Sidney Sheldon - Windmills Of The Gods

She looked at him with concern. “Mary? Why would you be asking about her?”

“May I come in?”

“Yes.” Florence Schiller led him into the living room. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thanks. I’ll only take a few minutes.” He smiled reassuringly. “This is just a routine check. She’s not suspected of any wrongdoing.”

“I should hope not,” Florence Schiller said indignantly. “Mary Ashley is one of the nicest persons you’ll ever meet.” She added, “Have you met her?”

“No, ma’am. This visit is confidential, and I would appreciate it if you kept it that way. How long have you known Mrs. Ashley?”

“About thirteen years. Since the day she moved in next door.”

“Would you say that you know Mrs. Ashley well?”

“Of course I would. Mary’s my closest friend. What-“

“Mrs. Schiller, in your opinion is Mrs. Ashley an emotionally stable person?”

“Of course she is.”

“Mrs. Ashley’s grandfather was born in Remania. Have you ever heard her discuss Remania?”

“Oh, once in a while she’ll tell stories her grandfather told her about the old country.”

“One last question. Have you ever heard Mrs. Ashley or Dr. Ashley say anything against the United States government?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Then in your estimation they’re both loyal Americans?”

“You bet they are. Would you mind telling me-“

The man rose. “I want to thank you for your time, Mrs. Schiller. And I’d like to impress upon you again that this matter is highly confidential. I would appreciate it if you didn’t discuss it with anyone-not even your husband.”

A moment later he was out the door. Florence Schiller stood there staring after him. “I don’t believe this whole conversation took place,” she said aloud.

BRIDGE WITH THEIR NEIGHBOIRS the Schillers was a Mondaynight ritual for Mary and Edward Ashley. The fact that Douglas Schiller was a doctor and worked with Edward at the hospital made the two couples even closer. Douglas Schiller was normally a pleasant, easygoing man, but at the moment there was a grim expression on his face. They were in the middle of the game, and the Schillers were ten thousand points behind. For the fourth time that evening Florence Schiller had reneeed.

“Florence!” Douglas exploded. “Which side are you on?”

“I’m sorry,” she said nervously.

“Is anything bothering you?” Edward Ashley asked Florence.

“I can’t tell you.”

They all looked at her in surprise: “What does that mean?” her husband asked.

Florence Schiller took a deep breath. “Mary, It’s about you.”

“What about me?”

“I’m not supposed to tell. I promised.”

“You promised who?” Edward asked.

“A federal agent from Washington. He was at the house this morning asking me all kinds of questions about Mary.”

“What kind of questions?” Edward demanded.

“Oh, you know. was she a loyal American? was she stable?”

“Wait,” Mary said excitedly. “I think I know. I’m up for tenure.

The university does some sensitive government research on campus, so I suppose they check everyone pretty thoroughly.”

“Well, thank God That’s all it is.” Florence Schiller breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought they were going to lock you up.”

“I hope they do.” Mary smiled. “At Kansas State.”

Abbeywood, England. “We are meeting under the usual rules, the chairman announced. “No records will be kept, this meeting will never be discussed, and we will refer to one another by the code names we have been assigned.”

There were eight men inside the library of the fifteenth-century Claymore Castle. Two armed men kept vigil outside, while a third man guarded the door to the library.

.The chairman continued. “The Controller has received some disturbing information. Marin Groza is preparing a coup against Alexandros Ionescu. A group of senior army officers in Remania has decided to back Groza. This time he could very well be successful.”

Odin spoke up. “How would that affect our plan?”

“It could destroy it. It would open too many bridges to the West.”

Freyr said, “Then we must prevent it from happening.”

Balder asked, “How?”

“We assassinate Groza,” the chairman replied.

“Impossible. His villa is impregnable. Anyway, no one in this room can afford to be involved in an assassination attempt.”

“We wouldn’t be directly involved,” the chairman said. “The Controller has discovered a confidential dossier that concerns an international terrorist who’s for hire. He’s called Angel.”

“Never heard of him,” Sigmund said.

“So much the better. His credentials are most impressive. According to the Controller’s file, Angel was involved in the Sikh Khalistan assassination in India. He helped the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia. He’s masterminded the assassinations of half a dozen army officers in Israel, and the Israelis have offered a milliondollar reward for him, dead or alive.”

“He sounds promising,” Thor said. “Can we get him?”

“He’s expensive. If he agrees to take the contract, it will cost us two million dollars.”

“How do we get to this Angel person?” Sigmund asked.

“All his contacts are handled through his mistress, a woman named Neusa Mufiez. Angel has set her up in an apartment in Buenos Aires.”

Thor said, “Who would get in touch with her for us?”

The chairman replied, “The Controller has suggested a man named Harry Lantz. He was thrown out of the CIA for setting up his own drug business in Vietnam. While he was with the CIA he did a tour in South America, so he knows the territory. He’d be a perfect go-between.” He paused. “I suggest we take a vote. All those in favor of hiring Angel, please raise your hands.”

Eight well-manicured hands went into the air.

“Then It’s settled.” The chairman rose. “The meeting is adjourned. Please observe the usual precautions as you leave.”

Chapter Three

IN HIS hotel room in New York, Harry Lantz was awakened in the middle of the night by the ringing of the telephone.

Who the devil knows I’m here? he wondered. He looked blearily at the bedside clock, then snatched up the phone. “It’s four o’clock in the morning! Who the-“

A soft voice at the other end of the line began speaking, and Lantz sat upright in bed, his heart beginning to pound. “Yes, sir.”

He listened for a long time. Finally he said, “Yes,. sir. I understand. I’ll be on the first plane to Buenos Aires. Thank you, sir.”

He replaced the receiver and lit a cigarette. His hands were trembling. The man he had just spoken to was one of the most powerful men in the world and was going to pay him fifty thousand dollars to deliver a message. It would be fun going back to Argentina. Harry Lantz loved South American women.

THE 747 arrived at Ezeiza Airport in Buenos Aires at five the following afternoon. Harry Lantz felt a surge of excitement as he stepped out of the plane, but the blast of hot air startled him for a moment. Of course, he realized. It’s summer here.

Yes, it was good to be back. Siesta was over, and the streets were crowded with people. When the taxi arrived at the Hotel El Conquistador, in the heart of the fashionable Barrio Norte sector, Lantz paid the driver with a million-peso note.

“Keep the change,” he said. Their money was a joke.

Harry looked up an old friend. No one had ever .heard of Neusa Mufiez. Harry Lantz began to feel he might be on a wild-goose chase.

It was at the Pilar, a small bar in the barrio of Floresta, that his luck suddenly changed. It was a Friday night, and the bar was filled with workingmen. It took Lantz ten minutes to get the bartender’s attention. Before Lantz was halfway through his prepared speech, the bartender said, “Neusa Muez? S(. I know her. If she wishes to talk to you, she will come here maana, about midnight.”