The Sky is Falling

The Lone Ranger said, ‘Try it again. Louder.’

Captain Midnite took down another painting and threw it heavily against the floor. ‘Now let’s see what happens.’

In his bedroom upstairs, Gary Winthrop was awakened by the noise. He sat up in bed. Had he heard a sound, or had he dreamed it? He listened a moment longer. Silence. Unsure, he rose and stepped out into the hallway and pressed the light switch. The hallway remained dark.

‘Hello. Is anyone down there?’ There was no answer. Downstairs, he walked along the corridor until he reached the door of the drawing room. He stopped and stared in disbelief at the two masked men.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

The Lone Ranger turned to him and said, ‘Hi, Gary. Sorry we woke you up. Go back to sleep.’ A Beretta with a silencer appeared in his hand. He pulled the trigger twice and watched Gary Winthrop’s chest explode into a red shower. The Lone Ranger and Captain Midnite watched him fall to the floor. Satisfied, they turned and continued to remove the paintings.

Chapter Two

Dana Evans was awakened by the relentless ringing of the telephone. She struggled to sit up and looked at the bedside clock, bleary-eyed. It was five o’clock in the morning. She picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’

‘Dana …’

‘Matt?’

‘See how fast you can get down to the studio.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘I’ll fill you in when you get here.’

‘I’m on my way.’

Fifteen minutes later, hastily dressed, Dana was knocking on the door of the Whartons’ apartment, her next-door neighbors.

Dorothy Wharton opened the door, wearing a robe. She looked at Dana in alarm. ‘Dana, what’s wrong?’

‘I hate to do this to you, Dorothy, but I’ve been called to the studio on an emergency. Would you mind getting Kemal to school?’

‘Why, of course not. I’d be happy to.’

‘Thank you so much. He has to be there at seven-forty-five, and he’ll need breakfast.’

‘Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of it. You run along.’

‘Thanks,’ Dana said gratefully.

Abbe Lasmann was already in her office, looking sleepy. ‘He’s waiting for you.’

Dana walked into Matt’s office.

‘I have some awful news,’ he said. ‘Gary Winthrop was murdered earlier this morning.’

Dana sank into a chair, stunned. ‘What? Who –?’

‘Apparently his house was being robbed. When he confronted the burglars, they killed him.’

‘Oh, no! He was so wonderful!’ Dana remembered the friendliness and warmth of the attractive philanthropist, and she felt ill.

Matt shook his head in disbelief. ‘This makes – my God – the fifth tragedy.’

Dana was puzzled. ‘What do you mean, the fifth tragedy?’

Matt looked at her in surprise, then suddenly realized, ‘Of course – you were in Sarajevo. I guess over there, with a war going on, what happened to the Winthrops during the last year wouldn’t have been such headline news. I’m sure you know about Taylor Winthrop, Gary’s father?’

‘He was our ambassador to Russia. He and his wife died in a fire last year.’

‘Right. Two months later, their older son, Paul, was killed in an automobile accident. And six weeks after that, their daughter, Julie, died in a skiing accident.’ Matt paused for a moment. ‘And now, this morning, Gary, the last of the family.’

Dana was stunned into silence.

‘Dana, the Winthrops are a legend. If this country had a royal family, they would hold the crown. They invented charisma. They were world-famous for their philanthropy and government service. Gary was planning to follow in his father’s footsteps and run for the Senate, and he’d have been a shoo-in. Everyone loved him. Now he’s gone. In less than one year, one of the most distinguished families in the world has been totally wiped out.’

‘I – I don’t know what to say.’

‘You’d better think of something,’ Matt said briskly. ‘You’re on the air in twenty minutes.’

The news of Gary Winthrop’s death sent shock waves around the world. Comments from government leaders flashed onto universal television screens.

‘It’s like a Greek tragedy …’

‘Unbelievable …’

‘An ironic twist of fate …’

‘The world has sustained a terrible loss …’

‘The brightest and the best, and they’re all gone …’

Gary Winthrop’s murder seemed to be all that anyone was talking about. A wave of sadness swept over the country. Gary Winthrop’s death had brought back the memory of the other tragic deaths in his family.

‘It’s unreal,’ Dana told Jeff. ‘The whole family must have been so wonderful.’

‘They were. Gary was a real sports fan and a big supporter.’ Jeff shook his head. ‘It’s hard to believe that some two-bit thieves wiped out such a wonderful person.’

