Sidney Sheldon (21 page)

“Take them back,” Tanner said softly. “Where she’s going, they won’t be needed.”

He turned and walked back into his office. “Andrew, do you have any idea why they accessed our Web site? Well, I’ll tell you. They’re going to try to track down the victims and look for the motives behind
their deaths.” Tanner sat down. “To do that, they would have to go to Europe. Only they’re not going to get there.”

Andrew said sleepily, “No…”

“How are we going to stop them, Andrew?”

Andrew nodded. “Stop them…”

Tanner looked at his brother and said contemptuously, “I wish there was someone with a brain that I could talk to.”

Andrew watched as Tanner walked over to a computer and sat at the keyboard. “We’re going to start by wiping out all their assets. We have their Social Security numbers.” He kept typing as he talked. “Diane Stevens…,” he mused as he used the back-door software KIG installed when they were hired to make Experian’s systems Y2K-compliant. This back-door software gave Tanner access that not even the highest of Experian management could have.

“Look. Experian has all her bank account information, an IRA retirement account, her line of credit at the bank. See?”

Andrew swallowed. “Yes, Tanner. Yes.”

Tanner turned back to the computer. “We’ll enter her credit cards as stolen…. Now we’re going to do the same with Kelly Harris…. Our next step is going to Diane’s bank’s Web site.” He accessed the bank’s Web site and then clicked onto a link that said “Manage Your Accounts.”

Next, Tanner entered Diane Stevens’s account number and the last four digits of her Social Security number and was granted access. Once inside, he transferred all her balances to the line of credit, then returned to Experian’s credit data base and canceled her line of credit under “In Collection.”

“Andrew—”

“Yes, Tanner?”

“Do you see what I’ve done? I’ve transferred all of Diane Stevens’s assets as debts to be collected by their collection department.”
His tone filled with self-satisfaction. “Now we’ll do the same thing for Kelly Harris.”

When Tanner was through, he got up and walked over to Andrew. “It’s done. They have no money and no credit. There’s no way they can get out of the country. We have them trapped. What do you think of your kid brother?”

Andrew nodded. “On television last night, I saw a movie about a—”

Furious, Tanner clenched his fist and slammed it into his brother’s face so hard that Andrew fell out of the chair and crashed into a wall, making a loud racket. “You son of a bitch! Listen to me when I’m talking to you.”

The door flew open and Tanner’s secretary, Kathy Ordonez, rushed in. “Is everything all right, Mr. Kingsley?”

Tanner turned to her. “Yes. Poor Andrew fell down.”

“Oh, dear.”

The two of them lifted Andrew to his feet.

“Did I fall down?”

Tanner said gently, “Yes, Andrew, but you’re all right now.”

Kathy Ordonez whispered, “Mr. Kingsley, don’t you think your brother might be better off in a home?”

“Of course he would,” Tanner answered. “But it would break his heart. This is his real home, and I can take care of him here.”

Kathy Ordonez looked at Tanner admiringly. “You’re a wonderful man, Mr. Kingsley.”

He shrugged modestly. “We all have to do what we can.”

T
EN MINUTES LATER
,
Tanner’s secretary was back.

“Good news, Mr. Kingsley. This fax just came in from Senator Van Luven’s office.”

“Let me see it.” Tanner snatched it from her hand.

D
O YOU HAVE
a passport?” Diane asked.

“I always carry it with me in a strange country.” And Kelly added, “And lately this has become one hell of a strange country.”

Diane nodded. “My passport is in a bank vault. I’ll get it. And we’ll need some money.”

W
HEN THEY ENTERED
the bank, Diane went downstairs to the vault and opened her safety-deposit box. She removed her passport, put it in her purse, and walked back upstairs to a teller’s desk.

“I would like to close my account.”

“Certainly. Your name, please?”

“Diane Stevens.”

The teller nodded. “Just a moment, please.” He walked back to a row of filing cabinets, opened a drawer, and started riffling through the cards. He pulled one out, looked at it a moment, then walked
back to Diane. “Your account has already been closed out, Mrs. Stevens.”

Diane shook her head. “No. There must be some mistake. I have—”

The teller put the card in front of Diane. It read “Account closed. Reason: Deceased.”

Diane stared at it unbelievingly, then looked up at the teller. “Do I look like I’m deceased?”

“Of course not. I’m sorry. If you’d like me to call the manager, I can—”

“No!” She suddenly realized what had happened and felt a small shiver. “No, thanks.”

Diane hurried over to the entrance, where Kelly was waiting.

“Did you get the passport and money?”

“I got the passport. The bastards closed my bank account.”

“How could they—?”

“It’s very simple. They’re KIG and we’re not.” Diane was thoughtful for a moment. “Oh, my God.”

“What now?”

