“What’s wrong?” she asked, straining to hear over the din of the party. “Hold on a minute. I can’t hear you.” She walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
“I’m sorry to call you at the party, honey, but I knew you’d want to know. Jerome’s brother just called. Jerome’s dead, Annabelle.”
Yelena’s car dropped her off in front of the Majestic. This was the responsible thing to do. She must tell the troops in person about their colleague’s death.
As she was riding up the elevator, her cell phone rang.
It was Joe Connelly again. This time, with test results.
“They only found traces of anthrax in one spot. The rest of the offices are clear.”
“Where was it?” the news president asked.
“In Annabelle Murphy’s office.”
Chapter 86
John Lee sat in his apartment, staring blankly at the television screen. He didn’t know who was winning or losing the game, and he didn’t care. All Lee was sure of was that he didn’t intend to be left holding the bag alone.
Linus had known all about the anthrax plan, and it wasn’t fair that he was denying it now, making the medical correspondent the goat.
Seething with anger, the doctor clicked off the TV.
Unwelcome or not, he was going to the party.
Chapter 87
Annabelle supposed Linus should be the first to know about Jerome’s death. But she couldn’t find her boss. She had just told Constance the news when she spotted Yelena taking off her coat.
“Yelena. I have to talk with you.”
“And I you, Annabelle,” said Yelena, eyeing the Irish setter she hoped to avoid. “Let’s go somewhere private.”
There had been three people waiting to use the bathroom when Annabelle exited after taking the call from Mike. So that venue was out. The game roared on the television set in the living area, and the kitchen was full of activity.
“Downstairs?” Annabelle suggested.
Yelena nodded and followed Annabelle down the spiral staircase.
There was no one in the family room. Yelena excused herself and blew her nose in a tissue she took from her handbag.
“Cold?” asked Annabelle.
“No, allergies. But it’s nothing. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Jerome’s brother called. Jerome died a little while ago.”
“I know. The hospital told the police, who informed Joe Connelly. I’m sorry, Annabelle. I know you two were”—Yelena paused—“friends.”
So Yelena knew that she and Jerome had been involved once. Annabelle wasn’t surprised. The trusty office gossip mill rarely failed.
“Yes, we were.” She felt the tears coming.
Yelena reached out and patted Annabelle’s hand. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I have more bad news.”
What else? What else could there be? Annabelle felt her throat constrict as she waited for Yelena to continue.
“Traces of anthrax were found in your office, Annabelle.”
Annabelle watched Yelena go back up the stairs.
She mustn’t panic.
Her first thoughts were about the kids and Mike. Thank God, the contamination was in the office, miles away from their apartment. She had already been tested, and the health department would have called her immediately if she had come up positive. She had to stay calm, but she wanted to go home.
Where had they put the coats?
She walked out of the family room, down the hallway to the first door. An empty bedroom. Then on to the next.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Please, excuse me.”
“It’s all right, Annabelle. You can come in.”
Wayne was sitting on a chair next to the bed.
“I was just giving the nurse a break,” he explained.
Annabelle nodded, wanting to get away from the sight of the tortured young man and his ruined twin. Should she tell him about Jerome? If she didn’t tell Wayne, he would think it odd, and he might be hurt if he realized she hadn’t included him in the sad news that, by now, was spreading through the party upstairs.
“Wayne, Jerome just passed away,” she said softly.
He didn’t look surprised, or particularly upset, she thought, and she’d expected a more sensitive response than the one Wayne uttered.
“I’ll be all right. I’m taking my Cipro.”
Chapter 88
Yelena’s annoyance grew as she searched the penthouse.
Some host Linus was. Where was he when she needed him? The KTA staffers were looking to them for leadership. Together, they should make some sort of statement to the group, assuring them that all would eventually work out. A dead colleague, a contaminated office, and another murder inside the Broadcast Center had to be addressed. Damn it. Where was he?
All that was left was the upstairs floor.
She climbed the stairs and knocked on the closed door.
No answer.
Yelena turned the brass handle, her eyes adjusting to the dimness. Yet the light from the Manhattan skyline provided just enough illumination to see what she sorely wished she hadn’t.
Linus pulled himself up from Lauren’s body as she hastily attempted to cover herself with her arms.
“Get dressed, will you please?” snapped Yelena. “We have work to do.”
Chapter 89
Dr. Lee arrived just in time to stand at the back of the room and listen to Yelena’s and Linus’s assurances.
“There is no need to panic. Everyone is safe.”
“Everything that can be done is being done.”
“Law enforcement will get to the bottom of this.”
Gavin Winston called out, “Just like they did with the anthrax at CBS, NBC, and ABC?”
“Those cases were different,” Yelena answered, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. “The anthrax was mailed into those networks. They couldn’t determine the source. In our case, we think Jerome was exposed to the anthrax that Dr. Lee brought into the Broadcast Center.”
Lee shrank back against the wall, relieved that all eyes were focused on Yelena.
