Forever (75 page)

This past May, on the eve of Mr Savitt's
previously scheduled execution, the late Stephanie Merlin of the
syndicated show
Half Hour
, obtained an exclusive interview
with the convicted killer. Here's a clip ofpart of that interview .
. .'

The picture on the television changed to a
familiar strawberry blonde with wide-spaced, pale-topaz eyes. 'Now
then, Jed,' she was saying, 'you have one hour remaining before
your scheduled execution . . .'

But Myles Riley was no longer listening. His
drink forgotten, he tore open the manila envelope and yanked out
the stack of computer-generated photographs. Keeping one eye on the
television, he swiftly flipped through them until he came across
one with a hairdo similar to the woman's onscreen.

Well, well, well! he thought. What do you
know?

On the television, the picture switched from
the taped interview back to the reporter, who said, 'Stephanie
Merlin was killed several days after the taping of that interview
when a gas explosion ripped through a Manhattan apartment.'

'Killed my ass!' Riley murmured, gathering
up the pictures and hurriedly stuffing them back inside the
envelope.

Riley didn't wait until he got home; he
placed a long-distance call from the first reasonably quiet phone
he could find. His hands were clammy and he could barely contain
his triumphant excitement. It seemed to take forever for the call
to go through.

'Security, Valerio,' a voice said.

Riley took a deep breath. 'Colonel? I've
IDed the woman for you. She's a TV reporter who's allegedly dead.
Only it seems she's very much alive. Name's Merlin. Stephanie
Merlin.''

Ilha da Borboleta, Brazil

After he hung up on Myles Riley, Colonel
Valerio did not waste any time. He smoked a cigarette, and by the
time he stubbed it out in his ashtray, he had come up with a simple
but workable last-minute strategy. It's too late to rely on The
Ghost, he decided. Besides, I like this way a lot better. If anyone
deserves to stop Stephanie Merlin aka Monica Williams in her
tracks, it's me. She's mine.

He smiled to himself. All mine.

This unforeseen development appealed
mightily to his sense of sport - not to mention his efficient
ruthlessness. He despised failure.

I succeeded in having Carleton Merlin killed
and making it look like suicide. But relying on The Ghost had been
a mistake. He realised that now. The explosion that ripped through
Mr Merlin's apartment hadn't taken care of his granddaughter.
Colonel Valerio smiled grimly to himself. Which just goes to show
that if you want a job done right, you've got to do it
yourself.

Which was exactly what he was going to do
now.

Deep at heart, Colonel Valerio was a hunter
and a tracker. He loved pitting his wits against a prey's, loved
following a spoor and giving chase. Even more, he loved the thrill
of a kill. Whether his prey was a deer, an elephant, or a man, the
moment of the kill was what gave him the greatest satisfaction on
earth.

And now I have a new prey, he thought, the
most exciting prey on earth. A fellow human being.

First, he initiated step one. Calling the
quinta
, he spoke to Ernesto.

'Sir, it has just come to my attention that
a cell of leftish terrorists are planning to attack this island,'
he said, playing on what he knew was the billionaire's greatest
fear. 'They want to take you prisoner and hold you hostage.'

'Good God!' Ernesto gasped. 'Are you certain
of this?'

'Yes, sir. I strongly suggest that you, Dr
Vassiltchikov, Ms Bohm, and her mother evacuate the premises at
once. I will send jeeps to pick you up at the house and drive you
down to the
Chrysalis
. Make certain the entire household
staff is evacuated as well.

'Then you expect an attack soon?'

'Within hours,' Colonel Valerio lied.

'I see. Thank you, Colonel.'

'Don't worry, sir. You will be on your way
to Sao Paulo long before the fireworks start. I will call the yacht
and tell the captain to be ready to cast off.'

From the aft deck of the
Chrysalis
,
Lili and Ernesto watched their island paradise receding into the
distance. Before they went inside, Lili said, 'It seems impossible
that we wouldn't be safe there. Ilha da Borboleta has always been
our refuge!' She stared at him.

