Sydney Sheldon The Sky is Falling - part 1 Lyrics

THE SKY IS FALLING

SIDNEY SHELDON

For Alexandra The Angel On My Shoulder

The sky is falling! The sky is falling! -Chicken Little

Show me a hero and I will write you a tragedy.
-F. Scott Fitzgerald

PROLOGUE
CONFIDENTIAL MINUTES TO ALL OPERATION PERSONNEL: DESTROY IMMEDIATELY AFTER READING.
LOCATION: CLASSIFIED DATE: CLASSIFIED
There were twelve men in the heavily guarded underground chamber, representing twelve far-flung countries. They were seated in comfortable chairs set in six rows, several feet apart. They listened intently as the speaker addressed them.
'I am happy to inform you that the threat with which we have all been so deeply concerned is about to be eliminated.
I need not go into details because the whole world will hear about it within the next twenty-four hours. Rest a__ured that nothing will stop us. The gates will remain open. We will now begin the auction. Do I have a first bid? Yes. One billion dollars. Do I have two? Two billion. Do I have three?'

One
She was hurrying along Pennsylvania Avenue, a block from
the White House, shivering in the cold December wind, when she heard the terrifying, ear-splitting scream of air-raid sirens and then the sound of a bomber plane overhead, ready to unload its cargo of death. She stopped, frozen, engulfed in a red mist of terror.
Suddenly she was back in Sarajevo, and she could hear the shrill whistle of the bombs dropping. She closed her eyes
tightly, but it was impossible to shut out the vision of what was happening all around her. The sky was ablaze, and she was deafened by the sounds of automatic-weapons fire, roaring

planes, and the wump of deadly mortar shells. Nearby buildings erupted into showers of cement, bricks, and dust. Terrified people were running in every direction, trying to outrace death.
From far, far away, a man's voice was saying, 'Are you all right?'

Slowly, warily, she opened her eyes. She was back on
Pennsylvania Avenue, in the bleak winter sunlight, listening
to the fading sounds of the jet plane and the ambulance siren that had triggered her memories.
'Miss - are you all right?'
She forced herself back to the present. 'Yes. I'm - I'm fine, thank you.'
He was staring at her. 'Wait a minute! You're Dana Evans.
I'm a big fan of yours. I watch you on WTN every night, and I
saw all your broadcasts from Yugoslavia.' His voice was filled with enthusiasm. 'It must have been really exciting for you, covering that war, huh?'
'Yes.' Dana Evans's throat was dry. Exciting to see people blown to shreds, to see the bodies of babies thrown down wells, bits of human jetsam flowing down a river of red.
She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. 'Excuse me.' She turned and hurried away.

Dana Evans had returned from Yugoslavia just three months
earlier. The memories were still too fresh. It seemed unreal
to walk down streets in broad daylight without fear, to hear birds singing and people laughing. There had been no laughter
in Sarajevo, only the sounds of exploding mortars and the anguished screams that followed. John Donne was right, Dana thought. No man is an island. What happens to one, happens to us all, for we are all made of day and Stardust. We share the same moments of time. The universal second hand starts its unforgiving sweep toward the next minute:
In Santiago, a ten-year-old girl is being raped by her grandfather...
In New York City, two young lovers are kissing by candlelight...
In Flanders, a seventeen-year-old girl is giving birth to
a crack baby...
In Chicago, a fireman risks his life to save a cat from a burning building...
In Sao Paulo, hundreds of fans are trampled to death at a soccer match as the stands collapse...
In Pisa, a mother cries with joy as she watches her baby take its first steps...
All this and infinitely more in the s___e of sixty seconds, Dana thought. And then time ticks on until it finally sends us into the same unknown eternity.

Dana Evans, at twenty-seven, was lovely looking, with a slim figure, midnight-black hair, large, intelligent gray
eyes, a heart-shaped face, and a warm, contagious laugh. Dana had grown up as an army brat, the daughter of a colonel who traveled from base to base as an armament instructor, and
that kind of life had given Dana a taste for adventure. She was vulnerable and at the same time fearless, and the combination was irresistible. During the

year that Dana had covered the war in Yugoslavia, people
all over the world were spellbound by the beautiful, young, impassioned woman broadcasting in the middle of battle, risking her life to report on the deadly events occurring around her. Now, wherever she went, she was aware of signs and whispers of recognition. Dana Evans was embarrassed by her celebrity.
Hurrying down Pennsylvania Avenue, passing the White
House, Dana looked at her watch and thought, I'm going to be late for the meeting.

ington Tribune Syndicate. He was in his thirties, tall and lean, with boyish looks and an easy, laid-back charm that attracted people to him. Jeff and Dana had fallen in love, and they had talked about marriage.
In the three months since Dana had returned from Sarajevo, events in Washington had moved swiftly. Leslie Stewart, the former owner of Washington Tribune Enterprises, had sold out and disappeared, and the corporation had been bought by an international media tycoon, Elliot Cromwell.