“What’s the difference where it came from?” piped up Russ Parrish. “If it’s there, it’s there. Through the mail or through the front door, it’s just as deadly.”
“All of the offices have been thoroughly tested, Russ.” Yelena’s voice was firm. “Anthrax was detected in just one area, in Annabelle’s office. It’s being thoroughly cleaned as we speak.”
Eyes searched the room for Annabelle. She stood at the top of the staircase, fur jacket on, ready to say her goodbyes. The expressions on most of her colleagues’ faces read “better you than me.” A few seemed to look at her with suspicion.
“Well, I think we should all be put on Cipro,” Lauren declared. “We shouldn’t be taking any chances.”
The crowd murmured approval.
“Cipro will be provided to anyone who wants it,” Yelena said with resignation. “That being the case, there is no need for anyone to avoid coming to work.”
It was very interesting, almost amusing, to observe these people, who made their living in a fact-based business, become irrational. The party guests were leaving en masse, threatened and threatening.
“I’ll tell you one thing. If I get anthrax, KEY is going to have one helluva lawsuit on its hands.”
“If you live to bring it,” came the gallows-humor response.
Another voice called. “Good-bye, Annabelle. You take care of yourself, okay?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. See you in the morning.”
Hadn’t the spores taken hold by now, doing their malignant work in her pink lungs? When was Annabelle going to start showing the symptoms?
Monday
November 24
Chapter 90
Mike slept through the alarm but was awakened by the sound of Annabelle tripping in the dark over the shoes she had left strewn on the floor the night before.
“Sorry, honey. I d
idn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered.
Their eyes adjusted to the light as he switched on the bedside lamp.
“I can’t believe you’re going to work,” he said, squinting at her.
“What am I supposed to do, Mike?” she pleaded. “Yelena made it very clear last night that everyone was expected to be in today.”
“Everyone else has an anthrax-free office.”
“So? I’m supposed to stay home? I have no excuse. There’s nothing physically wrong with me.”
“You’re so sure of that?”
“If my swab had come back positive, I’d have heard about it. But if it will make you feel any better, I’ll call this morning and make sure.”
Mike was probably right. At the very least, she should reassure him. She should alleviate his worries as much as possible. He was doing better, and she didn’t want to upset that applecart.
“Yeah. It would make me feel better. And I think you should go for the Cipro too.”
Annabelle groaned. “That stuff’s no joke, Mike, and I don’t need headaches, nausea, and diarrhea.”
“Better that than anthrax poisoning, my love.”
Chapter 91
Annabelle had been here many times over the years. When she was a little girl, her mother would take her to the Easter Show and Annabelle would watch the glamorous dancers and dream, like so many other little girls, of someday being a Rockette herself. This year she already had the tickets to take her own children to the Christmas Spectacular. But no matter how many times she entered the cavernous auditorium of Radio City Music Hall, Annabelle was blown away by the majesty of the place.
Though it was 5:00 A.M., all the lights were on, illuminating the stage for the Rockettes’ flawless choreography. Technicians and cameramen were setting up to record the performance. Annabelle searched the auditorium for the unit manager. She spotted Beth at the side of the stage and approached her.
“I’m here, Beth.”
Beth looked up from her clipboard. “Annabelle, good. I was worried you were going to call in sick too.”
“What? Who’s called in?”
“A good third of the staff, including Gavin and Lauren. Linus is trying to figure out what we’re going to fill their segments with now.”
So the effects of the anthrax scare are being felt, thought Annabelle. She had been tempted to call in sick herself, but she hadn’t wanted to look like a wimp. Though, if anyone had a reason to be worried, she supposed, it was she. After all, the others hadn’t had anthrax found in their offices.
Sitting in one of the chairs at the back of the theater, Russ rehearsed the facts in his mind.
One million people from fifty states would attend the Christmas Spectacular, making it the number-one live show in America. Twenty-five hundred pounds of artificial snow would fall on the stage during the run of the show.
Russ had two segments now instead of one, thanks to Gavin’s and Lauren’s no-shows this morning. Not that he minded the extra airtime, but he liked having more notice, more time to prepare. Being thrown into a segment left Russ unnerved, though he wasn’t going to admit that to anyone. The newshounds prided themselves on their ability to ad-lib when the situation called for it, and they disdained anyone who clutched when the pressure was on.
The pressure was on, all right. Jerome was dead, and so was the poor guy from the cafeteria. Linus was in a particularly foul mood and watching for Russ to screw up. Russ ached for a little snort of his own soft, white powder.
After the show. He hoped he could hold on until then.
Damn it, he could thank Jerome for getting him hooked on the cocaine to begin with, offering it to him at a party, telling him the feeling would be stupendous. The feeling was just that—so good that Russ craved more and more and more.
Yes, Jerome had gotten Russ started on the addictive cocaine, but Jerome had gotten his comeuppance, hadn’t he?
