Mélanie Mercier née Markowitz (7)

A change of luck?

Jean Michel Jakobowicz, ONU

Mélanie Mercier née Markowitz, deputy chief economist of the Forecasting Department of the Organization has been the victim of strange messages threatening her children Isabelle, 8, and Benjamin, 10. She decides to protect them by sending them to her parents in Paris. In the meantime, her colleague David Garrido, who tries to help has been murdered. (You can find the first six episodes of Mélanie on UN Special Home page at: http://www.unspecial.org).

Melanie’s grilling had lasted more than one and half hours. It was a hell during which she had to reveal all the details of her private life in front of strangers. But as Inspector Savoy, of the Geneva criminal department had said: “Every details counts! She even had to speak of Jerome her ex-husband, who had absolutely nothing to do with the story. The inspector had taken several pages of notes. When he had finished, his only comment was:

— Interesting! Very interesting! He took his leave of Christian Melnick, the Secretary General, and Melanie without giving any further details.

Melanie felt totally empty and was unable to think or to speak. Like a robot she left the Organisation. She didn’t feel anything, she didn’t see anything, she didn’t hear anything. She never found out how she got home.

She closed the door and immediately fell on the floor and started to cry. The long sobs seemed to go on forever. The one thought that kept returning was that everything was her fault. If it hadn’t been for her stupid fears, David would still be alive.

A little later, on her bed, Melanie was listening to the nerve-racking silence of her flat. Without the kids it looked so… big and so sinister.

Suddenly the phone rang. Melanie jumped out of her skin, and then started to shake. She stared at the phone as if it were a deadly snake ready to jump at her. The phone rang for a long time. When she started to reach for it, the ringing stopped. Her whole body relaxed. The moment she sighed with relief, the ringing started all over again. Roughly she picked up the phone and shouted almost hysterically:

— Just leave me alone! What have I done to you for you to torment me like this? At the other end of the phone she heard somebody breathing, then immediately recognized a familiar voice. It was Jerome, her former husband.
— What’s going on? he asked anxiously.
— Nothing, answered Melanie exhausted, nothing at all! — Are you sure… you seem so… out of sorts. — No, not at all. Leave me alone, said Melanie worn out. I am ok. Anticipating the next question she added:
— The kids are with my parents in Paris and they are ok too.
— You could have told me that they were going, answered Jerome in a voice which he had trouble controlling.
— I didn’t have the time. It was decided at the last minute. And as you had told me that you didn’t have any vacations…
— Even so… — Sorry, said Melanie, but I am not alone.
— Very well, I’ll call you back tomorrow, said Jerome hurt.

Melanie hung up and shouted furiously.

— I am fed-up. Fed-up! When will all this be over?

One hour later the phone rang again. Surprisingly calm, Melanie picked up the phone. She spoke for quite a while with someone and then hung up.

A black Mercedes was parked in front of her house. Inside the car a man was watching Melanie’s windows. When her lights went off, he waited for a few more minutes and then left. The man had a last look in his rear view mirror and turned into Florissant Road.

The next day, despite looking like death warmed up, Melanie was feeling better. The last phone call had cheered her up. She now knew that she could act and get rid of the people that were harassing her and who had killed her friend David Garrido.

In the corridors of the Organisation, her colleagues were greeting her with all the respect due to a person who had just lost a beloved. In order to avoid all these evasive looks, Melanie hurried to her office. A memorandum was waiting for her on her desk. The Secretary General, Christian Melnick was informing her that she was again in charge of the Economic Survey of the Organisation, with full powers to finish the job. She was to report directly to the Secretary General in person and nobody else. Melanie smiled. Her luck seemed to have changed.

New York, 87 ^th Street between Madison and Fifth.

Erwin Mülbach was still fuming. He was pacing back and forth in the huge living room. A tall, bald man wearing dark sunglasses was sitting in an armchair. A real caricature.

— I told you to frighten this person, but not to kill! shouted Erwin Mülbach. I don’t want any publicity. And you find nothing better than to kill a member of the Organisation, even a person very close to… you know who! — If I may repeat myself, sir, answered the man in a very calm, monotone voice, we have nothing to do with it. We haven’t started anything yet.
— Who is it then? asked Erwin Mülbach. — No idea! — I don’t care about your ideas. I want to know. Do you hear me, I want to know.