Windmills of the Gods (27 page)

The room began to swim. “Are you—are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am. His wallet was found on his body.”

Sensory memories flooded through her, and a voice over the telephone was saying:
“This is Sheriff Munster. Your husband has been killed in a car accident.”
And all the old sorrows came rushing back, stabbing at her, tearing her apart.

“How—how did it happen?” Her voice was strangled.

“He was shot to death.”

“Do they—do they know who did it?”

“No, ma’am. The Securitate and the French embassy are investigating.”

She dropped the receiver, her mind and body numb, and leaned back in her chair, studying the ceiling. There was a crack in it.
I must have that repaired,
Mary thought.
We mustn’t have cracks in our embassy. There’s another crack. Cracks everywhere. Cracks in our lives, and when there is a crack, evil things get in. Edward is dead. Louis is dead.
She could not bear to think of that. She searched for more cracks.
I can’t go through this pain again,
Mary thought.
Who would want to kill Louis?

The answer immediately followed the question.
Mike Slade.
Louis had discovered that Slade was feeding Mary arsenic. Slade probably thought that with Louis dead, no one could prove anything against him.

A sudden realization struck her and filled her with a new terror.
“Who were you talking to?” Dr. Desforges.
And Mike must have known that Dr. Desforges was dead.

She stayed in her office all day, planning her next move.
I’m not going to let him drive me away. I’m not going to let him kill me. I have to stop him.
She was filled with a rage such as she had never known before. She was going to protect herself and her children. And she was going to destroy Mike Slade.

Mary placed another urgent call to Stanton Rogers.

“I gave him your message, Madam Ambassador. He will return your call as soon as possible.”

She could not bring herself to accept Louis’s death. He had been so warm, so gentle, and now he was lying in some morgue, lifeless.
If I had gone back to Kansas,
Mary thought dully,
Louis would be alive today.

“Madam Ambassador…”

Mary looked up. Dorothy Stone was holding an envelope out to her.

“The guard at the gate asked me to give you this. He said it was delivered by a young boy.”

The envelope was marked:
PERSONAL
,
FOR THE AMBASSADOR’S EYES ONLY
.

Mary tore open the envelope. The note was written in a neat copperplate handwriting. It read:

Dear Madam Ambassador:

Enjoy your last day on earth.

It was signed “Angel.”

Another one of Mike’s scare tactics,
Mary thought.
It won’t work. I’ll keep well away from him.

Colonel McKinney was studying the note. He shook his head. “There are a lot of sickies out there.” He looked up at Mary. “You were scheduled to make an appearance this afternoon at the ground-breaking ceremony for the new library addition. I’ll cancel it and—”

“No.”

“Madam Ambassador, it’s too dangerous for you to—”

“I’ll be safe.” She knew now where the danger lay, and she had a plan to avoid it. “Where is Mike Slade?” she asked.

“He’s in a meeting at the Australian embassy.”

“Please get word to him that I wish to see him right away.”

“You wanted to talk to me?” Mike Slade’s tone was casual.

“Yes. There’s something I want you to do.”

“I’m at your command.”

His sarcasm was like a slap.

“I received a telephone call from someone who wants to defect.”

“Who is it?”

She had no intention of telling him. He would betray the girl. “That’s not important. I want you to bring this person in.”

Mike frowned. “Is this someone the Romanians want to keep?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that could lead to a lot of—”

She cut him short. “I want you to go to the Roscow Inn at Moldavia and pick her up.”

He started to argue, until he saw the expression on her face. “If that’s what you want, I’ll send—”

“No.” Mary’s voice was steel. “I want you to go. I’m sending two men with you.”

With Gunny and another marine along, Mike would not be able to play any tricks. She had told Gunny not to let Mike Slade out of his sight.

Mike was studying Mary, puzzled. “I have a heavy schedule. Tomorrow would probably—”

“I want you to leave immediately. Gunny is waiting for you in your office. You’re to bring the defector back here to me.” Her tone left no room for argument.

Mike nodded slowly. “All right.”

Mary watched him go, with a feeling of relief so intense that she felt giddy. With Mike out of the way, she would be safe.

She dialed Colonel McKinney’s number. “I’m going ahead with the ceremony this afternoon,” she informed him.

“I strongly advise against it, Madam Ambassador. Why
would you want to expose yourself to unnecessary danger when—?”

“I have no choice. I’m representing our country. How would it look if I hid in a closet every time someone threatened my life? If I do that once, I’ll never be able to show my face again. I might as well go home. And Colonel—I have no intention of going home.”

The ground-breaking ceremony for the new American library addition was scheduled to be held at four o’clock in the afternoon at Alexandru Sahia Square, in the large vacant lot next to the main building of the American library. By three
P.M.
a large crowd had already gathered. Colonel McKinney had had a meeting with Captain Aurel Istrase, head of Securitate.

“We shall certainly give your ambassador maximum protection,” Istrase assured him.

Istrase had been as good as his word. He had ordered all automobiles removed from the square, so that there was no danger of a car bomb, police were stationed around the entire area, and a sharpshooter was on the roof of the library building.

