“No, you don’t. You picked the last one. Can we see American Graffiti again?”
American Graffiti. And suddenly Mary knew what proof she might show Stanton Rogers.
At midnight, Mary asked Carmen to call a taxi.
“Don’t you want Florian to drive you?” Carmen asked. “He’s—”
“No.”
This was something that had to be done secretly.
When the taxi arrived a few minutes later, Mary got in. “The American embassy, please.”
The taxi driver replied, “It is closed at this hour. There is no one—” He turned around and recognized her. “Madam Ambassador! This is a great honor.” He began to drive. “I recognized you from all your pictures in our newspapers and magazines. You are almost as famous as our great leader.”
Others in the embassy had commented about all the publicity she was receiving in the Romanian press.
The driver was chattering on. “I like Americans. They are good-hearted people. I hope your President’s people-to-people plan works. We Romanians are all for it. It is time the world had peace.”
She was in no mood for a discussion of any kind.
When they arrived at the embassy, Mary indicated a place marked: PARCARE CÚ LUCURI REZERVATE. “Pull in there, please, and come back for me in an hour. I’ll be returning to the residence.”
“Certainly, Madam Ambassador.”
A marine guard was moving toward the taxi. “You can’t park there, it’s res—” He recognized Mary and saluted. “Sorry. Good evening, Madam Ambassador.”
“Good evening,” Mary said.
The marine walked her to the entrance and opened the door for her. “Can I help you?”
“No. I’m going to my office for a few minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He watched her walk down the hall.
Mary turned the lights on in her office and looked at the walls where the obscenities had been washed away. She walked over to the connecting door that led to Mike Slade’s office and entered. The room was in darkness. She turned on the lights and looked around.
There were no papers on his desk. She began searching through the drawers. They were empty, except for brochures and bulletins and timetables. Innocent things that would be of no use to a snooping cleaning woman. Mary’s eyes scrutinized the office. It had to be here somewhere. There was no other place he could have kept it, and it was unlikely that he would carry it around with him.
She opened the drawers and started examining their contents again, slowly and carefully. When she came to a bottom drawer, she felt something hard at the back, behind a mass of papers. She pulled it out and held it in her hand, staring at it.
It was a can of red spray paint.
At a few minutes after nine P.M., Dr. Louis Desforges was waiting in Baneăsa Forest, near the fountain. He wondered if he had done the wrong thing by not reporting Mike Slade. No, he thought. First I must hear what he has to say. If I made a false accusation, it would destroy him.
Mike Slade appeared suddenly out of the darkness.
“Thanks for coming. We can clear this up very quickly. You said on the telephone you thought someone was poisoning Mary Ashley.”
“I know it. Someone was feeding her arsenic.”
“And you think I’m responsible?”
“You could have put it in her coffee, a little bit at a time.”
“Have you reported this to anyone?”
“Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“I’m glad you did,” Mike said. He took his hand out of his pocket. In it was a .357 caliber magnum pistol.
Louis stared. “What—what are you doing? Listen to me! You can’t—”
Mike Slade pulled the trigger and watched the Frenchman’s chest explode into a red cloud.
27
In the American embassy, Mary was in the Bubble Room telephoning Stanton Rogers’s office on the secure line. It was one o’clock in the morning in Bucharest, and six P.M. in Washington, D.C.
“Mr. Rogers’s office.”
“This is Ambassador Ashley. I know that Mr. Rogers is in China with the President, but it’s urgent that I speak to him as soon as possible. Is there any way I can reach him there?”
“I’m sorry, Madam Ambassador. His itinerary is very flexible. I have no telephone number for him.”