The Stars Shine Down

Dedication

This one is for Morton Janklow,A Man for All Seasons

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Part Two

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Part Three

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Part Four

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Acknowledgements

Books By Sidney Sheldon

About the Author

Copyright

About the Publisher

Epigraph

The stars shine down

And watch us live

Our little lives

And weep for us.

MONET NODLEHS

Chapter One

Thursday, September 10, 1992 8:00 p.m.

The 727 was lost in a sea of cumulus clouds that tossed the plane around like a giant silver feather. The pilot’s worried voice came over the speaker.

‘Is your seat belt fastened, Miss Cameron?’

There was no response.

‘Miss Cameron … Miss Cameron …’

She was shaken out of a deep reverie. ‘Yes.’ Her thoughts had been drifting to happier times, happier places.

‘Are you all right? We should be out of this storm soon.’

‘I’m fine, Roger.’

Maybe we’ll get lucky and crash, Lara Cameron thought. It would be a fitting end. Somewhere, somehow, it had all gone wrong. It’s the Fates, Lara thought. You can’t fight the Fates. In the past year her life had spun wildly out of control. She was in danger of losing everything. At least nothing else can go wrong, she thought wryly. There is nothing else.

The door of the cockpit opened and the pilot came into the cabin. He paused for a moment to admire his passenger. The woman was beautiful, with shiny black hair swept up in a crown, a flawless complexion, intelligent eyes, cat-grey. She had changed clothes after they had taken off from Reno, and she was wearing a white, off-the-shoulder Scaasi evening gown that accented a slender, seductive figure. Around her throat was a diamond and ruby necklace. How can she look so damn calm with her world collapsing around her? he wondered. The newspapers had been mercilessly attacking her for the past month.

‘Is the phone working yet, Roger?’

‘I’m afraid not, Miss Cameron. There’s a lot of interference because of the storm. We’re going to be about an hour late getting into La Guardia. I’m sorry.’

I’m going to be late for my birthday party, Lara thought. Everyone is going to be there. Two hundred guests, including the Vice President of the United States, the Governor of New York, the Mayor, Hollywood celebrities, famous athletes, and financiers from half a dozen countries. She had approved the guest list herself.

She could visualize the Grand Ballroom of the Cameron Plaza, where the party was being held. Baccarat crystal chandeliers would hang from the ceiling, prisms of light reflecting a dazzling diamond-like brilliance. There would be place settings for two hundred guests, at twenty tables. The finest linens, china, silver and stemware would adorn each place setting, and in the centre of each table would be a floral display of white orchids mixed with white freesias.

Bar service would have been set up at both ends of the large reception hall outside. In the middle of the hall would be a long buffet with an ice carving of a swan, and surrounding it, Beluga caviar, gravlax, shrimps, lobster and crab, while buckets of champagne were being iced. A ten-tier birthday cake would be in the kitchen waiting. Waiters, maître d’s and security guards would all be in position by now.

In the ballroom, a society orchestra would be on the bandstand, ready to tempt the guests to dance the night away in celebration of her fortieth birthday. Everything would be in readiness.

The dinner was going to be delicious. She had chosen the menu herself. Foie gras to begin with, followed by a cream of mushroom soup under a delicate crust, fillets of John Dory, and then the main course: Lamb with rosemary and pommes soufflées with French beans and a mesclun salad with hazelnut oil. Cheese and grapes would be next, followed by the birthday cake and coffee.

It was going to be a spectacular party. She would hold her head high, and face her guests as though nothing were wrong. She was Lara Cameron.

When the private jet finally landed at La Guardia, it was an hour and a half late.

Lara turned to the pilot. ‘We’ll be flying back to Reno later tonight, Roger.’

‘I’ll be here, Miss Cameron.’

Her limousine and driver were waiting for her at the ramp.

‘I was getting worried about you, Miss Cameron.’

‘We ran into some weather, Max. Let’s get to the Plaza as fast as possible.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Lara reached for the car phone and dialled Jerry Townsend’s number. He had made all the arrangements for the party. Lara wanted to make sure that her guests were being looked after. There was no answer. He’s probably in the ballroom, Lara thought.

‘Hurry, Max.’

‘Yes, Miss Cameron.’

The sight of the huge Cameron Plaza Hotel never failed to give Lara a glow of satisfaction at what she had created, but on this evening, she was in too much of a hurry to think about it. Everyone would be waiting for her in the Grand Ballroom.

