by Judith Gould
Nikoletta began reading the agreement, and as they watched, her facial muscles began to twitch and her flesh began to redden. Even her lips twitched and puckered and finally twisted into an ugly curl. Losing all control, she threw the paper down on the floor and jumped to her feet.
“You bitch!” she snarled, her eyes wild with fury. “I should have known! How dare you come here with an offer like this. I am Nikoletta Papadaki! And don’t you forget it! You’re a nobody from nowhere. You think that you can waltz in here and try to take what is rightfully mine away from me? You stupid, sniveling upstart! You think you can prove that you’re Nikos Papadaki’s heir? He was my father, and he left everything to me!” She pointed a trembling finger at her chest, glaring at Ariadne with hatred such as she had never seen before.
“You’ll get nothing! Nothing! It’s all mine!” she screamed.
As Ariadne watched in horror, Nikoletta grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, stormed to the balcony door, slid it open with a wild jerk, and went outside.
Matt hugged Ariadne to him as they watched her light a cigarette and puff on it furiously, pacing from one end of the barred balcony to the other. “I think we’ve seen her true colors at last,” he said quietly.
“It’s heartbreaking,” Ariadne murmured under her voice, her gaze still on her sister. “It’s—”
She suddenly started to scream, and Matt turned to follow the direction of her gaze. On the balcony, Nikoletta jerked and slumped to the concrete, dropping the cigarette and knocking over a chair as she fell. It was then that he saw the blood that splattered the sliding glass door.
“Get down!” he said, shoving Ariadne off the couch and to the floor. “Behind the couch!” She did as she was told. Matt scrambled outside on all fours. When he reached Nikoletta, he examined her body, still keeping low to the floor. She lay on her side, her face away from him. A chunk was missing from the back of her head. Rolling her gently onto her back, Matt knew what he would find. A hole in her forehead with hardly a drop of blood leaking out. The point of entry.
There was no reason to feel for a pulse, but he did so anyway. As he knew, there wasn’t one. Gazing out through the balcony’s bars, his eyes swept the perimeter of the clinic grounds, then beyond the chain-link fence to the woods and road beyond. He didn’t see any vehicles on the road that led up to the clinic, and he didn’t see anyone on foot, either. No surprise there.
When he stood up, he realized that Ariadne was standing behind him on the balcony. “Get back!” he shouted. He shoved her roughly into the sitting room, causing her to fall.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He helped her back to her feet.
“I’m fine,” she said shakily. “Wh-what happened, do you think?”
“A sniper,” he replied. “I want you to come with me downstairs. I’m going after whoever it is, and you’re going to stay with Luke somewhere in an interior room.” He was already dragging her toward the door.
Kees Vanmeerendonk lowered his rifle in shock. Two of them? There are two of them! What kind of game are these people playing? He stood stock-still for several moments, gazing up toward the distant balcony. Coming to his senses, he realized that it was too late to try to get off another shot, and he certainly didn’t have time to stand around thinking about what he’d seen. He had to get out of there, and fast. Shouldering his rifle, he started rushing downhill through the woods, ignoring the whiplash of pine branches and the heavy scrub. He didn’t have time to waste. Two of the Geneva cell members were going to pick him up not far down the road and take him back to safety.
He stumbled headlong over an outcropping of rock, but picked himself up and fled on, asking himself over and over, What happened back there? Who did I kill?
In the hallway, Matt called to Luke. “Get the elevator.”
On the way down, he said, “I want you to take her to a safe place in the building. Get her out of range.”
“What is going—?” Luke began.
“Just do it!”
In the corridor Dr. Bernheim appeared from a doorway with a puzzled expression.
“Your car keys,” Matt said.
“What?”
“Give me your car keys. Hurry.”
Dr. Bernheim disappeared inside the office, then reappeared, dangling the keys in a hand. “The Range Rover,” he said.
“Which way?”
“The quickest way is the stairs, just down there. It’s underground.”
