ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK?.
The New Novel by Sidney Sheldon
This book will be published in September 2004 by William Morrow. This is an uncorrected, advance excerpt. Please check with the publisher or refer to the finished book if quoting or excerpting in a review.
PROLOGUE
BERLIN, GERMANY
Sonja Verbrugge had no idea that this was going to be her last day on earth. She was pushing her way through the sea of summer tourists overflowing the busy sidewalks of Unter den Linden. Don't panic, she told herself. You must keep calm.
The instant message on her computer from Franz had been terrifying. Run, Sonja! Go to the Artemisia Hotel. You will be safe there. Wait until you hear from
The message had ended suddenly. Why had Franz not finished it? What could be happening?
Frau Verbrugge was nearing Brandenburgische Strasse, where the Artemisia was located, the hotel that catered to women only. I will wait for Franz there and he will explain to me what this is all about.
When Sonja Verbrugge reached the next corner, the traffic light had turned to red, and as she stopped at the curb, someone in the crowd bumped against her and she stumbled into the street. Verdammt Touristen! A limousine that had been double-parked suddenly moved toward her, grazing her just hard enough to knock her down. People began to gather around the woman.
"Is she all right?"
"Ist ihr etwas passiert?"
"Peut elle marcher?"
At that moment, a passing ambulance stopped. Two attendants from the ambulance hurried over and took charge. "We will take care of her."
Sonja Verbrugge found herself being lifted into the ambulance. The door closed and a moment later, the vehicle sped away.
She was strapped in a gurney, trying to sit up. "I am fine," she protested. "It was nothing. I --"
One of the attendants was leaning over her. "It is all right, Frau Verbrugge. Just relax."
She looked up at him, suddenly alarmed. "How do you know my --?"
She felt the sharp sting of a hypodermic needle in her arm and a moment later, she gave herself up to the waiting darkness.
PARIS, FRANCE
Mark Harris was alone on the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower, oblivious to the driving rain swirling around him. From time to time a streak of lightning shattered the raindrops into dazzling diamond waterfalls.
Across the Seine River stood the familiar Palais de Chaillot, and the Trocad?ro Gardens, but he was unaware of them. His mind was focused on the astonishing news that was about to be released to the world.
The wind had begun to whip the rain into a frenzied maelstrom. Mark Harris shielded his wrist with his sleeve and looked at his watch. They were late. And why had they insisted on meeting here, at midnight? Even as he was wondering, he heard the tower elevator door open. Two men were moving toward him, fighting against the fierce wet wind.
As Mark Harris recognized them, he felt a sense of relief. "You're late."
"It's this damn weather, Mark. Sorry."
"Well, you're here. The meeting in Washington is all set, isn't it?"
"That's what we need to talk to you about. As a matter of fact we had a long discussion this morning about the best way to handle this, and we decided --"
As they were speaking, the second man had moved behind Mark Harris and two things happened almost simultaneously. A heavy, blunt instrument slammed into his skull, and an instant later he felt himself being lifted and tossed over the parapet into the cold driving rain, his body plunging toward the unforgiving sidewalk thirty-eight stories below.
DENVER, COLORADO
Gary Reynolds had grown up in rugged Kelowna, Canada, near Vancouver, and had had his flight training there, so he was accustomed to flying in treacherous mountainous terrain. He was piloting a Cessna Citation II, keeping a wary eye on the snow-capped peaks surrounding him.
The plane was commissioned to carry a cockpit crew of two, but today there was no co pilot. Not this trip, Reynolds thought, grimly.
He had filed a false flight plan for Kennedy Airport. No one would think of looking for him in Denver. He would spend the night at his sister's home, and in the morning, he would be on his way east, to meet the others. All the arrangements were complete, and --
A voice on the radio interrupted his thoughts. "Citation One One One Lima Foxtrot, this is the approach control tower at Denver International Airport. Come in, please."
Gary Reynolds pressed the radio button. "This is Citation One One One Lima Foxtrot. I am requesting a clearance to land."
"One Lima Foxtrot, say your position."
"One Lima Foxtrot. I am fifteen miles northeast of the Denver Airport. Altitude 15,000 feet."
He saw Pike's Peak looming up on the right side. The sky was bright blue, the weather clear. A good omen.
...THERE WAS MORE FROM THE SITE BUT I COULDN'T FIT IT IN HERE AS IT HAS A MAXIMUM OF 5000 CHARACTERS...ENJOY...
Feb 26, 2004
4:39 PM
English
