'There is a fine restaurant called Rockendorf's. We could meet there.'

'Thank you.'

'Eight-thirty?'

'Eight-thirty.'

Diane replaced the receiver, smiling.

Tanner turned to Andrew. 'I've decided to do what I should have done in the first place. I'm calling Greg Holliday to handle the matter. He's never failed me.' He looked at Andrew. 'He has an inflated ego. He charges an arm and a leg, but'-he smiled thinly-'he'll deliver an arm and a leg.'

CHAPTER 37.As Kelly approached the door of Sam Meadows 's apartment at 14 Rue du Bourg-Tibourg, in the Fourth Arrondiss.e.m.e.nt, she hesitated. Now that the chase was drawing to a conclusion, she was finally going to get some answers. She found herself drawing back, afraid to hear them.

Kelly rang the doorbell. The moment the door opened and she saw Sam Meadows, her fears went away. All she felt was pleasure and relief at seeing this man who had been so close to Mark.

'Kelly!' He cradled her in a warm bear hug.

'Oh, Sam.'

He took her hand. 'Come on in.'

Kelly stepped inside. It was a charming two-bedroom apartment, in a building that had once belonged to a member of the French n.o.bility.

The drawing room was s.p.a.cious and luxuriously appointed with French furniture, and in a small alcove, there was a curiously carved oak bar. On the wall was a Man Ray, and Adolf Wolfli drawings.

'I can't tell you how devastated I am about Mark,' Sam said awkwardly.

Kelly patted his arm. 'I know,' she whispered.

'It's unbelievable.'

'I'm trying to find out what happened,' Kelly said. 'That's why I'm here. I hope you can help me.'

She took a seat on the couch, filled with a sense of antic.i.p.ation and apprehension.

Sam's face darkened. 'No one seems to know the full story. Mark was working on a secret project. He was apparently collaborating with two or three other employees at KIG. They say he committed suicide.'

'I don't believe it,' Kelly said vehemently.

'I don't either.' His voice softened. 'And do you know the main reason? Because of you.'

Kelly looked at Sam, puzzled. 'I don't understand. . . .'

'How could Mark ever leave someone as lovely as you? How could anyone ever leave someone as lovely as you?' He was moving closer. 'What happened is a great tragedy, Kelly, but life has to go on, doesn't it?' He put her hand in his. 'We all need someone, don't we? He's gone, but I'm here. Your kind of woman needs a man.'

'My kind of-?'

'Mark told me how pa.s.sionate you are. He says you love it.'

Kelly turned to him in surprise. Mark would never have said that. He would never have discussed her like that with anyone.

Sam put one arm around her shoulders. 'Yes. Mark told me you really had to have it. He used to tell me how great you were in bed.'

Kelly was suddenly panic-stricken.

Sam said, 'And Kelly, if it makes you feel any better, Mark didn't suffer at all.'

And she looked into Sam Meadows' eyes and she knew.

'We'll be having dinner in a few minutes,' Sam said. 'Why don't we work up an appet.i.te in bed?'

Kelly felt suddenly faint. She managed to force a smile. 'That sounds great.' Her mind was working furiously. He was too big for her to fight, and she had nothing to fight him with. He began fondling her. 'You know you've got a great a.s.s, baby. I go for that,'

Kelly smiled. 'Do you?' She sniffed. 'I'm hungry. Something smells good.'

'Our dinner.'

Before he could stop her, Kelly got up and moved toward the kitchen. As she pa.s.sed the dinner table, she got a shock. The table had been set for one.

Kelly turned. In the drawing room, Sam was walking over to the door and turning the key in the lock. She watched him put the key in the drawer of an armoire.

Kelly looked around the kitchen for a weapon. She had no way of knowing which drawer held the knives. On the counter was a box of angel hair pasta. On the stove was a pot of boiling water, and next to it, a smaller pot with a red sauce that was cooking.

Sam walked into the kitchen and put his arms around Kelly.

She pretended not to pay any attention. She looked at the sauce on the stove. 'Looks wonderful.'

He was stroking her body. 'It is. What do you like to do in bed, baby?'

Kelly's mind was racing. She said softly, 'Everything. I used to do something kinky to Mark that drove him crazy.'

Sam's face lit up. 'What was that?'

'I would take a warm, wet washcloth and-' She picked up a soft cloth on the sink. 'I'll show you. Drop your pants.'

Sam Meadows grinned. 'Yeah.' He loosened his trousers and dropped them to the floor. He was wearing boxer shorts.

'Now your shorts.'

He dropped his shorts, and his organ was engorged.

