The Double Rose (7 page)

“I understand. Can I catch up with you later?”

Marie panicked. That sounded like a hint for a date. “Well, I don’t know. It is so hard to predict how the rest of the night will go.” She rushed off without giving Josh a definite answer.

At 3:45 p.m., Marie met Ms. Taylor beside a red-carpeted platform where the veiled oil painting of the perfect city waited to be released.

At 4:00 p.m., Ms. Taylor introduced Marie. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Kansas City Events Center, partnering with The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, is proud to host the Marie Fitzroy Collection. We are honored to have her newest masterpiece,
The City of Light
, released at our grand opening celebration. Please join me in welcoming her.”

Every step seemed like a mile, knowing all eyes were focused on her. An adrenalin surge shook Marie’s knees, yet she kept an even pace as she approached the podium. Before two thousand applauding spectators, Marie shook hands with Ms. Taylor; Mr. Harry Hennessee, the president of the Events Center; and Ms. Christine Parker, curator of the museum.

“Thank you very much. It is an honor to be here tonight. I would like to thank the Kansas City Events Center and The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art for hosting my collection. Tonight I will unveil an oil painting that holds a special place in my heart.”

Marie had a clear view of her family and closest friends sitting front and center. The Ryans sat behind her parents with their two sons in adjoining seats.

“I have a vision of the future—a world where God’s love is the only force with power; a world where global prosperity has replaced war; a world of diversity and beauty in every land. It is my hope that this vision will counteract the many negative predictions of civilization coming to an end, or the end of the earth itself.

“The world as it has been–fueled by greed, hate, and selfishness–will end. The world that will replace it is far superior. This new world will be created through those filled with charity, God’s pure love.

“Silver Rain Ensemble will perform ‘The Dream Inside Me’ by Mavon to accompany the unveiling of
The City of Light
.”

Eliza commenced singing the gentle song about world peace. “Imagine love’s confessions. The unity of man. Imagine children smile—all across mother earth’s many l-a-n-d-s. Imagine a world of plenty
 . . . ”

With great satisfaction, Marie pulled a sheet of black velvet off her masterpiece as Eliza moved into the chorus, “I close my eyes and try. The dream lives inside me, where God’s love resides. Open the door and let her fly— beautiful dream fly high! Beautiful dream fly high!”

The cheers and applause that followed the uncovering of
The City of Light
nearly drowned out the second verse to “The Dream Inside Me” as Eliza persevered through the spectators’ overwhelming reaction to Marie’s painting. “Imagine peace on earth, healing the minds of man. Imagine beauty breathe—all across mother earth’s many l-a-n-d-s. Imagine a world of kindness . . . ” Flashes and film crews were coming from every angle. Marie returned smiles of appreciation to the approving patrons.

Eliza performed on a gold concert harp accompanied by a cellist and violinist. The dynamics of her vocals along with the ensembles performance were deeply moving as “The Dream Inside Me” climaxed with the last verse of lyrics. “Imagine love alive, in the hearts of man. Imagine life abundant—all across mother earth’s many l-a-n-d-s. Imagine a world of freedom
 . . . ”

Marie spent an hour restlessly receiving compliments from virtually everyone present before the crowd began to thin. Josh was the last to capture Marie’s attention, which he did in a far-from-sheepish manner.

“You look so beautiful tonight.” His breath whisked across her cheek.

That was no hint
! Marie’s mind raced to conjure up a response.

Josh boldly took her hand and looked deep into her eyes. “I have been waiting for an opportunity for many years to tell you how I feel. Please give me a chance to win your heart.”

Marie could not have been more shocked if someone had told her that the earth had stopped revolving around the sun. “Josh, um . . . you have caught me off guard. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

“I can’t,” she blurted, revisiting a state of a panic. “It is not that simple.” Polite excuses were not readily coming to her mind. She stalled, “My family is waiting for me, and I have to say goodbye to Ms. Taylor. I can’t discuss this with you right now. I'm sorry.”

* * *

Although he recognized her effort to be polite, Josh keenly felt rejection as he watched her rush away from him again, yet he could not look away. He would have moved heaven and earth to win her heart.

