At one A.M., when the warehouse was deserted, Angel appeared. The warehouse door had been left unlocked. Angel walked over to the cylinders, examined them carefully, and went to work. The first task was to empty the three helium tanks until each was only one-third full. After that, the rest was simple.
On the morning of the Fourth of July, the residence was in a state of chaos. Floors were being scrubbed, chandeliers polished, rugs cleaned. Every room contained its own series of distinctive noises. There was hammering as a podium at one end of the ballroom was being built for the band, the whir of vacuum cleaners in the hallways, sounds of cooking from the kitchen.
At four o’clock that afternoon, a U.S. Army truck pulled up to the service entrance of the residence and was stopped. The guard on duty said to the driver, “What have you got in there?”
“Goodies for the party.”
“Let’s take a look.”
The guard inspected the inside of the truck. “What’s in the boxes?”
“Some helium and balloons and flags and stuff.”
“Open them.”
Fifteen minutes later, the truck was passed through. Inside the compound a corporal and two marines began to unload the equipment and carry it into a large storage room off the main ballroom.
As they began to unpack, one of the marines said, “Look at all these balloons! Who the hell is going to blow them up?”
At that moment Eddie Maltz walked in, accompanied by a stranger wearing army fatigues.
“Don’t worry,” Eddie Maltz said. “This is the age of technology.” He nodded toward the stranger. “Here’s the one that’s in charge of the balloons. Colonel McKinney’s orders.”
One of the marine guards grinned at the stranger. “Better you than me.”
The two marines left.
“You have an hour,” Eddie Maltz told the stranger. “Better get to work. You’ve got a lot of balloons to blow up.”
Maltz nodded to the corporal and walked out.
The corporal walked over to one of the cylinders. “What’s in these babies?”
“Helium,” the stranger said curtly.
As the corporal stood watching, the stranger picked up a balloon, put the tip to the nozzle of a cylinder for an instant, and, as the balloon filled, tied off the tip. The balloon floated to the ceiling. The whole operation took no more than a second.
“Hey, that’s great,” the corporal smiled.
In her office at the embassy, Mary Ashley was finishing up some action cables that had to be sent out immediately. She desperately wished the party could have been called off. There were going to be more than two hundred guests. She hoped Mike Slade was caught before the party began.
Tim and Beth were under constant supervision at the residence. How could Mike Slade bear to harm them? Mary remembered how much he had seemed to enjoy playing with them. He’s not sane.
Mary rose to put some papers in the shredder, and froze. Mike Slade was walking into her office through the connecting door. Mary opened her mouth to scream.
“Don’t!”
She was terrified. There was no one near enough to save her. He could kill her before she could call for help. He could escape the same way he had come in. How had he got past the guards? I must not show him how frightened I am.
“Colonel McKinney’s men are looking for you. You can kill me,” Mary said defiantly, “but you’ll never escape.”
“You’ve been listening to too many fairy tales. Angel’s the one who’s trying to kill you.”
“You’re a liar. Angel is dead. I saw him shot.”
“Angel is a professional from Argentina. The last thing he would do is walk around with Argentine labels in his clothes and Argentine pesos in his pocket. The slob the police killed was an amateur who was set up.”
Keep him talking. “I don’t believe a word you’re saying. You killed Louis Desforges. You tried to poison me. Do you deny that?”
Mike studied her for a long moment. “No. I don’t deny it but you’d better hear the story from a friend of mine.” He turned toward the door to his office. “Come in, Bill.”
Colonel McKinney walked into the room. “I think it’s time we all had a chat, Madam Ambassador…”