Washington Tribune Enterprises took up an entire block of
Sixth Street NW, with four separate buildings: a newspaper printing plant, newspaper staff offices, an executive tower,

and a television broadcasting complex. The Washington Tribune
Network television studios occupied the sixth floor of
building four. The place was always charged with energy, its cubicles humming with people at work on their computers. Wire copy from half a dozen news services constantly spewed out updated news from around the globe. The immensity of the operation never ceased to amaze and excite Dana.
It was there that Dana had met Jeff Connors. An All-Star pitcher until he injured his arm in a skiing accident, Jeff was now an on-air sports reporter for WTN and also wrote a daily column for the Wash-

The morning meeting with Matt Baker and Elliot Cromwell
was about to begin. When Dana arrived, she was greeted by
Abbe Lasmann, Matt's s__y redheaded a__istant. The fellows are waiting for you,' Abbe said.
'Thanks, Abbe.' Dana walked into the corner office. 'Matt
... Elliot
'You're late,' Matt Baker grumbled.
Baker was a short, gray-haired man in his early fifties, with a gruff, impatient manner fueled by a brilliant,
restless mind. He wore rumpled suits that looked as if they
had been slept in, and Dana suspected that they had been. He ran WTN, the Washington Tribune Enterprises television operation.
Elliot Cromwell was in his sixties, with a friendly, open manner and a ready smile. He was a billionaire, but there were a dozen different accounts of

how he had achieved his vast fortune, some of them not flattering. In the media business, where the object was to disseminate information, Elliot Cromwell was an enigma.
He looked at Dana and said, 'Matt tells me we're beating the competition again. Your ratings keep going up.'
'I'm glad to hear that, Elliot.'
'Dana, I listen to a half-dozen newscasts every night, but
yours is different from the others. I'm not exactly sure why, but I like it.'
Dana could have told Elliot Cromwell why. Other
newscasters were talking at - not to - audiences of millions, announcing the news. Dana had decided to make it personal. In her mind, she would be talking one night to a lonely widow,
the next night to a shut-in, lying helpless in bed, and the next to a solitary salesman somewhere far away from his home

and family. Her news reports sounded private and intimate, and viewers loved them and responded to them.
'I understand you're going to have an exciting guest to interview tonight,' Matt Baker said.
Dana nodded. 'Gary Winthrop.'
Gary Winthrop was America's Prince Charming. A member of
one of the country's most prominent families, he was young, handsome, charismatic.
'He doesn't like personal publicity,' Cromwell said. 'How did you get him to agree?'

'We have a common hobby,' Dana told him. Cromwell's brows furled. 'Really?'
'Yes.' Dana smiled. 'I like to look at Monets and van
Goghs, and he likes to buy them. Seriously, I've interviewed him before, and we've become friendly. We'll run a tape of
his news conference, which we'll cover this afternoon. My interview will be a follow-up.'
'Wonderful.' Cromwell beamed.
They spent the next hour talking about the new show the
network was planning, Crime Line, an investigative hour that
Dana was going to produce and anchor. The objective was
twofold: to correct injustices that had been done and to spur interest in solving forgotten crimes.
'There are a lot of other reality shows on the air,' Matt warned, 'so we've got to be better than they are. I want us
to start out with a grabber. Something that will capture the audience's attention and-'
The intercom buzzed. Matt Baker flicked down a key. 'I
told you, no calls. Why-?'
Abbe's voice came over the intercom. 'I'm sorry. It's for Miss Evans. It's Kemal's school calling. It sounds urgent.' Matt Baker looked at Dana. 'First line.'
Dana picked up the phone, her heart pounding. 'Hello...
Is Kemal all right?' She listened a moment. 'I see... I see
... Yes, I'll be right there.' She replaced the receiver.

'What's wrong?' Matt asked.
Dana said, 'They'd like me to come to the school to pick
Kemal up.'
Elliot Cromwell frowned. That's the boy you brought back from Sarajevo.'
'Yes.'
'That was quite a story.'

