Windmills of the Gods (29 page)

She looked up at Mike and Colonel McKinney and said, “I won’t expose my children to danger.”

Colonel McKinney said, “I can arrange for Beth and Tim to be spirited out of the residence and taken back here under escort.”

Mary looked at Mike for a long time. Finally she spoke.

“How does a Judas goat dress?”

At the embassy, in Colonel McKinney’s office, two dozen marines were being given their orders.

“I want the residence guarded like Fort Knox,” Colonel McKinney snapped. “The Romanians are being cooperative. Ionescu is having his soldiers cordon off the square. No one gets through the line without a pass. We’ll have our own checkpoints at every entrance to the residence. Anyone going in or out will have to pass through a metal detector. The building and grounds will be completely surrounded. We’ll have snipers on the roof. Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

There was a tremendous feeling of excitement in the air. Huge spotlights ringed the residence, lighting up the sky. The crowd was kept moving by a detachment of American MPs and Romanian police. Plainclothesmen mingled with the multitude, looking for anything suspicious. Some of them moved around with trained police dogs sniffing for explosives.

The press coverage was enormous. There were photographers and reporters from a dozen countries. They had all been carefully checked, and their equipment searched, before they were allowed to enter the residence.

“A cockroach couldn’t sneak into this place tonight,” the marine officer in charge of security boasted.

In the storage room, the marine corporal was getting bored watching the person in army fatigues filling up the balloons. He pulled out a cigarette and started to light it.

Angel yelled, “Put that out!”

The marine looked up, startled. “What’s the problem? You’re filling those with helium, aren’t you? Helium doesn’t burn.”

“Put it out! Colonel McKinney said no smoking here.”

The marine grumbled, “Shit.” He dropped the cigarette and put it out with the sole of his shoe.

Angel watched to make sure there were no sparks left, then turned back to the task of filling each balloon from a different cylinder.

It was true that helium did not burn, but none of the cylinders was filled with helium. The first tank was filled with propane, the second tank with white phosphorus, and the third with an oxygen-acetylene mix. Angel had left just enough helium in each tank the night before to make the balloons rise.

Angel was filling the white balloons with propane, the red balloons with oxygen-acetylene, and the blue balloons with white phosphorus. When the balloons were exploded, the white phosphorus would act as an incendiary for the initial gas discharge, drawing in oxygen so that all breath would be sucked out of the body of everyone within fifty yards. The phosphorus would instantly turn to a hot, searing, molten liquid, falling on every person in the room. The thermal effect would destroy the lungs and throat, and the blast would
flatten an area of a square block.
It’s going to be beautiful.

Angel straightened up and looked at the colorful balloons floating against the ceiling of the storage room. “I am finished.”

“Okay,” the corporal said. “Now all we have to do is push these babies out into the ballroom and let the guests have some fun.” The corporal called over four guards. “Help me get these balloons out there.”

One of the guards opened wide the doors to the ballroom. The room had been decorated with American flags and red, white, and blue bunting. At the far end was the raised stand for the band. The ballroom was already crowded with guests helping themselves at the buffet tables set up along both sides of the room.

“It’s a lovely room,” Angel said.
In one hour, it will be filled with burned corpses.
“Could I take a picture of it?”

The corporal shrugged. “Why not? Let’s go, fellas.”

The marines pushed past Angel and started shoving the inflated balloons into the ballroom, watching as they floated to the ceiling high above.

“Easy,” Angel warned. “Easy.”

“Don’t worry,” a marine called. “We won’t break your precious balloons.”

Angel stood in the doorway, staring at the riot of colors ascending in a rising rainbow, and smiled. One thousand of the lethal little beauties nestled against the ceiling. Angel took a camera from a pocket and stepped into the ballroom.

“Hey! You’re not allowed in here,” the corporal said.

“I just want to take a picture to show my daughter.”

I’ll bet that’s some looking daughter,
the corporal thought sardonically. “All right. But make it quick.”

Angel glanced across the room at the entrance. Ambassador Mary Ashley was entering with her two children. Angel grinned. Perfect timing.

When the corporal turned his back, Angel quickly set the camera down under a cloth-covered table, where it could not
be seen. The motor-driven automatic timing device was set for a one-hour delay. Everything was ready.

