The Sky Is Falling

WHENDANA AWAKENED, she telephoned Tim Drew.



"Have you heard any more from Ambassador Hardy?" he asked.



"No. I think I offended him. Tim, I need to talk to you."



"All right. Grab a cab and meet me at the Boyrsky Club at one-fourth Treatrilny Proyez Street."



"Where? I'll never - "



"The cabbie will know. Take one that's beat-up."



"Right."



Dana stepped outside the hotel into a freezing, screaming wind. She was glad she was wearing her new red woolen coat. A sign on a building across the street informed her it was -29 degrees Centigrade. My God, she thought. In Fahrenheit, that's about 20 below zero.



There was a shiny new taxi in front of the hotel. Dana stepped back and waited until a passenger got into it. The next taxi looked old. Dana took it. The driver looked at her inquiringly in the rearview mirror.



Dana said carefully, "I want to go to one-quarter Teat - " She hesitated. " - rilny - " She took a deep breath. " - Proyez - "



The driver said impatiently, "You want the Boyrsky Club?"



"Da."



They took off. They drove along avenues heavy with motor traffic and forlorn pedestrians hurrying along the frozen streets. The city seemed overlaid with a dull, gray patina. And it isn't just the weather, Dana thought.



The Boyrsky Club turned out to be modern and comfortable, with leather chairs and couches. Tim Drew was in a chair near the window waiting for her.



"I see you found it all right."



Dana took a seat. "The cabdriver spoke English."



"You're lucky. Some of them don't even speak Russian, they come from so many different distant provinces. It's amazing that this country can function at all. It reminds me of a dying dinosaur. Do you know how big Russia is?"



"Not exactly."



"It's almost twice as big as the United States. It has thirteen time zones and borders on fourteen countries. Fourteen countries. "



"That's amazing," Dana said. "Tim, I want to talk to some Russians who had dealings with Taylor Winthrop."



"That includes about everybody in the Russian government."



Dana said, "I know. But there must have been some Russians he was closer to than others. The president - "



"Perhaps someone a little lower in rank," Tim Drew said dryly. "I would say that of all the people he dealt with, he was probably closest to Sasha Shdanoff."



"Who is Sasha Shdanoff?"



"He's the commissar of the Bureau for International Economic Development. I believe Winthrop saw him socially as well as officially." He looked at Dana closely. "What are you after, Dana?"



"I'm not sure," she said honestly. "I'm not sure."



The Bureau for International Economic Development was an enormous redbrick building on Ozernaya Street, taking up a full block. Inside the main entrance, two uniformed Russian policemen stood by the door, and a third uniformed guard sat behind a desk.



Dana walked up to the desk. The guard looked up.



"Dobry dyen,"Dana said.



"Zdrastvuytye. Ne - "



Dana stopped him. "Excuse me. I'm here to see Commissar Shdanoff. I'm Dana Evans. I'm with the Washington Tribune Network."



The guard looked at a sheet in front of him and shook his head. "Do you have an appointment?"



"No, but - "



"Then you will have to make an appointment. You are an American?"



"Yes."



The guard searched through some forms on his desk and handed one to Dana. "You will fill this out, please."



"Right," Dana said. "Would it be possible to see the commissar this afternoon?"



He blinked. "Ya ne ponimayu. You Americans are always in a hurry. What hotel are you at?"



"The Sevastopol. I just need a few min - "



He made a note. "Someone will inform you. Dobry dyen. "



"But - " She saw his expression. "Dobry dyen."



Dana stayed in her room all afternoon waiting for a phone call. At six o'clock, she telephoned Tim Drew.



"Did you get to see Shdanoff?" he asked.



"No. They're going to call me back."



"Don't hold your breath, Dana. You're dealing with a bureaucracy from another planet."



Early the following morning, Dana went back to the Bureau for International Economic Development. The same guard was at the desk.



"Dobry dyen,"Dana said.



He looked up at her, stone-faced. "Dobry dyen."



"Did Commissar Shdanoff get my message yesterday?"



"Your name?"



"Dana Evans."