'Yes,' Dana said reluctantly.
'Didn't you find him living in some vacant lot?'
'That's right,' Dana said.
'He had some disease or something?'
'No,' she said firmly, disliking even to talk about those days. 'Kemal lost an arm. It was blown off by a bomb.'
'And you adopted him?'
'Not officially yet, Elliot. I'm going to. For now, I'm his guardian.'
'Well, go get him. We'll discuss Crime Line later.'
When Dana arrived at the Theodore Roosevelt Middle School, she went directly to the a__istant principal's office. The a__istant principal, Vera Kos-toff, a harassed-looking, prematurely gray-haired woman in her fifties, was at her desk. Kemal was seated across from her. He was twelve years old, small for his age, thin and sallow, with tousled blond hair and a stubborn chin. Where his right arm should have been was an empty sleeve. His slight body seemed dwarfed by the room.

When Dana walked in, the atmosphere in the office was grim.
'Hello, Mrs Kostoff,' Dana said brightly. 'Kemal.' Kemal was staring at his shoes.
'I understand there's a problem?' Dana continued.
'Yes, there certainly is, Miss Evans.' She handed Dana a sheet of paper.
Dana stared at it, puzzled. It read: Vodja, pizda, zbosti, f__ati, nezakonski otrok, umreti, tepee. She looked up. 'I -1 don't understand. These are Serbian words, aren't they?'
Mrs Kostoff said tightly, 'Indeed they are. It's Kemal's misfortune that I happen to be Serbian. These are words that Kemal has been using in school' Her face was flushed.
'Serbian truck drivers don't talk like that, Miss Evans, and
I won't have such language coming from the mouth of this young boy. Kemal called me a pizda.'
Dana said, 'A pi-?'
T realize that Kemal is new to our country, and I've tried
to make allowances, but his - his behavior is reprehensible. He's constantly getting into fights, and when I reprimanded him this morning, he - he insulted me. That was too much.' Dana said tactfully, 'I'm sure you know how dif-Bcult it
must be for him, Mrs Kostoff, and-'
'As I told you before, I'm making allowances, but he's

trying my patience.'
I understand.' Dana looked over at Kemal. He was still staring down, his face sullen.

'I do hope this will be the last incident,' Mrs Kostoff said.
'So do I.' Dana rose.
'I have Kemal's report card for you.' Mrs Kostoff opened a drawer, took out a card, and handed it to Dana.
'Thank you,' Dana said.
On the way home, Kemal was silent.
'What am I going to do with you?' Dana asked. 'Why are you always getting into fights, and why do you use words like that?'
'I didn't know she spoke Serbian.'
When they reached Dana's apartment, she said, 'I'm going to have to go back to the studio, Kemal. Will you be all right here alone?'
'Word.'
The first time Kemal had said that to her, Dana had
thought he had not understood her, but she quickly learned that it was part of the arcane idiom spoken by the young.
'Word' meant 'yes.' That' described members of the opposite
s__: pretty hot and tempting. Everything was cool or sweet or tight or rad. If there was something they didn't like, it sucked.
Dana took out the report card that Mrs Kostoff had given her. As she studied it, her lips tightened. History, D. English, D. Science, D. Social Studies, F. Math, A.

Looking at the card, Dana thought, Oh, Lord, what am I
going to do? 'We'll discuss this another time,' she said.
'I'm late.'
Kemal was an enigma to Dana. When they were together, he behaved beautifully. He was loving and thoughtful and endearing. On weekends, Dana and Jeff turned Washington into
a playground for him. They went to the National Zoo, with its spectacular array of wild animals, starring the exotic giant panda. They visited the National Air and s___e Museum, where Kemal saw the first Wright brothers plane dangling from the ceiling, and then walked through Skylab and touched moon
rocks. They went to the Kennedy Center and the Arena Stage. They introduced Kemal to pizza at Tom Tom, tacos at Mextec, and southern fried chicken at Georgia Brown's. Kemal loved

every moment of it. He adored being with Dana and Jeff. But... when Dana had to leave to go to work, Kemal turned into another person. He became hostile and
confrontational. It was impossible for Dana to hold on to a housekeeper, and sitters told horror stories about evenings with Kemal.
Jeff and Dana tried reasoning with him, but it had no
effect. Maybe he needs professional help, Dana thought. She had no idea of the terrible fears that plagued Kemal.

