The Sky Is Falling

Chapter Two

DANAEVANS WAS awakened by the relentless ringing of the telephone. She struggled to sit up and looked at the bedside clock, bleary-eyed. It was five o'clock in the morning. She picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Dana..."
"Matt?"
"See how fast you can get down to the studio."
"What's happened?"
"I'll fill you in when you get here."
"I'm on my way."
Fifteen minutes later, hastily dressed, Dana was knocking on the door of the Whartons' apartment, her next-door neighbors.
Dorothy Wharton opened the door, wearing a robe. She looked at Dana in alarm. "Dana, what's wrong?"
"I hate to do this to you, Dorothy, but I've been called to the studio on an emergency. Would you mind getting Kemal to school?"
"Why, of course not. I'd be happy to."
"Thank you so much. He has to be there at seven-forty-five, and he'll need breakfast."
"Don't you worry. I'll take care of it. You run along."
"Thanks," Dana said gratefully.
Abbe Lasmann was already in her office, looking sleepy. "He's waiting for you."
Dana walked into Matt's office.
"I have some awful news," he said. "Gary Winthrop was murdered earlier this morning."
Dana sank into a chair, stunned. "What? Who - ?"
"Apparently his house was being robbed. When he confronted the burglars, they killed him."
"Oh, no! He was so wonderful!" Dana remembered the friendliness and warmth of the attractive philanthropist, and she felt ill.
Matt shook his head in disbelief. "This makes - my God - the fifth tragedy."
Dana was puzzled. "What do you mean, the fifth tragedy?"
Matt looked at her in surprise, then suddenly realized, "Of course - you were in Sarajevo. I guess over there, with a war going on, what happened to the Winthrops during the last year wouldn't have been such headline news. I'm sure you know about Taylor Winthrop, Gary's father?"
"He was our ambassador to Russia. He and his wife died in a fire last year."
"Right. Two months later, their older son, Paul, was killed in an automobile accident. And six weeks after that, their daughter, Julie, died in a skiing accident." Matt paused for a moment. "And now, this morning, Gary, the last of the family."
Dana was stunned into silence.
"Dana, the Winthrops are a legend. If this country had a royal family, they would hold the crown. They invented charisma. They were world-famous for their philanthropy and government service. Gary was planning to follow in his father's footsteps and run for the Senate, and he'd have been a shoo-in. Everyone loved him. Now he's gone. In less than one year, one of the most distinguished families in the world has been totally wiped out."
"I - I don't know what to say."
"You'd better think of something," Matt said briskly. "You're on the air in twenty minutes."
The news of Gary Winthrop's death sent shock waves around the world. Comments from government leaders flashed onto universal television screens.
"It's like a Greek tragedy..."
"Unbelievable..."
"An ironic twist of fate..."
"The world has sustained a terrible loss..."
"The brightest and the best, and they're all gone..."
Gary Winthrop's murder seemed to be all that anyone was talking about. A wave of sadness swept over the country. Gary Winthrop's death had brought back the memory of the other tragic deaths in his family.
"It's unreal," Dana told Jeff. "The whole family must have been so wonderful."
"They were. Gary was a real sports fan and a big supporter." Jeff shook his head. "It's hard to believe that some two-bit thieves wiped out such a wonderful person."
Driving to the studio the next morning, Jeff said, "By the way, Rachel's in town."
By the way? How casual. Much too casual, Dana thought.
Jeff had been married to Rachel Stevens, a top model. Dana had seen her picture in television ads and on magazine covers. It was hard to believe how beautiful she was. But she probably doesn't have a working brain cell in her head, Dana decided. On the other hand, with that face and body, she doesn't need any brains.
Dana had discussed Rachel with Jeff. "What happened to the marriage?"
"It was great in the beginning," Jeff told her. "Rachel was so supportive. Even though she hated baseball, she used to come to the games to watch me play. Besides that, we had a lot in common."
I'll bet you did.
"She's really a wonderful woman, completely un-spoiled. She loved to cook. When she was on a shoot, Rachel would cook for the other models."
Great way to get rid of the competition. They were probably dropping like flies.
"What?"
"I didn't say anything."
"Anyway, we were married for five years."
"And then?"
"Rachel was very successful. She was always booked, and her work took her all over the world. Italy...England...Jamaica...Thailand...Japan...You name it. Meanwhile, I was playing ball around the country. We didn't get together very often. Little by little the magic faded."
The next question seemed logical because Jeff loved children. "Why no children?"
