WINDMILLS OF THE GODS BY SIDNEY SHELDON

Condensed version Synopsis:
It all
began with an astounding call from the White House. One minute Mary Ashley,
Kansas housewife and political science teacher, was chatting over dinner with
her family; the next minute the President of the United States was asking her
to become the new ambassador to Romania! That call changes everything for
Mary Ashley. She becomes an instant celebrity, hounded 'by the press, courted
by politicians. Finally Mary arrives in exotic Bucharest to take up her
duties, confident, refreshingly candid-and dangerously innocent. For
watching her closely is an in- visible network 'of powerful men whose aim is
to sabotage the President's bold new peace plan. They are about to set
a diabolical trap. And the inexperienced young diplomat is the
perfect bait. "We are all victims, Anselmo. Our destinies are decided by a
cosmic roll of the dice, the winds of the stars," the vagrant breezes of
fortune that blow from the windmills of the gods." -H. L. Dietrich A
Final Destiny Prologue Perho, Finland. The meeting took place in a
comfortable weatherproofed cabin in a remote wooded area two hundred miles
from Helsinki. The members of the Western branch of the Committee had arrived
discreetly at irregular intervals. They came from eight different countries,
but their visit had been quietly arranged by a senior minister in
the Valtioneuvosto, the Finnish Council of State, and there was no record
of entry in their passports. Upon their arrival, armed guards escorted them
into the cabin, and'when the last visitor appeared, the cabin door was locked
and the guards took up positions in the full-throated January winds, alert for
any sign of intruders. The members, seated around the large rectangular
table, were men in powerful positions, high in the councils of their
respective governments. They had all met before in their official capacities,
and they trusted one another because they had no choice. For added
security, each had been assigned a code name. The meeting lasted almost five
hours, and the discussion was heated. Finally the chairman decided the time
had come to call for a vote. He rose, standing tall, and turned to the man
seated at his right. "Sigurd?" "Yes." "Odin?" "Yes." "Balder?" "We're
moving too hastily. The danger-" "Yes or no, please." "No." "
Freyr?" "Yes." "Sigmund?" "Nein. If this should be exposed, our lives
would be-" "Thor?" "Yes." "Tyr?" "Yes." "I vote yes. The resolution is
passed. I will so inform the Controller. We will observe the usual
precautions and leave at twenty-minute intervals. Thank you, gentlemen." Two
hours and forty-five minutes later the cabin was deserted. A crew of experts
carrying kerosene moved in and set the cabin on fire, the red flames licked by
the hungry winds. When the fire brigade from Perho finally reached the scene,
there was nothing left to see but the smoldering embers that outlined the
cabin against the hissing snow. The assistant to the fire chief approached
the ashes, bent down, and sniffed. "Kerosene," he said. "Arson." The fire
chief was staring at the ruins, a puzzled expression on his face. "That's
strange," he muttered. "What?" "I was hunting in these woods last week.
There was no cabin." Chapter One Stanton Rogers was destined to be President
of the United States. He was a charismatic politician, highly visible to an
approving public, and backed by powerful friends. Unfortunately for Rogers,
his libido got in the way of his career. It was not that Stanton Rogers
fancied himself a Casanova. On the contrary, until that one fateful bedroom
escapade he had been a model husband. He was handsome, wealthy, and although
he had had ample opportunity to cheat on his wife, he had never given another
woman a thought. There was a second, perhaps greater irony: Stanton Rogers'
wife, Elizabeth, was social, beautiful, and intelligent, arld the two of
them shared a common interest in almost everything, whereas Barbara, the woman
Rogers fell in love with, and eventually married after a much headlined
divorce, was five years older than Stanton, pleasant-faced rather than pretty,
and seemed to have nothing in common with him. Stanton was athletic; Barbara
hated all forms of exercise. Stanton was gregarious; Barbara preferred to be
alone with her husband, or to entertain small groups.