Are You Afraid of the Dark? by Sidney Sheldon

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 Japanese 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 Institute, and on the Defense 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.”

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 impassioned. “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 damn 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 impassioned 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 colorful fabrics, paintings, and photographs.

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

“These are my assistants, Corinne Murphy and Karolee Trost.”

Corinne Murphy, an attractive young redhead, and Karolee Trost, a petite 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 skeptically, “Some of those funds could go to your company, couldn’t they?”

“I don’t give a damn 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 assistants 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

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 coworker and close friend of Mark’s.

“Kelly! My God. 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 modeling 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.”

And she dropped the telephone.

AND 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. “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? “Yes.”

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

Nothing would ever be convenient again. “Friday. All right.”

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