The WTN evening news was on the air. Richard Melton,
Dana's personable co-anchor, and Jeff Connors were seated beside her.
Dana Evans was saying, '... and in foreign news, France and England are still locking horns over mad cow disease. Here is Rene Linaud reporting from Rheims.'
In the control booth, the director, Anastasia Mann, ordered, 'Go to remote.'
A scene in the French countryside flashed on the television screens.
The studio door opened and a group of men came in and approached the anchor desk.
Everyone looked up. Tom Hawkins, the ambitious young producer of the evening news, said, 'Dana, you know Gary Winthrop.'
'Of course.'
In person, Gary Winthrop was even more handsome than in photographs. He was in his forties, with bright blue eyes, a warm smile, and enormous charm.
'We meet again, Dana. Thanks for inviting me.'
'I appreciate your coming.'
Dana looked around. Half a dozen secretaries had suddenly
found urgent reasons to be in the studio. Gary Winthrop must be used to that, Dana thought, amused.
'Your segment is coming up in a few minutes. Why don't you sit here next to me? This is Richard

Melton.' The two men shook hands. 'You know Jeff Connors, don't you?'
'You bet I do. You should be out there pitching, Jeff, instead of talking about the game.'
'I wish I could,' Jeff said ruefully.
The remote from France came to an end and they switched to
a commercial. Gary Winthrop sat down and watched as the

commercial ended.
From the control booth, Anastasia Mann said, Stand by.
We're going to tape.' She silently counted off with her index finger. 'Three... two... one
The scene on the monitor flashed to the exterior of the Georgetown Museum of Art. A commentator was holding a microphone in his hand, braving the cold wind.
'We're standing in front of the Georgetown Museum of Art, where Mr Gary Winthrop is inside at a ceremony marking his fifty-million-dollar gift to the museum. Let's go inside now.'
The scene on the screen changed to the s___ious interior
of the art museum. Various city officials, dignitaries, and television crews were gathered around Gary Winthrop. The museum's director, Morgan Ormond, was handing him a large plaque.
'Mr Winthrop, on behalf of the museum, the many visitors who come here, and its trustees, we want to thank you for this most generous contribution.'
Camera lights flashed.
Gary Winthrop said, 'I hope this will give young American painters a better chance not only to

express themselves but to have their talents recognized around the world.'
There was applause from the group.
The announcer on tape was saying, 'This is Bill Toland at the Georgetown Museum of Art. Back to the studio. Dana?' The camera's red light came on.
'Thank you, Bill. We're fortunate enough to have Mr Gary Winthrop with us to discuss the purpose of his enormous gift.'
The camera pulled back to a wider angle, revealing Gary
Winthrop in the studio.
Dana said, 'This fifty-million-dollar donation, Mr
Winthrop, will it be used to buy paintings for the museum?'
'No. It's for a new wing that will be dedicated to young
American artists who might not otherwise have a chance to
show what they can do. A portion of the fund will be used for scholarships for gifted children in inner cities. Too many youngsters grow up without knowing anything about art. They
may hear about the great French impressionists, but I want
them to be aware of their own heritage, with American artists like Sargent, Homer, and Remington. This money will be used

to encourage young artists to fulfill their talents and for all young people to take an interest in art.'
Dana said, 'There's a rumor that you're planning to run for the Senate, Mr Winthrop. Is there any truth to it?'

Gary Winthrop smiled. 'I'm testing the waters.'
'They're pretty inviting. In the straw polls we've seen, you're way ahead.'
Gary Winthrop nodded. 'My family has had a long record of government service. If I can be of any use to this country, I will do whatever I am called on to do.'
'Thank you for being with us, Mr Winthrop.'
'Thank you.'
During the commercial break, Gary Winthrop said good-bye and left the studio.
Jeff Connors, sitting next to Dana, said, 'We need more like him in Congress.'
'Amen.'
'Maybe we could clone him. By the way - how is Kemal?' Dana winced. 'Jeff - please don't mention Kemal and cloning in the same breath. I can't handle it.'
'Did the problem at school this morning work out?'
'Yes, but that was today. Tomorrow is -'
Anastasia Mann said, 'We're back. Three... two... one...'
The red light flashed on. Dana looked at the
Tele-PrompTer. 'It's time for sports now with Jeff Connors.' Jeff looked into the camera. 'Merlin the Magician was
missing from the Washington Bullets tonight. Juwan Howard tried his magic and Gheorghe Muresan and Rasheed Wallace helped stir up the

brew, but it was bitter, and they had finally to swallow it along with their pride
At 2:00 AM, in Gary Winthrop's town house in the elite north-west section of Washington, two men were removing
paintings from the walls of the drawing room. One man wore the mask of the Lone Ranger, the other the mask of Captain Midnite. They worked at a leisurely pace, cutting the
pictures out of the frames and putting their loot into large burlap sacks.
The Lone Ranger asked, 'What time does the patrol come by again?'
Captain Midnite replied, 'Four AM.'

