“…and I’ve come back to the real world, Betty. I’ll be able to go back to work in a few weeks…I know. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Jeff was standing there, waiting to say good-bye. Rachel waved to him and turned back to the telephone. “I’ll tell you what I want…get me a shoot on a nice tropical…”
Rachel watched Jeff walk out the door. Slowly, she let the phone drop. She walked over to the window and stood there, watching the only man she had ever loved walk out of her life.
Dr. Young’s words were still ringing in her ears. “Miss Stevens, I’m sorry, but I have bad news. The treatment didn’t work…The cancer has metastasized…It has spread too far. I’m afraid that it’s terminal…maybe another month or two…”
Rachel remembered the Hollywood director Roderick Marshall saying to her, “I’m glad you came. I’m going to make you a big star.” And as the excruciating red river of pain began to wrack Rachel’s body again, she thought: Roderick Marshall would have been proud of me.
When Dana’s plane landed, Washington’s Dulles airport was crowded with passengers waiting for their luggage. Dana walked past the carousels out into the street and climbed into one of the waiting taxis. There were no suspicious-looking men around, but her nerves were screaming. Dana took out her purse and looked in the small mirror for reassurance. Her blond wig did give her a completely different look. It will have to do for now, Dana thought. I’ve got to get to Kemal.
Kemal opened his eyes slowly, awakened by the sounds of voices coming through the closed study door. He felt groggy.
“The boy’s still asleep,” he heard Mrs. Daley say. “I drugged him.”
A man replied, “We’ll have to wake him up.”
A second man’s voice said, “Maybe it would be better if we carried him there while he’s asleep.”
“You could do it to him here,” Mrs. Daley said. “And then get rid of his body.”
Kemal was suddenly wide awake.
“We have to keep him alive for a while. They’re going to use him as bait to catch the Evans woman.”
Kemal sat up, listening, his heart pounding.
“Where is she?”
“We’re not sure. But we know she’ll be coming here for the kid.”
Kemal jumped out of bed. He stood there for a moment, rigid with fear. The woman he had trusted wanted to kill him. Pizda! It won’t be that easy, Kemal swore to himself. They couldn’t kill me in Sarajevo. They’re not going to kill me here. He began frantically throwing on his clothes. When he reached for his artificial arm on the chair, it slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor with what sounded to Kemal like a thunderous crash. He froze. The men outside were still talking. They had not heard it. Kemal attached his arm and finished dressing quickly.
He opened the window and was hit by a blast of frigid air. His overcoat was in the other room. Kemal moved out onto the window ledge in his thin jacket, his teeth chattering. There was a fire escape leading to the ground, and he climbed onto it, careful to duck out of sight of the living-room window.
As Kemal reached the ground, he looked at his watch. It was 2:45. Somehow he had slept half the day away. He began to run.
“Let’s tie the kid down, just in case.”
One of the men opened the study door and looked around the room in surprise. “Hey, he’s gone!”
The two men and Mrs. Daley rushed to the open window in time to see Kemal racing down the street.
“Get him!”
Kemal ran as if in a nightmare; his legs growing weaker and more rubbery with every step. Each breath was a knife in his chest. If I can get to the school before they close the gates at three o’clock, he thought, I’ll be safe. They won’t dare hurt me with all the other kids around.
There was a red traffic light ahead. Kemal ignored it and darted across the avenue, dodging cars, oblivious to the outraged sounds of automobile horns and screaming brakes. He reached the other side of the street and kept running.