Ernesto squeezed her hand reassuringly. 'And
it shall be once again. Don't worry. This could very well be a
false alarm. But Colonel Valerio was right in evacuating us. It
would be stupid to take chances.'

Now that the yacht was gone and the entire
household evacuated, Colonel Valerio initiated step two. By
walkie-talkie, he ordered the entire security staff to leave their
guard posts, lock the dogs in the kennels, and to gather in a
formation in front of the security complex. Once they were lined up
in neat military rows, he inspected his troops and then said,
'Gentlemen, we are going to perform an evacuation drill. Within the
hour, you will be ferried to the mainland by helicopter, where you
will remain until you receive further word.' He paused and asked,
'Any questions?'

There were none.

'Fall out,' he said.

Forty-five minutes later, an armada of six
jet helicopters skimmed low across the water to the island. As soon
as they touched down, Colonel Valerio supervised the loading of his
men aboard five of them.

He commandeered the sixth one for
himself.

The fleet of five rose, one after the other,
and took off for the mainland. Soon they were gone from sight.

Only then did he tell his pilot to lift
off.

'Where to, sir?' the pilot asked him.

'The airport in Vitoria,' Colonel Valerio
said. 'I have a jet waiting there.'

Within a minute the island was left
behind.

Twisting around in his seat, Colonel Valerio
looked back at the emerald butterfly-shaped island.

Ilha da Borboleta was deserted, a ghost
island from which all humans had been banished. Even the guard dogs
were locked in their kennels. Only the kaleidoscope clouds of
butterflies were allowed to flutter free.

Colonel Valerio nodded to himself. It would
make the ultimate hunting preserve. And in a few more hours, he
would have it stocked with his choice of prey.

A human - and a female at that.

Before the island was lost to sight, he said
softly, 'Checkmate, Stephanie Merlin.' He was smiling.

Sitto da Veiga, Brazil • Inflight

Stephanie was leading the way, speed-walking
like a determined exercise fanatic: her arms were bent and her
hands clenched and her chin up as she practically flew down the
glass tunnel to the pyramid.

'This is a race?' Johnny called from
behind.

'Yes,' she said, speed-walking on.

'Christ almighty, Stephanie!' he hissed.
'Will you slow the hell down? How much attention are you trying to
attract, anyway? I thought we were trying to blend in.'

That stopped her in her tracks. 'Right,' she
said, and waited for him to catch up. 'Sorry. I wasn't thinking.'
She instinctively patted her right trouser pocket to make sure her
address book and key card were still there; now would be a hell of
a time to lose them.

They reached the central pyramid, from which
all the other glass tunnels radiated in all directions, and
continued walking until they finally reached the glassed-in tunnel
leading to the rectangular building. She looked down at her
feet.

'These shoes,' she pronounced, 'weren't made
for walking.'

'You'll get used to them.'

'I'd like to walk all over whoever designed
them!' she said darkly. 'It feels like somebody's tied loofahs to
my feet.'

'Take heart. We're almost there.'

As they reached the rectangular building,
Stephanie saw that the exceptionally large lobby was second only to
the pyramid as a hub of after-work activity. She remembered that
the hospital occupied the four subterranean floors; the six
above-ground floors contained the school, gym, rec room, day-care
centre, enclosed sun-deck, and family apartments.

She worked to keep her nervousness from
showing, forced her movements to appear casual and unhurried. It
wasn't easy, the lobby being so crowded. There were people
everywhere. Gathered in gossipy little groups. Seated on benches
under the potted trees. Watching their youngsters romp in the
sandbox or climbing the jungle gym.

The eerie normalcy of the scene struck her
as odd: this could have been any building in any city in the world
- except for the green scrub clothes which even the youngest child
was wearing.

She felt uncountable sets of eyes upon her
and kept a bland expression frozen on her face. But intense worries
gnawed at her. What if she and Johnny were stopped on their way
down to the hospital? Or a security guard demanded to know what
they were up to? Or she was recognised as a stranger and reported?
God alone knew how protective these residents might be of their
turf. Her heart was hammering, her stomach tied into excruciating
knots. She told herself to calm down. Why should anyone take undue
notice of her? Didn't she blend in? Wasn't she wearing the accepted
uniform, right down to the accepted sandals? And wasn't she with
Johnny, who'd been a recognised face around here for the past
month?

