The Sky Is Falling (20 page)

“Jeff, I really don’t feel up to—”

“No arguments.”

And thirty minutes later they were in a wig shop and Rachel was trying on wigs, smiling and saying to Jeff, “They’re beautiful. Do you like the long one or the short one?”

“I like them both,” Jeff said. “And if you get tired of these, we’ll come back and change you into a brunette or a redhead.” His voice softened. “Personally, I like you the way you are.”

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “I like you the way
you
are.”

EACH CITY HAS its own rhythm, and Rome’s is like that of no other city in the world. It is a modern metropolis cocooned in the history of centuries of glory. It moves at its own measured pace, for it has no reason to hurry. Tomorrow will come in its own good time.

Dana had not been in Rome since she was twelve years old, when her mother and father had taken her there. Landing at the Leonardo da Vinci airport triggered a host of memories. She remembered her first day in Rome when she had explored the Colosseum, where the Christians had been thrown to the lions. She had not slept for a week after that.

She and her parents had visited the Vatican and the Spanish Steps, and she had thrown lire into the Trevi Fountain, wishing that her parents would stop quarreling. When her father disappeared, Dana felt that the fountain had betrayed her.

She had seen a performance of the opera
Otello
at the Terme di Caracalla, the Roman baths, and it was an evening she would never forget.

She had eaten ice cream at the famous Doney’s on the Via Veneto and explored the crowded streets of Trastevere. Dana adored Rome and its people.
Who could have imagined that I would return here after all these years, looking for a serial killer
?

Dana checked in at the Hotel Ciceroni, near the Piazza Navona.

“
Buon giorno
.” The hotel manager greeted her. “We are delighted that you are staying with us, Miss Evans. I understand that you will be here for two days?”

Dana hesitated. “I’m not quite sure.”

He smiled. “No problem. We have a beautiful suite for you. If there is anything we can do for you, let us know.”

Italy is such a friendly country
. And Dana thought about her former neighbors, Dorothy and Howard Wharton.
I don’t know how they heard about me, but they flew a man all the way here just to make a deal with me
.

On an impulse, Dana decided to call the Whartons. She had the operator get her the Italiano Ripristino Corporation.

“I’d like to speak to Howard Wharton, please.”

“Would you spell that?”

Dana spelled it.

“Thank you. One moment.”

One moment turned out to be five minutes. The woman came back on the line.

“I’m sorry. We have no Howard Wharton here.”

The only thing is, we have to be in Rome by tomorrow.

Dana called Dominick Romano, the anchorman at Italia 1 television.

“It’s Dana. I’m here, Dominick.”

“Dana! I’m delighted. When can we meet?”

“You name it.”

“Where are you staying?”

“At the Hotel Ciceroni.”

“Take a taxi and tell your driver to take you to Toula. I will meet you there in thirty minutes.”

Toula, on Via Della Lupa, was one of Rome’s most famous restaurants. When Dana arrived, Romano was waiting for her.

“
Buon giorno
. It is good to see you without the bombs.”

“You, too, Dominick.”

“What a futile war.” He shook his head. “Perhaps more than most wars.
Bene
! What are you doing in Roma?”

“I came to see a man here.”

“And the name of this lucky man?”

“Vincent Mancino.”

Dominick Romano’s expression changed. “Why do you want to see him?”

“It’s probably nothing, but I’m following up on an investigation. Tell me about Mancino.”

Dominick Romano thought carefully before he spoke. “Mancino was the minister of commerce. Mancino’s background is Mafia. He carries a very big stick. Anyway, he suddenly quit a very important position and no one knows why.” Romano looked at Dana curiously. “What is your interest in him?”

Dana evaded the question. “I understand that Mancino was negotiating a government trade deal with Taylor Winthrop when he quit.”

“Yes. Winthrop finished the negotiations with someone else.”

“How long was Taylor Winthrop in Rome?”

Romano thought for a moment. “About two months. Mancino and Winthrop became drinking buddies.” And then he added, “Something went wrong.”

“What?”