'It's nice of them to keep to a schedule for us, isn't it?'
'Yeah.'
Captain Midnite removed a painting from the wall and
dropped it onto the oak floor with a loud noise. The two men stopped what they were doing and listened. Silence.
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.

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 govern-ment leaders flashed
onto universal television screens. It's like a Greek tragedy
'Ubelievable...' 'An ironic twist of fate The world has sustained a terrible loss...' The brightest and the
best, and they're all

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... j__an... 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. s_____ll 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
l___rous, 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 maitre 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. / 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.'

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.'
'f__at!' 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 b____ 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.'
There was a long silence. When Thomas Henry spoke, he
said, 'If I ever need a lawyer, Miss Evans, I'd like you to defend me.'

Dana managed a relieved smile. 'I promise.'
Thomas Henry sighed. 'All right. Have a talk with Kemal.
If he does anything like this again, I'm afraid I'll have to
-'
'I'll talk to him. Thank you, Mr Henry.' Kemal was waiting in the hallway.
'Let's go home,' Dana said curtly.
'Did they keep my knife?'
She did not bother to answer.
During the ride home, Kemal said, 'I'm sorry I got you in trouble, Dana.'
'Oh, no trouble. They've decided not to kick me out of

school. Look, Kemal -'
'Okay. No more knives.'
When they returned to the apartment, Dana said, 'I have to get back to the studio. The sitter will be here any minute. Tonight you and I are going to have to have a long talk.' When the evening broadcast was finished, Jeff turned to
Dana. 'You look worried, honey.'
T am. It's Kemal. I don't know what to do about him, Jeff.
I had to go see his principal again today, and two more housekeepers have quit because of him.'
'He's a great kid,' Jeff said. 'He just needs warm-up time.'
'Maybe. Jeff?'
'Yes?'

'I hope I didn't make a terrible mistake bringing him here.'
When Dana returned to the apartment, Kemal was waiting. Dana said, 'Sit down. We have to talk. You must start
obeying the rules, and these fights at school have to stop. I
know the other boys are making it difficult for you, but you've got to come to some understanding with them. If you
keep getting into fights, Mr Henry is going to throw you out of school.'
'I don't care.'
'You have to care. I want you to have a wonderful future, and that can't happen without an education. Mr Henry is giving you a break, but-'
'f___ him.'
'Kemal!' Without thinking, Dana slapped him across the
face. She was instantly sorry. Kemal stared at her, a look of disbelief on his face, got up, ran into the study, and
slammed the door shut.
The telephone rang. Dana picked it up. It was Jeff. 'Dana
-'
'Darling, I -I can't talk right now. I'm too upset.'
'What happened?'
'It's Kemal. He's impossible!'
'Dana
'Yes?'
'Walk in his shoes.'

'What?'
'Think about it. Sorry, I'm on a deadline. Love you, and

we'll talk later.'
Walk in his shoes? That doesn 't make any sense, Dana thought. How can I know what Kemal is feeling? I'm not a twelve-year-old war orphan with one arm who's gone through what he's gone through. Dana sat there for a long time,
thinking. Walk in his shoes. She rose, went into her bedroom, closed the door, and opened her closet door. Before Kemal had arrived, Jeff had spent several nights a week at the
apartment and had left some of his clothes there. In the closet were pants, shirts and ties, a sweater, and a sports
jacket. Dana took out some of the clothes and placed them on the bed. She went to a bureau drawer and removed a pair of Jeff's Jockey shorts and socks. Then Dana got completely undressed. She picked up Jeff's Jockey shorts with her left hand and started putting them on. She lost her balance and
fell. It took her two more attempts before she could get them on. Next, she picked up one of Jeff's shirts. Using only her left hand, it took three frustrating minutes to slip into it
and b___on it. She had to sit on the bed to don the trousers, and they were difficult to zip up. It took another two
minutes to put on Jeff's sweater.
When Dana was finally dressed, she sat down to catch her breath. This was what Kemal had to go through every morning. And that was only the beginning. He had to bathe and brush
his teeth and

