Are You Afraid of the Dark? by Sidney Sheldon

“HAVE YOU HEARD a word I’ve said?”

Diane’s angry voice shook Kelly out of her reverie. The beautiful ballroom disappeared, and she was in a crummy hotel room with a woman she wished she had never met. “What?”

Diane said urgently, “Tanner Kingsley said someone’s going to pick us up here in half an hour.”

“You told me that. So?”

“He didn’t ask where we were.”

“He probably thinks we’re still at your apartment.”

“No. I told him that you and I are on the run.”

There was a moment of silence. Kelly’s lips pursed into a long, silent “Oh.”

They turned to look at the clock on the bedside table.

THE CHINESE CLERK glanced up as Flint entered the lobby of the Mandarin Hotel. “Can I help you?” He saw Flint’s smile and returned it.

“My wife and her friend just checked in here. My wife is a blonde. Her friend is a hot black chick. What room are they in?”

“Room ten, but I’ll have to announce you. You’ll have to teleph—”

As he picked up the telephone, Flint raised a .45-caliber Ruger pistol equipped with a silencer and put a bullet in the clerk’s forehead. Flint shoved the body behind the counter and started down the hall, the gun at his side. When he reached number ten, he stepped back, took two steps forward, shouldered the door open, and stepped into the room.

The room was empty, but through the closed bathroom door, Flint could hear the sound of a shower running. He walked over to the bathroom door and shoved it open. The shower was turned on full force, and the closed curtains were gently swaying. Flint fired four shots into the curtains, waited a moment, then pulled them open.

There was no one there.

IN A DINER across the street, Diane and Kelly had watched Flint’s SUV arrive and then had seen him go into the hotel.

“My God,” Kelly had said, “that’s the man who tried to kidnap me.”

They waited. When Flint came out a few minutes later, his lips were smiling, but his face was a mask of fury.

Kelly turned to Diane. “There goes Godzilla. What’s our next false move?”

“We have to get out of here.”

“And go where? They’re going to be watching the airports, train stations, bus depots….”

Diane was thoughtful for a moment. “I know a place where they can’t touch us.”

“Let me guess. The spaceship that brought you here.”

Chapter 25

ALL THE MORNING newspapers were filled with the same story. A drought in Germany had caused at least a hundred deaths and had wiped out millions of dollars’ worth of crops.

Tanner buzzed for Kathy. “Send this article to Senator Van Luven, with a note: ‘Another global warming update. Sincerely…’ ”

THE WILTON HOTEL for Women was thirty-five minutes and a world away from the Mandarin. The Wilton was an attractive, modern-looking five-story hotel. An elegant, dark green canopy awning hung over the walkway leading to its entrance.

In the lobby, Kelly and Diane were registering under false names. The woman behind the desk handed Kelly a key. “Suite 424. Do you have luggage?”

“No, we—”

“It got lost,” Diane cut in. “It will be here in the morning. By the way, our husbands are picking us up in a little while. Would you send them to our room and—”

The clerk shook her head. “I’m sorry. Men are not allowed upstairs.”

“Oh?” Diane gave Kelly a complacent smile.

“If you wish to meet them down here—”

“Never mind. They’ll just have to suffer without us.”

SUITE 424 WAS beautifully appointed, with a living room containing a couch, chairs, tables, and an armoire, and in the bedroom two comfortable-looking double beds.

Diane looked around. “This is pleasant, isn’t it?”

Kelly said acidly, “What are we doing—going for the Guinness Book of World Records—a different hotel every half hour?”

“Do you have a better plan?”

“This is no plan,” Kelly said scornfully. “This is a game of cat and mice, and we’re the mice.”

“Right. When you think about it, the head of the biggest think tank in the world is out to murder us,” Diane said.

“Then don’t think about it.”

“Easier said than done. There are enough eggheads at KIG to make an omelet the size of Kansas.”

“Well, we’ll just have to out-think them.”

Kelly frowned. “We need some kind of weapon. Do you know how to use a gun?”

