Sidney Sheldon - The sky is falling

«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.»

«Maybe they're reading the wrong books,» Dana said dryly.

«Maybe. Right now the people are caught in the middle, between capitalism and communism, and neither is working. There's bad service, inflated costs, and a hell of a lot of crime.» He looked at Dana. «I hope I'm not depressing you.»

«No. Tell me, Tim, did you know Taylor Winthrop?»

«I interviewed him a few times.»

«Did you ever hear anything about some big project he was involved in?»

«He was involved in a lot of projects. After all, he was our ambassador.»

«I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about something different. Something very complicated—where all the pieces had to fall into place.»

Tim Drew thought for a moment. «It doesn't ring a bell.»

«Is there anyone here that he had a lot of contact with?»

«Some of his Russian counterparts, I suppose. You might talk to them.»

«Right,» Dana said. «I will.»

The waiter brought the check. Tim Drew scanned it and looked up at Dana. «This is typical. There are three separate surcharges on the bill. And don't bother asking what any of them are for.» He paid the bill.

When they were out on the street, Tim Drew said to Dana, «Do you carry a gun?»

She looked at him in surprise. «Of course not. Why?»

«This is Moscow. You never know.» He got an idea. «I'll tell you what. We're going to make a stop.»

They got into a taxi, and Tim Drew gave the driver an address. Five minutes later they pulled up in front of a gun shop and got out of the taxi.

Dana looked inside the shop and said, «I'm not going to carry a gun.»

Tim Drew said, «I know. Just come with me.» The counters of the shop were filled with every type of weapon imaginable.

Dana looked around. «Can anybody walk in and buy a gun here?»

«All they need is the money,» Tim Drew said.

The man behind the counter muttered something in Russian to Tim. Tim told him what he wanted.

«Da.»He reached under the counter and pulled out a small, black, cylindrical object.

«What's this for?» Dana asked.

«It's for you. It's pepper spray.» Tim Drew picked it up. «All you have to do is press this button at the top and the bad guys will be in too much pain to bother you.»

Dana said, «I don't think—»

«Trust me. Take it.» He handed it to Dana, paid the man, and they left.

«Would you like to see a Moscow nightclub?» Tim Drew asked.

«Sounds interesting.»

«Great. Let's go.»

The Night Flight Club on Tverskaya Street was lavish and ornate and crowded with well-dressed Russians dining, drinking, and dancing.

«There doesn't seem to be any economic problem here,» Dana commented.

«No. They keep the beggars outside on the street.»

At two o'clock in the morning, Dana returned to her hotel, exhausted. It had been a long day. A woman was seated at a table in the hallway, keeping a record of the movements of the guests.

When Dana got to her room, she looked out the window. She had a picture-postcard view of soft snow falling in the moonlight.

Tomorrow, Dana thought determinedly, I'll know what I've come here for.

The noise from the jet overhead was so loud it sounded like the plane might hit the building. The man quickly rose from his desk, snatched up a pair of binoculars, and stepped to the window. The tail of the receding aircraft was rapidly descending as it prepared to land at the small airport a half mile away. Except for the runways, everything in the stark landscape was covered with snow as far as his eyes could see. It was winter and this was Siberia.

«So,» he said to his assistant, «the Chinese are the first to arrive.» His comment did not call for a reply. «I am told that our friend Ling Wong will not be back. When he returned from our last meeting empty-handed, it was not a happy homecoming for him. Very sad. He was a decent man.»

At that moment, a second jet roared overhead. He did not recognize the make. After it had landed, he trained his high-powered glasses on the men descending from the cabin onto the tarmac. Some of them made no effort to hide the machine pistols they were carrying.

«The Palestinians are here.»

Another jet roared overhead. Still twelve to go, he thought. When we start negotiations tomorrow, it will be the biggest auction yet. Nothing must go wrong.

He turned again to his assistant. «Take a memo.»

CONFIDENTIAL MEMO TO ALL OPERATION PERSONNEL: DESTROY IMMEDIATELY AFTER READING.

CONTINUE CLOSE SURVEILLANCE ON SUBJECT TARGET. REPORT ACTIVITIES AND STAND BY FOR HER POSSIBLE ELIMINATION.

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?»