Inside were six small vials fitted snugly into protective cushions. "Be careful," he warned. "These genies are two hundred twenty-two degrees below zero." His voice was muffled by the gas mask.

  Stanford and Walker watched as Andrew gently lifted the first vial and opened it. It began hissing, and steam rising from the vial turned into a freezing cloud that seemed to saturate the room.

  "All right," Andrew said. "Now, the first thing we have to do— the first thing-" His eyes widened.

  He was choking, his face turning chalky white. He tried to speak, but no words came out.

  Stanford and Walker watched in horror as Andrew's body tumbled to the floor.

  Walker hastily capped the vial and closed the case. Stanford hurried to the wall and pressed a button that activated a giant fan that swept the frigid gas vapor out of the lab.

  When the air was clear, the two scientists opened the door and hurriedly carried Andrew outside.

  Tanner, walking down the hallway, saw what was happening and a panicky look came over his face.

  He ran over to the two men and looked down at his brother. "What the hell is going on?" Stanford said, "There's been an accident and-" "What kind of accident?" Tanner was screaming like a madman. "What have you done to my brother?" People were starting to gather around. "Call 911. Never mind. We haven't time for that. We'll get him to the hospital in one of our cars."

  * * *

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Andrew was lying on a gurney in a room of the emergency ward at St. Vincent's Hospital in Manhattan. There was a pulsating oxygen mask on his face and an IV in his arm. Two doctors were hovering over him.

  Tanner was frantically pacing up and down. "You've got to take care of whatever is wrong," he yelled. "Now!" One of the doctors said, "Mr. Kingsley, I must ask you to leave the room." "No," Tanner shouted. "I'm staying right here with my brother." He walked over to the gurney where Andrew was lying, unconscious, and took his hand and squeezed it. "Come on, bro. Wake up. We need you." There was no response.

  Tears filled Tanner's eyes. "You're going to be fine. Don't worry. We're going to fly in the best doctors in the world. You're going to get well." He turned to the doctors. "I want a private suite and twenty-four-hour private nurses, and I want a cot put in his room. I'm staying with him." "Mr. Kingsley, we'd like to finish our examination." Tanner said defiantly,

  "I'll be waiting in the hall."

  * * *

  ANDREW WAS RUSHED downstairs for a number of MRI and CAT scans as well as extensive blood work. A more sophisticated scan, a PET scan, was scheduled. Afterward, he was moved to a suite where three doctors were tending him.

  Tanner was in the hallway, sitting in a chair, waiting. When one of the doctors finally came out of Andrew's room, Tanner leaped to his feet. "He's going to be all right, isn't he?" The doctor hesitated. "We're transferring him immediately to the Walter Reed Army Medical Center, in Washington, for further diagnosis, but frankly, Mr. Kingsley, we don't have much hope." "What the hell are you talking about?" Tanner was yelling. "Of course he's going to get well. He was in that lab only a few minutes." The doctor was about to reprimand him, but he looked up, and Tanner's eyes were filled with tears.

  Tanner rode to Washington in the ambulance plane with his unconscious brother.

  He kept reassuring him during the entire flight. "The doctors say you're going to be fine…

  They're going to give you something to make you well… All you need is a little rest." Tanner put his arms around his brother. "You've got to get well in time for us to go to Sweden to pick up your Nobel Prize."

  * * *

  FOR THE NEXT three days, Tanner slept on a cot in Andrew's room and stayed by his brother's side as much as the doctors would allow it. Tanner was in the waiting room at Walter Reed when one of the attending doctors approached him.

  "How is he doing?" Tanner asked. "Is he-?" He saw the expression on the doctor's face. "What is it?" "I'm afraid it's very bad. Your brother is lucky to be alive. Whatever that experimental gas was, it was extremely toxic." "We can bring in doctors from-" "It's no use. I'm afraid the toxins have already affected your brother's brain cells." Tanner winced. "But isn't there a cure for-for what he has?" The doctor said caustically, "Mr. Kingsley, the army doesn't even have a name for it yet, and you want to know if there's a cure? No. I'm sorry. I'm afraid he's-he's never going to be himself again." Tanner stood there, his fists clenched, his face white.