“Who knows? There are all kinds of stories floating around. Mancino had only one child, a daughter, Pia, and she disappeared. Mancino’s wife had a nervous breakdown.”

“What do you mean his daughter disappeared? Was she kidnapped?”

“No. She just kind of” — he tried vainly to find the right word — “disappeared. No one knows what happened to her.” He sighed. “I can tell you, Pia was a beauty.”

“Where is Mancino’s wife?”

“The rumor is that she’s in some kind of sanitarium.”

“Do you know where?”

“No. You don’t want to, either.” Their waiter came to the table. “I know this restaurant,” Dominick Romano said. “Would you like me to order for you?”

“I would.”

“
Bene
.” He turned to the waiter. “
Prima, pasta fagioli. Dopo, abbacchio arrosta con polenta
.”

“Grazie.”

The food was superb and the conversation turned light and casual. But when they got up to leave, Romano said, “Dana, stay away from Mancino. He is not the kind of man you question.”

“But if he—”

“Forget him. In a word —
omertà
.”

“Thank you, Dominick. I appreciate your advice.”

Vincent Mancino’s offices were in a modern building he owned on Via Sardegna. A heavyset guard sat at the reception desk in the marble lobby.

He looked up as Dana entered. “
Buona giorno. Posso aiutarla, signorina
?”

“My name is Dana Evans. I’d like to see Vincent Mancino.”

“You have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

“Tell him it’s about Taylor Winthrop.”

The guard studied Dana a moment, then reached for a telephone and spoke into it. He replaced the receiver. Dana waited.

What in the world will I find?

The phone rang, and the guard picked it up and listened a moment. He turned to Dana. “Second floor. There will be someone there to meet you.”

“Thank you.”

“Prego.”

Vincent Mancino’s office was small and unimpressive, not at all what Dana had expected. Mancino sat behind an old, battered desk. He was in his sixties, a medium-size man, with a broad chest, thin lips, white hair, and a hawk nose. He had the coldest eyes Dana had ever seen. On the desk was a gold-framed photograph of a beautiful teenager.

As Dana entered his office, Mancino said, “You come about Taylor Winthrop?” His voice was raspy and deep.

“Yes. I wanted to talk about—”

“There is nothing to talk about,
signorina
. He died in a fire. He is burning in hell, and his wife and his children are burning in hell.”

“May I sit down, Mr. Mancino?”

He started to say, “No.” Instead he said, “
Scusi
. Sometimes when I get upset, I forget my manners.
Prego, si accomodi
. Please, have a seat.”

Dana took a chair across from him. “You and Taylor Winthrop were negotiating a trade deal between your two governments.”

“Yes.”

“And you became friends?”

“For a little while,
forse
.”

Dana glanced at the photograph on the desk. “Is that your daughter?”

He did not answer.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yes, she was very beautiful.”

Dana looked at him, puzzled. “Isn’t she still alive?” She watched him studying her, trying to make up his mind whether to talk to her.

When he finally spoke, he said, “Alive? You tell
me
.” His voice was filled with passion. “I took your American friend, Taylor Winthrop, into my home. He broke bread with us. I introduced him to my friends. Do you know how he repaid me? He made my beautiful virgin daughter pregnant.
She was sixteen years old
. She was afraid to tell me because she knew I would kill him, so she… she had an
abortion
.” He spat out the word like anathema. “Winthrop was afraid of publicity, so he did not send Pia to a doctor. No. He… he sent her to a butcher.” His eyes filled with tears. “A butcher who tore out her womb. My sixteen-year-old daughter,
signorina
…” His voice was choked. “Taylor Winthrop not only destroyed my daughter, he murdered my grandchildren and all their children and their grandchildren. He wiped out the Mancino family’s future.” He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Now he and his family have paid for his terrible sin.”

Dana sat silent, speechless.

“My daughter is in a convent,
signorina
. I will never see her again. Yes, I made a deal with Taylor Winthrop.” His cold steel-gray eyes bored into Dana’s. “But it was a deal with the devil.”

So there are two of them
, Dana thought.
And Marcel Falcon still to meet
.

