“I—I understand.”
“Why don’t we talk about it tonight? We can have dinner at my place.”
“Fine.”
“Seven o’clock?”
“I’ll be there,” Kelly said.
Kelly ended the call. “I’m going to get some answers tonight.”
“While you’re doing that, I’m going to fly to Berlin and talk to people who worked with Franz Verbrugge.”
Kelly was suddenly silent.
Diane glanced at her. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. It’s just that we’re—we’re such a great team. I hate for us to split up. Why don’t we go to Paris together and then—?”
Diane smiled. “We’re not splitting up, Kelly. When you’re through talking to Sam Meadows, you call me. We can meet in Berlin. I should have some information by then. We have our cell phones. We can stay in touch. I’m eager to hear what you’re going to learn tonight.”
THEY HAD REACHED Paris.
Diane glanced in the rearview mirror. “No Citroën. We’ve finally lost him. Where do you want me to take you?”
Kelly looked out the window. They were nearing la Place de la Concorde.
“Diane, why don’t you turn the car in and be on your way? I can get a taxi here.”
“Are you sure, partner?”
“I’m sure, partner.”
“Be careful.”
“You, too.”
TWO MINUTES LATER, Kelly was in a taxi, on the way to her apartment, eagerly looking forward to going home again. In a short while, she would meet Sam Meadows at his apartment for dinner.
When the taxi pulled up in front of Kelly’s apartment building, she felt a deep sense of relief. She was home. The doorman opened the door.
Kelly looked up and started to say, “I’m back, Martin—” and stopped. The doorman was a complete stranger.
“Good evening, madame.”
“Good evening. Where is Martin?”
“Martin no longer works here. He quit.”
Kelly was taken aback. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Please, madame, allow me to introduce myself. I am Jérôme Malo.”
Kelly nodded.
She walked into the lobby. A tall, thin stranger was standing behind the reception desk, next to Nicole Paradis.
The stranger smiled. “Good evening, Madame Harris. We have been expecting you. I am Alphonse Girouard, the concierge.”
Kelly looked around, puzzled. “Where’s Philippe Cendre?”
“Ah. Philippe and his family moved to somewhere in Spain.” He shrugged. “Some business deal, I believe.”
Kelly felt a growing sudden sense of alarm. “And their daughter?”
“She left with them.”
Did I tell you that my daughter has been accepted at the Sorbonne? It’s a dream come true.
Kelly tried to keep her voice steady. “When did they leave?”
“A few days ago, but please, do not worry, madame. You will be taken good care of. Your apartment is all ready for you.”
Nicole Paradis, sitting at her desk, looked up. “Welcome home.” But her eyes were saying something else.
“Where is Angel?”
“Oh, your little dog? Philippe took her with him.”
Kelly was fighting a wave of panic. She was having trouble breathing.
“Shall we go now, madame? We have a little surprise for you in your apartment.”
I’ll bet you have. Kelly’s mind was racing. “Yes, just one minute,” Kelly said. “There’s something I forgot to pick up.”
Before Girouard could say anything, Kelly was outside, hurrying down the street.
Jérôme Malo and Alphonse Girouard stood on the sidewalk, looking after her. Caught off guard, it was too late to stop her. They watched her get into a taxi.
My God! What have they done with Philippe and his family, and with Angel? Kelly wondered.
“Where to, mademoiselle?”
“Just drive!” Tonight I’m going to find out what’s behind all this, Kelly thought.
IN HIS APARTMENT, Sam Meadows was finishing a phone conversation. “Yes, I understand how important it is. It will be taken care of…. I’m expecting her in a few minutes for dinner…. Yes…. I’ve already arranged for someone to dispose of her body…. Thank you. That’s very generous of you, Mr. Kingsley.”
As Sam Meadows replaced the receiver, he looked at his watch. His dinner guest was due to arrive any minute.
Chapter 36
WHEN DIANE ARRIVED in Berlin at the Tempelhof airport, there was a fifteen-minute waiting line for a taxi. Finally, it was Diane’s turn.
The driver smiled. “Wohin.”
“Do you speak English?”
“Of course, fräulein.”
“Kempinski Hotel, please.”
“Ja wohl.”
TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, Diane was checking into the hotel.
“I would like to hire a car and driver.”
“Certainly, fräulein.” He looked down. “Your baggage?”
