur Loeb and Perry Haberman of a splendid independent store like Madison Avenue Books.

Everyone invited to this party had been warned of Jessica's current security risk, which, surprisingly, seemed only to inspire greater determination on the part of celebrities to attend. To the TV newspeople, the security risk was nothing, since people like "60 Minutes'" Ed Bradley and Prime Time Diane Sawyer had regularly risked their lives in dangerous, godforsaken pockets of the world to cover stories, and then there was Barbara Walters, who had journeyed overseas many times to interview people who had entire countries trying to kill them. All three of the aforementioned news giants congratulated Jessica and circulated in the cafe with the easy grace of guests at a garden party.

Donna Mills and Madonna arrived at almost the same time, meaningful perhaps because of their own stalker problems in the past. (Dave Letterman was taping his show, otherwise he'd have been there, too. ) Linda Ellerbee, Rush Limbaugh and Kathie Lee Gif- ford were there, congratulating Jessica on the book and receiving hugs of gratitude from her. Rosie O'Donnell swept in, and Mary Higgins dark arrived full of sparkle and pizzazz. It was the New York crowd for real, with Joan Hamburg, Liz Smith, Dominick Dunne, prosecutor-turned-novelist Linda Fairstein, "Saturday Night Live's" Molly Shannon, and a wisecracking Charles Grodin swirling by. Judy Collins appeared then, and in the next moment Jessica greeted Faye Dun- away. Queen Latifa was suddenly there, and then it seemed as though the theater had taken over as Betty Buckley, Patricia Elliot and Julie Harris arrived within moments of each other.

Jessica's mother and father and her brother and his family were there, too. ("Well," Jessica heard her mother say to Barbara Walters, "she was always a bit of a nut." ) Jessica worked hard hugging, kissing, thanking people for coming--Sam Waterston, Rona Jaffe, Deborah Norville, Joan Rivers--getting her photograph taken and, most of all, never moving out of her designated;

box. She was introduced to Michael Anderson of the New York Times Book Review, and then to Len Riggio,! CEO of Barnes and Noble, who she, in turn, introduced;

to Otto Penzler, owner of the Mysterious Bookshop in New York (and L. A. and London) where Jessica regwi larly shopped for mysteries. ("You are a bit of a puzzle," Otto told her.

"I suppose we could use that angle to sell your autobiography to our customers." ) Madonna left, but Glen Close arrived, and Jessica kept going.

Periodically, Alexandra would come over to shove a glass of Perrier into Jessica's hand and take away the empty.

"The food's pretty good," Alexandra said to Jessica, muscling in through the crowd again.

"Have you had any? There's a great dip and some cheese-pastry thing."

"I couldn't possibly eat," Jessica said, handing her empty glass back to Alexandra and extending her arms out to radio talk-show host Montgomery Grant Smith.

"Hey, Big Mont, you came!"

"How could I pass up a den of left-wing liberalism like this," he said. He pulled a woman up next to him.

"You remember my wife, Elizabeth Robinson?"

"I was only at your wedding, blockhead," Jessica told him, kissing Elizabeth on the cheek.

"Congratulations on your book," Elizabeth said.

"It's very well written. I enjoyed it immensely."

"See that?" Jessica said to no one in particular.

"A professor at Columbia University says I'm a literary sensation. By the way, Elizabeth, Ann Douglas is coming

"She is? Wonderful!" the historian exclaimed.

"Then, not only are you a literary sensation, but a major cultural event!"

"Elizabeth, hi," Alexandra said, giving the professor a big hug.

"Georgiana's dying to see you."

"Where is she?"

Alexandra pointed.

"Take a right at Jane Pauley."

"So, how are you?" Big Mont asked Jessica seriously.

"This thing with your assistant has got to have been a nightmare."

"Yes, it has been. Oh, and Monty, thanks for the note you sent over.

It's been--well, whatever it's been means nothing, does it, compared to what happened to poor Bea. "

"They have any leads on this guy?"

"They're working" -Her heart swelled as she spotted Will across the room. She gave a little shout and waved.

Will was making his way through the crowd, trying to hurry. He was showered and shaved and dressed in a fabulous pale gray Armani suit, but Jessica could tell he was absolutely exhausted, knowing that he had worked practically round the clock these past three days so he could get back in time for her party. He gave her only a brief hug, but Jessica didn't care who saw and pulled Will back to her to kiss him big-time on the mouth and throw her arms around him. He broke down then and hugged her back, lifting her from the floor, then gently lowering her and kissing her again on the mouth.

There were several catcalls and whistles.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she said.

Jessica took Will's hand and refused to let go of it. While Denny offered Will a cocktail napkin to get Jessica's lipstick off his face, Jessica began introducing Will all around, starting with Montgomery Grant Smith* who, it turned out, knew Will already "Will's been in Russia to form a coverage pool on thaj Olympics," Jessica explained. | "Good luck," Monty said.

"They'll steal your equipment and sell it to feed their families." j "Jessica," her agent, Howard, said, tugging on her arm.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I need you to meet your paperback publisher."

"Yeah, yeah, all right." Jessica took Alexandra's hand and placed it firmly on Will's arm.

"Don't lose him," she instructed her friend, waving to Robin Quivers who had just come in.