On the KLM flight to Belgium, Dana was conscious of someone taking the seat next to her. She looked up. It was an attractive, pleasant-faced man, and he had obviously asked the stewardess to switch his seat.

He looked at Dana and smiled. “Good morning. Permit me to introduce myself. My name is David Haynes.” He had an English accent.

“Dana Evans.”

There was no recognition on his face. “It’s a lovely day for flying, isn’t it?”

“Beautiful,” Dana agreed.

He was eyeing her admiringly. “Are you traveling to Brussels on business?”

“Business and pleasure.”

“Do you have friends there?”

“A few.”

“I’m well acquainted in Brussels.”

Wait until I tell Jeff about this
, Dana thought. And then the realization hit her again.
He’s with Rachel
.

He was studying her face. “You look familiar.”

Dana smiled. “I have that kind of face.”

When the plane landed at the Brussels airport and Dana deplaned, a man standing inside the terminal picked up his cellular phone and reported in.

David Haynes said, “Do you have transportation?”

“No, but I can—”

“Please allow me.” He led Dana to a waiting stretch limousine with a chauffeur. “I’ll drop you at your hotel,” he told Dana. He gave an order to the chauffeur and the limousine moved into traffic. “Is this your first time in Brussels?”

“Yes.”

They were in front of a large, skylighted shopping arcade. Haynes said, “If you plan to do any shopping, I would suggest here — the Galeries St.-Hubert.”

“It looks lovely.”

Haynes said to the driver, “Stop a moment, Charles.” He turned to Dana. “There’s the famous Manneken Pis fountain.” It was a bronze statue of a little boy urinating, placed high in a scallop-shell niche. “One of the most famous statues in the world.”

While I was in prison, my wife and children died. If I had been free, I could have saved them.

David Haynes was saying, “If you’re free this evening, I’d like—”

“I’m sorry,” Dana said. “I’m afraid I’m not.”

Matt had been summoned to Elliot Cromwell’s office.

“We’re missing two of our key players, Matt. When is Jeff coming back?”

“I’m not sure, Elliot. As you know, he’s involved in a personal situation with his ex-wife, and I’ve suggested he take a leave of absence.”

“I see. And when is Dana coming back from Brussels?”

Matt looked at Elliot Cromwell and thought:
I never told him that Dana was in Brussels
.

THE HEADQUARTERS OF NATO, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, is at Building Leopold III, and over the roof the Belgian flag flies, three equal vertical bands of black, yellow, and red.

Dana had been sure it would be easy to find the information about Taylor Winthrop’s premature retirement from his post at NATO, and then she would be on her way home. But NATO turned out to be a nightmare of alphabet soup. Beside its sixteen member states, there were offices for NAC, EAPC, NACC, ESDI, CJTF, CSCE, and at least a dozen more acronyms.

Dana went to NATO’s press headquarters on rue des Chapeliers and found Jean Somville in the pressroom.

He rose to greet her. “Dana!”

“Hello, Jean.”

“What brings you to Brussels?”

“I’m working on a story,” Dana said. “I need some information.”

“Ah. Another story about NATO.”

“In a way,” Dana said cautiously. “Taylor Winthrop was the United States adviser to NATO here at one time.”

“Yes. He did a fine job. He was a great man. It’s such a tragedy about that family.” He looked at Dana, curious. “What is it you wish to know?”

Dana chose her next words carefully. “He left his post in Brussels early. I wondered what the reason was.”

Jean Somville shrugged. “That’s very simple. He finished what he had come here for.”

Dana felt a sharp sense of disappointment. “While Winthrop was serving here, did anything… unusual happen? Was there any scandal about him of any kind?”

Jean Somville looked at her in surprise. “Certainly not! Did someone say that Taylor Winthrop was in a scandal at NATO?”

“No,” Dana offered quickly. “What I heard was there was a… a quarrel, some kind of disagreement between Winthrop and someone here.”

Somville frowned. “You mean a quarrel of a private nature?”

“Yes.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t know. I can possibly find out.”

“I would appreciate that very much.”

Dana telephoned Jean Somville the following day.

“Were you able to find out anything more about Taylor Winthrop?”