The marine was approaching.

“I’m finished,” Angel said.

“I’ll have you escorted out.”

“Thank you.”

Five minutes later, Angel was outside the residence, strolling down Alexandru Sahia Street.

In spite of the fact that it was a hot and humid night, the area outside the American embassy residence had become a madhouse. Police were fighting to keep back the hundreds of curious Romanians who kept arriving. Every light in the residence had been turned on, and the building blazed against the black night sky.

Before the party began, Mary had taken the children upstairs.

“We have to have a family conference,” she said. She felt she owed them the truth.

They sat listening, wide-eyed, as their mother explained what had been happening and what might be about to happen.

“I’ll see to it that you’re in no danger,” Mary said. “You’ll be taken out of here, where you’ll be safe.”

“But what about you?” Beth asked. “Someone is trying to kill you. Can’t you come with us?”

“No, darling. Not if we want to catch this man.”

Tim was trying not to cry. “How do you know they’ll catch him?”

Mary thought about that a moment, and said, “Because Mike Slade said so. Okay, fellas?”

Beth and Tim looked at each other. They were both white-faced, terrified. Mary’s heart went out to them.
They’re too young to have to go through this,
she thought.
Anyone is too young to have to go through this.

She dressed carefully, wondering if she was dressing for her death. She chose a full-length formal red-silk chiffon gown and red-silk high-heel sandals. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was pale.

Fifteen minutes later, Mary, Beth, and Tim entered the ballroom. They walked across the floor, greeting guests, trying to conceal their nervousness. When they reached the other side of the room, Mary turned to the children. “You have homework to do,” she said loudly. “Back to your rooms.”

She watched them leave, a lump in her throat, thinking:
I hope to God Mike Slade knows what he’s doing.

There was a loud crash, and Mary jumped. She spun around to see what was happening, her pulse racing. A waiter had dropped a tray and was picking up the broken plates. Mary tried to stop the pounding of her heart. How was Angel planning to assassinate her? She looked around the festive ballroom, but there was no clue.

The moment the children left the ballroom, they were escorted to a service entrance by Colonel McKinney.

He said to the two armed marines waiting at the door, “Take them to the ambassador’s office. Don’t let them out of your sight.”

Beth held back. “Is mother really going to be all right?”

“She’s going to be just fine,” McKinney promised. And he prayed that he was right.

Mike Slade watched Beth and Tim leave, then went to find Mary.

“The children are on their way. I have to do some checking. I’ll be back.”

“Don’t leave me.” The words came out before she could stop herself. “I want to go with you.”

“Why?”

She looked at him and said honestly, “I feel safer with you.”

Mike grinned. “Now that’s a switch. Come on.”

Mary followed him, staying close behind. The orchestra had begun playing, and people were dancing. The repertoire was American songs, mostly from Broadway musicals. They played the scores from
Oklahoma, South Pacific, Annie Get Your Gun,
and
My Fair Lady.
The guests were enjoying themselves tremendously. Those who were not dancing were helping themselves from the silver trays of champagne being offered or from the buffet tables.

The room looked spectacular. Mary raised her head, and there were the balloons, a thousand of them—red, white, and blue—floating against the pink ceiling. It was a festive occasion.
If only death were not a part of it,
she thought. Her nerves were so taut that she was ready to scream. A guest brushed against her and she braced herself for the prick of a deadly needle. Or did Angel plan to shoot her in front of these people? Or stab her? The suspense of what was about to happen was unbearable. She was finding it difficult to breathe. In the midst of the laughing, chattering guests, she felt naked and vulnerable. Angel could be anywhere. He could be watching her this very minute.

“Do you think Angel is here now?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know,” Mike said. And that was the most frightening thing of all. He saw the expression on her face. “Look, if you want to leave—”

“No. You said I’m the bait. Without the bait, he won’t spring the trap.”

He nodded and squeezed her arm. “Right.”

Colonel McKinney was approaching. “We’ve done a thorough search, Mike. We haven’t been able to find a thing. I don’t like it.”

“Let’s take another look around.” Mike signaled to four armed marines standing by, and they moved up next to Mary. “Be right back,” Mike said.