Jeff smiled wryly. "Not good for a model's figure. Then one day Roderick Marshall, one of Hollywood's ace directors, sent for her. Rachel went to Hollywood." He hesitated. "She called me a week later to tell me she wanted a divorce. She felt we had drifted too far apart. I had to agree. I gave her the divorce. Shortly after that I broke my arm."
"And you became a sportscaster. What about Rachel? She didn't make it in movies?"
Jeff shook his head. "She wasn't really interested. But she's doing just fine."
"And you're still friendly?" A loaded question.
"Yes. As a matter of fact, when she called me, I told her about us. She wants to meet you."
Dana frowned. "Jeff, I don't think - "
"She's really very nice, honey. Let's all have lunch tomorrow. You'll like her."
"I'm sure I will," Dana agreed. Snowball in hell, Dana thought. But I don't get to talk to many airheads.
The airhead turned out to be even more beautiful than Dana had feared. Rachel Stevens was tall and slender, with lustrous, long blond hair, flawless tanned skin, and striking facial features. Dana hated her on sight.
"Dana Evans, this is Rachel Stevens."
Dana thought, Shouldn't it have been "Rachel Stevens, this is Dana Evans"?
Rachel Stevens was saying, "...your broadcasts from Sarajevo whenever I could. They were incredible. We could all feel your heartbreak and share it."
How do you respond to a sincere compliment? "Thank you," Dana said lamely.
"Where would you like to have lunch?" Jeff asked.
Rachel suggested, "There's a marvelous restaurant called the Straits of Malaya. It's just two blocks off Dupont Circle." She turned to Dana and asked, "Do you like Thai food?"
As if she really cares. "Yes."
Jeff smiled. "Fine. Let's try it."
Rachel said, "It's only a few blocks from here. Shall we walk?"
In this freezing weather? "Sure," Dana said gamely. She probably walks naked in the snow.
They headed for Dupont Circle. Dana felt uglier by the second. She was bitterly sorry she had accepted the invitation.
The restaurant turned out to be packed, with a dozen people at the bar, waiting for tables. The maitre d' came bustling up.
"A table for three," Jeff said.
"Do you have a reservation?"
"No, but we - "
"I'm sorry, but - " He recognized Jeff. "Mr. Connors, it's a pleasure to see you." He looked at Dana. "Miss Evans, this is an honor." He made a small moue. "I'm afraid there will be a short delay." His glance moved to Rachel, and his face lit up. "Miss Stevens! I read that you were doing a layout in China."
"I was, Somchai. I'm back."
"Wonderful." He turned to Dana and Jeff. "Of course we have a table for you." He led them to a table in the center of the room.
I hate her, Dana thought. I truly hate her.
When they were seated, Jeff said, "You look great, Rachel. Whatever you're doing agrees with you."
And we can all guess what that is.
"I've been doing a lot of traveling. I think I'm going to start taking it easy for a while." She looked into Jeff's eyes. "Do you remember the night that you and I - "
Dana looked up from the menu. "What isudang goreng ?"
Rachel glanced at Dana. "That's shrimp in coconut milk. It's very good here." She turned back to Jeff. "The night you and I decided that we wanted to - "
"What islaksa ?"
Rachel said patiently, "That's spicy noodle soup." She turned back to Jeff. "You said you wanted to - "
"Andpoh pia ?"
Rachel looked at Dana and said sweetly, "That's jicama stir-fried with vegetables."
"Really?" Dana decided not to ask what jicama was.
But as the meal went on, Dana was surprised that in spite of herself, she began to like Rachel Stevens. She had a warm and charming personality. Unlike most world-class beauties, Rachel seemed to be completely unself-conscious about her looks and displayed no ego. She was intelligent and articulate, and when she gave the luncheon order to the waiter in Thai, there was no hint of superiority. How did Jeff ever let this one get away? Dana wondered.
"How long will you be in Washington?" Dana asked.
"I have to leave tomorrow."
"Where are you heading for this time?" Jeff wanted to know.
Rachel hesitated. "Hawaii. But I'm feeling really tired, Jeff. I was even thinking of canceling this."
"But you won't," Jeff said knowingly.
Rachel sighed. "No, I won't."
"When will you be back?" Dana asked.
Rachel looked at her for a long moment and then said softly, "I don't think I'll be coming back to Washington, Dana. I hope you and Jeff will be very happy." There was an unspoken message in her words.
Outside, after lunch, Dana said, "I have some errands to do. You two go on ahead."
Rachel took Dana's hand in hers. "I'm very glad we met."
"So am I," Dana said, and to her surprise she really meant it.
Dana watched Jeff and Rachel start down the street. A striking couple, she thought.