“It’s coming.”
WHEN THE CAR arrived, the driver asked, “Where do you wish to go, fräulein?”
She needed time to think. “Just drive around for a while, please.”
“Gut. There is much to see in Berlin.”
BERLIN WAS A surprise to Diane. She knew that it had been bombed almost out of existence in World War II, but what she saw now was a bustling city with attractive, modern buildings and a brisk air of success.
The street names seemed so odd to her: Windscheidstrasse, Regensburgerstrasse, Lützowufer…
As they drove, the driver explained the history of the parks and buildings, but Diane was not listening. She had to speak to the people where Frau Verbrugge had worked and find out what they knew. According to the Internet, Franz Verbrugge’s wife had been murdered and Franz had disappeared.
Diane leaned forward and said to the driver, “Do you know where a computer café is?”
“Certainly, fräulein.”
“Would you take me there, please?”
“It is excellent. Very popular. You can get any information you want there.”
I hope so, Diane thought.
THE CYBERLIN CAFÉ was not as large as its counterpart in Manhattan, but it seemed just as busy.
As Diane walked in the door, a woman came from behind the desk. “We will have a computer available in ten minutes.”
“I want to speak to the manager,” Diane said.
“I am the manager.”
“Oh.”
“And what did you want to see me about?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Sonja Verbrugge.”
The woman shook her head. “Frau Verbrugge is not here.”
“I know,” Diane said. “She’s dead. I’m trying to find out how she died.”
The woman was regarding Diane intently. “It was an accident. When the police confiscated her computer, they found—” A sly expression came over her face. “If you will wait right here, fräulein, I will call someone who can help you. I will return quickly.”
As Diane watched her hurry around the back, she was filled with a sudden sense of unease. When the woman was out of sight, Diane rushed outside and got into the car. There was going to be no help there. I have to talk to Franz Verbrugge’s secretary.
At a telephone kiosk, Diane got the number of KIG and dialed.
“KIG Berlin.”
Diane said, “Could I speak to Franz Verbrugge’s secretary, please?”
“Who is calling?”
“This is Susan Stratford.”
“One moment, please.”
In Tanner’s office, the blue light had flashed on. Tanner smiled at his brother. “That’s Diane Stevens calling. Let’s see if we can help her.” He put the call on speakerphone.
The voice of the KIG operator said, “His secretary is not here. Would you like to speak to his assistant?”
“Yes, please.”
“Just a moment.”
A female voice came on. “This is Heidi Fronk. May I help you?”
Diane’s heart began to beat faster. “This is Susan Stratford. I’m a reporter with the Wall Street Journal. We’re doing a story on the recent tragedies that have happened to some employees at KIG. I wonder if I could have an interview with you?”
“I don’t know—”
“Just for some background information.”
Tanner was listening intently.
“What about lunch? Are you free today?”
“I’m sorry, no.”
“Dinner, then.”
There was hesitation in her voice. “Yes, I suppose I could do that.”
“Where would you like to meet?”
“There is a fine restaurant called Rockendorf’s. We could meet there.”
“Thank you.”
“Eight-thirty?”
“Eight-thirty.”
Diane replaced the receiver, smiling.
Tanner turned to Andrew. “I’ve decided to do what I should have done in the first place. I’m calling Greg Holliday to handle the matter. He’s never failed me.” He looked at Andrew. “He has an inflated ego. He charges an arm and a leg, but”—he smiled thinly—“he’ll deliver an arm and a leg.”
Chapter 37
AS KELLY APPROACHED the door of Sam Meadows’s apartment at 14 Rue du Bourg-Tibourg, in the Fourth Arrondissement, she hesitated. Now that the chase was drawing to a conclusion, she was finally going to get some answers. She found herself drawing back, afraid to hear them.
Kelly rang the doorbell. The moment the door opened and she saw Sam Meadows, her fears went away. All she felt was pleasure and relief at seeing this man who had been so close to Mark.
“Kelly!” He cradled her in a warm bear hug.
“Oh, Sam.”
He took her hand. “Come on in.”
Kelly stepped inside. It was a charming two-bedroom apartment, in a building that had once belonged to a member of the French nobility.
The drawing room was spacious and luxuriously appointed with French furniture, and in a small alcove, there was a curiously carved oak bar. On the wall was a Man Ray, and Adolf Wölfli drawings.