Free Sidney Sheldon by Are You Afraid of the Dark?

to—
    M ARAIS : What time did the elevators shut down?
    P ASCAL : They usually run until midnight, but on that night, since there were no sightseers or diners, I closed them down at ten P.M .
    B ELMONDO : Including the elevator that goes to the observation deck?
    P ASCAL : Yes. All of them.
    M ARAIS : Is it possible for someone to get to the observation deck without using the elevator?
    P ASCAL : No. On that night everything was closed off. I don’t understand what this is all about. If—
    B ELMONDO : I will tell you what it is all about. Monsieur Harris was thrown from the observation deck. We know it was the observation deck because when we examined the parapet, the top had been scraped, and the cement embedded in the soles of his shoes were flakes that matched the scraped cement on the parapet. If the floor was locked off, and the elevators were not working, how did he get up there at midnight?
    P ASCAL : I don’t know. Without an elevator, it would be—it would be impossible.
    M ARAIS : But an elevator was used to take Monsieur Harris up to the observation tower, and to take up his assassin—or assassins—and bring them down again.
    B ELMONDO : Could a stranger run the elevators?
    P ASCAL : No. The operators never leave them when they are on duty, and at night the elevators are locked down with a special key.
    M ARAIS : How many keys are there?
    P ASCAL : Three. I have one, and the other two are kept here.
    B ELMONDO : You are certain that the last elevator was shut down at ten o’clock?
    P ASCAL : Yes.
    M ARAIS : Who was running it?
    P ASCAL : Toth. Gérard Toth.
    M ARAIS : I would like to speak with him.
    P ASCAL : So would I.
    M ARAIS : I beg your pardon?
    P ASCAL : Toth has not shown up for work since that night. I called his apartment. There was no answer. I got hold of his landlord. Toth has moved out.
    M ARAIS : And left no forwarding address?
    P ASCAL : That’s right. He’s vanished into thin air.

    “ ‘V ANISHED INTO THIN air’? Are we talking about the Great Houdini or a damned elevator operator?”
    The speaker was Secretary General Claude Renaud, in charge of Interpol Headquarters. Renaud was a short, dynamic man in his fifties, who had worked his way up the police hierarchy over a period of twenty years.
    Renaud was chairing a meeting in the main conference room at the seven-story Interpol Headquarters, the international police organization that is the clearinghouse of information for 126 police forces in 78 countries. The building was located in Saint-Cloud, six miles west of Paris, and the headquarters was manned by former detectives from the Sûreté Nationale, and the Paris Préfecture.
    There were twelve men seated at the large conference table. They had been questioning Detective Belmondo for the past hour.
    Secretary General Renaud said sourly, “So you and Detective Marais were unable to get any information about how a man was murdered in an area it would be impossible for him to be in, in the first place, and impossible for his assassins to get to or escape from? Is that what you’re telling me?”
    “Marais and I talked to everyone who—”
    “Never mind. You may go.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    They watched the chastened detective walk out of the room.
    Secretary General Renaud turned to the group. “During your investigations, have any one of you come across a man named Prima?”
    They were thoughtful a moment and then shook their heads. “No. Who is Prima?”
    “We don’t know. His name was scribbled on a note found in thejacket pocket of a dead man in New York. We think there’s a connection.” He sighed. “Gentlemen, we have a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. In the fifteen years I have been in this office, we have investigated serial killers, international gangs, mayhem, patricide, and every other crime imaginable.” He paused. “But in all those years, I have never come across anything like this. I am sending a NOTICE to the New York office….”
     
    F RANK