"You left a message yesterday?"



"Yes," she said tonelessly, "with you."



The guard nodded. "Then he received it. All messages are received."



"May I talk to Commissar Shdanoff's secretary?"



"Do you have an appointment?"



Dana took a deep breath. "No."



The guard shrugged. "Izvinitye, nyet."



"When can I - ?"



"Somebody will call you."



On her way back to the hotel, Dana passed Detsky Mir, a children's department store, and she went inside and looked around. There was a section devoted to games. In one corner was a shelf of computer games. Kemal will like one of those, Dana thought. She bought a game and was surprised at how expensive it was. She headed back to the hotel to wait for the phone call. At six o'clock she gave up hope. She was about to go downstairs to dinner when the phone rang. Dana hurried over to it and picked it up.



"Dana?" It was Tim Drew.



"Yes, Tim."



"Any luck yet?"



"I'm afraid not."



"Well, while you're in Moscow, you shouldn't miss what's great here. The ballet is on tonight. They're doingGiselle. Are you interested?"



"Very much, thank you."



"I'll pick you up in an hour."



The ballet was held at the six-thousand-seat Palace of Congresses inside the Kremlin. It was a magical evening. The music was wonderful, the dancing was fantastic, and the first act flew by swiftly.



As the lights came on for the intermission, Tim got to his feet. "Follow me. Quick."



A stampede was starting up the stairs.



"What's going on?"



"You'll see."



When they arrived at the top floor, they were greeted by the sight of half a dozen serving tables laden with bowls of caviar and bottles of vodka on ice. The theatergoers who had arrived upstairs first were busily helping themselves.



Dana turned to Tim. "They really know how to put on a show here."



Tim said, "This is how the upper class lives. Remember that thirty percent of the people live below the poverty line."



Dana and Tim moved toward the windows, away from the crowd.



The lights started to flash. "Time for the second act."



The second act was enchanting, but Dana's mind kept flashing back to snatches of conversations.



Taylor Winthrop wasscheisse. He was clever, very clever. He framed me...



It was an unfortunate accident. Gabriel was a wonderful boy...



Taylor Winthrop wiped out the Mancino family's future...



When the ballet ended, and they were in the car, Tim Drew said, "Would you like to have a nightcap at my apartment?"



Dana turned to look at him. He was attractive, intelligent, and charming. But he was not Jeff. What came out was "Thank you, Tim. But no."



"Oh." His disappointment was obvious. "Maybe tomorrow?"



"I'd love to, but I have to be ready early in the morning."And I'm madly in love with someone else.



Early the next morning Dana was at the Bureau for International Economic Development again. The same guard was behind the desk.



"Dobry dyen."



"Dobry dyen."



"I'm Dana Evans. If I can't see the commissar, can I see his assistant?"



"Do you have an appointment?"



"No. I - "



He handed Dana a sheet of paper. "You will fill this out..."



When Dana returned to her room, her cell phone was ringing, and Dana's heart skipped a beat.



"Dana..."



"Jeff!"



There was so much they wanted to say. But Rachel stood between them like a ghostly shadow, and they could not discuss what was uppermost in their minds: Rachel's illness. The conversation was guarded.



The call from Commissar Shdanoff's office came unexpectedly at eight o'clock the following morning. A heavily accented voice said, "Dana Evans?"



"Yes."



"This is Yerik Karbava, the assistant to Commissar Shdanoff. You wish to see the commissar?"



"Yes!" She half expected him to say, "Do you have an appointment?" Instead he said, "Be at the Bureau for Economic Development in exactly one hour."



"Right. Thank you very - " The line went dead.



One hour later Dana was entering the lobby of the huge brick building again. She walked up to the same guard seated behind the desk.



He looked up. "Dobry dyen?"



She forced a smile. "Dobry dyen. I'm Dana Evans, and I'm here to see Commissar Shdanoff."



He shrugged. "I'm sorry. Without an appointment - "



Dana held on to her temper. "I have an appointment."



