The Sky Is Falling (15 page)

“Yes.”

“Great place. Do you ski?”

“No.”
But Jeff does. When we come up here
…

A clerk walked up and handed Captain Turner a sheet of paper. He passed it on to Dana. It read:
Al Larson Electrical Company, Bill Kelly
.

“They’re just down the street.”

“Thank you so much, Captain Turner.”

“My pleasure.”

As Dana left the building, a man across the street turned away and spoke into a cell phone.

The Al Larson Electrical Company was in a small gray cement building. A clone of the man at the fire department, tanned and athletic looking, was seated at a desk. He stood up as Dana came in. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Dana said. “I’d like to talk to Bill Kelly.”

The man grunted. “So would I.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kelly. He disappeared almost a year ago.”

“Disappeared?”

“Yeah, just left. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t even stop to pick up his pay.”

Dana said slowly, “Do you remember exactly when that was?”

“Sure do. It was the morning of that fire. The big one. You know, the one the Winthrops died in.”

Dana felt a chill. “I see. And you have no idea where Mr. Kelly is?”

“Nope. Like I said, he just disappeared.”

The remote island at the tip of South America had been buzzing all morning with the arrival of jet planes. Now it was time for the meeting, and the twenty-odd participants were seated in a guarded, newly built structure that was scheduled to be demolished as soon as the meeting was over. The speaker stepped to the front of the room.

“Welcome. I am happy to see many familiar faces here and some new friends. Before we begin our business, some of you are concerned about a problem that has arisen. A traitor is among us, threatening to expose us. We do not know who it is yet. But I assure you that he will be caught quickly, and that he will suffer the fate of all traitors. Nothing and no one can stand in our way.”

There were murmurs of surprise from the crowd.

“Now. Let us begin our silent bid. There are sixteen packages today. Let’s start with two billion. Do I have the first bid? Yes. Two billion dollars. Do I have three?”

THAT EVENING WHEN Dana returned to her room, she stopped in sudden alarm. Everything looked the same, and yet… she had a feeling something was different. Had her things been moved?
It’s Chicken Little time
, Dana thought wryly. She picked up the telephone and called home.

Mrs. Daley answered the phone. “The Evans residence.”

Thank God she was still there
. “Mrs. Daley?”

“Miss Evans!”

“Good evening. How is Kemal?”

“Well, he can be a bit of a devil, but I can handle him. My boys were like that.”

“Then everything is… all right?”

“Oh, yes.”

Dana’s sigh was of pure relief. “Could I speak to him?”

“Certainly.” Dana heard her call, “Kemal, it’s your mother.”

A moment later Kemal was on the phone. “Hi, Dana.”

“Hi, Kemal. How are you doing, pal?”

“Cool.”

“How was school?”

“It was okay.”

“And are you getting along all right with Mrs. Daley?”

“Yes, she’s rad.”

She’s more than rad
, Dana thought.
She’s a miracle
.

“When are you coming home, Dana?”

“I’ll be home tomorrow. Have you had your dinner?”

“Yes. It wasn’t too bad, actually.”

Dana was almost tempted to say,
Is that you, Kemal
? She was thrilled at the change in him.

“All right, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

“Good night, Dana.”

As Dana was getting ready for bed, her cell phone rang. She picked it up. “Hello.”

“Dana?”

She felt a surge of joy. “Jeff! Oh, Jeff!” She blessed the day she had purchased the international cell phone.

“I had to call you to tell you I miss you like bloody hell.”

“I miss you, too. Are you in Florida?”

“Yes.”

“How are things there?”

“Not good.” She heard the hesitation in his voice. “In fact, it’s pretty bad. Tomorrow Rachel is scheduled to have a mastectomy.”

“Oh, no!”

“She’s not handling it well.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know. It’s rotten luck. Darling, I can’t wait to get back to you. Did I ever tell you I’m mad about you?”

“I’m mad about you, darling.”

“Is there anything you need, Dana?”

You
. “No.”

“How’s Kemal?”