Thirty feet to Marie’s right, a strange-looking man caught Josh’s attention. He wore a plain zipped hoodie with large pockets, and an awkward smile. His attire did not seem appropriate for the event, and the way the odd fellow held one hand inside his droopy pocket was suspicious.

Instinct warned him,
This man poses a threat to Marie
. He swiftly walked toward the potential predator, weaving through the Center’s patrons.
Only about twelve feet to go
, he encouraged himself. What would he say to this man who had not actually done anything wrong? He did not know. He only knew that Marie might be in danger, and he was willing to risk looking like a fool in order to protect her.

Before he could say a word, the strange man had pulled a pistol from his sweatshirt pocket, pointed it at Marie, and pulled the trigger. The unexpected blast shocked the departing patrons. Josh leaped between Marie and the bullet. The impact to his chest sent him flying backward until his body smacked against the hard, polished, marble floor.

* * *

Screams and frantic panic ensued. Marie and patron simultaneously rushed to Josh. In the seconds it took to reach him, a pool of blood had spurted from his chest. The security guards pursued the assailant while a couple of members of the Channel 5 News crew, who had been lingering in the parking lot, came rushing in to capture the incident on live television.

In less than two minutes, the Kansas City police had arrived on the scene, closely followed by the fire department. The firefighters stabilized Josh until the ambulance arrived. As he lay unconscious, Marie held Josh’s hand and prayed until the paramedics carried him away on a stretcher.

Chapter 6

The Darkness Before the Dawn

Kansas City, Missouri

Thursday, 5 July

Marie, Aaron and both sets of parents waited in a small, uninviting room at Truman Medical Center while Josh was in surgery. The lack of décor and an obnoxious odor from industrial cleaner magnified the ominous nature of the situation.

Meg and Sophie held each other as they sat on a couch along the back wall. Their tears trickled as they shared the sentiments of a mother’s heart, grief for Josh’s injury and relief for Marie’s safety.

Joseph stood at the doorway, keeping watch for the first sign of news.

“Code red,” spoke a stern female voice over the intercom system, “Dr. Bryant to I.C.U.”

Everyone looked toward the doorway. Was the stat call for Josh?

Marie sat emotionless, separated from the group. She processed what had happened: one minute Josh was unexpectedly acknowledging his feelings for her and the next blood poured from his chest. Tormenting thoughts ceaselessly reminded her of how she had flatly rejected him only moments before he saved her life by heroically risking his.

A slender young Asian doctor entered the room at 12:27 a.m. wearing a white coat and a sober face. The entire group responded by rising to their feet. “He is alive. Under the circumstances, the surgery went as well as possible, but he lost a lot of blood.” Dr. Kim scanned his clipboard. “The bullet barely missed his heart. It is amazing it didn't impact a bone. At the moment, he is in critical condition in the I.C.U. The next twenty-four hours will be the most critical. I assure you we are doing all we can.”

Dr. Kim's compassionate was directed toward Josh’s parents. “I am sorry, but you should prepare for the worst. If you have a spiritual adviser who can administer to him, call him or her as soon as possible.”

Joseph gestured toward Christophe and Sophie, indicating they were the family’s pastors.

The doctor looked intently at the rest of the faces pressing into his evaluation. “With the exception of the pastors, only immediate family is permitted to see him. No more than two at a time.” Meg and Joseph followed the doctor through the secure doors of the I.C.U.

Aaron was slumped in a chair with his head buried in his hands. Christophe and Sophie tried to comfort him.

Marie sat erect and briefly closed her eyes.
Why? Why did this happen? Why?

Mike and Eliza picked up Marie at the ER entrance. She curled up on the back seat of Mike’s truck as she watched the azure sunrise over the skyline. The promise she usually found in the beauty of a sunrise now felt more like a fantasy than a guiding light.

The doorbell rang in the late morning, waking her up from an unfulfilling rest. She threw on sweat pants, then staggered downstairs to the kitchen. Marie spoke into the intercom mounted on the wall next to a monitor displaying a visual of her front porch, “May I help you?”

“Agent Terrell Willis with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” A tall, burly, middle-aged man in a rigid, navy-blue suit held up a badge to the security camera.

“I'll be right there, Agent Willis.” Marie walked methodically to the foyer of her gallery, still reeling over the tragic end to her day of destiny. “What can I do for you?” she asked in a daze.