Because it was early December, Washington was preparing for the holiday season. The streets of the capital were decorated with Christmas lights and wreaths of holly, and on almost every corner Salvation Army Santa Clauses stood, tolling their bells for coins. The sidewalks were crowded with shoppers braving the icy winds.
The time has come, Dana thought. I have to get started with my own shopping. Dana thought about the people for whom she should buy gifts. Her mother; Kemal; Matt, her boss; and, of course, wonderful Jeff. Dana jumped in a cab and headed for Hecht's, one of Washington's largest department stores. The place was jammed with people celebrating the Christmas spirit by rudely elbowing other shoppers out of the way.
When Dana finished shopping, she headed back to her apartment to drop off her gifts. The apartment was on Calvert Street, in a quiet residential section. Attractively furnished, it consisted of one bedroom, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a study, where Kemal slept.
Dana put the gifts in a closet, looked around the small apartment, and thought happily, We'll have to get a larger place when Jeff and I get married. As she headed for the door to return to the studio, the telephone rang. Murphy's law. Dana picked up the phone. "Hello."
"Dana, darling."
It was her mother. "Hello, Mother. I was just leav - "
"My friends and I listened to your broadcast last night. You were very good."
"Thank you."
"Although we thought you could have brightened up the news a bit."
Dana sighed. "Brightened up the news?"
"Yes. All the things you talk about are so depressing. Can't you find something cheerful to discuss?"
"I'll certainly see what I can do, Mother."
"That would be nice. By the way, I'm running just a little short of cash this month. I wonder if you could help me out again?"
Dana's father had disappeared years ago. In time, Dana's mother had moved to Las Vegas. It seemed that she was always short of cash. The monthly allowance Dana gave her mother never seemed to be enough.
"Do you gamble, Mother?"
"Of course not," Mrs. Evans said indignantly. "Las Vegas is a very expensive city. By the way, when are you going to come out here? I would like to meet Kimbal. You should bring him here."
"His name is Kemal, Mother. I can't get away right now."
There was a slight hesitation at the other end. "You can't? My friends are all saying how fortunate you are to have a job where you only have to work an hour or two a day."
Dana said, "I guess I'm just lucky."
As anchorwoman, Dana arrived at the television studio at nine o'clock every morning and spent much of the day on international conference calls, getting the latest news from London, Paris, Italy, and other foreign locations. The rest of the day was devoted to meetings, putting all the news together, and deciding what would be broadcast and in what order when she went on the air. She did two evening broadcasts.
"It's nice that you have such an easy job, darling."
"Thank you, Mother."
"You'll come and see me soon, won't you?"
"Yes, I will."
"I can't wait to meet that darling little boy."
It will be good for Kemal to meet her, too, Dana thought. He'll have a grandmother. And when Jeff and I are married, Kemal will have a real family again.
As Dana stepped out into the corridor of her apartment building, Mrs. Wharton appeared.
"I want to thank you for taking care of Kemal the other morning, Dorothy. I really appreciate it."
"It was my pleasure."
Dorothy Wharton and her husband, Howard, had moved into the building a year ago. They were Canadians, a delightful middle-aged couple. Howard Wharton was an engineer who repaired monuments.
As he had explained to Dana at dinner one night, "There's no better city in the world than Washington for my kind of work. Where else could I find opportunities like this?" And he answered his own question. "Nowhere."
"Howard and I both love Washington," Mrs. Wharton confided. "We're never going to leave."
When Dana got back to her office, the latest edition of theWashington Tribune was on her desk. The front page was filled with stories and photographs of the Winthrop family. Dana looked at the photographs for a long time, her mind racing. Five of them all dead in less than a year. Incredible.
The call was made to a private phone in the executive tower of Washington Tribune Enterprises.
"I just got the instructions."
"Good. They've been waiting. What do you want them to do with the paintings?"
"Burn them."
"All of them? They're worth millions of dollars."
"Everything's gone perfectly. We can't allow any loose ends. Burn them now."
Dana's secretary, Olivia Watkins, was on the intercom. "There's a call for you on line three. He's called twice already."
"Who is it, Olivia?"
"Mr. Henry."
Thomas Henry was the principal of Theodore Roosevelt Middle School.
Dana rubbed her hand against her forehead to wipe away the headache that was about to start. She picked up the telephone. "Good afternoon, Mr. Henry."
"Good afternoon, Miss Evans. I wonder if you could stop by and see me?"
"Certainly. In an hour or two, I'm - "
"I would suggestnow, if that's possible."
"I'll be there."