She thought, I must clamp down on my fears.
There's really no reason to be nervous or afraid. At least, she
amended, not yet.

'If I remember correctly, the elevators are
over there,' she said to Johnny, nodding towards them with her
chin.

'I know a better way,' he said. As they
walked, Johnny looked around casually, saw no khaki-uniformed
guards, and guided Stephanie to the far end of the lobby, where the
fire stairs were located.

She frowned, confused by the signs posted on
the door in several languages, including English:

FIRE ESCAPE

ALARM WILL SOUND WHEN OPENED

'Johnny!' she protested.

'Not to worry,' he assured her smoothly.
'Some of the medical staff use it when they don't want to wait for
the elevators. The alarms have been cheated.' He looked around once
more. 'Besides, the stairs aren't used nearly as much as the
elevators. We'll avoid running into a lot of busybodies.'

'As long as you know what you're doing,'
Stephanie murmured.

The heavy metal door was conventional, and
opened with a handle rather than a security card. Johnny glanced
over his shoulder one last time before he swiftly tugged it open.
Stephanie slipped inside first, noting that the latch had been
taped over with duct tape. So that's why the alarm won't sound, she
thought. Then Johnny followed her in and quickly closed the
door.

Stephanie looked around. They were in a grey
cinder-block stairwell; wide embossed black metal stairs led from
the landing both up and down. Moving with the quick and quiet
agility of an alley cat, Johnny descended the stairs, speaking
softly so that his voice wouldn't echo.

'Paediatrics is on level four. Along with
O.R., post-op, intensive care, neurosurgical labs, neuroradiology,
cardiology, pathology, and coffin storage, and - would you believe
- the morgue?'

Stephanie drew a sharp breath and leaned
back against the cinderblock wall. Sick fear knotted her stomach
and for a moment, she felt completely sapped of energy. Neither of
them spoke. In the silence, the second hand of a clock seemed to
tick loudly, and then she realised it was the beating of her own
heart.

She lowered her head slowly until her eyes
met his. 'We're wasting precious time,' she said.

'I know.'

Their eyes held each other. Neither seemed
anxious to move on.

With a sigh, she pushed herself away from
the wall and wearily trudged down the last flight of steps,
brushing past Johnny, every step a major effort. At level four, she
stopped and stared at the metal door and thought, This is it. God
only knows what we'll find.

Breathing a silent prayer, she squared her
shoulders and grasped hold of the cool door handle. Johnny was
right behind her; she could feel his breath against the nape of her
neck, raising the tiny hairs.

Carefully, silently, she inched open the
door and peered out.

'See anybody?' Johnny whispered.

'No.' She shook her head, inched the door
further open, and nervously stuck her head out. Quickly looked both
ways. 'Coast is clear,' she said with immense relief.

'Good! Let's get going.'

She opened the door wide. 'Since you seem to
know your way around here,' she said, 'you lead the way.'

'Where do you want to go first?'

Stephanie didn't hesitate. 'Paediatrics,'
she said.

It seemed the sensible place to start.

The helicopter hung in the air just above
the tarmac, lifted slightly, delicately adjusted itself, and then
settled smoothly down on its skids beside the waiting Learjet.
Colonel Valerio released his seatbelt, unlatched the door, and
leaped out of the helicopter. In a crouch, he ran over to the Lear
and bounded up the steps. 'Did you file the flight plan to Sftto da
Veiga?' he demanded of the pilot as he ducked into the small,
five-passenger jet.

'Yes, Colonel. We are cleared for immediate
takeoff.'

'Then let's go.'

'Yes, sir!'

The retractable boarding steps were folded
up, the door sealed, and even as Colonel Valerio was strapping
himself into one of the grey leather seats, the sleek silver jet
was already taxiing towards the takeoff runway.