Matt was already rushing to the entrance doors to the clinic. Jessie was nowhere in sight. He must have heard the shot, Matt thought. He quickly scanned the grounds but saw no sign of him. He darted back inside, down the hallway to the exit sign, and jumped down the stairs, two, three at a time. Rushed through the door that led to the parking area. Matt spotted the big black Range Rover instantly and jumped in. He roared out of the garage and down the drive toward the clinic’s gates.
He saw Jessie running down the side of the road, just past a small pedestrian gate next to the big gate for vehicular traffic. The gate was closed, but Matt saw a remote lying on the car seat. Pressing the OPEN button, he watched as the big gate slowly opened. He raced through.
A few feet ahead, he jammed on the brakes and shouted out the window to Jessie, “Did you see anything?”
“Not a damn thing, but I heard a shot. From off to the left of the road, I think.” He pointed into the woods with a hand.
“He’s got several minutes’ lead on us,” Matt said. “Get in.”
Jessie rounded the front of the SUV and hopped in on the passenger side. “Hit anybody?”
“Killed the patient we were visiting,” Matt said.
“Damn. Must’ve been down in the woods. I didn’t see anything. When I heard it, I ran down to that little pedestrian gate. Had to shoot the lock off to get out here, or I’d be on top of him.”
“He couldn’t have gone far,” Matt said, “and this is the only road leading up this way. Watch for him on your side of the road. I’ll watch on mine.” He slipped his cell phone off his belt, then held it with his driving hand while he punched in a number with the other.
“Karl,” he said to the helicopter pilot, “take off now and survey the woods leading downhill from the clinic. We’re probably looking for a single man headed downhill. Maybe a vehicle somewhere on down the mountainside. I’m in a black SUV on the road. Call me if you spot any movement or see a vehicle on or near the road.”
“Wonder if he heard the shot,” Jessie said as Matt laid the cell phone down.
“Had the radio on. I heard the music,” Matt replied, trying to keep one eye on the road, the other on the woods.
They heard the helicopter’s engine roar into life uphill behind them, and Matt eased up on the gas, restraining himself from driving too fast. The sniper must be on foot. He’d seen no vehicle from the balcony, and even a small ATV with an expert at the wheel would have trouble maneuvering on the mountainous terrain. But he rolled down all the windows in the unlikely event he could hear a telltale motor over the sound of the helicopter engine.
Both sides of the road were lined with thick, uncleared woods, underlaid with rock and brush, and it was difficult to see beyond a few feet into the growth. Hopefully, the young helicopter pilot would serve as their eyes, catching any movement or the glint of metal or other reflective material in the sun. He was overhead now and off to their left, moving very slowly, the thwack-thwack-thwack of the rotors drowning out any other sound. The big SUV had hardly gone another fifteen hundred feet before the cell phone bleated.
Matt grabbed it. “Karl?” He shouted to make himself heard over the noise of the helicopter. Its racket came through the open window and over the phone.
“Just ahead of me,” Karl shouted back. “A man tearing downhill. About thirty, forty feet into the woods and fifty, sixty feet downhill of you.” There was a pause. “He stopped. On a rock outcrop. Watch me. I’m going to hover over the spot.”
Matt
slammed on the brakes and followed the helicopter with his eyes as it slowly flew downhill. Jessie opened his door and stood half in, half out of the SUV to get a better view of the chopper.
“Let’s go,” Matt said. “He’s stopped.” But Jessie was already back in the car, slamming his door shut.
Matt cruised on downhill, then pulled over to the side of the road and killed the engine. He figured he was about parallel to the spot where the chopper was hovering. He and Jessie jumped out at the same time, pulling their revolvers out of their shoulder holsters as they hunched down and scuttled into the woods.
“You head uphill, and I’ll go downhill,” Matt told him.