At a few minutes before four, everything was in readiness. Electronics experts had swept the entire area and had found no explosives. When all the checks had been completed,
Captain Aurel Istrase said to Colonel McKinney, “We are ready.”

“Very well.” Colonel McKinney turned to an aide. “Tell the ambassador to come ahead.”

Mary was escorted to the limousine by four marines who flanked her as she got into the car.

Florian beamed, “Good afternoon, Madam Ambassador. It is going to be a big, beautiful new library, no?”

“Yes.”

As he drove, Florian chattered on, but Mary was not listening. She was thinking of the laughter in Louis’s eyes, and the tenderness with which he had made love to her. She dug her fingernails into her wrists, trying to make the physical pain replace the anguish inside.
I must not cry,
she told herself.
Whatever I do, I must not cry. There is no more love,
she thought wearily,
only hate. What’s happening to the world?

When the limousine reached the dedication site, two marines stepped up to the car door, looked around carefully, and opened the door for Mary.

“Good afternoon, Madam Ambassador.”

As Mary walked toward the lot where the ceremony was to take place, two armed members of Securitate walked in front of her and two behind her, shielding her with their bodies. From the rooftop the sniper alertly scanned the scene below.

The onlookers applauded as the ambassador stepped into the center of the small circle that had been cleared for her. The crowd was a mixture of Romanians, Americans, and attaches from other embassies in Bucharest. There were a few familiar faces, but most of the people were strangers.

Mary looked over the crowd and thought:
How can I make a speech? Colonel McKinney was right. I should never have come here. I’m miserable and terrified.

Colonel McKinney was saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present the ambassador from the United States.”

The crowd applauded.

Mary took a deep breath, and began. “Thank you…”

She had been so caught up in the maelstrom of events of the past week that she had not prepared a speech. Some deep wellspring within her gave her the words. She found herself saying, “What we are doing here today may seem a small thing, but it is important, because it is one more bridge between our country and all the countries of Eastern Europe. The new building we are dedicating here today will be filled with information about the United States of America. Here, you will be able to learn about the history of our country, both the good things and the bad things. You will be able to see pictures of our cities and factories and farms…”

Colonel McKinney and his men were moving through the crowd slowly. The note had said, “Enjoy your last day on earth.” When did the killer’s day end? Six
P.M.
? Nine o’clock? Midnight?

“…but there is something more important for you to find out than what the United States of America
looks
like. When this new building is finished, you can finally know what America
feels
like. We are going to show you the spirit of the country.”

On the far side of the square, a car suddenly raced past the police barrier and screamed to a stop at the curb. As a startled policeman moved toward it, the driver jumped out of the car and began running away. As he ran, he pulled a device from his pocket and pressed it. The car exploded, sending out a shower of metal into the crowd. None of it reached the center where Mary was standing, but the spectators began milling around in panic, trying to flee, to get away from the attack. The sniper on the roof raised his rifle and put a bullet through the fleeing man’s heart before he
could escape. He shot him twice more to make sure.

It took the Romanian police an hour to clear the crowd away from Alexandra Sahia Square and remove the body of the would-be assassin. The fire department had put out the flames of the burning car. Mary was driven back to the embassy, shaken.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to go to the residence and rest?” Colonel McKinney asked her. “You’ve just been through a horrifying experience that—”

“No,” Mary said stubbornly. “The embassy.”

That was the only place where she could safely talk to Stanton Rogers.
I must talk to him soon,
Mary thought,
or I’ll go to pieces.

The strain of everything that was happening to her was unbearable. She had made sure that Mike Slade was safely out of the way, yet an attempt had still been made on her life. So he was not working alone.

Mary wished desperately that Stanton Rogers would telephone.

At six o’clock, Mike Slade walked into Mary’s office. He was furious.

“I put Corina Socoli in a room upstairs,” he said curtly. “I wish to hell you’d told me who it was I was picking up. You’ve made a big mistake. We have to return her. She’s a national treasure. There’s no way the Romanian government would ever allow her out of the country. If—”

Colonel McKinney hurried into the office. He stopped short as he saw Mike. “We have an identification on the dead man. He’s the Angel, all right. His real name is H. R. de Mendoza.”

Mike was staring at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I forgot,” Colonel McKinney said. “You were away during all the excitement. Didn’t the ambassador tell you someone tried to kill her today?”

Mike turned to look at Mary. “No.”

“She received a death warning from Angel. He tried to assassinate her at the ground-breaking ceremony this afternoon. One of Istrase’s snipers got him.”

Mike stood there silently, his eyes fixed on Mary.

Colonel McKinney said, “Angel seems to have been on everybody’s most-wanted list.”

“Where’s his body?” Mike asked.

“In the morgue at police headquarters.”

The body was lying on a stone slab, naked. He had been an ordinary-looking man, medium height, with unremarkable features, a naval tatoo on one arm, a small, thin nose that went with his tight mouth, very small feet, and thinning hair. His clothes and belongings were piled on a table.

“Mind if I have a look?”

