The Sky Is Falling (22 page)

Dear Dana, have a safe trip. The Gang.

Furious, Dana ripped out the wire, threw it to the ground, and crushed it with her heel.

In an isolated laboratory room, the signal marker on a map suddenly disappeared.

“Oh, shit!”

“Dana?”

She turned. WTN’s Moscow correspondent stood there.

“I’m Tim Drew. Sorry I’m late. The traffic out there is a nightmare.”

Tim Drew was in his forties, a tall, red-haired man with a warm smile. “I have a car waiting outside. Matt tells me that you’re here for just a couple of days.”

“That’s right.”

They picked up Dana’s luggage at the carousel and headed outside.

The drive into Moscow was like a scene from
Doctor Zhivago
. It seemed to Dana that the entire city was wrapped in a mantle of pure white snow.

“This is so beautiful!” Dana exclaimed. “How long have you been here?”

“Two years.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s a little scary. Yeltsin is always two rolls short of a baker’s dozen, and no one knows what to expect from Vladimir Putin. The inmates are running the asylum.” He slammed to a stop to let some jaywalkers pass. “You’re booked at the Sevastopol Hotel.”

“Yes. How is it?”

“It’s one of your typical Intourist hotels. You can be sure there will be someone on your floor to keep an eye on you.”

The streets were crowded with people bundled up in furs and heavy sweaters and overcoats. Tim Drew glanced over at Dana. “You’d better get some warmer clothes or you’re going to freeze.”

“I’ll be fine. I should be on my way home tomorrow or the next day.”

Ahead of them was Red Square and the Kremlin. The Kremlin itself stood high on a hill that towered over the left bank of the Moskva River.

“My God, that’s impressive,” Dana said.

“Yeah. If those walls could talk, you’d hear a lot of screaming.” Tim Drew went on: “It’s one of the most famous buildings in the world. It sits on a plot of land covering Little Borovitsky Hill on the north bank and…”

Dana had stopped listening. She was thinking,
What if Antonio Persico lied? What if he made up the story about Taylor Winthrop killing the boy? And lied about the Russian plan
.

“That’s Red Square outside the east wall. The Kutafya Tower there is the visitors’ entrance at the west wall.”

But then why was Taylor Winthrop so desperate to come to Russia? Simply being ambassador would not have meant that much to him.

Tim Drew was saying, “This is where all the Russian power has been for centuries. Ivan the Terrible and Stalin had their headquarters here, and Lenin and Khrushchev.”

All the pieces fell into place. I have to find out what he meant by that.

They had pulled up in front of an enormous hotel. “Here we are,” Tim Drew said.

“Thanks, Tim.” Dana got out of the car and was hit by a solid wave of freezing air.

“You go on inside,” Tim called. “I’ll bring your bags in. By the way, if you’re free this evening, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“Thank you very much.”

“There’s a private club that has good food. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Lovely.”

The lobby of the Sevastopol Hotel was large and ornate, and filled with people. There were several clerks working behind the reception desk. Dana walked up to one of them.

He looked up. “
Da
?”

“I’m Dana Evans. I have a reservation.”

The man looked at her a moment and said nervously, “Ah, yes. Miss Evans.” He handed her a reservation card. “Would you fill this out, please? And I’ll need your passport.”

As Dana began to write, the clerk looked across the lobby at a man standing in the corner and nodded. Dana handed the registration card to the clerk.

“I’ll have someone take you to your room.”

“Thank you.”

The room had a vague air of onetime gentility, and the furniture looked worn and shabby and smelled musty.

A heavyset woman in a shapeless uniform brought in Dana’s bags. Dana tipped her, and the woman grunted and left. Dana picked up the telephone and called 252-2451.

“American Embassy.”

“Ambassador Hardy’s office, please.”

“One moment.”

“Ambassador Hardy’s office.”

“Hello. This is Dana Evans. May I speak to the ambassador?”

“Could you tell me what it’s concerning?”

“It’s — it’s personal.”

“Just a moment, please.”

Thirty seconds later Ambassador Hardy was on the phone. “Miss Evans?”

“Yes.”

“Welcome to Moscow.”

“Thank you.”