“He’s getting along fine. I have a new housekeeper he likes.”

“That’s good news. I can’t wait until we’re all together again.”

“Neither can I.”

“You take care of yourself.”

“I will. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Rachel.”

“I’ll tell her. Good night, baby.”

“Good night.”

Dana opened her suitcase and took out a shirt of Jeff’s that she had taken from the apartment. She put it on under her nightgown and hugged it to her.
Good night, darling
.

Early the following morning Dana flew back to Washington. She stopped at the apartment before going to the office and was greeted by a cheerful Mrs. Daley.

“It’s grand to see you back, Miss Evans. That boy of yours is wearing me out.” But it was said with a twinkle.

“I hope he isn’t giving you too much trouble.”

“Trouble? Not one bit. I’m pleased at how well he’s doing with his new arm.”

Dana looked at her in surprise. “He’s
wearing
it?”

“Of course. He wears it to school.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m very pleased.” She looked at her watch. “I have to get to the studio. I’ll be back this afternoon to see Kemal.”

“He’ll be so glad to see you. He misses you, you know. You go on ahead. I’ll unpack your bags for you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Daley.”

Dana was in Matt’s office telling him what she had learned in Aspen.

He was looking at her incredulously. “The day after the fire, the electrician just goddamn
disappeared
?”

“Without collecting his paycheck.”

“And he was at the Winthrop house the day before the fire happened.”

“Yes.”

Matt shook his head. “It’s like
Alice in Wonderland
. This gets curiouser and curiouser.”

“Matt, Paul Winthrop was the next one in the family to die. He was killed in France not long after the fire. I’d like to go there. I want to see if there were any witnesses to his automobile accident.”

“Right.” Then Matt added, “Elliot Cromwell has been asking about you. He wants you to take care of yourself.”

“That’s two of us,” Dana replied.

When Kemal arrived home from school, Dana was waiting for him. Kemal was wearing his new arm, and it seemed to Dana that he appeared to be much calmer.

“You’re back.” He gave her a hug.

“Hello, darling. I’ve missed you. How was school?”

“Not bad. How was your trip?”

“It was fine. I brought something back for you.” She handed Kemal a Native American handwoven satchel and a pair of leather moccasins she had picked up in Aspen. The next part was difficult. “Kemal, I’m afraid I’m going to have to go away again for a few days.”

Dana braced herself for his reaction, but all Kemal said was “Okay.”

No sign of an outburst.

“I’ll bring you back a nice present.”

“One for every day you’re away?”

Dana smiled. “You’re supposed to be in seventh grade, not law school.”

He was comfortably settled in an armchair, with the television set on and a scotch in his hand. On the screen, Dana and Kemal were at the dinner table and Mrs. Daley was serving what looked like an Irish stew.

“This is delicious,” Dana said.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

“I told you she was a good cook,” Kemal said.

It was like being in the same room with them, he thought, instead of watching them from the apartment next door.

“Tell me about school,” Dana said.

“I like my new teachers. My math teacher is tight…”

“That’s great.”

“The boys are a lot nicer at this school. They think my new arm is rad.”

“I’ll bet they do.”

“One of the girls in my class is really pretty. I think she likes me. Her name is Lizzy.”

“Do you like her, darling?”

“Yeah. She’s phat.”

He’s growing up
, Dana thought with an unexpected pang. When it was time, Kemal went to bed and Dana walked into the kitchen to see Mrs. Daley.

“Kemal seems so… so peaceful. I can’t tell you how appreciative I am,” Dana said.

“You’re doing
me
a favor.” Mrs. Daley smiled. “It’s like having one of my own children back. They’re all grown now, you know. Kemal and I are having a grand time.”

“I’m glad.”

Dana waited up until midnight, and when Jeff still had not called, she went to bed. She lay there wondering what Jeff was doing, whether he was making love to Rachel, and she was ashamed of herself for her thoughts.

The man in the next apartment reported in. “All quiet.”

Her cell phone rang.

“Jeff, darling. Where are you?”