She pushed through the revolving door and hurried across the large spectacular lobby. Carlos, the assistant manager, saw her and came running to her side.

‘Miss Cameron …’

‘Later,’ Lara said. She kept walking. She reached the closed door of the Grand Ballroom and stopped to take a deep breath. I’m ready to face them, Lara thought. She flung open the door, a smile on her face, and stopped in shock. The room was in total darkness. Were they planning some kind of surprise? She reached for the switch behind the door and flicked it up. The huge room was flooded with incandescent light. There was no one there. Not one single person. Lara stood there, stunned.

What in the world could have happened to two hundred guests? The invitations had read eight o’clock. It was now almost ten o’clock. How could that many people disappear into thin air? It was eerie. She looked around the enormous empty ballroom and shivered. Last year, at her birthday party, this same room had been filled with her friends, filled with music and laughter. She remembered that day so well …

Chapter Two

One year earlier, Lara Cameron’s appointment schedule for the day had been routine.

September 10, 1991

She had been in her workout clothes impatiently waiting when Ken, her trainer, arrived.

‘You’re late.’

‘Sorry, Miss Cameron. My alarm didn’t go off and …’

‘I have a busy day. Let’s get started.’

‘Right.’

They did stretches for half an hour and then switched to energetic aerobics.

She’s got the body of a twenty-one year old, Ken thought. I’d sure love to get that into my bed. He enjoyed coming here every morning just to look at her, to be near her. People constantly asked him what Lara Cameron was like. He would answer, ‘The lady’s a ten.’

Lara went through the strenuous routine easily, but her mind was not on it this morning.

When the session was finally over, Ken said, ‘I’m going to watch you on “Good Morning America”.’

‘What?’ For a moment Lara had forgotten about it. She had been thinking about the meeting with the Japanese bankers.

‘See you tomorrow, Miss Cameron.’

‘Don’t be late again, Ken.’

Lara showered and changed and had breakfast alone on the terrace of the penthouse, a breakfast of grapefruit, cereal, and green tea. When she had finished, she went into her study.

Lara buzzed her secretary. ‘I’ll do the overseas calls from the office,’ Lara said. ‘I have to be at ABC at seven. Have Max bring the car around.’

The segment on ‘Good Morning America’ went well. Joan Lunden did the interview and was gracious, as always.

‘The last time you were on this programme,’ Joan Lunden said, ‘you had just broken ground for the tallest skyscraper in the world. That was almost four years ago.’

Lara nodded. ‘That’s right. Cameron Towers will be finished next year.’

‘How does it feel to be in your position – to have accomplished all the incredible things you’ve done, and to still be so young and beautiful? You’re a role model for so many women.’

‘You’re very flattering,’ Lara laughed. ‘I don’t have time to think about myself as a role model. I’m much too busy.’

‘You’re one of the most successful real estate developers in a business that’s usually considered a man’s domain. How do you operate? How do you decide, for instance, where to put up a building?’

‘I don’t choose the site,’ Lara said. ‘The site chooses me. I’ll be driving along and I’ll pass a vacant field – but that’s not what I see. I see a beautiful office building or a lovely apartment building filled with people living comfortably in a nice atmosphere. I dream.’

‘And you make those dreams come true. We’ll be right back after this commercial.’

The Japanese bankers were due at 7:45. They had arrived from Tokyo the evening before and Lara had arranged the meeting at that early morning hour so that they would still be jetlagged after their twelve hour and ten minute flight. When they had protested, Lara had said, ‘I’m so sorry, gentlemen, but I’m afraid it’s the only time I have. I’m leaving for South America immediately after our meeting.’

And they had reluctantly agreed. There were four of them, diminutive and polite, with minds as sharp as the edges of Samurai swords. In an earlier decade, the financial community had wildly underestimated the Japanese. It no longer made that mistake.

The meeting was held at Cameron Center on Sixth Avenue. The men were there to invest a hundred million dollars in a new hotel complex Lara was developing. They were ushered into the large conference room. Each of the men carried a gift. Lara thanked them and in turn gave each of them a gift. She had instructed her secretary to make certain the presents were wrapped in plain brown or grey paper. White, to the Japanese, represented death, and gaudy wrapping paper was unacceptable.

Lara’s assistant, Tricia, brought in tea for the Japanese and coffee for Lara. The Japanese would have preferred coffee, but they were too polite to say so. When they had finished their tea, Lara made sure their cups were replenished.