“Roger Hudson called to say you were coming. What can I do for you?”

“I wonder if I could come and see you?”

“Certainly. I’m — hold on a moment.” There was a brief pause, and the ambassador came back on the line. “What about tomorrow morning? Ten o’clock?”

“That will be fine. Thank you very much.”

“Until then.”

Dana looked out the window at the crowds hurrying through the bitter cold and thought,
Tim was right. I had better buy some warmer clothes
.

GUM Department Store was not far from Dana’s hotel. It was an enormous emporium, stocked with cheap goods that ranged from clothing to hardware.

Dana walked over to the women’s section, where there were racks of heavy coats. She selected a woolen red one and a red scarf to match. It was twenty minutes before she could find a clerk to handle the transaction.

When Dana returned to her room, her cell phone was ringing. It was Jeff.

“Hello, darling. I tried to call you on New Year’s Eve, but you didn’t answer your cell phone, and I didn’t know where to reach you.”

“I’m sorry, Jeff.”
So he didn’t forget! Bless him
.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in Moscow.”

“Is everything all right, honey?”

“Wonderful. Jeff, tell me about Rachel.”

“It’s too soon to say. They’re going to try a new therapy on her tomorrow. It’s still very experimental. We’ll have the result in a few days.”

“I hope it works,” Dana said.

“Is it cold there?”

Dana laughed. “You wouldn’t believe it. I’m a human icicle.”

“I wish I were there to melt you.”

They spoke for another five minutes, and Dana could hear Rachel’s voice calling Jeff.

Jeff said on the phone, “I have to go, darling. Rachel needs me.”

I need you too
, Dana thought. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

The American Embassy at 19-23 Novinsky Bul’var was an ancient, run-down building, with Russian guards standing in sentry booths outside. A long queue of people waited patiently. Dana passed the line and gave her name to a guard. He looked at a roster and waved her in.

Inside the lobby, an American marine stood in a bulletproof glass security booth. An American female guard in uniform checked the contents of Dana’s purse.

“Okay.”

“Thank you.” Dana walked to the desk. “Dana Evans.”

A man standing near the desk said, “The ambassador is expecting you, Miss Evans. Come with me, please.”

Dana followed him up some marble stairs into a reception office at the end of a long hallway. As Dana entered, an attractive woman in her early forties smiled and said, “Miss Evans, this is a pleasure. I’m Lee Hopkins, the ambassador’s secretary. You may go right in.”

Dana walked into the inner office. Ambassador Edward Hardy rose as she approached his desk.

“Good morning, Miss Evans.”

“Good morning,” Dana said. “Thank you for seeing me.”

The ambassador was a tall, florid-looking man with the hearty manner of a politician.

“I’m delighted to meet you. Can I get you anything?”

“No thanks, I’m fine.”

“Please have a seat.”

Dana sat down.

“I was delighted when Roger Hudson told me to expect your visit. You’ve come at an interesting time.”

“Oh?”

“I hate to say this, but between you and me, I’m afraid this country is in free fall.” He sighed. “To be perfectly frank, I have no idea what’s going to happen here next, Miss Evans. This is a country with eight hundred years of history, and we’re watching it go down the drain. The criminals are running the country.”

Dana looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

The ambassador leaned back in his chair. “The law here says that no member of the Duma — that’s the lower parliament — can be prosecuted for any crime. The result is that the Duma is filled with men who are wanted for all kinds of felonies — gangsters who have served time in prison, and criminals who are in the process of committing crimes. None of them can be touched.”

“That’s incredible,” Dana said.

“Yes. The Russian people are wonderful, but their government…. Well, what can I do for you, MissEvans?”

“I wanted to ask you about Taylor Winthrop. I’m doing a story about the family.”

Ambassador Hardy shook his head in sorrow. “It’s like a Greek tragedy, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”
That phrase again
.

Ambassador Hardy looked at Dana curiously. “The world has heard that story over and over. I wouldn’t think there’s much more to say about it.”

Dana said carefully, “I want to tell it from a personal angle. I want to know what Taylor Winthrop was really like, what kind of man he was, who his friends were here, if he had any enemies…”

“Enemies?” He looked surprised. “No. Everyone loved Taylor. He was probably the best ambassador we ever had here.”