“Are you Marie Fitzroy?”

“I am.”

“I have a few questions for you, Ms. Fitzroy. May I come in?”

“Certainly, but I told the police everything I know last night.”

Agent Willis cautiously entered the studio. He made a quick visual surveillance of the interior of the property before he began his investigation.

Marie offered Agent Willis a seat on an ebony entrance bench which he declined with a nod of his head.

“Ms. Fitzroy, are you affiliated with an organization called the P.D.A?”

“I have never heard of it.”

“The Political Directive Alliance was organized in 1815 by a small group of millionaires. A million dollars went a lot farther in 1815 than it does today.” Willis grinned. “There were only a handful of them in the United States in the early nineteenth century, but they were the most influential men in America.”

It was a trial for Marie to assimilate Agent Willis’ information. All she wanted to do was to crawl back into bed.

“The P.D.A. recruited the elite to their cause, thereby gaining key allies for their mission. In 1883, they expanded into Europe. Today they operate globally. Virtually every prestigious university in the world feels their influence.”

“What exactly is their cause?” Marie led Agent Willis toward her office.

“On the surface, they are nothing more than premier lobbyists.” Willis, visual focus vacillated between his notepad and her paintings without looking at Marie. “The root of the operation is money, and they believe that the masses are not qualified to govern their own lives.”

“I can’t imagine what this has to do with me.”

“The man who tried to kill you last night was a member of the P.D.A.”

Marie gasped. “They caught him!”

Agent Willis wrote in a notepad of ordinary, legal-sized, yellow paper with a cheap ballpoint pen as they strolled toward Marie’s office. “Yes. He shot a police officer while trying to escape and was killed in the pursuit.”

They paused in front of a graphite drawing of a peculiar community of circular buildings. Why did Agent Willis take so many notes about this illustration? “Is the officer going to recover?” Marie repositioned herself, but failed to sneak a peek at Willis’ notes.

“Last I heard, he was in stable condition,” he answered, without looking up from his notepad.

What is he writing about my pieces?

“The gunman’s name was Denis Heff. When we entered his apartment, we discovered considerable information about you, Ms. Fitzroy.”

They walked slowly through the east portion of the gallery. “There are many empty spots on my walls because many of my pieces are on display at the Event Center. What else can you tell me about the P.D.A.?”

Willis continued alternating his view between the walls and his notepad. “It looks like Heff first took notice of your work when you were a sophomore in college. Apparently, he has been planning this assassination since your exhibit was publicly announced. Your press releases and articles were tacked to the wall near his computer.”

Marie had not considered herself a specific target of the gunman. The realization struck her like lightning. She maneuvered herself to a position where Agent Willis could not avoid eye contact with her. “Do you think there is still any threat against my life?”

His dispassionate expression was disturbing. “It is possible,” he bluntly stated. “At this point, I do not know if Heff was acting alone or if he was on an official assignment from the P.D.A.”

They had almost returned to the front door when Marie halted their tour.

Agent Willis’s gaze seemed to fixate on a
Double Rose
painting. “This flower is very realistic-looking,” he critiqued, smiling for the first time since entering Marie’s studio. “Until recently there has been no evidence to suggest that the P.D.A. is dangerous or has been operating outside the law. Now there are two investigations going on in foreign nations where the P.D.A. may be involved. You should take every precaution for your safety.”

“What possible threat could an artist be to the P.D.A.?”

“Is it accurate to say that you promote a vision of world peace?”

“Yes, that is fairly accurate, but missing a great deal of clarity.”

“To sum it up, Ms. Fitzroy, some governments and certain industries are not as anxious for global peace and prosperity as you are.”

Marie wished he would leave so she could process the last twenty-four hours. “Well, if there is anything I can do, please let me know. I'll walk you to your car.”

Agent Willis and Marie walked out the front door together. “Have you seen today’s paper?” With a nod of his head, Willis motioned to the rolled-up
Kansas City Star
on the porch.

Marie bent down and picked up
The Star
half hidden between two potted red geraniums.

“You made the cover.”

As Marie unrolled the newspaper, a huge color photograph of her kneeling next to Josh Ryan appeared on the cover. The headline read,
Shooter Attempts Murder of Kansas City Political Activist.

“Welcome to politics, Ms. Fitzroy.”