“I have to make a quick phone call.” Diane hurried over to a telephone cubicle, dialed a number, and pulled out a credit card. A few moments later, she was speaking to a clerk. “The account is under the name of Diane Stevens. It’s a valid—”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Stevens. Our records show that your card has been reported stolen. If you want to make out a report, we can issue a new card to you in a day or two and—”

Diane said, “Never mind.” She slammed down the receiver and walked back to Kelly. “They’ve canceled my credit cards.”

Kelly took a deep breath. “Now I’d better make a call or two.”

Kelly was on the telephone for almost half an hour. When she came back to Diane, she was furious. “The octopus strikes again. But I still have a bank account in Paris, so I can—”

“We don’t have time for that, Kelly. We have to get out of here now. How much money do you have with you?”

“Enough to get us back to Brooklyn. What about you?”

“I could get us to New Jersey.”

“Then we’re trapped. You know why they’re doing this, don’t you? To keep us from going to Europe and finding out the truth.”

“It looks like they’ve succeeded.”

Kelly said thoughtfully, “No, they haven’t. We’re going.”

Diane said skeptically, “How? My spaceship?”

“Mine.”

J
OSEPH BERRY, THE
manager of the Fifth Avenue jewelry store, watched Kelly and Diane approach and gave them his best professional smile. “May I help you?”

Kelly said, “Yes. I’d like to sell my ring. It—”

His smile faded. “I’m sorry. We don’t buy jewelry.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.”

Joseph Berry started to turn away. Kelly opened her hand. In it was a large emerald ring. “This is a seven-carat emerald surrounded by three carats of diamonds, set in platinum.”

Joseph Berry stared at the ring, impressed. He picked up a jeweler’s loupe and put it to his eye. “It’s really beautiful, but we have a firm rule here that—”

“I want twenty thousand dollars for it.”

“Did you say twenty thousand dollars?”

“Yes, in cash.”

Diane was staring at her. “Kelly—”

Berry looked at the ring again and nodded. “I—er—think we can arrange that. Just a moment.” He disappeared into the back office.

Diane said, “Are you crazy? You’re being
robbed
!”

“Am I? If we stay here, we’ll be killed. Tell me how much our lives are worth.”

Diane had no answer.

Joseph Berry came out of the back office, smiling. “I’ll have someone go across the street to the bank and get the cash for you right away.”

Diane turned to Kelly. “I wish you wouldn’t do this.”

Kelly shrugged. “It’s only a piece of jewelry….” She closed her eyes.

I
T’S ONLY A
piece of jewelry….

It was her birthday. The phone rang.

“Good morning, darling.” It was Mark.

“Good morning.”

She waited for him to say “Happy birthday.”

Instead he said, “You’re not working today. Do you like hiking?”

That was not what Kelly had expected to hear. She felt a sharp sense of disappointment. They had talked about birthdays a week earlier. Mark had forgotten.

“Yes.”

“How would you like to go for a hike this morning?”

“All right.”

“I’ll pick you up in half an hour.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“W
HERE ARE WE
going?” Kelly asked, when they were in the car.

They were both dressed in hiking outfits.

“There are some wonderful trails outside of Fontainebleau.”

“Oh? Do you go there often?”

“I used to go there when I wanted to escape.”

Kelly looked at him, puzzled. “Escape from what?”

He hesitated. “Loneliness. I felt less lonely there.” He glanced at Kelly and smiled. “I haven’t been there since I met you.”

F
ONTAINEBLEAU IS A
magnificent royal palace, surrounded by sylvan forests, located southeast of Paris.

As the beautiful, regal estate loomed up in the distance, Mark said, “A lot of kings named Louis have lived here, starting with Louis IV.”

“Oh, really?” Kelly looked at him and thought,
I wonder if they had birthday cards in those days. I wish he had given me a birthday card. I’m acting like a schoolgirl.

They had reached the palace grounds. Mark pulled into one of the parking lots.

As they got out of the car and headed for the woods, Mark said, “Can you handle a mile?”

Kelly laughed. “I handle more than that every day on the runway.”

Mark took her hand. “Good. Let’s go.”

“I’m with you.”

They passed a series of majestic buildings and started into the woodland. They were completely alone, wrapped in a greenery of ancient fields and storied old trees. It was a sun-kissed summer day filled with itself. The wind was warm and caressing, and there was a cloudless sky above.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” Mark asked.

“It’s lovely, Mark.”

“I’m glad you were free.”

Kelly remembered something. “Aren’t you supposed to be working today?”

“I decided to take the day off.”

“Oh.”

They were walking deeper and deeper into the mysterious forest.

After fifteen minutes, Kelly asked, “How far do you want to go?”

“There’s a spot up ahead that I like. We’re almost there.”

A few minutes later, they emerged into a glade with an enormous oak tree in the center.

“Here we are,” Mark said.

“It’s so peaceful.”

There seemed to be something lightly carved on the tree. Kelly went up to it. It read
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KELLY
.