Driving to the studio the next morning, Jeff said, ‘By the way, Rachel’s in town.’

By the way? How casual. Much too casual, Dana thought.

Jeff had been married to Rachel Stevens, a top model. Dana had seen her picture in television ads and on magazine covers. It was hard to believe how beautiful she was. But she probably doesn’t have a working brain cell in her head, Dana decided. On the other hand, with that face and body, she doesn’t need any brains.

Dana had discussed Rachel with Jeff. ‘What happened to the marriage?’

‘It was great in the beginning,’ Jeff told her. ’Rachel was so supportive. Even though she hated baseball, she used to come to the games to watch me play. Besides that, we had a lot in common.’

I’ll bet you did.

‘She’s really a wonderful woman, completely unspoiled. She loved to cook. When she was on a shoot, Rachel would cook for the other models.’

Great way to get rid of the competition. They were probably dropping like flies.

‘What?’

‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘Anyway, we were married for five years.’

‘And then?’

‘Rachel was very successful. She was always booked, and her work took her all over the world. Italy … England … Jamaica … Thailand … Japan … You name it. Meanwhile, I was playing ball around the country. We didn’t get together very often. Little by little the magic faded.’

The next question seemed logical because Jeff loved children. ‘Why no children?’

Jeff smiled wryly. ‘Not good for a model’s figure. Then one day Roderick Marshall, one of Hollywood’s ace directors, sent for her. Rachel went to Hollywood.’ He hesitated. ‘She called me a week later to tell me she wanted a divorce. She felt we had drifted too far apart. I had to agree. I gave her the divorce. Shortly after that I broke my arm.’

‘And you became a sportscaster. What about Rachel? She didn’t make it in movies?’

Jeff shook his head. ‘She wasn’t really interested. But she’s doing just fine.’

‘And you’re still friendly?’ A loaded question.

‘Yes. As a matter of fact, when she called me, I told her about us. She wants to meet you.’

Dana frowned. ‘Jeff, I don’t think–’

‘She’s really very nice, honey. Let’s all have lunch tomorrow. You’ll like her.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ Dana agreed. Snowball in hell, Dana thought. But I don’t get to talk to many airheads.

The airhead turned out to be even more beautiful than Dana had feared. Rachel Stevens was tall and slender, with lustrous, long blond hair, flawless tanned skin, and striking facial features. Dana hated her on sight.

‘Dana Evans, this is Rachel Stevens.’

Dana thought, Shouldn’t it have been ‘Rachel Stevens, this is Dana Evans’?

Rachel Stevens was saying, ‘… your broadcasts from Sarajevo whenever I could. They were incredible. We could all feel your heartbreak and share it.’

How do you respond to a sincere compliment? ‘Thank you,’ Dana said lamely.

‘Where would you like to have lunch?’ Jeff asked.

Rachel suggested, ‘There’s a marvelous restaurant called the Straits of Malaya. It’s just two blocks off Dupont Circle.’ She turned to Dana and asked, ‘Do you like Thai food?’

As if she really cares. ‘Yes.’

Jeff smiled. ‘Fine. Let’s try it.’

Rachel said, ‘It’s only a few blocks from here. Shall we walk?’

In this freezing weather? ‘Sure,’ Dana said gamely. She probably walks naked in the snow.

They headed for Dupont Circle. Dana felt uglier by the second. She was bitterly sorry she had accepted the invitation.

The restaurant turned out to be packed, with a dozen people at the bar, waiting for tables. The maître d’came bustling up.

‘A table for three,’ Jeff said.

‘Do you have a reservation?’

‘No, but we –’

‘I’m sorry, but –’ He recognized Jeff. ‘Mr Connors, it’s a pleasure to see you.’ He looked at Dana. ‘Miss Evans, this is an honor.’ He made a small moue. ‘I’m afraid there will be a short delay.’ His glance moved to Rachel, and his face lit up. ‘Miss Stevens! I read that you were doing a layout in China.’

‘I was, Somchai. I’m back.’

‘Wonderful.’ He turned to Dana and Jeff. ‘Of course we have a table for you.’ He led them to a table in the center of the room.

I hate her, Dana thought. I truly hate her.

When they were seated, Jeff said, ‘You look great, Rachel. Whatever you’re doing agrees with you.’

And we can all guess what that is.