Chapter 92
The alarm rang again. Lauren rolled over and felt for the clock. She had been able to grab some more sleep after getting up earlier to call in sick. Her throat was sore, so she hadn’t really been lying. Lauren suspected Linus wouldn’t buy her excuse, but that was tough. With a little luck, she had passed her germs along to him. If his throat started to scratch, then he might believe her.
Groaning inwardly, she recalled the party the night before. It was too bad Jerome was dead, but Lauren felt far worse that Yelena had walked in on her and Linus. That wasn’t going to help in her quest for Constance’s job. As far as Lauren could tell, Yelena was one uptight woman, and Lauren strongly doubted the news president would shrug off the compromising scene. If Yelena wasn’t on her side, Lauren could kiss her ambitions at KEY good-bye.
She pulled the sleep mask from her eyes and searched for the remote control. KEY to America was just beginning. Standing on the stage, Constance Young was resplendent in a bright red suit.
“Good morning. Today we come to you from Radio City Music Hall, home of the world-renowned Christmas Spectacular. A cast of one hundred and forty people, including the dazzling Rockettes with their famous eye-high kicks, will be with us this morning, and we’ll have a visit from Santa Claus, who has sneaked in from the North Pole, but first we have the morning headlines.”
It was so incongruous, thought Lauren, as she studied Constance. The happy banter of the scripted opening leading to the serious news. But they had to get the viewers into the tent, Linus always said, promising them a good time if they could just sit through the nitty-gritty.
“Anthrax has taken the life of thirty-six-year-old KEY News Producer Jerome Henning, a staff member of our broadcast. Henning, who had been in critical condition at a New Jersey hospital, died yesterday. Police found anthrax in Henning’s home and are investigating a possible link to anthrax taken from a lab where the former KEY medical correspondent, Dr. John Lee, shot his report on the availability of the deadly substance. In his report, Dr. Lee claimed to have obtained his own container of anthrax, but tests showed that substance to be powdered sugar.”
Lauren rose from her bed and went into the bathroom. As she splashed cold water on her face, she mapped out her morning. The first stop was the doctor’s office. Before she did anything else, she was going to get that Cipro. If this sore throat was the beginning of anything more serious than a cold, she had to be protected.
Chapter 93
The mighty Wurlitzer organ played, more than four thousand pipes filling the gigantic hall with the strains of “Silver Bells.” It’s Christmastime in the city. Annabelle felt a tear roll down her cheek as she stood at the side of the stage and listened to the sweet music.
Jerome had loved the holiday season so. He’d been like a little kid that Christmas they’d been together, insisting they do the things that make New York so magical at this time of year. Ice skating at Rockefeller Center, touring the aisles full of toys at F.A.O. Schwarz, riding in a horse-drawn carriage through snowy Central Park. He’d told her he hoped they would be together forever as they huddled beneath the carriage robes in the back of the hansom cab.
But when she’d met Mike, she knew that he was the one for her. Even if she hadn’t fallen in love with Mike, Annabelle was sure she wouldn’t have ended up with Jerome. There were things about Jerome that had made Annabelle hold back. He was smart and creative and loved to have fun, but with Jerome, there had been an undercurrent of danger as well. She was aware that he dabbled with drugs, and Annabelle instinctively knew that, great though their times together were, this was not the person with whom she could envision having children.
Still, as the organ finished the holiday tune, Annabelle mourned the loss of Jerome. His end had come too soon and too horribly. She could not understand why he would have had anthrax in his home. Jerome may have liked to live on the edge, may have used cocaine at one time, but she couldn’t believe that he would be playing around with something as dangerous as anthrax.
It didn’t make sense.
How had the anthrax
gotten there? Had Jerome taken it from Dr. Lee? But why would he have done that? Did he want to poison himself?
Annabelle dismissed the thought of suicide. Jerome had been too excited about the prospects for selling his manuscript. He had been looking forward with high hopes. No, Annabelle was sure Jerome had not intentionally taken his own life. Either he had taken the anthrax for some other unknown reason and inadvertently exposed himself, or someone else had carried anthrax into his home.
The obvious suspect was John Lee. Had Lee planted the anthrax at Jerome’s and contaminated Annabelle’s office as well? Could he have known about his unflattering portrayal in Jerome’s manuscript?
Was that a reason to kill someone?
Chapter 94
The persistent banging awakened him from his fitful sleep. He threw back the covers, pulled on a robe, and stumbled, bleary-eyed, to the front door.
“Who is it?”
“FBI. Open up.”
Damn. His mind searched frantically for his options. There were none. Resigned, John Lee undid the double locks.
“You have the right to remain silent…” began the warning. “I want to call my lawyer,” Lee protested. “You’ll have that chance. But first, you’re coming with us.”
Chapter 95
From the control room, Linus ogled the monitor as the Rockettes strutted their stuff. Dressed as Santa’s reindeer, those dames just oozed sex appeal. A little sex in the morning never hurt anyone.
“Get a look at those legs.” One of the technicians whistled.
“Camera Two, pan down the dance line,” ordered the director.
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