The Sky Is Falling (2 page)

Mrs. Kostoff said tightly, “Indeed they are. It’s Kemal’s misfortune that I happen to be Serbian. These are words that Kemal has been using in school.” Her face was flushed. “Serbian truck drivers don’t talk like that, Miss Evans, and I won’t have such language coming from the mouth of this young boy. Kemal called me a
pizda
.”

Dana said, “A
pi
—?”

“I realize that Kemal is new to our country, and I’ve tried to make allowances, but his — his behavior is reprehensible. He’s constantly getting into fights, and when I reprimanded him this morning, he — he insulted me. That was too much.”

Dana said tactfully, “I’m sure you know how difficult it must be for him, Mrs. Kostoff, and—”

“As I told you before, I’m making allowances, but he’s trying my patience.”

“I understand.” Dana looked over at Kemal. He was still staring down, his face sullen.

“I do hope this will be the last incident,” Mrs. Kostoff said.

“So do I.” Dana rose.

“I have Kemal’s report card for you.” Mrs. Kostoff opened a drawer, took out a card, and handed it to Dana.

“Thank you,” Dana said.

On the way home, Kemal was silent.

“What am I going to do with you?” Dana asked. “Why are you always getting into fights, and why do you use words like that?”

“I didn’t know she spoke Serbian.”

When they reached Dana’s apartment, she said, “I’m going to have to go back to the studio, Kemal. Will you be all right here alone?”

“Word.”

The first time Kemal had said that to her, Dana had thought he had not understood her, but she quickly learned that it was part of the arcane idiom spoken by the young. “Word” meant “yes.” “Phat” described members of the opposite sex:
p
retty
h
ot
a
nd
t
empting. Everything was cool or sweet or tight or rad. If there was something they didn’t like, it sucked.

Dana took out the report card that Mrs. Kostoff had given her. As she studied it, her lips tightened. History, D. English, D. Science, D. Social Studies, F. Math, A.

Looking at the card, Dana thought,
Oh, Lord, what am I going to do
? “We’ll discuss this another time,” she said. “I’m late.”

Kemal was an enigma to Dana. When they were together, he behaved beautifully. He was loving and thoughtful and endearing. On weekends, Dana and Jeff turned Washington into a playground for him. They went to the National Zoo, with its spectacular array of wild animals, starring the exotic giant panda. They visited the National Air and Space Museum, where Kemal saw the first Wright brothers plane dangling from the ceiling, and then walked through Skylab and touched moon rocks. They went to the Kennedy Center and the Arena Stage. They introduced Kemal to pizza at Tom Tom, tacos at Mextec, and southern fried chicken at Georgia Brown’s. Kemal loved every moment of it. He adored being with Dana and Jeff.

But… when Dana had to leave to go to work, Kemal turned into another person. He became hostile and confrontational. It was impossible for Dana to hold on to a housekeeper, and sitters told horror stories about evenings with Kemal.

Jeff and Dana tried reasoning with him, but it had no effect.
Maybe he needs professional help
, Dana thought. She had no idea of the terrible fears that plagued Kemal.

The WTN evening news was on the air. Richard Melton, Dana’s personable co-anchor, and Jeff Connors were seated beside her.

Dana Evans was saying, “…and in foreign news, France and England are still locking horns over mad cow disease. Here is René Linaud reporting from Rheims.”

In the control booth, the director, Anastasia Mann, ordered, “Go to remote.”

A scene in the French countryside flashed on the television screens.

The studio door opened and a group of men came in and approached the anchor desk.

Everyone looked up. Tom Hawkins, the ambitious young producer of the evening news, said, “Dana, you know Gary Winthrop.”

“Of course.”

In person, Gary Winthrop was even more handsome than in photographs. He was in his forties, with bright blue eyes, a warm smile, and enormous charm.

“We meet again, Dana. Thanks for inviting me.”

“I appreciate your coming.”

Dana looked around. Half a dozen secretaries had suddenly found urgent reasons to be in the studio.
Gary Winthrop must be used to that
, Dana thought, amused.

“Your segment is coming up in a few minutes. Why don’t you sit here next to me? This is Richard Melton.” The two men shook hands. “You know Jeff Connors, don’t you?”

“You bet I do. You should be out there pitching, Jeff, instead of talking about the game.”

“I wish I could,” Jeff said ruefully.

The remote from France came to an end and they switched to a commercial. Gary Winthrop sat down and watched as the commercial ended.

From the control booth, Anastasia Mann said, “Stand by. We’re going to tape.” She silently counted off with her index finger. “Three… two… one…”

The scene on the monitor flashed to the exterior of the Georgetown Museum of Art. A commentator was holding a microphone in his hand, braving the cold wind.