Staying hunched down, the two of them split and headed in the general direction of the chopper. The terrain was rough, boulders and scrub beneath the tall conifers that predominated in the landscape. Keeping the helicopter in sight wasn’t easy because of the forest canopy of interlaced branches. Matt hadn’t gone more than forty feet into the woods when he saw the chopper change position slightly, moving directly toward him. He ran to take cover behind a big pine but stumbled and fell. Picking himself up, he rushed the rest of the way to the tree and plastered himself against it, his body sideways, concealing as much of himself as possible. He slowly peered around one side, then shifted his body and looked around the other. Nothing. Nor could he hear anything above the roar of the chopper, which was almost directly above him now.
Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a rifle report, even above the deafening thwack-thwack-thwack of the helicopter. He has to be close, he thought. Real close. Hunching down, he swerved to his left, gazing into the woods on that side of the tree, but saw no sign of movement. Quickly shifting to his right, he was certain that scrub about fifteen to twenty feet away quivered in place as if it had been hit. The movement wasn’t caused by the downdraft from the chopper. Easing into a squat, he watched and waited, his Heckler & Koch ten-shot autopistol ready to fire.
He kept his gaze focused on the spot where he was sure he’d seen movement. There!
Another distinct movement in the scrub, a bush swishing back and forth. Matt brought his pistol up to sight, but before he took aim the sniper jumped out of nowhere, headed directly toward him. A blood-curdling scream issued from his mouth. He heard a report and instantly felt the sting of bark and slivers of wood on his forehead and around his eyes.
Momentarily blinded, he hunkered down behind the tree, trying to protect himself until he could see.
Then he heard one shot. Two. Three. The screaming banshee who was lunging toward him was abruptly silenced.
The instant the screaming stopped, he heard a clatter in front of him. His eyes flew open, and he saw the man going down. His rifle was already on the ground, and it was as if he fell in slow motion, knees hitting the ground first, then his right elbow and wrist, and finally his head, landing facedown with a resounding thunk.
Matt looked down at his pistol. Had he fired it?
He heard a noise behind him and jerked around. One of the guards from the clinic had his gun drawn and aimed at the man on the ground. There was a smug smile on the guard’s face.
“I got him before he could get you,” he said proudly.
Matt felt the barrel of his revolver. It was cool to the touch. He hadn’t fired.
“You saved my life,” he said to the clinic guard.
The guard shrugged. “Doing my job.”
Matt crept over to the man on the ground, leaning down and picking up the rifle. He shouldered the rifle, then knelt down beside the man. As with Nikoletta, it was useless to feel for a pulse, but he did so anyway and affirmed what he already knew. The sniper was dead. Rolling him over, he saw two entry wounds, one in the chest and the other in his neck.
Matt took the cell phone off his belt and pressed in Karl’s number. “Do you see Jessie?” he yelled into the phone.
“No,” Karl responded.
“Go back to the clinic. I’ll meet you there. It’s over.” He flipped the phone shut and replaced it on his belt, then rummaged through the man’s pockets to see if he could find any ID. Finally, in a compartment in his small backpack, he discovered a few euros and a driver’s license.
Kees Vanmeerendonk. Amsterdam, Netherlands.
Matt expelled a sigh of relief. Unless this was some trick Mother Earth’s Children had pulled on them, they had their man. The one who had been arrested in St. Barth’s and almost certainly the same man who’d tried to kill Ariadne at the opening of the PPHL headquarters, thinking she was Nikoletta.
Matt rose to his feet, feeling little sense of satisfaction. This death, like so many others he had witnessed, gave him no pleasure. The young man had been a misguided zealot who had killed Nikoletta, but seeing him dead didn’t make Matt feel particularly proud. He was only grateful that Ariadne was safe now.
He made his way through the woods, the guard following close behind him. He met Jessie at the SUV on the road. In the distance, he heard the wail of sirens. They piled into the Range Rover, and sped up the hill toward the clinic and Ariadne. He knew that she was going to need whatever comfort he could give her. She had suffered trauma in her past, but she had never confronted cold-blooded murder.
When he arrived at the clinic, Ariadne had gone back upstairs to Nikoletta’s suite after Karl had gotten there and told them what had happened. He thanked the young guard again, then went to her. He found her on the balcony, where she sat with her sister’s head cradled in her arms, ignoring the blood and gore as if it didn’t exist. He squatted down next to her and put his arms around her. Only then did her tears come.
