Are You Afraid Of The Dark Part 9

Secretary General Renaud said sourly, 'So you and Detective Marais were unable to get any information about how a man was murdered in an area it would be impossible for him to be in, in the first place, and impossible for his a.s.sa.s.sins to get to or escape from? Is that what you're telling me?'

'Marais and I talked to everyone who-'

'Never mind. You may go.' Yes, sir.

They watched the chastened detective walk out of the room.

Secretary General Renaud turned to the group. 'During your investigations, have any one of you come across a man named Prima?'

They were thoughtful a moment and then shook their heads. 'No. Who is Prima?'

'We don't know. His name was scribbled on a note found in the jacket pocket of a dead man in New York. We think there's a connection.' He sighed. 'Gentlemen, we have a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. In the fifteen years I have been in this office, we have investigated serial killers, international gangs, mayhem, patricide, and every other crime imaginable.' He paused. 'But in all those years, I have never come across anything like this. I am sending a NOTICE to the New York office. . . .'

Chief of Manhattan Detectives, Frank Bigley,was reading the file Secretary General Renaud had sent, when Earl Greenburg and Robert Praegitzer entered his office.

'You wanted to see us, Chief?'

'Yes. Sit down.'

They each took a chair.

Chief Bigley held up the paper. 'This is a NOTICE that Interpol sent this morning.' He started reading. 'Six years ago, a j.a.panese scientist named Akira Iso committed suicide, hanging himself in his hotel room in Tokyo. Mr. Iso was in perfect health, had just received a promotion, and was reported to be in high spirits.'

'j.a.pan? What does that have to do with-?'

'Let me go on. Three years ago, Madeleine Smith, a thirty-two-year-old Swiss scientist, turned on the gas in her Zurich apartment and committed suicide. She was pregnant and about to marry the father of her baby. Friends said they'd never seen her happier.' He looked up at the two detectives. 'In the past three days: a Berliner named Sonja Verbrugge drowned herself in her bathtub. The same night Mark Harris, an American, did a swan dive off the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower. A day later, a Canadian named Gary Reynolds crashed his Cessna into a mountain near Denver.'

Greenburg and Praegitzer were listening, more and more puzzled.

'And yesterday, you two found the body of Richard Stevens on the bank of the East River.'

Earl Greenburg was looking at him, perplexed. 'What do all these cases have to do with us?'

Chief Bigley said quietly, 'They're all the same case.'

Greenburg was staring at him. 'What? Let me see if I have this right. A j.a.panese six years ago, a Swiss three years ago, and in the past few days a German, a Canadian, and two Americans.' He was silent for a moment. 'What connects these cases?'

Chief Bigley handed Greenburg the NOTICE from Interpol. As Greenburg read it, his eyes widened. He looked up and said slowly, 'Interpol believes that a think tank, Kingsley International Group, is behind these murders? That's ridiculous.'

Praegitzer said, 'Chief, we're talking about the biggest think tank in the world.'

'All those people were murdered, and each one had a connection with KIG. The company is owned and run by Tanner Kingsley. He's the president and CEO of Kingsley International Group, chairman of the Presidential Science Committee, head of the National Advanced Planning Inst.i.tute, and on the Defence Policy Board at the Pentagon. I think you and Greenburg had better have a talk with Mr. Kingsley.'

Earl Greenburg swallowed. 'Right.'

'And Earl. . .'

'Yes.'

'Walk softly and carry a small stick.'

Five minutes later, Earl Greenburg was talking to Tanner Kingsley's secretary. When he had finished, he turned to Praegitzer.

'We have an appointment Tuesday at ten a.m. Right now Mr. Kingsley is appearing at a congressional committee hearing in Washington.'

Washington, DC At the hearing before the Senate Select Committee on the Environment, in Washington, D.C., a panel of six Senate committee members and three dozen spectators and reporters were listening attentively to the testimony of Tanner Kingsley.

Tanner Kingsley was in his forties, tall and handsome, with steely blue eyes that blazed with intelligence. He had a Roman nose, a strong chin, and a profile that could have graced a coin.