“We’re standing in front of the Georgetown Museum of Art, where Mr. Gary Winthrop is inside at a ceremony marking his fifty - million - dollar gift to the museum. Let’s go inside now.”

The scene on the screen changed to the spacious interior of the art museum. Various city officials, dignitaries, and television crews were gathered around Gary Winthrop. The museum’s director, Morgan Ormond, was handing him a large plaque.

“Mr. Winthrop, on behalf of the museum, the many visitors who come here, and its trustees, we want to thank you for this most generous contribution.”

Camera lights flashed.

Gary Winthrop said, “I hope this will give young American painters a better chance not only to express themselves but to have their talents recognized around the world.”

There was applause from the group.

The announcer on tape was saying, “This is Bill Toland at the Georgetown Museum of Art. Back to the studio. Dana?”

The camera’s red light came on.

“Thank you, Bill. We’re fortunate enough to have Mr. Gary Winthrop with us to discuss the purpose of his enormous gift.”

The camera pulled back to a wider angle, revealing Gary Winthrop in the studio.

Dana said, “This fifty-million-dollar donation, Mr. Winthrop, will it be used to buy paintings for the museum?”

“No. It’s for a new wing that will be dedicated to young American artists who might not otherwise have a chance to show what they can do. A portion of the fund will be used for scholarships for gifted children in inner cities. Too many youngsters grow up without knowing anything about art. They may hear about the great French impressionists, but I want them to be aware of their own heritage, with American artists like Sargent, Homer, and Remington. This money will be used to encourage young artists to fulfill their talents and for all young people to take an interest in art.”

Dana said, “There’s a rumor that you’re planning to run for the Senate, Mr. Winthrop. Is there any truth to it?”

Gary Winthrop smiled. “I’m testing the waters.”

“They’re pretty inviting. In the straw polls we’ve seen, you’re way ahead.”

Gary Winthrop nodded. “My family has had a long record of government service. If I can be of any use to this country, I will do whatever I am called on to do.”

“Thank you for being with us, Mr. Winthrop.”

“Thank
you
.”

During the commercial break, Gary Winthrop said good-bye and left the studio.

Jeff Connors, sitting next to Dana, said, “We need more like him in Congress.”

“Amen.”

“Maybe we could clone him. By the way — how is Kemal?”

Dana winced. “Jeff — please don’t mention Kemal and cloning in the same breath. I can’t handle it.”

“Did the problem at school this morning work out?”

“Yes, but that was today. Tomorrow is—”

Anastasia Mann said, “We’re back. Three… two… one…”

The red light flashed on. Dana looked at the TelePrompTer. “It’s time for sports now with Jeff Connors.”

Jeff looked into the camera. “Merlin the Magician was missing from the Washington Bullets tonight. Juwan Howard tried his magic and Gheorghe Muresan and Rasheed Wallace helped stir up the brew, but it was bitter, and they had finally to swallow it along with their pride…”

At 2:00 A.M., in Gary Winthrop’s town house in the elite northwest section of Washington, two men were removing paintings from the walls of the drawing room. One man wore the mask of the Lone Ranger, the other the mask of Captain Midnight. They worked at a leisurely pace, cutting the pictures out of the frames and putting their loot into large burlap sacks.

The Lone Ranger asked, “What time does the patrol come by again?”

Captain Midnight replied, “Four A.M.”

“It’s nice of them to keep to a schedule for us, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Captain Midnight removed a painting from the wall and dropped it onto the oak floor with a loud noise. The two men stopped what they were doing and listened. Silence.

The Lone Ranger said, “Try it again. Louder.”

Captain Midnight took down another painting and threw it heavily against the floor. “Now let’s see what happens.”

In his bedroom upstairs, Gary Winthrop was awakened by the noise. He sat up in bed. Had he heard a sound, or had he dreamed it? He listened a moment longer. Silence. Unsure, he rose and stepped out into the hallway and pressed the light switch. The hallway remained dark.

“Hello. Is anyone down there?” There was no answer. Downstairs, he walked along the corridor until he reached the door of the drawing room. He stopped and stared in disbelief at the two masked men.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The Lone Ranger turned to him and said, “Hi, Gary. Sorry we woke you up. Go back to sleep.” A Beretta with a silencer appeared in his hand. He pulled the trigger twice and watched Gary Winthrop’s chest explode into a red shower. The Lone Ranger and Captain Midnight watched him fall to the floor. Satisfied, they turned and continued to remove the paintings.

DANA EVANS 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.”