‘I’ve been doing a lot of traveling. I think I’m going to start taking it easy for a while.’ She looked into Jeff’s eyes. ‘Do you remember the night that you and I–’

Dana looked up from the menu. ‘What is udang goreng?’

Rachel glanced at Dana. ‘That’s shrimp in coconut milk. It’s very good here.’ She turned back to Jeff. ’The night you and I decided that we wanted to –’

‘What is laksa?’

Rachel said patiently, ‘That’s spicy noodle soup.’ She turned back to Jeff. ’You said you wanted to –’

‘And poh pia?’

Rachel looked at Dana and said sweetly, ‘That’s jicama stir-fried with vegetables.’

‘Really?’ Dana decided not to ask what jicama was.

But as the meal went on, Dana was surprised that in spite of herself, she began to like Rachel Stevens. She had a warm and charming personality. Unlike most world-class beauties, Rachel seemed to be completely unself-conscious about her looks and displayed no ego. She was intelligent and articulate, and when she gave the luncheon order to the waiter in Thai, there was no hint of superiority. How did Jeff ever let this one get away? Dana wondered.

‘How long will you be in Washington?’ Dana asked.

‘I have to leave tomorrow.’

‘Where are you heading for this time?’ Jeff wanted to know.

Rachel hesitated. ‘Hawaii. But I’m feeling really tired, Jeff. I was even thinking of canceling this.’

‘But you won’t,’ Jeff said knowingly.

Rachel sighed. ‘No, I won’t.’

‘When will you be back?’ Dana asked.

Rachel looked at her for a long moment and then said softly, ‘I don’t think I’ll be coming back to Washington, Dana. I hope you and Jeff will be very happy.’ There was an unspoken message in her words.

Outside, after lunch, Dana said, ‘I have some errands to do. You two go on ahead.’

Rachel took Dana’s hand in hers. ‘I’m very glad we met.’

‘So am I,’ Dana said, and to her surprise she really meant it.

Dana watched Jeff and Rachel start down the street. A striking couple, she thought.

Because it was early December, Washington was preparing for the holiday season. The streets of the capital were decorated with Christmas lights and wreaths of holly, and on almost every corner Salvation Army Santa Clauses stood, tolling their bells for coins. The sidewalks were crowded with shoppers braving the icy winds.

The time has come, Dana thought. I have to get started with my own shopping. Dana thought about the people for whom she should buy gifts. Her mother; Kemal; Matt, her boss; and, of course, wonderful Jeff. Dana jumped in a cab and headed for Hecht’s, one of Washington’s largest department stores. The place was jammed with people celebrating the Christmas spirit by rudely elbowing other shoppers out of the way.

When Dana finished shopping, she headed back to her apartment to drop off her gifts. The apartment was on Calvert Street, in a quiet residential section. Attractively furnished, it consisted of one bedroom, a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a study, where Kemal slept.

Dana put the gifts in a closet, looked around the small apartment, and thought happily, We’ll have to get a larger place when Jeff and I get married. As she headed for the door to return to the studio, the telephone rang. Murphy’s law. Dana picked up the phone. ‘Hello.’

‘Dana, darling.’

It was her mother. ‘Hello, Mother. I was just leav –’

‘My friends and I listened to your broadcast last night. You were very good.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Although we thought you could have brightened up the news a bit.’

Dana sighed. ‘Brightened up the news?’

‘Yes. All the things you talk about are so depressing. Can’t you find something cheerful to discuss?’

‘I’ll certainly see what I can do, Mother.’

‘That would be nice. By the way, I’m running just a little short of cash this month. I wonder if you could help me out again?’

Dana’s father had disappeared years ago. In time, Dana’s mother had moved to Las Vegas. It seemed that she was always short of cash. The monthly allowance Dana gave her mother never seemed to be enough.

‘Do you gamble, Mother?’

‘Of course not,’ Mrs Evans said indignantly. ‘Las Vegas is a very expensive city. By the way, when are you going to come out here? I would like to meet Kimbal. You should bring him here.’

‘His name is Kemal, Mother. I can’t get away right now.’

There was a slight hesitation at the other end. ‘You can’t? My friends are all saying how fortunate you are to have a job where you only have to work an hour or two a day.’

Dana said, ‘I guess I’m just lucky.’