The committee head, senior senator Pauline Mary Van Luven, was an imposing figure with an almost aggressive self-confidence. She looked at Tanner and said crisply, You may continue, Mr. Kingsley.'

Tanner nodded. 'Thank you, Senator.' He turned to the other members of the committee, and when he spoke, his voice was impa.s.sioned. 'While some of our politicians in the government are still quibbling about the consequences of global warming and the greenhouse effect, the hole in the ozone layer is rapidly growing. Because of that, half the world is suffering droughts and the other half floods.

In the Ross Sea, an iceberg the size of Jamaica has just collapsed because of global warming. The ozone hole over the South Pole has reached the record size of ten million square miles.' He paused for effect and repeated slowly, 'Ten million square miles.

'We're witnessing a record number of hurricanes, cyclones, typhoons, and storms that are ravaging parts of Europe. Due to the radical changes in the weather, millions of people in countries around the world are facing starvation and extinction. But those are just words: starvation and extinction. Stop thinking of them as words. Think of their meaning-men, women, and children, hungry and homeless and facing death.

'This past summer, more than twenty thousand people died in a heat wave in Europe.' Tanner's voice rose. 'And what have we done about it? Our government has refused to ratify the Kyoto Protocol drawn up at the global environmental summit. The message is that we don't give a d.a.m.n what happens to the rest of the world. We'll just go ahead and do what suits us. Are we so dense, so self-absorbed that we can't see what we're doing to-?'

Senator Van Luven interrupted. 'Mr. Kingsley, this is not a debate. I will ask you to adopt a more moderate tone.'

Tanner took a deep breath and nodded. In a less impa.s.sioned tone, he continued. 'As all of us are aware, the greenhouse effect is caused by the burning of fossil fuels and other related factors completely under our control, and yet those emissions have reached their highest point in half a million years. They're polluting the air that our children and grandchildren breathe. The pollution can be stopped. And why isn't it? Because it would cost big business money.' His voice rose again. 'Money! How much is a breath of fresh air worth compared to the life of a human being? A gallon of gas? Two gallons of gas?' His voice became even more fervent. 'As far as we know, this Earth is the only place that's habitable for us, yet we're poisoning the land and the oceans and the air we breathe as fast as we can. If we don't stop-'

Senator Van Luven interrupted again. 'Mr. Kingsley-'

'I apologize, Senator. I'm angry. I can't watch the destruction of our universe without protesting.'

Kingsley spoke for another thirty minutes. When he was finished, Senator Van Luven said, 'Mr. Kingsley, I would like to see you in my office, please. This hearing is adjourned.'

Senator van luven's office had been originally furnished in typical sterile, bureaucratic fashion: a desk, a table, six chairs, and rows of filing cabinets, but the senator had added her own feminine touches, with colourful fabrics, paintings, and photographs.

When Tanner entered, there were two people in the office besides Senator Van Luven.

'These are my a.s.sistants, Corinne Murphy and Karolee Trost.'

Corinne Murphy, an attractive young redhead, and Karolee Trost, a pet.i.te blonde, both in their twenties, took seats next to the senator. They were obviously fascinated by Tanner.

'Sit down, Mr. Kingsley,' Senator Van Luven said.

Tanner took a seat. The senator studied him for a moment. 'Frankly, I don't understand you.'

'Oh, really? I'm surprised, Senator. I thought I made myself perfectly clear. I feel-'

'I know how you feel. But your company, Kingsley International Group, has contracts for many projects with our government, and yet you're challenging the government on the environment issue. Isn't that bad for business?'

Tanner said coldly, 'This isn't about business, Senator Van Luven. This is about humanity. We're seeing the beginning of a disastrous global destabilization. I'm trying to get the Senate to allocate funds to correct it.'

Senator Van Luven said sceptically, 'Some of those funds could go to your company, couldn't they?'

'I don't give a d.a.m.n who gets the money. I just want to see action taken before it's too late.'

Corinne Murphy said warmly, 'That's admirable. You're a very unusual man.'