Kelly said admiringly, 'My, my . . .' She picked up the soft cloth with her left hand and moved toward him. With her right hand, she picked up the pot of boiling water and hurled the contents onto his genitals.

Kelly could still hear his screams as she took the key out of the armoire, unlocked the door, and fled.

CHAPTER 38.Rockendorf's is one of the outstanding restaurants in Germany, its art nouveau decor long serving as a symbol of Berlin's prosperity.

When Diane walked in, she was greeted by the maitre d'. 'May I help you?'

'I have a reservation. Stevens. Miss Fronk is going to meet me here.'

'This way, please.'

The maitre d' seated her at a corner table. Diane looked around carefully. There were about forty customers in the restaurant, most of them businessmen. Across from Diane's table, an attractive well-dressed man was dining alone.

Diane sat there, thinking about her conversation with Heidi Fronk. How much would she know?

The waiter handed Diane a menu. 'Bitte.'

'Thank you.'

Diane glanced at the menu. Leberkds, Haxen, Labskaus. . . She had no idea what any of the dishes were. Heidi Fronk could explain them.

Diane glanced at her watch. Heidi was twenty minutes late.

The waiter came to the table. 'Would you like to order now, fraulein?'

'No. I'll wait for my guest. Thank you.'

The minutes were ticking by. Diane was beginning to wonder whether something had gone wrong.

Fifteen minutes later, the waiter came back to the table. 'May I bring you anything?'

'No, thanks. My guest should be here any minute.'

At nine o'clock, Heidi Fronk still had not appeared. With a sinking feeling, Diane realized that she was not coming.

As Diane glanced up, she saw two men sitting down at a table near the entrance. They were ill dressed and mean looking, and the word that came to Diane's mind was thugs. She watched as the waiter went to their table, and they rudely waved him away. They were not interested in food. They turned back to stare at Diane, and with a feeling of dismay, she realized she had walked into a trap. Heidi Fronk had set her up. Diane could feel the blood rush to her head. She looked around for a means of escape.

There was none. She could keep sitting there, but eventually she was going to have to leave, and they would grab her. She thought about using her cell phone, but there was no one who could help her.

Diane thought desperately, I've got to get out of here, but how?

As she looked around the room, her gaze fell on the attractive man sitting alone at the table across from hers. He was sipping his coffee.

Diane smiled at him and said, 'Good evening.'

He looked up, surprised, and said pleasantly, 'Good evening.'

Diane gave him a warm, inviting smile, pleased that he spoke English. 'I see we're both alone.'

'Yes.'

'Would you like to join me?'

He hesitated a moment and smiled. 'Certainly.' He rose and walked over to Diane's table.

'It's no fun eating alone, is it?' Diane said lightly.

'You're quite right. It's not.'

She held out a hand. 'I'm Diane Stevens.'

'Greg Holliday.'

Kelly Harris had been stunned by her terrifying experience with Sam Meadows. After her escape, she had spent the night walking the streets of Montmartre, constantly looking behind her, in fear that she was being followed. But I can't leave Paris without finding out what's going on, Kelly thought.

At dawn, she stopped at a small cafe and had a cup of coffee. The answer to her problem came to her unexpectedly: Mark's secretary. She had adored Mark. Kelly was sure she would do anything to be helpful.

At nine o'clock, Kelly made the call from a telephone kiosk. She dialled the familiar number, and a female operator with a heavy French accent said, 'Kingsley International Group.'

'I'd like to talk to Yvonne Renais.'

'Un moment, s'il vous plait.'

A moment later, Kelly heard Yvonne's voice.

'Yvonne Renais. May I help you?'

'Yvonne, this is Kelly Harris.'

There was a startled exclamation. 'Oh! Mrs. Harris-'

In Tanner Kingsley's office a blue light flashed.

Tanner picked up the telephone. It was three a.m. in New York, but he had resolved not to leave his office until the troublesome problem was disposed of. Now, as Tanner listened on the phone, he heard the conversation that was taking place in Paris.

'I'm so sorry about what happened to Mr. Harris. It was so awful.'

'Thank you, Yvonne. I need to talk to you. Can we meet somewhere? Are you free for lunch?'

'Yes.'

'Someplace public.'

'Do you know Le Ciel de Paris? It's in La Tour Montparna.s.se.'

'Yes.'

In his office, Tanner Kingsley made a mental note.

'Twelve o'clock?'

'That's fine. I'll see you there.'

Tanner Kingsley's lips puckered into a thin smile. Enjoy your last lunch. He unlocked the drawer, opened it, and picked up the gold telephone.