“Dr. Desforges?” Mike repeated slowly.
“Yes. He’s—he’s on his way over to see me.”
How she wished it were true!
There was a strange look in Mike Slade’s eyes. Mary’s desk lamp was on, and it threw Mike’s shadow against the wall, making him grotesquely large and menacing.
“Are you sure you’re well enough to be back at work?”
The cold-blooded nerve of the man. “Yes. I’m fine.”
She desperately wanted him to leave, so that she could escape. I must not show him I’m frightened.
He was moving closer to her. “You look tense. Maybe you should take the kids and go out to the lake district for a few days.”
Where I’ll be an easier target.
Just looking at him filled her with such a fear that she found it hard to breathe. Her intercom phone rang. It was a life-saver.
“If you’ll excuse me…”
“Sure.” Mike Slade stood there a moment staring at her, then turned and left, taking his shadow with him.
Almost sobbing with relief, Mary picked up the telephone. “Hello?”
It was Jerry Davis, the public affairs consular. “Madam Ambassador, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m afraid I have some terrible news for you. We just received a police report that Dr. Louis Desforges has been murdered.”
The room began to swim. “Are you—are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am. His wallet was found on his body.”
Sensory memories flooded through her, and a voice over the telephone was saying: “This is Sheriff Munster. Your husband has been killed in a car accident.” And all the old sorrows came rushing back, stabbing at her, tearing her apart.
“How—how did it happen?” Her voice was strangled.
“He was shot to death.”
“Do they—do they know who did it?”
“No, ma’am. The Securitate and the French embassy are investigating.”
She dropped the receiver, her mind and body numb, and leaned back in her chair, studying the ceiling. There was a crack in it. I must have that repaired, Mary thought. We mustn’t have cracks in our embassy. There’s another crack. Cracks everywhere. Cracks in our lives, and when there is a crack, evil things get in. Edward is dead. Louis is dead. She could not bear to think of that. She searched for more cracks. I can’t go through this pain again, Mary thought. Who would want to kill Louis?
The answer immediately followed the question. Mike Slade. Louis had discovered that Slade was feeding Mary arsenic. Slade probably thought that with Louis dead, no one could prove anything against him.
A sudden realization struck her and filled her with a new terror. “Who were you talking to?” Dr. Desforges. And Mike must have known that Dr. Desforges was dead.
She stayed in her office all day, planning her next move. I’m not going to let him drive me away. I’m not going to let him kill me. I have to stop him. She was filled with a rage such as she had never known before. She was going to protect herself and her children. And she was going to destroy Mike Slade.
Mary placed another urgent call to Stanton Rogers.
“I gave him your message, Madam Ambassador. He will return your call as soon as possible.”
She could not bring herself to accept Louis’s death. He had been so warm, so gentle, and now he was lying in some morgue, lifeless. If I had gone back to Kansas, Mary thought dully, Louis would be alive today.
“Madam Ambassador…”
Mary looked up. Dorothy Stone was holding an envelope out to her.
“The guard at the gate asked me to give you this. He said it was delivered by a young boy.”
The envelope was marked: PERSONAL, FOR THE AMBASSADOR’S EYES ONLY.
Mary tore open the envelope. The note was written in a neat copperplate handwriting. It read:
Dear Madam Ambassador:
Enjoy your last day on earth.
It was signed “Angel.”
Another one of Mike’s scare tactics, Mary thought. It won’t work. I’ll keep well away from him.
Colonel McKinney was studying the note. He shook his head. “There are a lot of sickies out there.” He looked up at Mary. “You were scheduled to make an appearance this afternoon at the ground-breaking ceremony for the new library addition. I’ll cancel it and—”