Tanner turned to her. 'Miss Murphy, if you mean by that, that the majority of people seem to believe that money is more important than morals, I regret to say you're probably right.'

Karolee Trost spoke up. 'I think what you're trying to do is wonderful.'

Senator Van Luven gave each of her a.s.sistants a disapproving look, then turned to Tanner. 'I can't promise anything, but I will talk with my colleagues and get their point of view on the environmental issue. I will get back to you.'

'Thank you, Senator. I would be most appreciative.' He hesitated. 'Perhaps sometime when you're in Manhattan, I can take you around KIG and show you our operation. I think you might find it interesting.'

Senator Van Luven nodded indifferently. 'I'll let you know.'

The meeting was over.

CHAPTER 12.Paris, France From the moment people heard of Mark's death, Kelly Harris had been flooded with phone calls and flowers and e-mails. The first to call was Sam Meadows, a colleague and close friend of Mark's.

'Kelly! My G.o.d. I can't believe it! I-I don't know what to say, I'm just devastated. Every time I turn around, I expect to see Mark there. Kelly-is there anything I can do for you?'

'No, thank you, Sam.'

'Let's stay in touch. I want to be of help in any way I can . . .'

After that came a dozen calls from Mark's friends, and from models Kelly worked with.

Bill Lerner, the head of the modelling agency, telephoned. He offered his condolences, then said, 'Kelly, I realize this is not the appropriate time, but I think that getting back to work might be good for you right now. Our phone has been ringing off the hook. When do you think you'll be ready to go to work?'

'When Mark comes back to me.'

Kelly dropped the telephone.

Now the phone was ringing again. Finally Kelly picked it up. 'Yes?'

'Mrs. Harris?'

Was she still Mrs. Harris? There was no Mr. Harris anymore, but she would always, always be Mark's wife.

She said firmly, 'This is Mrs. Mark Harris.'

'This is Tanner Kingsley's office.'

The man Mark works-worked for, Kelly thought. 'Yes?'

'Mr. Kingsley would appreciate it if you could come and see him in Manhattan. He would like to have a meeting with you at the company headquarters. Are you free?'

Kelly was free. She had told the agency to cancel all her bookings. But she was surprised. Why does Tanner Kingsley want to see me? She wondered. 'Yes.'

'Will it be convenient for you to leave Paris on Friday?'

Nothing would ever be convenient again. 'Friday. All right.'

'Good. There will be a United Airlines ticket waiting for you at Charles de Gaulle airport.' He gave her the flight number. 'A car will meet you in New York.'

Mark had spoken to Kelly about Tanner Kingsley. Mark had met with him and thought he was a genius and a wonderful man to work for. Perhaps we could share some memories of Mark. The thought cheered Kelly up.

Angel came running in and jumped onto her lap. Kelly hugged her. 'What am I going to do with you while I'm away? Mama would take you with her, but I'm only going to be gone a few days.'

Suddenly, Kelly knew who would take care of the puppy.

She walked down the stairs to the building concierge's office. Workmen were installing a new elevator, and Kelly winced every time she pa.s.sed them.

The superintendent of the building, Philippe Cendre, was a tall, attractive man with a warm personality, and his wife and daughter had always gone out of their way to be helpful. When they had heard the news about Mark, they had been devastated. Mark's funeral had been held at the Pere-Lachaise Cemetery, and Kelly had invited the Cendre family to attend.

Kelly approached Philippe's apartment door and knocked. When Philippe opened the door, Kelly said, 'I have a favour to ask of you.'

'Come in. Anything you wish, Madame Harris.'

'I have to go to New York for three or four days. I wonder if you would mind taking care of Angel while I'm gone.'

'Mind? Ana Maria and I would love it.'

'Thank you. I would appreciate it.'

'And I promise to do everything I can to spoil her.'

Kelly smiled. 'Too late. I've already spoiled her.'

'When do you plan to leave?'

'Friday.'

'Very well. I will see to everything. Did I tell you that my daughter has been accepted at the Sorbonne?'

'No. That's wonderful. You must be very proud.'

'I am. She starts in two weeks. We're all very excited. It's a dream come true.'