  "Your brother's awake now. You can go in and see him, but only for a few minutes." When Tanner walked into Andrew's hospital room, Andrew's eyes were open. He stared at his visitor, a blank expression on his face.

  The phone rang and Tanner moved to answer it. It was General Barton. "I'm terribly sorry about what happened to-" "You bastard! You told me that my brother wouldn't be in any danger." "I don't know what went wrong, but I assure you-" Tanner slammed down the receiver. He heard his brother's voice and turned.

  "Where-where am I?" Andrew mumbled.

  "You're at Walter Reed hospital, in Washington." "Why? Who's sick?" "You are, Andrew." "What happened?" "Something went wrong with the experiment." "I don't remember-" "It's all right. Don't worry. You'll be taken care of. I'll see to it." Tanner watched Andrew's eyes close.

  He took one last look at his brother lying in bed and left the room.

  * * *

  PRINCESS SENT FLOWERS to the hospital. Tanner planned to call her, but his secretary said,

  "Oh, she phoned. She had to go out of town. She'll call you as soon as she returns. She said to tell you that she loves you." A week later, Andrew and Tanner were back in New York. Word about what had happened to Andrew had raced through Kingsley Group. Without him in charge, would the think tank continue to exist?

  When the news of the accident became public, it was sure to damage Kingsley Group's reputation.

  That doesn't matter, Tanner thought. I'm going to make this the biggest think tank in the world. Now I can give Princess more than she ever dreamed of. In a few yearsTanner's secretary buzzed. "There's a limousine driver here to see you, Mr.

  Kingsley."

  Tanner was puzzled. "Send him in." A uniformed chauffeur walked in, holding an envelope. "Tanner Kingsley?" "Yes." "I was asked to deliver this to you personally." He handed Tanner the envelope and left.

  Tanner looked at it and grinned. He recognized Princess's handwriting. She had planned some kind of surprise for him. Eagerly, he opened the envelope. The note read:

  It isn't going to work, my dearest. Right now I need more than you can give me, so I'm marrying someone who is able to do that. I love you and always will. I know you will find this hard to believe, but what I am doing is for the good of both of us.

  Tanner's face had gone pale. He stared at the note for a long time and then dropped it nervelessly into the wastebasket. His triumph had come one day too late.

  CHAPTER 18

  THE FOLLOWING DAY Tanner was sitting quietly at his desk when his secretary buzzed.

  "There's a committee here to see you, Mr. Kingsley." "A committee?" Yes, sir.

  "Send them in." Supervisors from several Kingsley Group departments walked into Tanner's office.

  "We'd like to talk to you, Mr. Kingsley." "Sit down." They took seats.

  "What's the problem?" One of the foremen said, "Well, we're kind of worried. After what's happened to your brother…

  Is Kingsley Group going to stay in business?" Tanner shook his head. "I don't know. At this point I'm still in shock. I can't believe what's happened to Andrew." He was thoughtful for a moment. "I'll tell you what I'll do. I can't predict our chances, but I'm going to make every effort to see if we can stay afloat. That's a promise. I'll keep you informed." There were murmurs of "Thank you," and Tanner watched the men depart.

  * * *

  THE DAY THAT Andrew got out of the hospital, Tanner set him up in a little staff house on the property, where he could be taken care of, and gave him an office next to his. The employees were stunned to see what had happened to Andrew. He had changed from a brilliant, alert scientist to a zombie. Most of the day Andrew sat in his chair, looking out the window, half asleep, but he seemed happy to be back at Kingsley Group, even though he had little idea of what was going on. All the employees were touched by how well Tanner treated his brother and how solicitous and caring he was of him.

  * * *

  THE ATMOSPHERE AT Kingsley Group changed almost overnight. When Andrew was running it, it had been casual. Now suddenly it had become more formal and was being run as a business instead of a philanthropy. Tanner sent out agents to sign up clients for the company. Business began to flourish at an extraordinary pace, and Tanner changed the company name to Kingsley International Group, just as he had planned.