“I’m at Doctors Hospital in Florida. The mastectomy is over. The oncologist is still running tests.”

“Oh, Jeff! I hope it hasn’t spread.”

“I hope so, too. Rachel wants me to stay with her for a few days. I wanted to ask you if—”

“Of course. You must.”

“It will only be for a little while. I’ll call Matt and tell him. Anything exciting going on there?”

For an instant Dana was tempted to tell Jeff about Aspen and that she was going ahead with the investigation.
He has enough on his mind
. “No,” Dana said. “All quiet.”

“Give my love to Kemal. The rest is for you.”

Jeff replaced the receiver. A nurse came up to him.

“Mr. Connors? Dr. Young would like to see you.”

“The operation went well,” Dr. Young told Jeff, “but she will need a lot of emotional support. She is going to feel less of a woman. When she wakes up, she’ll be panicky. You have to let her know that it’s all right to be afraid.”

“I understand,” Jeff said.

“And her fear and depression are going to start all over again when we begin radiation treatments to try to stop the spread of the cancer. That can be very traumatic.”

Jeff sat there, thinking about what lay ahead.

“Does she have someone to take care of her?”

“Me.” And as Jeff said it, he realized he was the only one Rachel had.

The Air France flight to Nice was uneventful. Dana turned on her laptop computer to reexamine the information she had collected so far. Provocative, but certainly not conclusive.
Proof
, Dana thought.
There is no story without proof. If I can
—

“Nice flight, isn’t it?”

Dana turned to the man seated next to her. He was tall and attractive and had a French accent.

“Yes, it is.”

“Have you been to France before?”

“No,” Dana said. “This is my first time.”

He smiled. “Ah, you are in for a treat. It is a magical country.” He smiled soulfully and leaned close to her. “Do you have friends to show you around?”

“I’m meeting my husband and three children,” Dana said.

“
Dommage
.” He nodded, turned away, and picked up his copy of
France-Soir
.

Dana went back to her computer. An article caught her eye. Paul Winthrop, who had died in an automobile accident, had had a hobby.

Racing cars.

When the Air France plane landed at the Nice airport, Dana went into the busy terminal to the car-rental office. “My name is Dana Evans. I have a—”

The clerk looked up. “Ah! Miss Evans. Your car is ready.” He handed her a form. “Just sign this.”

Now that’s real service
, Dana thought. “I’ll need a map of the south of France. Would you happen to—?”

“Of course,
mademoiselle
.” He reached behind the counter and selected a map. “
Voilà
.” He stood there watching Dana leave.

In the executive tower of WTN, Elliot Cromwell was saying, “Where is Dana now, Matt?”

“She’s in France.”

“Is she making any progress?”

“It’s too early.”

“I worry about her. I think maybe she’s traveling too much. Today travel can be dangerous.” He hesitated. “Very dangerous.”

The air in Nice was cold and crisp, and Dana wondered what the weather had been like on the day Paul Winthrop was killed. She got into the Citroën waiting for her and started driving up the Grande Corniche, passing picturesque little villages along the way.

The accident had happened just north of Beau-soleil, on the highway at Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, a resort that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea.

As Dana approached the village, she slowed down, observing the sharp, precipitous curves, wondering which one Paul Winthrop had gone over. What had Paul Winthrop been doing here? Was he meeting someone? Was he taking part in a race? Was he on vacation? Business?

Roquebrune-Cap-Martin is a medieval village with an ancient castle, church, historic caves, and luxurious villas that dot the landscape. Dana drove to the center, parked the car, and went to look for the police station. She stopped a man coming out of a shop.

“Excuse me, can you tell me where the police station is?”

“
Je ne parle pas anglais, j’ai peur de ne pouvoir vous aider, mais
—”

“Police. Police.”

“
Ah, oui
.” He pointed. “
La deuxième rue à gauche
.”

“Merci.”

“De rien.”

The police station was in an old, crumbling, white-walled building. Inside a middle-aged, uniformed policeman sat behind a desk. He looked up as Dana walked in.

“Bonjour, madame.”