He looked at her skeptically. "Da?" He picked up a telephone and spoke into it for a few moments. He turned to Dana. "Third floor," he said reluctantly. "Someone will meet you."



Commissar Shdanoff's office was huge and shabby and looked as though it had been furnished in the early 1920s. There were two men in the office.



As Dana entered, they both stood up. The older man said, "I am Commissar Shdanoff."



Sasha Shdanoff appeared to be in his fifties. He was short and compact, with wispy gray hair, a pale, round face, and restless brown eyes that constantly darted around the room as though searching for something. He had a heavy accent. He was wearing a shapeless brown suit and scuffed black shoes. He indicated the second man.



"This is my brother, Boris Shdanoff."



Boris Shdanoff smiled. "How do you do, Miss Evans?"



Boris Shdanoff looked totally unlike his brother. He appeared to be about ten years younger. He had an aquiline nose and a firm chin. He was dressed in a light blue Armani suit with a gray HermȨs tie. He had almost no accent at all.



Sasha Shdanoff said proudly, "Boris is visiting from America. He is attached to the Russian embassy in your capital, Washington, D. C."



"I've admired your work, Miss Evans," Boris Shdanoff said.



"Thank you."



"What can I do for you?" Sasha Shdanoff asked. "Do you have a problem of some kind?"



"No, not at all," Dana said. "I wanted to ask you about Taylor Winthrop."



He looked at her, puzzled. "What is it you wish to know about Taylor Winthrop?"



"I understand that you worked with him, and that you saw him socially, on occasion."



Sasha Shdanoff said cautiously, "Da."



"I wanted to get your personal opinion of him."



"What is there to say? I think he was a fine ambassador for your country."



"I understand he was very popular here and - "



Boris Shdanoff interrupted. "Oh, yes. The embassies in Moscow have many parties, and Taylor Winthrop was always - "



Sasha Shdanoff scowled at his brother. "Dovolno!" He turned back to Dana. "Ambassador Winthrop sometimes went to the embassy parties. He liked people. The Russian people liked him."



Boris Shdanoff spoke up again. "As a matter of fact, he told me that if he could - "



Sasha Shdanoff snapped, "Molchat!" He turned. "As I said, Miss Evans, he was a fine ambassador."



Dana looked at Boris Shdanoff. He was obviously trying to tell her something. She turned back to the commissar. "Did Ambassador Winthrop ever get in any kind of trouble while he was here?"



Sasha Shdanoff frowned. "Trouble? No." He was avoiding her eyes.



He's lying, Dana thought. She pressed on. "Commissar, can you think of any reason why someone would murder Taylor Winthrop and his family?"



Sasha Shdanoff's eyes widened. "Murder? The Winthrops? Nyet. Nyet. "



"You can't think of anything at all?"



Boris Shdanoff said, "As a matter of fact - "



Sasha Shdanoff cut him off. "There was no reason. He was a great ambassador." He took a cigarette from a silver case, and Boris hurried to light it for him.



"Was there anything else you want to know?" Sasha Shdanoff asked.



Dana looked at the two of them. They're hiding something, she thought, but what? This whole thing is like walking through a maze with no exit. "No." She glanced at Boris as she said slowly, "If you think of anything, I'll be at the Sevastopol Hotel until tomorrow morning."



Boris Shdanoff said, "You are going back home?"



"Yes. My plane leaves tomorrow afternoon."



"I - " Boris Shdanoff started to say something, looked at his brother, and was quiet.



"Good-bye," Dana said.



"Proshchayte."



"Proshchayte."



When Dana got back to her room, she telephoned Matt Baker.



"There's something going on here, Matt, but I can't find out what it is, damn it. I have a feeling that I could stay here for months and not get any useful information. I'll be home tomorrow."



There's something going on here, Matt, but I can't find out what it is, damn it. I have a feeling that I could stay here for months and not get any useful information. I'll be home tomorrow.



Tape ends.



Sheremetyevo II Airport was crowded that night. Waiting for her plane, Dana had the same uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched. She scanned the crowd, but she could not single out anyone in particular. They're out there somewhere. And the realization made her shiver.