“Jus’ a minute.”
He heard the phone drop, and waited.
Her voice finally came back on. “Okay.”
“Tell Angel I need him for a contract in Bucharest.”
“Budapes’?”
Jesus! She was beyond anyone’s endurance. “Bucharest, Romania. Tell him it’s a five-million-dollar contract. He has to be in Bucharest by the end of this month. That’s three weeks from now. Do you have that?”
“Wait a minute. I’m writin’.”
He waited patiently.
“Okay. How many people Angel gotta kill for five million dollars?”
“A lot…”
The daily long lines in front of the embassy continued to disturb Mary. She discussed it again with Mike Slade.
“There must be something we can do to help those people get out of the country.”
“Everything’s been tried,” Mike assured her. “We’ve applied pressure, we’ve offered to sweeten the money pot—the answer is no. Ionescu refuses to cut a deal. The poor bastards are stuck. He has no intention of letting them go. The iron curtain isn’t just around the country—it’s in the country.”
“I’m going to have a talk with Ionescu again.”
“Good luck.”
Mary asked Dorothy Stone to set up an appointment with the dictator.
A few minutes later, the secretary walked into Mary’s office. “I’m sorry, Madam Ambassador. No appointments.”
Mary looked at her, puzzled. “What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure. Something weird is going on at the palace. Ionescu isn’t seeing anybody. In fact, no one can even get into the palace.”
Mary sat there, trying to figure out what it could be. Was Ionescu preparing to make a major announcement of some kind? Was a coup imminent? Something important must be happening. Whatever it was, Mary knew she had to find out.
“Dorothy,” she said, “you have contacts over at the presidential palace, don’t you?”
Dorothy smiled. “You mean the ‘old-girl network’? Sure. We talk to one another.”
“I’d like you to find out what’s going on there…”
An hour later, Dorothy reported back. “I found out what you wanted to know,” she said. “They’re keeping it very hush-hush.”
“Keeping what hush-hush?”
“Ionescu’s son is dying.”
Mary was aghast. “Nicu? What happened?”
“He has botulism poisoning.”
Mary asked quickly, “You mean there’s an epidemic here in Bucharest?”
“No, ma’am. Do you remember the epidemic they had in East Germany recently? Apparently Nicu visited there and someone gave him some canned food as a gift. He ate some of it yesterday.”
“But there’s an antiserum for that!” Mary exclaimed.
“The European countries are out of it. The epidemic last month used it all up.”
“Oh, my God.”
When Dorothy left the office, Mary sat there thinking. It might be too late, but still…She remembered how cheerful and happy young Nicu was. He was fourteen years old—only two years older than Beth.
She pressed the intercom button and said, “Dorothy, get me the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia.”
Five minutes later she was speaking to the director.
“Yes, Madam Ambassador, we have an antiserum for botulism poisoning, but we haven’t had any cases reported in the United States.”
“I’m not in the United States,” Mary told him. “I’m in Bucharest. I need that serum immediately.”
There was a pause. “I’ll be happy to supply some,” the director said, “but botulism poisoning works very rapidly. I’m afraid that by the time it gets there…”
“I’ll arrange for it to get here,” Mary said. “Just have it ready. Thank you.”
Ten minutes later she was speaking to Air Force General Ralph Zukor in Washington.
“Good morning, Madam Ambassador. Well, this is an unexpected pleasure. My wife and I are big fans of yours. How are—?”
“General, I need a favor.”
“Certainly. Anything you want.”
“I need your fastest jet.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I need a jet to fly some serum to Bucharest right away.”
“I see.”
“Can you do it?”
“Well, yes. I’ll tell you what you have to do. You’ll have to get the approval of the secretary of defense. There are some requisition forms for you to fill out. One copy should go to me and another copy to the Department of Defense. We’ll send those on to—”
Mary listened, seething. “General—let me tell you what you have to do. You have to stop talking and get that damned jet up in the air. If—”