comb his hair. And that was now. What about the past? Living in the horror of war, watching his mother, father, sister, and friends murdered.
Jeff's right, she thought. I'm expecting too much too
soon. He needs more time to adjust. I could never give up on him. My father abandoned my mother and me and I've never really forgiven him for that. There should be a thirteenth commandment: Thou shalt not abandon those who love you. Slowly, as Dana got dressed in her own clothes, she
Backstreet Boys, Limp Bizkit. 'Don't want to lose you,' 'I need you tonight,' 'As long as you love me,' I just want to be with you,' 'I need love.'
Dana picked up Kemal's report card. It was true that he
was failing in most of his classes, but he had an A in math. It's the A that's important, Dana thought. That's where he

excels. That's where he has a future. We 'll work on the other grades.
When Dana opened the door to the study, Kemal was in bed, with his eyes tightly closed and his pale face stained with tears. Dana looked at him a moment, then leaned over and
kissed him on the cheek. 'I'm so sorry, Kemal/ she whispered.
'Forgive me.'
Tomorrow will be a better day.

Early the following morning Dana took Kemal to a prominent orthopedic surgeon, Dr William Wilcox. After the examination,
Dr Wilcox talked to Dana alone.
'Miss Evans, to fit him with a prosthesis would cost
twenty thousand dollars and there's a problem here. Kemal is only twelve years old. His body will keep growing until he's seventeen or eighteen. He could outgrow the prosthesis every few months. I'm afraid financially it's not practical.'
Dana had a sinking feeling. 'I see. Thank you, Doctor.' Outside, Dana said to Kemal, 'Don't worry, darling. We'll find a way.'
Dana dropped Kemal off at school and then headed for the studio. Half a dozen blocks away, her cell phone rang. She picked it up. 'Hello?'
'It's Matt. There's going to be a press conference on the Winthrop murder at police headquarters at noon. I want you to cover it. I'm sending over a camera crew. The police have
really got their a__es in a sling. The story is getting bigger every minute, and the cops don't have a clue.' 'I'll be there, Matt.'
Police Chief Dan Burnett was in his office on the telephone when his secretary said, 'The mayor is on line two.' Burnett snapped, 'Tell him I'm talking to the

governor on line one.' He went back to the phone.
'Yes, Governor. I know that... Yes, sir. I think... I'm sure we can... As soon as we... Right. Good-bye, sir.' He slammed the phone down.
'The White House press secretary is on line four.' The whole morning went like that.
At noon, the conference room in the Municipal Center at
300 Indiana Avenue in downtown Washington was crowded with members of the media. Police Chief Burnett entered and walked
to the front of the room.
'Let's have it quiet, please.' He waited until there was

silence. 'Before I take your questions, I have a statement to make. The savage murder of Gary Winthrop is a great loss not only to this community, but to the world, and our
investigation is going to continue until we apprehend the ones responsible for this terrible crime. I'll take your questions.'
A reporter stood up. 'Chief Burnett, do the police have any leads?'
'At about three AM a witness saw two men loading up a
white van in the driveway of Gary Winthrop's house. Their actions looked suspicious, and he took down the license number. The plates were from a stolen truck.'
'Do the police know what was taken from the house?'
'A dozen valuable paintings are missing.'

'Was anything stolen besides the paintings?'
'No.'
'What about cash and jewelry?'
'The jewelry and cash in the house were untouched. The thieves were just after the paintings.'
'Chief Burnett, didn't the house have an alarm system, and if so, was it turned on?'
'According to the butler, it was always turned on at
night. The burglars found a way to circumvent it. We're not sure yet how.'
'How did the burglars gain entrance to the house?'
Chief Burnett hesitated. 'That's an interesting question. There were no signs of a break-in. We don't have the answer to that yet.'
'Could it have been an inside job?'
'We don't think so. Gary Winthrop's staff has been with him for many years.'
'Was Gary Winthrop alone in the house?'
'As far as we know, yes. The staff was off.'
Dana called out, 'Do you have a list of the stolen paintings?'
'We do. They're all well known. The list has been circulated to museums, art dealers, and collectors. The minute one of those paintings appears, the case will be solved.'
Dana sat down, puzzled. The killers must have been aware
of that, so they wouldn 't dare try to sell the paintings.

