The Anastasia Syndrome They were so good to me, Judith thought with renewed hope as she began another long and tedious search through the birth records. I was so happy with them. Edward Chase, a graduate of Annapolis, had elected to make the Navy his career. After the war, he''d become Naval Military Attaché to the White House. Judith had vague memories of Easter Egg hunts on the White House lawn, of President Truman asking her what she was going to be when she grew up. Later, Edward Chase became military attaché in Japan, then ambassador to Greece and to Sweden. Who could have asked for more loving parents? Judith wondered as she turned the book to the section with names that began with M. They had been in their thirties when they adopted her, died within a year of each other eight years ago, left their considerable assets to their "beloved daughter, Judith.
" And now she was realizing their passing had freed her from a feeling of guilt or disloyalty as she tried to find the people who had begotten her. Hours passed. Marsh. March. Mars. Merrit. There was absolutely no derivation of Marrish, of any name beginning with M, in the records of May 1942 that had "Sarah" as a first or middle name. It was time to look under P in hope that maybe, just maybe she had tried to say "Parrish.
" Her fingers ran down the pages of the names beginning with P until she found the name Parrish. Parrish, Ann, District Knightsbridge; Parrish, Arnold, District Piccadilly. And then she saw it. Mother''s Name District Vol. Page Parrish Mary Elizabeth Travers Kensington 6B 32 Parrish! Kensington! Oh God, she thought. Holding her index finger on that line, she raced through the rest of the page. Parrish, Norman, District Liverpool; Parrish, Peter, District Brighton; Parrish, Richard, District Chelsea; Parrish, Sarah Courtney, Mother''s Name Travers, District, Kensington, Vol. 6B, Page 32.
Not daring to believe that she understood what she was reading, Judith rushed up to the clerk at the desk. "What does this mean?" she asked. The clerk had a small transistor radio on her desk, the volume turned so low it was almost inaudible. Reluctantly she tore herself away from the BBC news. "Terrible, the bombing," she announced. She paused. "I''m sorry. What is your question?" Judith pointed to the names Mary Elizabeth and Sarah Courtney Parrish.
"They were born the same day. Their mother''s maiden name was the same. Does that suggest they might have been twins?" "It would certainly look so. And great care is taken about who was the older twin. Often it means who inherits the title, you see. Do you want to purchase the full birth certificates?" "Yes, of course. And another question. Isn''t Polly a nickname for Mary in England?" "Very often.
My own cousin, for example. Now to obtain the birth certificates, you''ll have to fill out the proper forms and pay five pounds each. They can be mailed to you." "How much information do they give?" "Oh, quite a bit," the clerk replied. "Date and place of birth. Mother''s maiden name. Father''s name and occupation. Home address.
" Judith walked back to the apartment in a daze. As she passed a newsstand she saw the glaring headlines that told of the bombing in Trafalgar Square. Pictures of bleeding children covered the front page. Sickened at the sight, Judith bought the paper and read it as soon as she was home. At least, she thought, none of the injuries were lifethreatening. The paper was filled with news of the stormy session in Parliament. The Home Secretary, Sir Stephen Hallett, had made a dramatic speech: "I have long argued the need for the death penalty for terrorists. These despicable people have today planted a bomb at a place they knew would be visited by schoolchildren.
If one of those children had been killed, shouldn''t the terrorists be worrying now about their own necks? Does the Labour party agree or shall we continue to coddle these would-be murderers?" Another news item said that the explosive had been gel-ignite, and a massive search had been started to trace purchases and check reports of theft of the deadly component. Judith put down the newspaper and glanced at her watch. It was nearly six. She knew that Stephen would be calling, and that she''d better be able to say she had been in touch with Fiona. Fiona was far too interested in the events of the day to be cross about Judith''s neglect of her. "My dear, most frightful, wasn''t it? Parliament in an absolute uproar. When the election is called, the death penalty will certainly be an issue. Can''t help but benefit dear Stephen.