She stared at Mark a moment, speechless. “Oh, Mark, darling. Thank you.”

So he had not forgotten.

“I think there might be something in the tree.”

“In the tree?” Kelly moved closer to it. There was a hollow place at eye level. She put her hand inside and felt a small package, and pulled it out. It was a gift box. “What—?”

“Open it.”

Kelly opened it and her eyes widened. In the box was a seven-carat emerald ring, surrounded by three carats of diamonds, set in platinum. Kelly stared at it, unbelievingly. She turned and threw her arms around Mark. “This is much too generous.”

“I would give you the moon if you asked for it. Kelly, I’m in love with you.”

She held him close, lost in a euphoria she had never known. And then she said something that she thought she would never, ever say. “I’m in love with you, darling.”

He was beaming. “Let’s get married right away. We—”

“No.” It was like a whiplash.

Mark was looking at her in surprise. “Why?”

“We can’t.”

“Kelly—don’t you believe that I’m in love with you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you in love with me?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t want to marry me?”

“I do want to—but I—I can’t.”

“I don’t understand. What is it?”

He was studying her, confused. And Kelly knew that the moment she told Mark about the traumatic experience she had had, he would never want to see her again. “I—I could never be a real wife to you.”

“What do you mean?”

This was the most difficult thing Kelly had ever had to say. “Mark, we could never have sex together. When I was eight years old, I was raped.” She was looking out at the uncaring trees, telling her sordid story to the first man she had ever loved. “I’m not interested in sex. I’m disgusted by the idea of it. It frightens me. I’m—I’m half a woman. I’m a freak.” She was breathing hard, trying not to cry.

Kelly felt Mark’s hand on hers. “I’m so sorry, Kelly. That must have been devastating.”

Kelly was silent.

“Sex is very important in a marriage,” Mark said.

Kelly nodded, biting her lip. She knew what he was going to say next. “Of course. So I understand why you wouldn’t want to—”

“But that’s not what marriage is about. Marriage is about spending your life with someone you love—having someone to talk to, someone to share all the good times and the bad times.”

She was listening, stunned, afraid to believe what she was hearing.

“Sex finally goes away, Kelly, but real love doesn’t. I love you for your heart and your soul. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I can do without the sex.”

Kelly tried to keep her voice steady. “No, Mark—I can’t let you.”

“Why?”

“Because one day you would regret it. You’d fall in love with someone else who could give you…what I can’t, and you would leave me…and that would break my heart.”

Mark reached out and took Kelly in his arms and held her close. “Do you know why I could never leave you? Because you’re the best part of me. We’re getting married.”

Kelly looked into his eyes. “Mark—do you realize what you’re getting into?”

Mark smiled and said, “I think you might rephrase that.”

Kelly laughed and hugged him. “Oh, baby, are you sure you—?”

He was beaming. “I’m sure. What do you say?”

She felt the tears on her cheeks. “I say…yes.”

Mark slipped the emerald ring on her finger. They held each other for a long time.

Kelly said, “I want you to take me to the salon tomorrow morning and meet some of the models I work with.”

“I thought there was a rule against—”

“The rules have been changed.”

Mark was beaming. “I’ll arrange for a judge I know to marry us Sunday.”

T
HE NEXT MORNING
,
when Kelly and Mark arrived at the salon, Kelly pointed up to the sky. “It looks like it’s going to rain. Everyone talks about the weather, but no one does anything about it.”

Mark turned and gave her a strange look.

Kelly saw the expression on Mark’s face. “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s a cliché, isn’t it?”

Mark did not answer.

T
HERE WERE HALF
a dozen models in the dressing room when Kelly walked in.

“I have an announcement to make. I’m getting married Sunday, and you’re all invited.”

The room was instantly filled with chatter.

“Is this the mysterious beau you wouldn’t let us meet?”

“Do we know him?”

“What does he look like?”

Kelly said proudly, “Like a young Cary Grant.”

“Ooh! When can we meet him?”

“Now. He’s here.” Kelly opened the door wide. “Come in, darling.”

Mark stepped into the room, and the room became instantly quiet. One of the models looked at Mark and said under her breath, “Is this some kind of joke?”

“It must be.”

Mark Harris was a foot shorter than Kelly, a plain, ordinary-looking man, with a thinning mop of gray hair.

When the first shock was over, the models stepped up to congratulate the soon-to-be bride and groom.

“That’s wonderful news.”

“We’re thrilled for you.”

“I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

When the congratulations were over, Kelly and Mark left. As they were walking down the hall, Mark asked, “Do you think they liked me?”

Kelly smiled. “Of course they did. How could anyone not like you?” She stopped. “Oh!”

“What is it?”

“I’m on the cover of a fashion magazine that just came in. I want you to see it. Be right back.”

Kelly started toward the models’ dressing room. As she reached the door, she heard a voice say, “Is Kelly really marrying him?”