Then what was the point of stealing them? And

committing a murder? And why didn't they take the money and jewelry? Something doesn 't add up.
The funeral services for Gary Winthrop were held at the
National Cathedral, the sixth largest in the world. Wisconsin and Massachusetts Avenues had been closed off to traffic. Secret Service men and Washington police were out in full force. Inside, waiting for the service to begin, were the
vice president of the United States, a dozen senators and members of Congress, a Supreme Court Justice, two cabinet officers, and a host of dignitaries from around the world.
The police and press helicopters beat a tattoo in the sky. On the street outside were hundreds of onlookers who had come either to pay their respects or to get a glimpse of the celebrities inside. People were paying tribute not just to Gary, but to the entire ill-fated Winthrop dynasty.
Dana covered the funeral with two camera crews. Inside, the cathedral was hushed.
'God moves in mysterious ways,' the minister was intoning.
The Winthrops spent their lives building hopes. They donated billions of dollars to schools and churches and to the homeless and the hungry. But just as important, they selflessly gave of their time and talent. Gary Winthrop
carried on the great family tradition. Why this family, with all its achievements and generosity, has been taken from us
so cruelly is beyond our knowledge. In one sense, they are
not really gone, for their legacy will live on forever. What they have done for us will always make us proud.
God shouldn't let people like that die those kinds of horrible deaths, Dana thought sadly.
Dana's mother called. 'My friends and I watched you cover
the funeral, Dana. For a moment there, when you were talking about the Winthrop family, I thought you were going to cry.'
'So did I, Mother. So did I.'
Dana had difficulty getting to sleep that night. When she finally did fall asleep, her dreams were a wild kaleidoscope
of fires and automobile accidents and shootings. In the middle of the night, she awakened suddenly and sat up. Five members of the same family killed in less than a year? What are the odds?

Four
'What are you trying to tell me, Dana?'

'Matt, I'm saying that five violent deaths in one family in less than a year is too much of a coincidence.'
'Dana, if I didn't know you better, I'd call a psychiatrist and tell him Chicken Little is in my office
saying that the sky is falling. You think we're dealing with some kind of conspiracy? Who's behind it? Fidel Castro? The CIA? Oliver Stone? For God's sake, don't you know that every time someone prominent is killed, there are a hundred
different conspiracy theories? A guy came in here last week and said he could prove that Lyndon Johnson killed Abraham Lincoln. Washington is always drowning in conspiracy theories.'
'Matt, we're getting ready to do Crime Line. You want to
start with a grabber? Well, if I'm right, this could be it.'

Matt Baker sat there for a moment, studying her. 'You're wasting your time.' 'Thanks, Matt.'
The Washington Tribune's morgue was in the building's basement, filled with thousands of tapes from earlier news shows, all neatly cataloged.
Laura Lee Hill, an attractive brunette in her forties, was seated behind her desk cataloging tapes. She looked up as Dana entered.
'Hi, Dana. I saw your broadcast of the funeral. I thought you did a great job.'
Thank you.'
'Wasn't that a terrible tragedy?'
'Terrible,' Dana agreed.
'You just never know,' Laura Lee Hill said somberly. 'Well
- what can I do you for?'
'I want to look at some tapes of the Winthrop family.'
'Anything in particular?'
'No. I just want to get a feel of what the family was like.'
'I can tell you what they were like. They were saints.'
'That's what I keep hearing,' Dana said.
Laura Lee Hill rose. 'I hope you have plenty of time, honey. We have tons of coverage on them.'
'Good. I'm in no hurry.'
Laura Lee led Dana to a desk with a television

monitor on it. 'I'll be right back,' she said. She
returned five minutes later with a full armload of tapes.
'You can start with these,' she said. 'There are more

coming.'
Dana looked at the huge pile of tapes and thought, Maybe I
am Chicken Little. But if I'm right...
Dana put in a tape, and the picture of a stunningly
handsome man flashed on the screen. His features were strong and sculpted. He had a mane of dark hair, candid blue eyes,
and a strong chin. By his side was a young boy. A commentator said, 'Taylor Winthrop has added another wilderness camp to
the ones he has already established for underprivileged children. His son Paul is here with him, ready to join in the fun. This is the tenth in a series of such camps that Taylor Winthrop is building. He plans at least a dozen more.'
Dana pressed a b___on and the scene changed. An
older-looking Taylor Winthrop, with flecks of gray in his hair, was shaking hands with a group of dignitaries. '... has just confirmed his appointment as consultant to NATO.
Taylor Winthrop will be leaving for Brussels in the next few weeks to...'
Dana changed the tape. The scene was the front lawn of the
White House. Taylor Winthrop was standing next to the
president, who was saying, '... and I have appointed him to head up the FRA, the Federal Research Agency. The agency is dedicated to helping developing countries all around the
world, and I can think of no one better qualified than Taylor
Winthrop to lead that organization
The monitor flashed onto the next scene, the Leonardo da Vinci airport in Rome, where Taylor Winthrop was debarking from a plane. 'Several heads of state are here to greet Taylor Winthrop as he arrives to negotiate trade deals between Italy and the United States. The fact that Mr Winthrop was selected by the president to handle these negotiations shows how significant they are
The man had done everything, Dana thought.
She changed tapes. Taylor Winthrop was at the presidential palace in Paris, shaking hands with the president of France.
'A landmark trade agreement with the French has just been completed by Taylor Winthrop
Another tape. Taylor Winthrop's wife, Madeline, was in
front of a compound with a group of boys and girls. 'Madeline
Winthrop today dedicated a new care center for abused children, and -'
There was a tape of the Winthrops' own children playing at their estate farm in Manchester, Vermont.
Dana put the next tape in. Taylor Winthrop at the White