By seven o'clock, mercifully, all the big names had left, leaving a half hour to finish feeding and inebriating the press and the publishing people. Jessica started to unwind and enjoy herself. At seven-forty, the restaurant staff began physically moving tables in hopes of still having time to accommodate a dinner crowd, and the partyers took the hint. Alexandra and Georgiana, true hostesses, stayed on to the bitter end, and Georgi ana ended up signing autographs for the entire restaurant staff.

Finally it was time to go. It had been a great party. Now it was time to move on to Cassy and Jackson's apartment on Riverside Drive for dinner. Wendy led the way out of the cafe. Slim followed up the rear with a building security guard, and Dirk walked alongside Jessica and Will, with Alexandra and Georgiana following They turned down the passageway that led to the Fifth Avenue exit, where Jessica's and Alexandra's cars were waiting.

Their talk and laughter reverberated over the linoleum floor, and Jessica was just trying to put her tiara on Georgiana's head, naming her Miss Rockefeller Center when there was a horrible searing sound and then a series of muffled pops and showers of sparks as the overhead lights literally exploded, showering the group with glass and filaments. The emergency light in the corner immediately came on, but the smoke and smell of burning rubber and chemicals was terrible.

Jessica felt two hands pull her abruptly away, into a doorway, and heard a male voice say, Careful/ Jessica follow me. "

In the next minute, Wendy was screaming, "Get this door open! Somebody grabbed Jessica!" She banged and kicked at the steel door and then there was a sudden burst of blue sparks and Wendy fell backward to the ground.

"Jessica!" Will cried, running to the door. But when he touched the door, he too was thrown backward in a blaze of sparks and fell to the ground.

"Christ, it's electrified," Dirk yelled.

"Stand back!" He was whipping off his belt.

"Will!" Alexandra was down on her knees. She opened his eye and then grabbed his wrist to take his pulse.

"He's alive, but we need an ambulance, call for an ambulance!"

Slim was already on his walkie-talkie; Dirk was trying to short out the door with the metal end of his belt "Where does this lead to?"

"It's a maintenance tunnel," the building guard said.

"I can't short it out," Dirk said, throwing the belt down and grabbing at his walkie-talkie.

"This is Law- son. Close the whole center down--now!"

"It was a nice party," Cassy agreed, sitting in the back seat of their limousine, resting her head against her husband's shoulder.

"They had a lot of cameras," Jackson said.

"If that guy was there, he'll be on tape."

"Good Lord, I hope so," Cassy sighed.

As the Darenbrooks' limousine approached their;

building, the telephone rang. Cassy reached forward, beating her husband to it.

"Hello?"

"What?" she said a moment later. She looked to the driver.

"Harry, back to Rockefeller Center immediately--as fast as you can." Then she looked to her husband.

"He's got Jessica."

At seven o'clock the following morning, Cassy Cochran, showing every minute of her forty-nine years, solemnly turned the corner into the outer area of her office. All the phone lines in Chi Chi's work area were lit.

"Good morning," she said.

"Oh, God, Cassy!" Chi Chi cried, jamming a call on hold and jumping up. Her eyes looked as though they were cried out. A great many people at West End were extremely fond of Jessica and Chi Chi was near the top of the list. Chi Chi had been Cassy's secretary for over twenty years, and Cassy knew firsthand that the woman did not give her loyalty--or her friendship-easily.

On Chi Chi's desk lay the morning's newspapers, on top the New York Post headline screamed:

JESSICA KIDNAPPED!

"Forward the calls and come in, please," Cassy said,:

going into her office. Inside, she turned around and| placed her hand on Chi Chi's arm.

"We're going to find s her. We will." | Chi Chi nodded, tears threatening.

"We'll find her," Cassy said again. And then she turned back around, threw her briefcase in a chair and circled her desk.

"I want you to locate Alexandra, Will, Denny, Alicia and Dirk and get them here in my office by ten o'clock. I don't care what it takes, they have to be here. Tell them I" -She stopped mid-sentence as she pulled her chair out from her desk.

"Chi Chi," she said quietly, never taking her eyes from the seat of her chair, "do we have any gloves?"

"I've got the disposable gloves I use to refill the printing cartridge on the copying machine," she answered, not bothering to ask if Cassy wanted them, but simply running out to her area to retrieve a pair and bring them back to her boss. Staring down at the seat, Cassy snapped the gloves on like an emergency-room surgeon and leaned over to pick up the envelope that was lying there. Cassy Cochran it said in that now horribly familiar typeface.

"Do you know what's going on?" Alicia Washington asked Alexandra as she came into Cassy's office.

"No more than you," the anchorwoman answered. She was sitting on the couch. Will next to her, his face in his hands. Denny arrived, his eyes ringed with red. Dirk was the last to arrive, looking as tired and dreadful as the rest of them. When Will raised his head, however, it was clear who looked the worst. Much of his right eyebrow had been singed off and he had also lost a whole hank of hair in front. The electrical charge on the door at Rockefeller Center had been set to stun, not to kill, otherwise he would have been badly burnt.

Nonetheless, the bodyguard, Wendy Mitchell, had to be hospitalized for an irregular heartbeat after the incident.

"Any news. Dirk?" Alexandra asked.

"Hell if I know," he said.