People are simply outraged. Poor old King Charles. I gather they wanted to blow his statue to smithereens. Such a shame it would have been. Absolutely the most ravishing equestrian statue in the kingdom. Now there are a few statues I wouldn''t mind seeing off to the scrapyard. Some of them look as though the horses should be pulling wagons, not seating kings. Oh well.
" Stephen phoned fifteen minutes later. "Darling, I''ll be very late tonight. I''m meeting with the Commissioner from Scotland Yard and some of his people." "Fiona told me about the uproar in Parliament over the bombing. Have any terrorists claimed responsibility?" "Not so far. That''s why I''m meeting with Scotland Yard. As Home Secretary, acts of terrorism come under my jurisdiction. I''d hoped as a civilized nation that when we outlawed execution, it would be for all time but today certainly proves the need for the death penalty.
I believe it would be a deterrent." "I gather that many people agree with you, but I''m afraid I can''t. The thought of execution makes my blood run cold." "Ten years ago I felt exactly the same way," Stephen said quietly. "Not anymore. Not when so many innocent lives are in constant danger. Darling, I must run. I''ll try not to be too late.
" "Whatever time you get here, I''ll be waiting." * * * Reza Patel and Rebecca Wadley were about to leave for dinner when the phone rang in his office. Rebecca picked it up. "Miss Chase, how good to hear your voice. How are you? The doctor''s right here." In the movement that had become automatic, Patel pressed the conference and record buttons. He and Rebecca listened as Judith told them about her discovery. "I''ve been longing to talk about it," she said happily, "and realized you and Rebecca are the only two people alive who know about me and can understand what''s happening.
Doctor, you''re miraculous. Sarah Courtney Parrish. Quite a nice name, don''t you think? When I receive the birth certificates, I''ll have a street address. Isn''t it incredible that Polly was my twin?" "You''re turning into a very good detective," Patel observed, trying to sound buoyant. "Research," Judith laughed. "After a while you learn how to follow threads. But I have to put it off for a few days. Tomorrow I must stay at the typewriter, and there''s an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery I want to see.
It has a lot of court scenes from Charles I. Should be interesting." "What time will you be there?" Patel asked quickly. "I''m planning to visit it myself. Maybe we can have a cup of tea." "Lovely. Would three o''clock do?" When he replaced the receiver on the cradle, Rebecca asked Patel, "What point is there in meeting her at the gallery?" "I have no reason to ask her to come in here again, and I''d like to see if I detect any indication of personality modification in her." * * * Judith changed to peach silk lounging pajamas and matching slippers, undid her hair from the chignon, brushed it loose around her shoulders, put on fresh makeup, and sprayed Joy eau de cologne on her wrists.
She prepared a salad and scrambled eggs for dinner. With a pot of tea, she put the dishes on the inevitable tray and absentmindedly ate as she outlined her next chapter. At nine, she laid out a plate of cheese and crackers and the brandy snifters, then went back to her desk. It was eleven-fifteen when Stephen arrived. His face was gray with fatigue. Silently he put his arms around her. "My God, it''s good to be here." Judith massaged his shoulders as she kissed him.
Then, arms around each other, they went to sit on the overstuffed maroon damask couch that was obviously a treasured possession of Lady Beatrice Ardsley. An old comforter which covered the back and arms was tucked behind the frame and cushions, then fell protectively over the cushions to the floor. Judith poured the brandy and handed a glass to Stephen. "I really do think that in honor of the future Prime Minister I should take this exhausted comforter off and trust that you won''t put your feet on Lady Ardsley''s precious settee." She was rewarded by a hint of a smile. "Be careful. If I close my eyes, I''m sure I''ll end up curled on it for the night. What a hell of a day, Judith.
" "How did the Scotland Yard meeting go?" "Well enough. Fortunately, a Japanese tourist was grinding away with his videocamera and we''ll have the film. There were also many people in the area snapping pictures. The media is requesting that all those pictures be turned in. There''ll be a substantial reward if any of them lead to the arrest and conviction of the perpetrator. You see, one bit of luck is that the bomb must have started smoking within a minute or two after it was placed. Just possibly we''ll get a picture of someone laying it at the base of.