House. In the background were his wife, his two handsome sons, Gary and Paul, and his beautiful daughter, Julie. The president was presenting Taylor Winthrop with a Medal of
Freedom. '... and for his selfless devotion to his country and for all his wonderful accomplishments, I am pleased to present Taylor Winthrop with the highest civilian award we
can give - the Medal of Freedom.'

There was a tape of Julie skiing... Gary funding a foundation to help young artists...
The Oval Office again. The press was out in full force. A gray-haired Taylor Winthrop and his wife were standing next to the president. 1 have just appointed Taylor Winthrop our
new ambassador to Russia. I know you are all familiar with Mr Winthrop.'s innumerable services to our country, and I'm delighted that he has agreed to accept this post instead of spending his days playing golf.' The press laughed.
Taylor Winthrop quipped, 'You haven't seen my golf game, Mr President.' Another laugh...
And then came the series of disasters. Dana inserted a new
tape. The scene outside a burned-out home in Aspen, Colorado.
A female newscaster was pointing to the gutted house. 'The chief of police of Aspen has confirmed that Ambassador Winthrop and his wife, Madeline, both perished in the terrible fire. The fire department was alerted in the early
hours of this morning and arrived within fifteen minutes, but it was too late to save them. According to Chief Nagel, the
fire was caused by an electrical problem. Ambassador and Mrs Winthrop were known worldwide for their philanthropy and dedication to government service.' Dana put in another tape. The scene was the

Grand Corniche on the French Riviera. A reporter said,
'Here is the curve where Paul Winthrop's car skidded off the road and plummeted down the mountainside. According to the coroner's office, he was killed instantly by the impact.
There were no passengers. The police are investigating the cause of the accident. The terrible irony is that only two months ago Paul Winthrop's mother and father died in a fire at their home in Aspen, Colorado.'
Dana reached for another tape. A mountain skiing trail in
Juneau, Alaska. A heavily bundled-up newscaster: '... and
this is the scene of the tragic skiing accident that occurred last evening. Authorities are not sure why Julie Winthrop, a

champion skier, was skiing alone at night on this particular trail, which had been closed, but they are investigating. In September, just six weeks ago, Julie's brother Paul was
killed in a car accident in France, and in July of this year, her parents, Ambassador Taylor Winthrop and his wife, died in
a fire. The president has expressed his sympathy.'
The next tape. Gary Winthrop's home in the northwest
section of Washington, DC. Reporters were swarming around the outside of the town house. In front of the house, a
newscaster was saying, 'In a tragic, unbelievable turn of events, Gary Winthrop, the last remaining member of the beloved Winthrop family, has been shot and killed by burglars. Early this morning a security guard noticed that the alarm light was off, entered the

home, and found Mr Winthrop's body. He had been shot
twice. Apparently the thieves were after valuable paintings and were interrupted. Gary Winthrop was the fifth and last member of the family to meet a violent death this year.'
Dana turned off the television monitor and sat there for a
long time. Who would want to wipe out a wonderful family like that? Who? Why?
Dana arranged an appointment with Senator Perry Leff at the Hart Senate Office Building. Leff was in his early fifties, an earnest and impassioned man.
He rose as Dana was ushered in. 'What can I do for you, Miss Evans?'
'I understand that you worked closely with Taylor
Winthrop, Senator?'
'Yes. We were appointed by the president to serve on several committees together.'
'I know what his public image is, Senator Leff, but what was he like as a person?'
Senator Leff studied Dana for a moment. 'I'll be glad to
tell you. Taylor Winthrop was one of the finest men I've ever met. What was most remarkable about him was the way he
related to people. He really cared. He went out of his way to make this a better world. I'll always miss him, and what's happened to his family is just too g______ awful to think about.'

Dana was talking to Nancy Patchin, one of Taylor
Winthrop's secretaries, a woman in h