“This time of the year, there’s no problem.”
THE CLERK BEHIND the hotel desk proffered registration forms. As Kelly signed hers, she said aloud, “Emily Brontë.”
Diane glanced at the clerk to see if there was any recognition on his face. Nothing.
Diane wrote: Mary Cassatt.
The clerk took their registration cards. “And do you wish to pay by credit card?”
“Yes, we—”
“No,” Diane interrupted quickly.
Kelly looked at her and reluctantly nodded.
“Luggage?”
“It’s coming. We’ll be back.”
“You’ll have suite 515.”
The clerk watched them walk out the door. Two real beauties. And alone. What a waste.
THE FOR MADAME shop was a cornucopia. There were women’s clothes of every description, and a leather section with handbags and suitcases.
Kelly looked around and said, “It looks like we’ve lucked out.”
A saleslady walked up to them. “May I help you?”
“We’re just browsing,” Diane told her.
The saleslady watched as they started walking through the store.
“Look!” said Kelly. “Stockings.” She grabbed half a dozen pairs. Diane followed suit.
“Panty hose…”
“Bras.”
“Slips.”
Soon their arms were laden with lingerie.
The saleslady hurried over. “Let me help you.”
“Thank you.”
The saleswoman relieved them of their burdens.
Diane and Kelly began to move down the aisles.
Kelly was examining a rack of slacks. She selected four pairs and turned to Diane. “No telling when we’re going to be able to shop again.”
Diane picked out some slacks and a striped summer dress.
“You can’t wear that,” Kelly said. “Stripes will make you look fat.”
Diane started to put it back, then looked at Kelly and handed the dress to the saleslady. “I’ll take this.”
THE SALESWOMAN WATCHED in amazement as Kelly and Diane went through the rest of the racks. By the time they had finished, their selections filled four suitcases.
Kelly looked at them and grinned. “That should hold us for a while.”
When they went to the cashier, she asked, “Will that be cash or credit card?”
“Credit—”
“Cash,” Diane said.
Kelly and Diane opened their purses and divided the bill. They both had the same thought: Cash is running low.
Kelly said to the cashier, “We’re staying at the Adams. I wonder if you could—”
“Have your things delivered? Certainly. Your names?”
Kelly hesitated a moment. “Charlotte Brontë.”
Diane looked at her and said quickly, “Emily. Emily Brontë.”
Kelly remembered. “Right.”
The cashier was watching them, a confused expression on her face. She turned to Diane. “And your name?”
“I—er—” Diane’s mind was spinning. What name had she signed? Georgia O’Keeffe…Frida Kahlo…Joan Mitchell?
“Her name is Mary Cassatt,” Kelly said.
The cashier swallowed. “Of course.”
NEXT TO THE For Madame shop was a drugstore. “We’re in luck again.” Diane smiled.
They hurried inside and began a second shopping spree.
“Mascara.”
“Blush.”
“Toothbrushes.”
“Toothpaste.”
“Tampons and panty liners.”
“Lipstick.”
“Hair clips.”
“Powder.”
BY THE TIME Diane and Kelly arrived back at their hotel, the four suitcases had already been delivered to their room.
Kelly stared at them. “I wonder which are yours and which are mine?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Diane assured her. “We’re going to be here for maybe a week or more, so we might as well just put everything away.”
“I suppose so.”
They began busily hanging up dresses and slacks, putting their lingerie in drawers, and placing their toilet articles in the bathroom.
When the suitcases were emptied and everything had been put in place, Diane took off her shoes and dress and gratefully sank down on one of the beds.
“This feels wonderful.” She sighed contentedly. “I don’t know about you, but I’m having dinner in bed. Then I’m going to take a nice, long, hot bath. I’m not moving from here.”
A pleasant-faced, uniformed maid knocked and came into the suite, carrying an armful of fresh towels.
Two minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom. “If there’s anything you need, please ring for me. Have a good evening.”
“Thank you.” Kelly watched her leave.
Diane was browsing through a house magazine she had picked up at her bedside. “Do you know what year this hotel was built?”
“Get dressed,” Kelly said. “We’re leaving.”
“It was built in—”
“Get dressed. We’re getting out of here.”
Diane looked up at her. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No. Something terrible is going to happen.” There was panic in her voice.
Diane sat up, alarmed. “What’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know. But we have to get out of here, or we’re both going to die.”
Her fear was contagious, but it made no sense.