“Did you work with him?”

“Yes. I was his deputy chief of mission for a year.”

“Ambassador Hardy, do you know if Taylor Winthrop was working on anything where —” She stopped, not sure how to phrase it. “— all the pieces had to come together?”

Ambassador Hardy frowned. “You mean some kind of business deal or government deal?”

“I’m not sure what I mean,” Dana confessed.

Ambassador Hardy thought for a moment. “I’m not, either. No, I have no idea what that could be.”

Dana said, “Some of the people who are working here in the embassy now — did they work with him?”

“Oh, yes. As a matter of fact, my secretary, Lee, was Taylor’s secretary.”

“Would you mind if I talked to her?”

“Not at all. In fact, I’ll give you a list of some of the people here who might be helpful.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

He rose. “Be careful while you’re here, Miss Evans. There’s a lot of crime on the streets.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Don’t drink the tap water. Not even the Russians drink it. Oh, and when you eat out, always specify
chisti stol
— that means a clean table — or you’ll find your table loaded with expensive appetizers that you don’t want. If you’re going shopping, the Arbat is the best place. The shops there have everything. And be careful of the taxis here. Take the older, shabbier ones. The con artists mostly drive new ones.”

“Thank you.” Dana smiled. “I’ll remember.”

Five minutes later Dana was speaking to Lee Hopkins, the ambassador’s secretary. They were in a small room alone with the door closed.

“How long did you work for Ambassador Winthrop?”

“Eighteen months. What is it you want to know?”

“Did Ambassador Winthrop make any enemies when he was here?”

Lee Hopkins looked at Dana in surprise. “Enemies?”

“Yes. In a job like this, I imagine that sometimes you have to say no to people who might resent it. I’m sure that Ambassador Winthrop couldn’t please everybody.”

Lee Hopkins shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re after, Miss Evans, but if you’re intending to write bad things about Taylor Winthrop, you’ve come to the wrong person for help. He was the kindest, most considerate man I’ve ever known.”

Here we go again
, Dana thought.

In the next two hours, Dana talked to five more people who had worked at the embassy during Taylor Winthrop’s term.

He was a brilliant man…

He really liked people…

He went out of his way to help us…

Enemies? Not Taylor Winthrop…

I’m wasting my time
, Dana thought. She went to see Ambassador Hardy again.

“Did you get what you wanted?” he asked. He seemed less friendly.

Dana hesitated. “Not exactly,” she said honestly.

He leaned forward. “And I don’t think you will, Miss Evans. Not if you’re looking for negative things about Taylor Winthrop. You have everyone upset around here. They loved the man. So did I. Don’t try to dig up skeletons that don’t exist. If that’s all you came here for, you can leave.”

“Thank you,” Dana said. “I will.”

Dana had no intention of leaving.

The VIP National Club, directly opposite the Kremlin and Manezh Square, was a private restaurant and casino. Tim Drew was waiting there for Dana when she arrived.

“Welcome,” he said. “I think you’ll enjoy this. This place entertains the cream of Moscow’s high-society movers and shakers. If a bomb fell on this restaurant, I think the government would be out of business.”

The dinner was delicious. They started with blini and caviar and followed that with borscht, Georgian sturgeon with a walnut sauce, beef stroganoff and
s’loukom
rice, and
vatrushki
cheese tartlets for dessert.

“This is wonderful,” Dana said. “I had heard that the food in Russia was terrible.”

“It is,” Tim Drew assured her. “This isn’t Russia. This is a special little oasis.”

“What is it like living here?” Dana asked.

Tim Drew was thoughtful for a moment. “It’s like standing near a volcano, waiting for it to erupt. You never know when it’s going to happen. The men in power are stealing billions from the country and the people are starving. That’s what started the last revolution. God knows what’s going to happen now. To be fair, that’s only one side of the story. The culture here is incredible. They have the Bolshoi Theater, the great Hermitage, the Pushkin Museum, the Russian ballet, the Moscow Circus — the list goes on and on. Russia produces more books than the rest of the world combined, and the average Russian reads three times as many books a year as the average United States citizen.”