  * * *

  WORD ABOUT PRINCESSS'S good-bye note had spread quickly through KIG. The employees had been prepared for the marriage, and they wondered how Tanner would take this blow. There was a great deal of speculation among the staff about what he would do after being jilted.

  Two days after Tanner had received the letter, an item had appeared in the newspapers announcing that Tanner's bride-to-be had married Edmond Barclay, a billionaire media tycoon. The only changes in Tanner Kingsley seemed to be an increased moodiness and a work ethic that was even stronger than it was before.

  Every morning he spent two hours alone, working on a project that was shrouded in secrecy.

  * * *

  ONE EVENING, TANNER was invited to speak at MENSA, the high-IQ society. Since many of the employees at KIG were members, he agreed to accept.

  When Tanner came into headquarters the following morning, he was accompanied by one of the most beautiful women his staff had ever seen. She was Latin looking, with dark eyes, an olive complexion, and a sensational figure.

  Tanner introduced her to the staff. "This is Sebastiana Cortez. She spoke at MENSA last night. She was brilliant." Tanner's whole attitude suddenly seemed lighter. Tanner took Sebastiana into his office, and they did not reappear for more than an hour. After they came out, they had lunch in Tanner's private dining room.

  One of the employees looked up Sebastiana Cortez on the Internet. She was a former Miss Argentina, and her home was in Cincinnati, where she was married to a prominent businessman.

  When Sebastiana and Tanner went back into his office after lunch, Tanner buzzed his secretary and told her to hold all calls. Moments later, Tanner's voice could be heard in the reception room through the intercom, which had been left open.

  "Don't worry, darling. We'll find a way to make it work." The secretaries started gathering around the intercom, eagerly listening to the conversation.

  "We have to be very careful. My husband is a jealous man." "There's no problem. I'll make arrangements for us to keep in touch." It did not take a genius to figure out what was happening. The staff was amazed at how quickly he had gotten over Princess. It was all that the secretaries could do to keep from giggling. "I'm sorry you have to go home just now." "I am, too. I wish I could stay, but-it can't be helped."

  * * *

  WHEN TANNER AND Sebastiana left the office, they were the picture of decorum.

  The staff took delight in the idea that Tanner had no clue they were aware of what was going on.

  The day after Sebastiana departed, Tanner arranged for a phone, gilded in gold, to be installed in his office with a digital scrambler. His secretary and assistants had orders never to answer it.

  From that time on, Tanner spoke on the gold phone almost every day, and at the end of each month, he went away for a long weekend and came back looking refreshed. He never told his staff where he had been, but they knew.

  Two of Tanner's aides were talking, and one of them said to the other, "Does the word rendezvous ring a bell?" Tanner's love life had started again, and the change in him was remarkable.

  Everybody was happy.

  CHAPTER 19

  THE WORDS KEPT echoing through Diane Stevens's brain: This is Ron Jones. I just wanted to let you know that I received your paperwork and the change was made, just as you requested… We cremated your husbands body one hour ago.

  How could the mortuary have made such a mistake? Lost in her grief, could she have called and asked them to cremate Richard? Never. And she had no secretary. None of it made any sense.

  Someone at the mortuary had misunderstood, confused Richard's name with a similar name of another body at the mortuary.

  They had delivered an urn with Richard's ashes in it. Diane stood, staring at it. Was Richard really in there?… Was his laughter in there?… The arms that had held her close… the warm lips that had pressed against hers… the mind that had been so bright and funny… the voice that had said,

  "I love you"… were all his dreams and passions and a thousand more things in that little urn?

  Diane's thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. "Mrs.

  Stevens?"

  "Yes…" "This is Tanner Kingsley's office. Mr. Kingsley would appreciate it if he could make an appointment for you to come and meet with him."

  * * *

  THAT HAD BEEN two days ago, and now Diane was walking through the entrance of KIG and approaching the reception desk.

