THE SKY IS FALLING BY SIDNEY SHELDON

“Right. Thank you very—” The line went dead.

One hour later Dana was entering the lobby of the huge brick building again. She walked up to the same guard seated behind the desk.

He looked up. “Dobry dyen?”

She forced a smile. “Dobry dyen. I’m Dana Evans, and I’m here to see Commissar Shdanoff.”

He shrugged. “I’m sorry. Without an appointment—”

Dana held on to her temper. “I have an appointment.”

He looked at her skeptically. “Da?” He picked up a telephone and spoke into it for a few moments. He turned to Dana. “Third floor,” he said reluctantly. “Someone will meet you.”

Commissar Shdanoff’s office was huge and shabby and looked as though it had been furnished in the early 1920s. There were two men in the office.

As Dana entered, they both stood up. The older man said, “I am Commissar Shdanoff.”

Sasha Shdanoff appeared to be in his fifties. He was short and compact, with wispy gray hair, a pale, round face, and restless brown eyes that constantly darted around the room as though searching for something. He had a heavy accent. He was wearing a shapeless brown suit and scuffed black shoes. He indicated the second man.

“This is my brother, Boris Shdanoff.”

Boris Shdanoff smiled. “How do you do, Miss Evans?”

Boris Shdanoff looked totally unlike his brother. He appeared to be about ten years younger. He had an aquiline nose and a firm chin. He was dressed in a light blue Armani suit with a gray Hermès tie. He had almost no accent at all.

Sasha Shdanoff said proudly, “Boris is visiting from America. He is attached to the Russian embassy in your capital, Washington, D.C.”

“I’ve admired your work, Miss Evans,” Boris Shdanoff said.

“Thank you.”

“What can I do for you?” Sasha Shdanoff asked. “Do you have a problem of some kind?”

“No, not at all,” Dana said. “I wanted to ask you about Taylor Winthrop.”

He looked at her, puzzled. “What is it you wish to know about Taylor Winthrop?”

“I understand that you worked with him, and that you saw him socially, on occasion.”

Sasha Shdanoff said cautiously, “Da.”

“I wanted to get your personal opinion of him.”

“What is there to say? I think he was a fine ambassador for your country.”

“I understand he was very popular here and—”

Boris Shdanoff interrupted. “Oh, yes. The embassies in Moscow have many parties, and Taylor Winthrop was always—”

Sasha Shdanoff scowled at his brother. “Dovolno!” He turned back to Dana. “Ambassador Winthrop sometimes went to the embassy parties. He liked people. The Russian people liked him.”

Boris Shdanoff spoke up again. “As a matter of fact, he told me that if he could—”

Sasha Shdanoff snapped, “Molchat!” He turned. “As I said, Miss Evans, he was a fine ambassador.”

Dana looked at Boris Shdanoff. He was obviously trying to tell her something. She turned back to the commissar. “Did Ambassador Winthrop ever get in any kind of trouble while he was here?”

Sasha Shdanoff frowned. “Trouble? No.” He was avoiding her eyes.

He’s lying, Dana thought. She pressed on. “Commissar, can you think of any reason why someone would murder Taylor Winthrop and his family?”

Sasha Shdanoff’s eyes widened. “Murder? The Winthrops? Nyet. Nyet.”

“You can’t think of anything at all?”

Boris Shdanoff said, “As a matter of fact—”

Sasha Shdanoff cut him off. “There was no reason. He was a great ambassador.” He took a cigarette from a silver case, and Boris hurried to light it for him.

“Was there anything else you want to know?” Sasha Shdanoff asked.

Dana looked at the two of them. They’re hiding something, she thought, but what? This whole thing is like walking through a maze with no exit. “No.” She glanced at Boris as she said slowly, “If you think of anything, I’ll be at the Sevastopol Hotel until tomorrow morning.”

Boris Shdanoff said, “You are going back home?”

“Yes. My plane leaves tomorrow afternoon.”

“I—” Boris Shdanoff started to say something, looked at his brother, and was quiet.

“Good-bye,” Dana said.

“Proshchayte.”

“Proshchayte.”

When Dana got back to her room, she telephoned Matt Baker.

“There’s something going on here, Matt, but I can’t find out what it is, damn it. I have a feeling that I could stay here for months and not get any useful information. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

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