Chapter Thirty-five
It was as if nothing had ever happened that afternoon in Château-d’Oex, Switzerland. There was no mention of the incident in the newspaper there or anywhere else. The exclusive clinic was more than happy to hush up what had happened on its premises, and the local authorities were cooperative. No one claimed the body of Kees Vanmeerendonk, nor did a halfhearted search for relatives or friends by the authorities turn up anyone who professed to know him.
The cremation of Nikoletta Papadaki took place in Switzerland. Ariadne, Matt, and Adrian were in attendance. Afterward, they picked up her ashes and flew to New York on one of PPHL’s private jets in order to bypass any inquisitive customs officers on either side of the Atlantic. It was very unlikely that one of the company jets would be searched.
After they arrived in New York, Ariadne called a gathering of the PPHL advisers. The meeting would be held at Adrian’s country house on a Saturday afternoon.
It was a clear and sunny day, with a light breeze, the sky a robin’s-egg blue, dotted with puffy white clouds. The group gathered in Adrian’s library. The simple box containing Nikoletta’s ashes rested on the mantelpiece over the fireplace. Adrian served champagne, having sent the caretakers on errands that would keep them away all day. Then he shared the details of Nikoletta’s death with Yves, Sugar, and Angelo.
“I don’t think there’s any need for me to point out that we have to keep this among ourselves,” he concluded.
“Of course,” Angelo said, more subdued than usual. Even though he hated Nikoletta Papadaki with all his heart, her death reminded him of his beloved Bianca’s.
“Who would believe a word of it anyway?” Sugar said.
“Thank you for telling us about it,” Yves Carre said. “It’s a very sad end to a very unhappy and destructive life, but there were moments . . .” His voice trailed off into silence.
“There were moments when some of us loved her, despite all her faults,” Adrian said. “There’s no denying that we all hoped that Nikoletta would change. That she would become the woman we put so much hope in.” He nodded in the direction of Ariadne. “Now we’re very fortunate that the Papadaki legacy is in the best imaginable hands. We know that Ariadne will do everything her father would have wanted her to.”
Ariadne held back the tears that threatened to come. She did want to carry on the legacy of her legendary father
.
“Now we’ll scatter Niki’s ashes here in the garden,” Adrian said. “Shall we go outside?” Adrian picked up the box containing Nikoletta’s remains.
They all went out onto the terrace, then followed Adrian to the entrance to the formal parterre. With everyone watching, he opened the box and flung its contents to the wind. When he was finished, he hugged Ariadne close with his free arm.
“I guess we’re finished here,” he said. “Let’s go.”
They all returned to the house quietly.
“Angelo and Yves and I are heading back into the city,” Sugar said. She kissed Adrian, then patted Ariadne’s cheeks and kissed her. “I love you, sweetheart,” she said, then added with a wink, “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Angelo kissed her on both cheeks. “I’ll see you soon, I hope.”
“How is Frans doing?” she asked.
“Remarkably well,” Angelo replied, his eyes brightening. “He’s a different young man. Healthy, robust even! Giulia has fattened him up a bit, so he won’t be modeling anytime soon.” He chuckled. “But he has no plans to return to modeling anyway. His whole outlook has changed, and that’s a blessing. He’s helped me start a youth center nearby for the less privileged, and he goes there every day. It’s in honor of Bianca.”
“You mean there are children in your area who aren’t privileged?” Ariadne asked.
He nodded. “It’s like I once told Bianca. You hardly have to go much farther than your own back door to find people in need, and even on Lake Como, rich as it is, you only have to go a little ways to find the disadvantaged.”
“That’s wonderful news about Frans, Angelo,” Ariadne said.
“It is wonderful. I can hardly believe it. No one will ever replace Bianca in my heart, but he’s become like a son to me. Now I must go. I want to get back there as soon as possible.” He kissed her cheek again. “Arrivederci, cara.”