  The receptionist said, "May I help you?" "My name is Diane Stevens. I have an appointment to see Tanner Kingsley." "Oh, Mrs. Stevens! We're all so sorry about Mr. Stevens. What a terrible thing to happen. Terrible." Diane swallowed. "Yes."

  * * *

  TANNER WAS TALKING to Retra Tyler. "I have two meetings coming up. Let's do a complete scan on both of them." "Yes, sir." He watched his assistant leave.

  The intercom buzzed. "Mrs. Stevens is here to see you, Mr. Kingsley." Tanner pressed one of the buttons on the electronic panel on his desk and Diane Stevens appeared on a wall television screen. Her blonde hair was tied back in a knot, and she was wearing a white and navy pinstriped skirt, and a white blouse. She looked pale.

  "Send her in, please." He watched Diane walk in the door and rose to greet her. "Thank you for coming, Mrs. Stevens." Diane nodded. "Good morning." "Please, sit down." Diane took a chair across from his desk.

  "Needless to say, all of us were shocked by your husband's brutal murder. You can be sure that whoever is responsible will be brought to justice as quickly as possible." Ashes…

  "If you don't mind, I would like to ask you a few questions." "Yes?" "Did your husband often discuss his work with you?" Diane shook her head. "Not really. It was a separate part of our life together because it was so technical." In the surveillance room down the hall, Retra Tyler had turned on a voice recognition machine, a voice stress analyzer, and a television recorder, and was taping the scene taking place in Tanner's office.

  "I know how difficult it must be for you to discuss this," Tanner said, "but how much do you know about your husband's connection with drugs?" Diane was staring at him, too dumbfounded to speak. Finally, she found her voice. "What-what are you asking? Richard never would have had anything to do with drugs." "Mrs. Stevens, the police found a threatening note from the Mafia in his pocket, and-" The idea of Richard being involved with drugs was unthinkable. Could Richard have had a secret life that she knew nothing about? No, no, no.

  Diane's heart began to pound, and she felt the blood rushing to her face. They killed him to punish me. "Mr. Kingsley, Richard didn't-" Tanner's tone was sympathetic, but at the same time determined. "I'm so sorry to put you through this, but I fully intend to get to the bottom of what happened to your husband." I'm the bottom, Diane thought, miserably. I'm the one you're looking for.

  Richard died because I testified against Altieri. She was beginning to hyperventilate.

  Tanner Kingsley was watching her. He said, "I won't keep you, Mrs. Stevens. I can see how upset you are. We'll talk again later. Perhaps there's something you'll remember. If you think of anything that might be helpful, I would appreciate it if you would call me." Tanner reached into a drawer and pulled out an embossed business card. "This has my private cell phone number on it. You can reach me day or night." Diane took the card. All that was on it was Tanner's name and a number.

  Diane rose, her legs trembling.

  "I apologize for having to put you through this. In the meantime, if there is anything that I can do for you-anything you need, I am at your service." Diane was barely able to speak. "Thank you. I-thank you." She turned and walked out of the office, numb.

  As Diane reached the reception room, she heard the woman behind the desk speaking to someone else. "If I were a superstitious person, I would think someone had put a curse on KIG. And now your husband, Mrs. Harris. We were all so shocked to hear about the dreadful thing that happened to him.

  To die like that is just awful." The words sounded ominously familiar to Diane. What had happened to the woman's husband? Diane turned to see whom the receptionist was addressing. It was a stunning-looking, young African-American woman, dressed in black slacks and a silk turtle-neck sweater. On her finger was a large emerald ring and a diamond wedding ring. Diane had a sudden feeling that it was important that she speak to her.

  As Diane started to approach her, Tanner's secretary came in. "Mr. Kingsley will see you now." And Diane watched Kelly Harris disappear into Tanner's office.

  Tanner rose to greet Kelly. "Thank you for coming, Mrs. Harris. Did you have a satisfactory flight?" "Yes, thank you." "Would you like anything? Coffee or-?" Kelly shook her head.

  "I know what a difficult time this must be for you, Mrs. Harris, but I need to ask you a few questions." In the surveillance room, Retra Tyler was watching Kelly on the television set and recording the scene.