Sidney Sheldon - Windmills Of The Gods

The Controller chose his words carefully. “I’m sorry. But we would still like Angel to go ahead. Would that be possible?”

“Yeah. He say he wanna do it.”

“Excellent. How shall I arrange his advance?”

The woman laughed. “Angel, he don’ need no advance. Nobody cheats Angel.” Somehow the words were chilling. “When the job is finished, he say you put the money in-Wait a minute. I got it wrote down. Here it is-the State Bank in Zurich. I think That’s someplace in Switzerland.” She really did sound like a moron.

“I’ll need the account number.”

“Oh, yeah. Hol’ on. I got it here somewhere.” He heard the rustle of papers, and finally she was back on the telephone. “Here it is. j three four nine zero seven seven.”

“How soon can he handle the matter?”

“When he’s ready, sehor. Angel say you’ll know when I ees done. You’ll read ‘bout it in the newspapers.”

“Very well. I’m going to give you my private telephone number in case Angel needs to reach me.”

He gave it to her slowly.

Thilisi, Russia. The meeting was being held in an isolated dacha bordering on the Kura River.

The chairman said, “Two urgent matters have arisen. The first is good news. The Controller has had word from Angel. The contract is moving forward.”

“That’s very good news indeed!” Freyr exclaimed. “What’s the bad news?”

“I’m afraid it concerns the Presiden’s candidate for the ambassadorship to Remania, but the situation can be handled… .”

IT was difficult for Mary Ashley to keep her mind on her class. Too much had changed. The Junction City newspaper had carried a feature story on her rejection of the ambassadorship to Remania, and the fact that she had declined the Presiden’s offer had made the story even bigger than if she had accepted it. In the eyes of the community and her students she had become a celebrity. It was a heady feeling.

Remania, she mused. Welcome to Remania, Madam Ambassador. Your limousine is here to drive you to your embassy. Her embassy. She had been invited to live in Bucharest, one of the most exciting capitals of the world, reporting to the President, being in the center of his people-to-people concept. I could have been a part of history.

Mary was roused from her reverie by the sound of the bell. Class was over. Time to go home and,change. Edward was taking her out to the country club for dinner. As befitted an almost ambassador.

IT was late by the time Edward and Mary arrived at the country club There was only a sprinkling of guests’left in the dining room. They stared, watching as Mary sat down, and whispered to one, another.

Edward looked at his wife and felt guilty. He was responsible for her turning down the Presiden’s offer, and his reasons were valid. But there’s more to it than that, Edward admitted to himself I was jealous. I reacted like a spoiled brat. What would have happened if the President had made me an offer like that? I’d probably have jumped at it. All I could think of was that I wanted Mary to stay home and take care of me and the kids.

He sat there admiring Mary. I’ll make it up to her, he thought. I’ll surprise her this summer with a trip to Paris and London. Maybe Remania. We’ll have a real honeymoon. “Any regrets?” he asked her.

Of course there were regrets. But they were castle-in-Spain regrets about the kind of glamorous, impossible dreams that everyone has. Mary smiled. “None, darling. It was a fluke that they even asked me.” She took Edward’s hand in hers. “I’m glad I refused the offer.”

Edward leaned across the table and kissed his wife. “I love you so much, Mary.”

“I love you twice as much, darling.”

AT THREE o’clock in the morning, when Edward and Mary were fast asleep, the phone exploded into sound. Edward sleepily reached for the instrument and brought it to his ear. “Hello.-. .

A woman’s urgent voice said, “Dr. Ashley?”

“Yes?”

“Pete Grimes is havin’ a heart attack. He’s in pain somethin’ awful. I think he’s dyin’. I don’t know what to do.”

Edward sat up in bed, trying to blink the sleep away. “Don’t do anything. ]Keep him still. I’ll be there in half an hour.” He slid out of bed and sewed to dress.

“Edward, whays wrong?” Mary mumbled.

“Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

Five minutes later Edward was on his way to the Grimes farm. It was a cold and raw morning, with a northwesterly wind driving the temperature well below zero. He turned the car onto Route j18, the two-lane highway that went through junction City. The town was asleep, its houses huddled against the bitter, frigid wind.

When Edward came to the end of Sixth Street, he made the turn that took him onto Route 57-How many times had he driven over this. road on hot summer days, with the sweet smell of corn and prairie hay in the air? And how many winters had he driven on this road through a frosted landscape, with power lines delicately laced with ice, and lonely smoke from far-off chimneys?

Edward thought of Mary lying in their warm bed waiting for him. He was so lucky. I’ll make everything up to her, he promised himself

Ahead, at the junction of Highways 57 and 77, was a stop sign. Edward came to a halt and looked up and down the deserted road. As he started into the intersection a truck appeared out of nowhere. He heard a sudden roar, and his car was pinned by two bright headlights racing toward him. He caught a glimpse of the giant five-ton army truck bearing down on him, and the last sound he heard was his own voice screaming.

IN NEUILLY church bells pealed out across the quiet noon air. The gendarmes guarding Marin Groza’s villa had no reason to pay attention to the dusty Renault sedan that was cruising by. Angel drove slowly, although not slowly enough to arouse suspicion, taking everything in. There were two guards in front, a high wall, probably electrified, and inside” of course, would be the usual electronic nonsense of beams, sensors, and alarms. It would take an army to storm the villa. But I don’t need an army, Angel thought. Only my genius. Marin Groza is a dead man. If only my mother were alive to see how rich I have become. ow happy it would have made her.

In Argentina podr families were very poor indeed, and Angel’s mother had been of the poorest. Through the years Angel had watched friends and relatives die of hunger and sickness. Death was a way of life, and Angel thought philosophically, Since it is going to happen anyway, why not make a profit from it? In the beginning there were those who doubted Angel’s lethal talents, but people who tried to put roadblocks in the way had a habit of disappearing. Angel’s reputation as an assassin grew. I have never failed, Angel thought. I am Angel. The Angel of Death.

Chapter Five

THE snow-covered Kansas highway was ablaze with flashing red lights that turned the frosty air blood red. In the center of a circle of vehicles, ringed by headlights, sat the five-ton M871 army tractor-trailer, and partially beneath it, Edward Ashley’s crumpled car. A dozen police officers and firemen were milling around, trying to keep warm in the predawn freeze. In the middle of the highway, covered by a tarpaulin, was a body.

A sheriffs car skidded to a stop, and Mary Ashley ran out of it. She was trembling so hard that she could barely stand. Sheriff Monster grabbed her arm. “I wouldn’t look at him if I were you, Mrs. Ashley.”

“Let go of me!” She was screaming. She shook loose from his grasp and started toward the tarpaulin.

“Please, Mrs. Ashley. You don’t want to see what he looks like.” He caught her as she fainted.

She woke up in the back seat of Sheriff Monster’s car. He was sitting in the front seat watching her. The heater was on, and the car was stifling. Mary stared out the window at all the flashing red lights,and thought, It’s a scene from hell. In spite of the heat, her teeth were chattering. “How did-How did it h-happen?”