“Kelly, you’re not being reasonable. If—”
“I’m begging you, Diane.”
Thinking about it later, Diane never knew whether she gave in because of the urgency in Kelly’s voice or because it was the first time Kelly had called her Diane.
“All right.” Diane got up. “We’ll pack our clothes and—”
“No! Leave everything.”
Diane looked at Kelly in disbelief. “Leave everything? We just bought—”
“Hurry! Now!”
“All right.” As Diane was reluctantly dressing, she thought, I hope she knows what she’s doing. If—
“Quick!” It was a strangled scream.
Diane hurriedly finished dressing.
“Faster!”
They grabbed their purses and hurried out the door.
I must be as crazy as she is, Diane thought resentfully.
When they reached the lobby, Diane found herself running to keep up with Kelly. “Would you mind telling me where we’re going?”
Outside, Kelly looked around. “There’s a park across the street from the hotel. I—I need to sit down.”
Exasperated, Diane followed Kelly into the park. They took seats on a bench.
Diane said, “What are we doing?”
At that instant, there was a tremendous explosion inside the hotel, and from where they sat, Diane and Kelly could see windows being blown out of the room they had been occupying, with debris flying through the air.
In stunned disbelief, Diane watched what was happening. “That—that was a bomb”—terror crept into her voice—“in our room.” She turned to Kelly. “How—how did you know?”
“The maid.”
Diane looked at her, puzzled. “What about her?”
Kelly said quietly, “Hotel maids don’t wear four-hundred-dollar Manolo Blahnik shoes.”
Diane was finding it difficult to breathe. “How—how could they have found us?”
“I don’t know,” Kelly said. “But remember who we’re dealing with.”
They both sat there, filled with dread.
“Did Tanner Kingsley give you anything when you were in his office?” Diane asked.
Kelly shook her head. “No. Did he give you anything?”
“No.”
They realized it at the same instant.
“His card!”
They opened their purses and took out the business cards Tanner Kingsley had given them.
Diane tried to break hers in half. It would not bend. “There’s some kind of chip inside,” she said, furious.
Kelly tried to bend her card. “In mine, too. That’s how the bastards have been tracking us.”
Diane took Kelly’s card and said angrily, “Not anymore.”
Kelly watched as Diane stepped out onto the road and threw the cards down on the street. Within minutes, they had been run over by a dozen cars and trucks.
In the distance, the sounds of approaching sirens were filling the air.
Kelly stood up. “We’d better get away from here, Diane. Now that they can’t track us anymore, we’ll be all right. I’m going back to Paris. What will you do?”
“Try to figure out why this is happening.”
“Be careful.”
“You, too.” Diane hesitated a moment. “Kelly—thanks. You saved my life.”
Embarrassed, Kelly said, “I feel bad about something. I lied to you.”
“You did?”
“You know what I said about your painting?”
“Yes.”
“I really liked it—a lot. You’re good.”
Diane smiled. “Thanks. I’m afraid I’ve been pretty rude to you.”
“Diane?”
“Yes?”
“I never grew up with maids.”
Diane laughed, and the two of them embraced.
“I’m glad we met,” Diane said warmly.
“So am I.”
They stood there, looking at each other, finding it difficult to say good-bye.
“I have an idea,” Diane said. “If you need me, here’s my cell phone number.” She wrote it on a piece of paper.
“Here’s mine,” Kelly replied, and gave it to Diane.
“Well, good-bye again.”
Diane said haltingly, “Yeah. I—Good-bye, Kelly.”
Diane watched Kelly walk away. At the corner, she turned and waved. Diane waved back. As Kelly disappeared, Diane looked up at the blackened hole that was to have been their tomb, and she felt a chill.
Chapter 29
KATHY ORDONEZ WALKED into Tanner Kingsley’s office with the morning newspapers and said, “It’s happening again.” She handed him the newspapers. They all had banner headlines:
FOG DISRUPTS MAJOR GERMAN CITIES
ALL SWISS AIRPORTS CLOSED BY FOG
DEATH TOLL RISES FROM FOG IN ROME
Kathy said, “Shall I send these to Senator Van Luven?”
“Yes. Right away,” Tanner said grimly.
Kathy hurried out of his office.
Tanner looked at his wristwatch and smiled. The bomb must have gone off by now. The two bitches have finally been disposed of.
His secretary’s voice came over the intercom. “Mr. Kingsley, Senator Van Luven is on the line for you. Do you wish to take it?”