The Sky Is Falling

"Please allow me." He led Dana to a waiting stretch limousine with a chauffeur. "I'll drop you at your hotel," he told Dana. He gave an order to the chauffeur and the limousine moved into traffic. "Is this your first time in Brussels?"

"Yes."

They were in front of a large, skylighted shopping arcade. Haynes said, "If you plan to do any shopping, I would suggest here - the Galeries St.-Hubert."

"It looks lovely."

Haynes said to the driver, "Stop a moment, Charles." He turned to Dana. "There's the famous Manneken Pis fountain." It was a bronze statue of a little boy urinating, placed high in a scallop-shell niche. "One of the most famous statues in the world."

While I was in prison, my wife and children died. If I had been free, I could have saved them.

David Haynes was saying, "If you're free this evening, I'd like - "

"I'm sorry," Dana said. "I'm afraid I'm not."

Matt had been summoned to Elliot Cromwell's office.

"We're missing two of our key players, Matt. When is Jeff coming back?"

"I'm not sure, Elliot. As you know, he's involved in a personal situation with his ex-wife, and I've suggested he take a leave of absence."

"I see. And when is Dana coming back from Brussels?"

Matt looked at Elliot Cromwell and thought:I never told him that Dana was in Brussels.

Chapter Eighteen

THE HEADQUARTERS OF NATO, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, is at Building Leopold III, and over the roof the Belgian flag flies, three equal vertical bands of black, yellow, and red.

Dana had been sure it would be easy to find the information about Taylor Winthrop's premature retirement from his post at NATO, and then she would be on her way home. But NATO turned out to be a nightmare of alphabet soup. Beside its sixteen member states, there were offices for NAC, EAPC, NACC, ESDI, CJTF, CSCE, and at least a dozen more acronyms.

Dana went to NATO's press headquarters on rue des Chapeliers and found Jean Somville in the pressroom.

He rose to greet her. "Dana!"

"Hello, Jean."

"What brings you to Brussels?"

"I'm working on a story," Dana said. "I need some information."

"Ah. Another story about NATO."

"In a way," Dana said cautiously. "Taylor Winthrop was the United States adviser to NATO here at one time."

"Yes. He did a fine job. He was a great man. It's such a tragedy about that family." He looked at Dana, curious. "What is it you wish to know?"

Dana chose her next words carefully. "He left his post in Brussels early. I wondered what the reason was."

Jean Somville shrugged. "That's very simple. He finished what he had come here for."

Dana felt a sharp sense of disappointment. "While Winthrop was serving here, did anything...unusual happen? Was there any scandal about him of any kind?"

Jean Somville looked at her in surprise. "Certainly not! Did someone say that Taylor Winthrop was in a scandal at NATO?"

"No," Dana offered quickly. "What I heard was there was a...a quarrel, some kind of disagreement between Winthrop and someone here."

Somville frowned. "You mean a quarrel of a private nature?"

"Yes."

He pursed his lips. "I don't know. I can possibly find out."

"I would appreciate that very much."

Dana telephoned Jean Somville the following day.

"Were you able to find out anything more about Taylor Winthrop?"

"I'm sorry, Dana. I tried. I'm afraid there is nothing to find out." Dana had half expected Jean Somville's answer.

"Thanks, anyway." She felt let down.

"No problem. I'm sorry you wasted the trip."

"Jean, I read that the French ambassador to NATO, Marcel Falcon, unexpectedly resigned and went back to France. Isn't that unusual?"

"In the middle of a posting, yes. I suppose so."

"Why did he resign?"

"There's no mystery about that. It was because of an unfortunate accident. His son was killed by a hit-and-run driver."

"A hit-and-run driver? Did they ever catch him?"

"Oh, yes. Shortly after the accident, he turned himself over to the police."

Another dead end. "I see."

"The man was a chauffeur by the name of Antonio Persico. He was Taylor Winthrop's chauffeur."

Dana felt a sudden chill. "Oh? Where is Persico now?"

"St. Gilles Prison, here in Brussels." Somville added apologetically, "I'm sorry I could not be more helpful."

Dana had a resume of the story faxed to her from Washington. Antonio Persico, a chauffeur to Ambassador Taylor Winthrop, was sentenced to life imprisonment by a Belgian court today when he pleaded guilty to the hit-and-run death of Gabriel Falcon, the son of the French ambassador to the United Nations.

St. Gilles Prison is near the center of Brussels, in an old white building with turrets that make it resemble a castle. Dana had telephoned ahead and gotten permission to interview Antonio Persico. Dana walked into the prison courtyard and was escorted to the warden's office.

"You are here to see Persico."

"Yes."

"Very well."

After a brisk search, Dana was led by a guard into the interview room, where Antonio Persico was waiting. He was a small, pale man, with wide-set green eyes and a face that was constantly twitching.

When Dana walked in, Persico's first words were "Thank God someone has finally come! You'll get me out of here now."

Dana looked at him, puzzled. "I - I'm sorry. I'm afraid I can't do that."