As anchorwoman, Dana arrived at the television studio at nine o’clock every morning and spent much of the day on international conference calls, getting the latest news from London, Paris, Italy, and other foreign locations. The rest of the day was devoted to meetings, putting all the news together, and deciding what would be broadcast and in what order when she went on the air. She did two evening broadcasts.

‘It’s nice that you have such an easy job, darling.’

‘Thank you, Mother.’

‘You’ll come and see me soon, won’t you?’

‘Yes, I will.’

‘I can’t wait to meet that darling little boy.’

It will be good for Kemal to meet her, too, Dana thought. He’ll have a grandmother. And when Jeff and I are married, Kemal will have a real family again.

As Dana stepped out into the corridor of her apartment building, Mrs Wharton appeared.

‘I want to thank you for taking care of Kemal the other morning, Dorothy. I really appreciate it.’

‘It was my pleasure.’

Dorothy Wharton and her husband, Howard, had moved into the building a year ago. They were Canadians, a delightful middle-aged couple. Howard Wharton was an engineer who repaired monuments.

As he had explained to Dana at dinner one night, ‘There’s no better city in the world than Washington for my kind of work. Where else could I find opportunities like this?’ And he answered his own question. ‘Nowhere.’

‘Howard and I both love Washington,’ Mrs Wharton confided. ‘We’re never going to leave.’

When Dana got back to her office, the latest edition of the Washington Tribune was on her desk. The front page was filled with stories and photographs of the Winthrop family. Dana looked at the photographs for a long time, her mind racing. Five of them all dead in less than a year. Incredible.

The call was made to a private phone in the executive tower of Washington Tribune Enterprises.

‘I just got the instructions.’

‘Good. They’ve been waiting. What do you want them to do with the paintings?’

‘Burn them.’

‘All of them? They’re worth millions of dollars.’

‘Everything’s gone perfectly. We can’t allow any loose ends. Burn them now.’

Dana’s secretary, Olivia Watkins, was on the intercom. ‘There’s a call for you on line three. He’s called twice already.’

‘Who is it, Olivia?’

‘Mr Henry.’

Thomas Henry was the principal of Theodore Roosevelt Middle School.

Dana rubbed her hand against her forehead to wipe away the headache that was about to start. She picked up the telephone. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Henry.’

‘Good afternoon, Miss Evans. I wonder if you could stop by and see me?’

‘Certainly. In an hour or two, I’m –’

‘I would suggest now, if that’s possible.’

‘I’ll be there.’

Chapter Three

School was an unbearable ordeal for Kemal. He was smaller than the other kids in his classes, and to his deep shame, that included the girls. He was nicknamed ‘the runt’ and ‘the shrimp’ and ‘the minnow’. As far as his studies were concerned, Kemal’s only interest was in math and computers, where he invariably got the highest grades of anyone. An offshoot of the class was the chess club, and Kemal dominated it. In the past, he had enjoyed soccer, but when he had gone to try out for the school varsity team, the coach had looked at Kemal’s empty sleeve and said, ‘Sorry, we can’t use you.’ It was not said unkindly, but it was a devastating blow.

Kemal’s nemesis was Ricky Underwood. At lunchtime some of the students ate in the enclosed patio instead of the cafeteria. Ricky Underwood would wait to see where Kemal was having lunch and then join him.

‘Hey, orphan boy. When is your wicked stepmother going to send you back where you came from?’

Kemal ignored him.

‘I’m talking to you, freak. You don’t think she’s going to keep you, do you? Everyone knows why she brought you over here, camel face. Because she was a famous war correspondent, and it made her look good to save a cripple.’

‘Fukat!’ Kemal shouted. He got up and leaped at Ricky.

Ricky’s fist went into Kemal’s stomach, and then crashed into Kemal’s face. Kemal fell on the ground, writhing in pain.

Ricky Underwood said, ‘Anytime you want more, just tell me. And you better do it fast, because from what I hear, you’re history.’

Kemal lived in an agony of doubt. He did not believe the things that Ricky Underwood said and yet … What if they were true? What if Dana does send me back? Ricky is right, Kemal thought. I am a freak. Why would someone as wonderful as Dana want me?

Kemal had believed his life was over when his parents and sister were killed in Sarajevo. He had been sent to the Orphans Institution outside of Paris, and it was a nightmare.

