Windmills of the Gods by Sidney Sheldon

She looked at him and said, “Oh Stan—that would be heaven! But would I have time?”

He winked. “I have friends in high places. Let me work it out for you.”

Impulsively, she hugged him. He had become such a dear friend. The dreams she and Edward had talked about so often were about to come true. But without Edward. It was a bittersweet thought.

Mary and Stanton Rogers were ushered into the Green Room, where President Ellison was waiting for them.

“I want to apologize for the delay in setting things in motion, Mary. Stanton has told you that you’ve been approved by the Romanian government. Here are your credentials.”

He handed her a letter. She read it slowly:

Mrs. Mary Ashley is herewith appointed to be Chief Representative of the President of the United States in Romania, and every United States government employee there is herewith subject to her authority.

“This goes along with it.” The President handed Mary a passport. It had a black cover instead of the usual blue one. On the front, in gold letters, was printed DIPLOMATIC PASSPORT.

Mary had been anticipating this for weeks, but now that the time had come, she could scarcely believe it.

Paris!

Rome!

Bucharest!

It seemed almost too good to be true. And for no reason, something that Mary’s mother used to tell her popped into her mind: If something seems to be too good to be true, Mary, it probably is.

There was a brief item in the afternoon press that Washington Post reporter Ben Cohn had been killed by a gas explosion in his apartment. The explosion was attributed to a leaky stove.

Mary did not see the news item. When Ben Cohn did not show up for their appointment, Mary decided that the reporter had either forgotten or was no longer interested. She returned to her office and went back to work.

The relationship between Mary and Mike Slade became steadily more irritating to her. He’s the most arrogant man I’ve ever met, Mary thought. I’m going to have to talk to Stan about him.

Stanton Rogers accompanied Mary and the children to Dulles Airport in a State Department limousine. During the ride, Stanton said, “The embassies in Paris and Rome have been alerted to your arrival. They’ll see to it that the three of you are well taken care of.”

“Thank you, Stan. You’ve been wonderful.”

He smiled. “I can’t tell you how much pleasure it’s given me.”

“Can I see the catacombs in Rome?” Tim asked.

Stanton warned, “It’s pretty scary down there, Tim.”

“That’s why I want to see it.”

At the airport, Ian Villiers was waiting with a dozen photographers and reporters. They surrounded Mary, Beth, and Tim, and called out all the usual questions.

Finally, Stanton Rogers said, “That’s enough.”

Two men from the State Department and a representative of the airline ushered the party into a private lounge. The children wandered off to the magazine stand.

Mary said, “Stan—I hate to burden you with this, but James Stickley told me that Mike Slade is going to be my deputy chief of mission. Is there any way to change that?”

He looked at her in surprise. “Are you having some kind of problem with Slade?”

“Quite honestly, I don’t like him. And I don’t trust him—I can’t tell you why. Isn’t there someone who could replace him?”

Stanton Rogers said thoughtfully, “I don’t know Mike Slade well, but I know he has a magnificent record. He’s served brilliantly in posts in the Middle East and Europe. He can give you exactly the kind of expertise you’re going to need.”

She sighed. “That’s what Mr. Stickley said.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with him, Mary. Slade’s a troubleshooter.”

Wrong. Slade’s trouble. Period.

“If you have any problem with him, I want you to let me know. In fact, if you have problems with anyone, I want you to let me know. I intend to make sure that you get every bit of help I can give you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“One last thing. You know that all your communications will be copied and sent to various departments in Washington?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if you have any messages that you want to send to me without anyone else reading them, the code at the top of the message is three x’s. I’ll be the only one to receive that message.”

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