Howard Keller, Lara’s associate, came into the room. He was in his fifties, pale and thin, with sandy hair, wearing a rumpled suit, and managing to look as though he had just got out of bed. Lara made the introductions. Keller passed around copies of the investment proposal.

‘As you can see, gentlemen,’ Lara said, ‘we already have a first mortgage commitment. The complex will contain seven hundred and twenty guest units, approximately thirty thousand square feet of meeting space, and a one-thousand car parking garage …’

Lara’s voice was charged with energy. The Japanese bankers were studying the investment proposal, fighting to stay awake.

The meeting was over in less than two hours and it was a complete success. Lara had learned long ago that it was easier to make a hundred-million-dollar deal than it was to try to borrow fifty thousand dollars.

As soon as the Japanese delegation left, Lara had her meeting with Jerry Townsend. The tall, hyper, ex-Hollywood publicity man was in charge of public relations for Cameron Enterprises.

‘That was a great interview on “Good Morning America” this morning. I’ve been getting a lot of calls.’

‘What about Forbes?’

‘All set. People has you on the cover next week. Did you see the New Yorker article on you? Wasn’t it great?’

Lara walked over to her desk. ‘Not bad.’

‘The Fortune interview is set for this afternoon.’

‘I changed it.’

He looked surprised. ‘Why?’

‘I’m having their reporter here for lunch.’

‘Soften him up a little?’

Lara pressed down the intercom button. ‘Come in, Kathy.’

A disembodied voice said, ‘Yes, Miss Cameron.’

Lara Cameron looked up. ‘That’s all, Jerry. I want you and your staff to concentrate on Cameron Towers.’

‘We’re already doing …’

‘Let’s do more. I want it written about in every newspaper and magazine there is. For God’s sake, it’s going to be the tallest building in the world. In the world! I want people talking about it. By the time we open, I want people to be begging to get into those apartments and shops.’

Jerry Townsend got to his feet. ‘Right.’

Kathy, Lara’s executive assistant, came into the office. She was an attractive, neatly dressed black woman in her early thirties.

‘Did you find out what he likes to eat?’

‘The man’s a gourmet. He likes French food. I called Le Cirque and asked Sirio to cater a lunch here for two.’

‘Good. We’ll eat in my private dining room.’

‘Do you know how long the interview will take? You have a two thirty with the Metropolitan bankers downtown.’

‘Push it to three o’clock, and have them come here.’

Kathy made a note. ‘Do you want me to read you your messages?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘The Children’s Foundation wants you to be their guest of honour on the twenty-eighth.’

‘No. Tell them I’m flattered. Send them a cheque.’

‘Your meeting has been arranged in Tulsa for Tuesday at …’

‘Cancel it.’

‘You’re invited to a luncheon next Friday for a Manhattan Women’s Group.’

‘No. If they’re asking for money, send them a cheque.’

‘The Coalition for Literacy would like you to speak at a luncheon on the fourth.’

‘See if we can work it out.’

‘There’s an invitation to be guest of honour at a fund-raiser for muscular dystrophy, but there’s a conflict in dates. You’ll be in San Francisco.’

‘Send them a cheque.’

‘The Srbs are giving a dinner party next Saturday.’

‘I’ll try to make that,’ Lara said. Kristian and Deborah Srb were amusing, and good friends, and she enjoyed being with them.

‘Kathy, how many of me do you see?’

‘What?’

‘Take a good look.’

Kathy looked at her. ‘One of you, Miss Cameron.’

‘That’s right. There’s only one of me. How did you expect me to meet with the bankers from Metropolitan at two thirty today, the Zoning Commission at four, then meet with the mayor at five, the architects at six fifteen, the housing commission at six thirty, have a cocktail party at seven thirty and my birthday dinner at eight? The next time you make up a schedule, try using your brain.’

‘I’m sorry. You wanted me to …’

‘I wanted you to think. I don’t need stupid people around me. Reschedule the appointments with the architects and the housing commission.’

‘Right,’ Kathy said stiffly.

‘How’s the baby?’

The question caught the secretary by surprise. ‘David? He’s … he’s fine.’

‘He must be getting big by now.’

‘He’s almost two.’

‘Have you thought about a school for him?’

‘Not yet. It’s too early to …’

‘You’re wrong. If you want to get him into a decent school in New York, you start before he’s born.’

Lara made a note on a desk pad. ‘I know the principal at Dalton. I’ll arrange to have David registered there.’

‘I … thank you.’