Mary swallowed nervously. “Please.”

Mike and Colonel McKinney, accompanied by two guards
with sniffer dogs, searched every upstairs room in the embassy residence.

“Nothing,” Mike said.

They talked to a marine guarding the back staircase.”

“Did any strangers come up here?”

“No, sir. It’s your average quiet Sunday night.”

Not quite,
Mike thought bitterly.

They moved toward a guest room down the hall. An armed marine was standing guard. He saluted the colonel and stood aside to let them enter. Corina Socoli was lying on the bed, reading a book in Romanian. Young and beautiful and talented, the Romanian national treasure. Could she be a plant? Could she be helping Angel?

Corina looked up. “I am sorry I am going to miss the party. It sounds like such fun. Ah, well. I will stay here and finish my book.”

“Do that,” Mike said. He closed the door. “Let’s try the downstairs again.”

They returned to the kitchen.

“What about poison?” Colonel McKinney asked. “Would he use that?”

Mike shook his head. “Not photogenic enough. Angel’s going for the big bang.”

“Mike, there’s no way anyone could get explosives into this place. Our experts have gone over it, the dogs have gone over it—the place is clean. He can’t hit us through the roof, because we have firepower up there. It’s impossible.”

“There’s one way.”

Colonel McKinney looked at Mike. “How?”

“I don’t know. But Angel does.”

They searched the library and the offices again. Nothing. They passed the storage room where the corporal and his men were shoving out the last of the balloons, watching them as they floated to the ceiling.

“Pretty, huh?” the corporal said.

“Yeah.”

They started to walk on. Mike stopped. “Corporal, where did these balloons come from?”

“From the U.S. air base in Frankfurt, sir.”

Mike indicated the helium cylinders. “And these?”

“Same place. They were escorted to our warehouse per your instructions, sir.”

Mike said to Colonel McKinney, “Let’s start upstairs again.”

They turned to leave. The corporal said, “Oh, Colonel, the person you sent forgot to leave a time slip. Is that going to be handled by military payroll or civilian?”

Colonel McKinney frowned. “What person?”

“The one you authorized to fill the balloons.”

Colonel McKinney shook his head. “I never—who said I authorized it?”

“Eddie Maltz. He said you—”

Colonel McKinney said, “
Eddie Maltz?
I ordered him to Frankfurt.”

Mike turned to the corporal, his voice urgent. “What did this man look like?”

“Oh, it wasn’t a man, sir. It was a woman. To tell you the truth, I thought she looked weird. Fat and ugly. She had a funny accent. She was pockmarked and had kind of a puffy face.”

Mike said to McKinney, excitedly, “That sounds like Harry Lantz’s description of Neusa Muñez that he gave the Committee.”

The revelation hit them both at the same time.

Mike said slowly, “Oh, my God! Neusa Muñez is Angel!” He pointed to the cylinders. “She filled the balloons from these?”

“Yes, sir. It was funny. I lit a cigarette, and she screamed at me to put it out. I said, ‘Helium doesn’t burn,’ and she said—”

Mike looked up. “The balloons! The explosives are in the balloons!”

The two men stared at the high ceiling, covered with the spectacular red, white, and blue balloons.

“She’s using some kind of a remote-control device to explode them.” He turned to the corporal. “How long ago did she leave?”

“I guess about an hour ago.”

Under the table, unseen, the timing device had six minutes left on the dial.

Mike was frantically scanning the huge room. “She could have put it anywhere. It could go off at any second. We can never find it in time.”

Mary was approaching. Mike turned to her. “You’ve got to clear the room. Fast! Make an announcement. It will sound better coming from you. Get everybody outside.”

She was looking at him, bewildered. “But—why? What’s happened?”

“We found our playmate’s toy,” Mike said grimly. He pointed. “Those balloons. They’re lethal.”

Mary was looking up at them, horror on her face. “Can’t we take them down?”

Mike snapped, “There must be a thousand of them. By the time you start pulling them down, one by one—”

Her throat was so dry she could hardly get the words out. “Mike…I know a way.”

The two men stared at her.

“The Ambassador’s Folly. The roof. It slides open.”