The police sergeant shrugged. “Go ahead. I’m sure he won’t mind.” He snickered at his joke.

Mike picked up the jacket and examined the label. It was from a shop in Buenos Aires. The leather shoes also had an Argentinian label. There were piles of money next to the clothing, some Romanian lei, a few French francs, some English pounds, and at least ten thousand dollars in Argentine pesos—some in the new ten-peso notes and the rest in the devalued million-peso notes.

Mike turned to the sergeant. “What do you have on him?”

“He flew in from London on Tarom Airlines two days ago. He checked into the Intercontinental Hotel under the name of de Mendoza. His passport shows his home address as Buenos Aires. It is forged.” The policeman moved in to take a closer look at the body. “He does not look like an international killer, does he?”

“No,” Mike agreed. “He doesn’t.”

Two dozen blocks away, Angel was walking past the residence, fast enough so as not to attract the attention of the four armed marines guarding the front entrance, and slowly enough to absorb every detail of the front of the building. The photographs that had been sent were excellent, but Angel believed in personally checking out every detail. Near the front door was a fifth guard in civilian clothes, holding two Doberman pinschers on leashes.

Angel grinned at the thought of the charade that had been played out in the town square. It had been child’s play to hire a junkie for the price of a noseful of cocaine.
Throw everyone off guard. Let them sweat.
But the big event was yet to come.
For five million dollars, I will give them a show they will never forget. What do the television networks call them? Spectaculars. They will get a spectacular in living color.

“There will be a Fourth of July celebration at the residence,”
the voice had said.
“There will be balloons, a marine band, entertainers.”
Angel smiled and thought:
A five-million-dollar spectacular.

Dorothy Stone hurried into Mary’s office. “Madam Ambassador—you’re wanted right away in the Bubble Room. Mr. Stanton Rogers is calling from Washington.”

“Mary—I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Slow down. Take a deep breath and start again.”

My God,
Mary thought.
I’m babbling like a hysterical ninny.
There was such a mixture of violent emotions churning in her that she could barely get the words out. She was terrified and relieved and angry, all at the same time, and her voice came out in a series of choked words.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Stan—didn’t you get my cable?”

“No. I’ve just returned. There was no cable from you. What’s wrong back there?”

Mary fought to control her hysteria.
Where should I begin?
She took a deep breath. “Mike Slade is trying to murder me.”

There was a shocked silence. “Mary—you really can’t believe—”

“It’s true. I know it is. I met a doctor from the French embassy—Louis Desforges. I became ill, and he found out I was being poisoned with arsenic. Mike was doing it.”

This time Stanton Rogers’s voice was sharper. “What makes you think that?”

“Louis—Dr. Desforges—figured it out. Mike Slade made coffee for me every morning with arsenic in it. I have proof that he got hold of the arsenic. Last night, Louis was murdered, and this afternoon someone working with Slade tried to assassinate me.”

This time the silence was even longer.

When Stanton Rogers spoke again, his tone was urgent. “What I’m going to ask you is very important, Mary. Think carefully. Could it have been anyone besides Mike Slade?”

“No. He’s been trying to get me out of Romania from the very beginning.”

Stanton Rogers said crisply, “All right. I’m going to inform the President. We’ll handle Slade. In the meantime, I’ll arrange extra protection for you there.”

“Stan—Sunday night I’m giving a Fourth of July party at the residence. The guests have already been invited. Do you think I should cancel it?”

There was a thoughtful silence. “As a matter of fact, the party might be a good idea. Keep a lot of people around you. Mary—I don’t want to frighten you any more than you already are, but I would suggest that you not let the children out of your sight. Not for a minute. Slade might try to get at you through them.”

She felt a shudder go through her. “What’s behind all this? Why is he doing this?”

“I wish I knew. It makes no sense. But I’m damned well going to find out. In the meantime, keep as far away from him as you possibly can.”

Mary said grimly, “Don’t worry. I will.”

“I’ll be in touch with you.”

When Mary hung up, it was as though an enormous burden had been lifted from her shoulders.
Everything’s going to be all right,
she told herself.
The children and I are going to be fine.

Eddie Maltz answered on the first ring. The conversation lasted for ten minutes.

“I’ll make sure everything is there,” Eddie Maltz promised.

Angel hung up.

Eddie Maltz thought:
I wonder what the hell Angel needs all that stuff for.
He looked at his watch.
Forty-eight hours to go.

The moment Stanton Rogers finished talking to Mary, he placed an emergency call to Colonel McKinney.

“Bill, Stanton Rogers.”

“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”

“I want you to pick up Mike Slade. Hold him in close custody until you hear from me.”

When the colonel spoke, there was an incredulous note in his voice. “Mike Slade?”

“I want him held and isolated. He’s probably armed and dangerous. Don’t let him talk to anyone.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to call me back at the White House as soon as you have him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Stanton Rogers’s phone rang two hours later. He snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

“It’s Colonel McKinney, Mr. Rogers.”

“Do you have Slade?”

“No, sir. There’s a problem.”

“What problem?”

“Mike Slade has disappeared.”