Worst Fears Realized

33

STONE WAS THROWN THROUGH THE AIR, taking Sarah with him, landing hard on the gallery’s marble floor. He lay, dazed, on top of her, and then he realized she was struggling to get out from under him. He rolled over. “Are you all right?” he asked, groggily.

Sarah said nothing, but scrambled up and began running toward the back of the gallery, screaming.

Stone got unsteadily to his feet as Dino arrived and slipped an arm around him. He looked back at the window: the window frame was empty, and fragments of broken glass were everywhere. The heavy wool curtains had disappeared, leaving only fragments clinging to the rod. Outside, where the van had once been, there was only a shallow crater in the asphalt. The cars on either side of the crater were on fire. The noise was incredible. Men and women were screaming inside the gallery and fighting to get out the rear door, as the approaching sirens got louder and louder.

Dino got out a handkerchief and held it to the back of Stone’s head. “You’re bleeding, pal; hold this against your head.”

“I’m okay, Dino; find Sarah for me, will you? And get her to my car; it’s the safest place right now.”

“Okay, but don’t go out front; there might be somebody out there to take a shot at you.”

Stone stood, holding the handkerchief against the back of his head, and surveyed the damage. There seemed to be surprisingly little. Many of the paintings were still on the walls, and only one or two seemed to be badly damaged. He looked back at the window and realized what he had not before: the window did not occupy the entire front of the building. Instead, there was a border of masonry around it a good three feet wide. The blast had been funneled through the window opening, but the masonry still stood.

Forgetting Dino’s advice, Stone walked out the front door, which had merely been blown open, its glass still intact. On the way, he picked up a piece of the broken window and looked at it. The edges were not sharp to the touch. This puzzled him.

Andy Anderson ran up to him. “Stone, are you all right?”

“I’m okay, I think,” Stone replied. “Did you see what happened?”

“After I called the bomb squad, we moved the car up to the end of the block, to be out of the way. We were about to go back and stop traffic when the bomb went off. The light was red, and that had stopped the Madison traffic, so no cars were in front of the gallery when it blew, just the ones parked there. Nobody on the street was hurt that we can find; what about inside?”

“Go around to the back entrance and check for injuries; direct the ambulances there when they arrive.”

“Right.”

“Where’s Kelly?”

“I don’t know; I lost him.”

Stone looked around the street. Some shop windows across Madison were broken, and some parked cars had shattered windows, but he saw little else in the way of damage. He turned and walked back into the gallery, which was now empty. He walked to the rear hallway and out the door, onto the street. Dino was standing with his arms around Sarah, who was sobbing; the scene was repeated up and down the block, but he didn’t see any bodies, or even anyone who was not standing up or leaning against a car. Dino saw him and waved him over.

He took Sarah and held her at arm’s length. “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked.

She seemed to get control of herself. “I don’t think so,” she said.

“You’ve got some cuts on your legs,” Dino said. “Come on, we’re going to get you both to a hospital.”

Bob Berman ran over to them. “Anybody hurt? That was a big bang.”

“Not badly,” Dino said. “Get Stone and Sarah over to the emergency room at Lenox Hill Hospital.”

“Can we take anyone else?” Stone asked.

“I think you’re hurt worse than anybody else; you were closest to the blast, and Sarah was behind you,” Dino said. “Was it you who pulled the curtains?”

“Yeah, I think I did.”

“I think that had a damping effect and took a lot of the glass. You may have saved some lives, including your own. Come on, get in the car.”

Berman already had it started. They got in, and Berman backed down the street to Fifth Avenue, his emergency blinkers on. “Hang on,” he said. “I’m going the wrong way on Fifth.” He turned uptown, dodging oncoming cars, and, two blocks north, turned east.

“Smart move, Bob,” Stone said. “You wouldn’t have been able to get across Madison if you’d gone downtown. The explosion will have traffic backed up for fifty blocks.”

Sarah had stopped crying and was sitting rigidly, clasping Stone’s free hand tightly, saying nothing.

“Sarah, are you sure you’re all right?” Stone asked.

“I’m all right,” she replied in a low voice.

At Lenox Hill, Stone’s jacket and shirt were stripped off, and he was laid facedown on a gurney. Somebody gave him a local anesthetic and began picking glass out of his scalp and back.

“You’re not badly hurt, sir,” a young resident said. “We’ve got more people arriving with similar injuries; what happened?”

“A bomb,” Stone said. Somebody was shaving patches of his hair off, and he put a hand back to feel his head.

“Don’t worry, beautiful,” a nurse said. “I won’t take any more hair than necessary. You’ll still be gorgeous.”

“I’ve got a headache,” Stone said. “Can I have some aspirin?”

“In a minute, after we’ve cleaned these wounds. You’re going to need a stitch here and there, too.”

Stone tried to lie quietly and let them do their work. Finally, they sat him up, and the nurse handed him a white lab coat. “Better put this on to keep out the night,” she said. “Your jacket and shirt aren’t in such good shape.” She handed him the tattered garments. “You can go, now; let’s get you into a wheelchair; hospital policy.”

“Where’s Sarah Buckminster?”

“The lady with you? We patched some small cuts on her legs; she’s in the car with the man who brought you in.” She stopped at the door.

Stone stood up. “Thanks; how long have I been here?”

“I don’t know exactly; something over an hour.”

Stone walked out to the car and got in. “Take us home, Bob.”

The car moved out, and, shortly, they pulled into the garage. Stone held Sarah in the car until the garage door closed. Just before it did, Dino ducked under it.

“Hey, I like the white coat,” he said. “Suits you better than the tuxedo. You okay?”

“I’ve got a headache,” Stone said. “They forgot to give me some aspirin.”

“Let’s get you upstairs,” Dino said, taking his arm.

“Oh, come on, Dino, I’m not hurt; I can walk.” They went up to the master suite.

Sarah went straight to the bathroom. “I’m taking a pill,” she said. “If anybody wants to speak to me while I’m conscious, he’d better do it now.

Stone got her tucked into bed; then he took four aspirin, and he and Dino went into his study, where Dino poured them a drink. “What was the final count on the damage?” Stone asked.

“A few cars,” “Dino said,” “a few shop windows, a few hysterical people, a few pictures; that’s about it. The bomb guys said it was just a bundle of dynamite tossed into the back of the van – no direction to it, no nails or other shrapnel, except the pieces of the van. None of that hit anybody inside the gallery. It blew in every direction. The van took the worst of it, the window, then the armored-glass window slowed it down some more, and the curtains damped some of that. The glass was designed to hold up to a point, then shatter into dull fragments. By the time the bomb blew we had nearly everybody in the back part of the gallery. We were real lucky; it could have been a slaughterhouse. Anderson and Kelly should have run every license plate on the block, but nobody told them to – I blame myself for that – and they weren’t expecting anything like a bomb.”

“I was expecting something,” Stone said, “but not that.”

“It’s a bad business; but at least this will keep my investigation open. This will be all over the news tonight and the papers tomorrow. Why don’t you and Sarah get out of town?”

“We’re already booked on a London flight tomorrow morning,” Stone said. “Think you can handle this without me?”

Dino shot him a withering glance. “Gee, I’ll do my best.”