Lara did not bother to look up. ‘That’s all.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Kathy walked out of the office not knowing whether to love her boss or hate her. When Kathy had first come to work at Cameron Enterprises, she had been warned about Lara Cameron. ‘The Iron Butterfly is a bitch on wheels,’ she had been told. ‘Her secretaries don’t figure their employment there by the calendar – they use stopwatches. She’ll eat you alive.’

Kathy remembered her first interview with her. She had seen pictures of Lara Cameron in half a dozen magazines, but none of them had done her justice. In person, the woman was breathtakingly beautiful.

Lara Cameron had been reading Kathy’s résumé. She looked up and said, ‘Sit down, Kathy.’ Her voice was husky and vibrant. There was an energy about her that was almost overpowering.

‘This is quite a résumé.’

‘Thank you.’

‘How much of it is real?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Most of the ones that come across my desk are fiction. Are you good at what you do?’

‘I’m very good at what I do, Miss Cameron.’

‘Two of my secretaries just quit. Everything’s snowballing around here. Can you handle pressure?’

‘I think so.’

‘This isn’t a guessing contest. Can you handle pressure or can’t you?’

At that moment Kathy was not sure she wanted the job. ‘Yes, I can.’

‘Good. You’re on a one-week trial. You’ll have to sign a form saying that at no time will you discuss me or your work here at Cameron Enterprises. That means no interviews, no books, nothing. Everything that happens here is confidential.’

‘I understand.’

‘Fine.’

That was how it had begun five years earlier. During that time Kathy had learned to love, hate, admire and despise her boss. In the beginning Kathy’s husband had asked, ‘What is the legend like?’

It was a difficult question. ‘She’s larger than life,’ Kathy had said. ‘She’s drop-dead beautiful. She works harder than anyone I’ve ever known. God only knows when she sleeps. She’s a perfectionist, so she makes everyone around her miserable. In her own way, she’s a genius. She can be petty and vengeful and incredibly generous.’

Her husband had smiled. ‘In other words, she’s a woman.’

Kathy had looked at him and said, unsmiling, ‘I don’t know what she is. Sometimes she scares me.’

‘Come on, honey, you’re exaggerating.’

‘No. I honestly believe that if someone stood in Lara Cameron’s way … she would kill.’

When Lara finished with the faxes and overseas calls, she buzzed Charlie Hunter, the ambitious young man in charge of accounting. ‘Come in, Charlie.’

‘Yes, Miss Cameron.’

A minute later, he entered her office.

‘Yes, Miss Cameron?’

‘I read the interview you gave in the New York Times this morning,’ Lara said.

He brightened. ‘I haven’t seen it yet. How was it?’

‘You talked about Cameron Enterprises and about some of the problems we’re having.’

He frowned. ‘Well, you know, that reporter fellow probably misquoted some of my …’

‘You’re fired.’

‘What? Why? I …’

‘When you were hired, you signed a paper agreeing not to give any interviews. I’ll expect you out of here this morning.’

‘I … you can’t do that. Who would take my place?’

‘I’ve already arranged that,’ Lara told him.

The luncheon was almost over. The Fortune reporter, Hugh Thompson, was an intense, intellectual-looking man with sharp brown eyes behind black horn-rimmed glasses.

‘It was a great lunch,’ he said. ‘All my favourite dishes. Thanks.’

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

‘You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble for me.’

‘No trouble at all,’ Lara smiled. ‘My father always told me that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.’

‘And you wanted to get to my heart before we started the interview?’

Lara smiled. ‘Exactly.’

‘How much trouble is your company really in?’

Lara’s smile faded. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Come on. You can’t keep a thing like that quiet. The word on the street is that some of your properties are on the verge of collapse because of the principal payments due on your junk bonds. You’ve done a lot of leveraging, and with the market down, Cameron Enterprises has to be pretty over-extended.’

Lara laughed. ‘Is that what the street says? Believe me, Mr Thompson, you’d be wise not to listen to silly rumours. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll send you a copy of my financials to set the record straight. Fair enough?’

‘Fair enough. By the way, I didn’t see your husband at the opening of the new hotel.’

Lara sighed. ‘Philip wanted so much to be there, but unfortunately he had to be away on a concert tour.’

‘I went to one of his recitals once about three years ago. He’s brilliant. You have been married a year now, haven’t you?’

‘Yes – the happiest year of my life. I’m a very lucky woman. I travel a lot, and so does Philip, but when I’m away from him, I can listen to his recordings wherever I am.’