“No.”

“Damn. Neither do I.”

“It doesn’t matter. We don’t have one.”

“How about karate?”

“No, but I was on the debating team in college,” Diane said dryly. “Maybe I can argue them out of killing us.”

“Sure.”

Diane walked over to the window and looked out at the traffic on Thirty-fourth Street. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she gasped, “Oh!”

Kelly rushed to her side. “What is it? What did you see?”

Diane’s throat was dry. “A—a man walked by. He looked just like Richard. For a moment, I—” She turned away from the window.

Kelly said contemptuously, “Would you like me to send for the ghost catchers?”

Diane started to retort but stopped. What’s the use? I’ll be rid of her soon.

Kelly looked at Diane and thought: Why don’t you shut up and go paint something.

FLINT WAS SPEAKING on his cell phone to a furious Tanner. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kingsley. They weren’t in their room at the Mandarin. They were gone. They must have known I was coming.”

Tanner was apoplectic. “Those bitches want to play mind games with me? With me? I’ll call you back.” He slammed down the receiver.

ANDREW WAS LYING on the couch in his office, and his mind drifted to the huge stage of the Stockholm concert hall. The audience was cheering enthusiastically and shouting, “Andrew! Andrew!” The hall echoed with the sound of his name.

He could hear the audience applauding as he walked across the stage to receive his award from King Carl XVI Gustav of Sweden. As he reached for the Nobel Prize, someone started cursing him.

“Andrew, you son of a bitch—get in here.”

The Stockholm concert hall shimmered away and Andrew was in his office. Tanner was calling him.

He needs me, Andrew thought happily. He slowly rose and walked into his brother’s office.

“I’m here,” Andrew said.

“Yes, I see that,” Tanner snapped. “Sit down.”

Andrew took a chair.

“I have a few things to teach you, big brother. Divide and conquer.” There was a note of satisfaction in Tanner’s voice. “I have Diane Stevens thinking that the Mafia killed her husband, and Kelly Harris is worried about a nonexistent Olga. Understand?”

Andrew said vaguely, “Yes, Tanner.”

Tanner patted his brother on the shoulder. “You’re a perfect sounding board for me, Andrew. There are things I want to talk about that I can’t discuss with anyone else. But I can tell you anything, because you’re too stupid to understand.” He looked into Andrew’s vacant eyes. “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.” Tanner was suddenly all-business. “We have a problem to solve. Two women have disappeared. They know we’re looking for them, to kill them, and they’re trying to stay out of sight. Where would they go to hide, Andrew?”

Andrew looked at his brother for a moment. “I—I don’t know.”

“There are two ways to find out. First, we’ll try the Cartesian method, logic, building our solution one step at a time. Let’s reason it out.”

Andrew looked at him and said vacuously, “Whatever you say…”

Tanner began to pace. “They won’t return to the Stevens apartment because that’s too dangerous—we’re having it watched. We know that Kelly Harris doesn’t have any close friends in the States because she’s lived in Paris for so long, so she wouldn’t trust anyone here to protect her.” He looked at his brother. “Are you following me?”

Andrew blinked. “I—yes, Tanner.”

“Now, would Diane Stevens go to friends for help? I don’t think so. It might jeopardize them. Another alternative is for them to go to the police with their story, but they know they would be laughed at. So, what could their next step be?” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then went on. “Obviously they would have considered the airports and train stations and bus stations, but they would know we’re having them watched. So where does that leave us?”

“I—I—whatever you say, Tanner.”

“It leaves us with a hotel, Andrew. They need a hotel to hide in. But what kind of hotel? These are two terrified women running for their lives. You see, no matter which one they choose, they’ll figure we might have connections there, and they’ll be exposed. They won’t feel safe. Do you remember Sonja Verbrugge in Berlin? We finessed her with that instant message on her computer. She went to the Artemisia Hotel because it was for women only, so she thought she would be safe. Well, I think Mesdames Stevens and Harris would feel the same way. So where would that leave us?”

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