At two o’clock every Friday afternoon, the boys and girls in the orphanage would line up as prospective foster parents arrived to evaluate them and select one to take home. As each Friday approached, the excitement and tension among the children rose to an almost unbearable pitch. They would wash and dress neatly, and as the adults walked along the line, each child would inwardly pray to be chosen.

Invariably, when the prospective parents saw Kemal, they would whisper, ‘Look, he’s got only one arm,’ and they would move on.

Every Friday was the same, but Kemal would still wait hopefully as the adults examined the line of candidates. But they always picked other children. Standing there, ignored, Kemal would be filled with humiliation. It will always be someone else, he thought despairingly. No one wants me.

Kemal wished desperately to be part of a family. He tried everything he could think of to make it happen. One Friday he would smile brightly at the adults to let them know what a nice, friendly boy he was. The next Friday he would pretend to be occupied with something, showing them that he didn’t really care whether he was chosen or not, and that they would be lucky to have him. At other times, he would look at them appealingly, silently begging them to take him home with them. But week after week, it was always someone else who was chosen and taken away to wonderful homes and happy families.

Miraculously, Dana had changed all that. She was the one who had found him living homeless on the streets of Sarajevo. After Kemal was airlifted by the Red Cross to the orphanage, Kemal wrote Dana a letter. To his astonishment, she had telephoned the orphanage and said that she wanted Kemal to come live with her in America. That was the happiest moment of Kemal’s life. It was an impossible dream come true, and it turned out to be a joy even greater than he had ever imagined.

Kemal’s life had changed completely. He was grateful now that no one had chosen him before. He was no longer alone in the world. Someone cared about him. He loved Dana with all his heart and soul, but within him was always the terrible fear that Ricky Underwood had instilled, that someday Dana would change her mind and send him back to the orphanage, to the life of hell he had escaped. He had a recurring dream: He was back in the orphans’ asylum, and it was Friday. A line of adults was inspecting the children, and Dana was there. She looked at Kemal and said, That ugly little boy has only one arm, and she moved on and picked the boy next to him. Kemal would wake up in tears.

Kemal knew that Dana hated for him to get into fights at school, and he did everything he could to avoid them, but he could not bear to have Ricky Underwood or his friends insult Dana. As soon as they realized that, the insults about Dana increased, and so did the fights.

Ricky would greet Kemal with ‘Hey, have you packed your suitcase, shrimp? On the news this morning it said your bitch stepmother is going to send you back to Yugoslavia.’

‘Zbosti!’ Kemal would yell.

And the fight would begin. Kemal would come home with black eyes and bruises, but when Dana asked him what had happened, he could not tell her the truth, for he was terrified that if he put it into words, what Ricky Underwood had said might happen.

Now, as Kemal waited in the principal’s office for Dana to arrive, he thought, When she hears what I’ve done this time, she is going to send me away. He sat there miserable, his heart racing.

When Dana entered the office of Thomas Henry, the principal was pacing the floor, looking grim. Kemal sat in a chair across the room.

‘Good morning, Miss Evans. Please sit down.’

Dana glanced at Kemal and took a seat.

Thomas Henry picked up a large butcher knife from his desk. ‘One of Kemal’s teachers took this from him.’

Dana swiveled to look at Kemal, furious. ‘Why?’ she asked angrily. ‘Why did you bring this to school?’

Kemal looked at Dana and said sullenly, ‘I didn’t have a gun.’

‘Kemal!’

Dana turned to the principal. ‘May I speak to you alone, Mr Henry?’

‘Yes.’ He looked over at Kemal, his jaw tight. ‘Wait in the hallway.’

Kemal got to his feet, took one last look at the knife, and left.

Dana began, ‘Mr Henry, Kemal is twelve years old. He’s lived most of those years going to sleep with the sound of exploding bombs in his ears, the same bombs that killed his mother and father and sister. One of those bombs took off his arm. When I found Kemal in Sarajevo, he was living in a cardboard box in a vacant lot. There were a hundred other homeless boys and girls there, living like animals.’ She was remembering, trying to keep her voice steady.

‘The bombs have stopped, but the boys and girls are still homeless and helpless. The only way they can defend themselves against their enemies is with a knife or a rock or a gun, if they’re lucky enough to get hold of one.’ Dana closed her eyes for an instant and took a deep breath. ‘These children are scarred. Kemal is scarred, but he’s a decent boy. He just needs to learn that he’s safe here. That none of us is his enemy. I promise you he won’t do this again.’