jg.thepartner-第16部分

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　Though　he　preferred　not　to　talk　about　his　past；　there　were　times　in　their　conversations　when　it　became　unavoidable。　They　were　together；　after　all；　only　because　he　had　fled　and　re…created　himself。　His　favorite　topic　was　bis　boyhood　in　New　Orleans；　not　the　adult　life　he　was　running　from。　He　almost　never　mentioned　his　wife；　but　Eva　knew　she　was　a　person　Patrick　deeply　despised。　It　had　bee　a　miserable　marriage；　and　as　it　deteriorated　he　became　determined　to　flee　it。
　He　had　tried　to　talk　about　Ashley　Nicole；　but　the　thought　of　the　child　brought　tears　to　his　eyes。　His　voice　quit　him；　and　he　said　he　was　sorry。　It　was　too　painful。
　Because　the　past　was　not　yet　plete；　the　future　was　difficult　to　contemplate。　Plans　were　impossible　as　long　as　shadows　were　moving　back　there　somewhere。　He　would　not　allow　himself　to　speculate　on　the　future　until　the　past　was　settled。
　The　shadows　kept　him　awake；　she　knew　that。　Shadows　he　couldn't　see。　Shadows　only　he　could　feel。
　THEY　HAD　MET　in　her　office；　in　Rio；　two　years　earlier；　when　he　presented　himself　as　a　Canadian　businessman　who　now　lived　in　Brazil。　He　said　he　needed　a　good　lawyer　to　advise　him　on　import　and　taxation　matters。　He　was　dressed　for　the　part　in　a　handsome　linen　suit　with　a　white　starched　shirt。　He　was　lean　and　tanned　and　friendly。　His　Portuguese　was　very　good；　though　not　as　good　as　her　English。　He　wanted　to　speak　in　her　language；　she　insisted　on　his。　They　had　a　business　lunch　that　lasted　three　hours；　with　the　languages　switching　back　and　forth；　and　both　realized　there　would　be　others。　Then　there　was　a　long　dinner；　and　a　barefoot　walk　on　the　beach　at　Ipanema。
　Her　husband　was　an　older　man　who'd　been　killed　in　a　plane　crash　in　Chile。　No　children。　Patrick；　or　Danilo；　as　he　was　at　first　called；　claimed　to　be　happily　divorced　from　his　first　wife；　who　still　lived　in　Toronto；　their　home。
　Eva　and　Danilo　saw　each　other　several　times　a　week　during　the　first　two　months；　as　the　romance　flourished。　Finally；　he　told　the　truth。　All　of　it。
　After　a　late　dinner　in　her　apartment；　and　a　bottle　of　good　French　wine；　Danilo　confronted　his　past　and　bared　his　soul。　He　talked　nonstop　until　the　early　hours　of　the　morning；　and　went　from　a　confident　businessman　to　a　frightened　man　on　the　run。　Frightened　and　anxious；　but　extremely　wealthy。
　The　relief　was　so　forceful　he　almost　cried；　but　caught　himself。　This　was；　after　all；　Brazil；　and　men　simply　did　not　cry。　Especially　in　front　of　beautiful　women。
　She　loved　him　for　it。　She　embraced　him　and　kissed　him　and　cried　when　he　couldn't；　and　promised　to　do　everything　in　her　power　to　hide　him。　He　had　given　her　his　darkest；　deadliest　secret；　and　she　promised　to　always　protect　it。
　During　the　next　weeks；　he　told　her　where　the　money　was　and　taught　her　how　to　move　it　quickly　around　the　world。　Together；　they　studied　offshore　tax　havens　and　found　safe　investments。
　He　had　been　in　Brazil　for　two　years　by　the　time　they　met。　He　had　lived　in　Sao　Paulo；　his　first　home　there；　and　Recife　and　Minas　Gerais　and　half　a　dozen　other　places。　He　had　spent　two　months　working　on　the　Amazon；　sleeping　on　a　floating　barge　under　a　thick　mosquito　net；　the　insects　so　thick　he　couldn't　see　the　moon。　He　had　cleaned　wild　game　killed　by　rich　Argentines　in　the　Pantanal；　a　mammoth　preserve　the　size　of　Great　Britain　in　the　states　of　Mato　Grosso　and　Mato　Grosso　do　Sul。　He　had　seen　more　of　her　country　than　she；　he'd　been　to　places　she'd　never　heard　of。　He　had　carefully　selected　Ponta　Pora　as　his　home。　It　was　small　and　remote；　and　in　a　land　of　a　million　perfect　hiding　places；　Danilo　decided　Ponta　Pora　was　the　safest。　Plus；　it　had　the　tactical　advantage　of　being　on　the　Paraguayan　border…an　easy　place　to　run　to　if　a　threat　occurred。
　She　didn't　argue　with　this。　She　preferred　that　he　stay　in　Rio；　close　to　her；　but　she　knew　nothing　about　life　on　the　run；　and　she　reluctantly　deferred　to　his　judgment。　He　promised　many　times　that　they　would　be　together　someday。　They　occasionally　met　at　the　apartment　in　Curitiba；　brief　little　honeymoons　that　never　lasted　much　more　than　a　few　days。　She　longed　for　more；　but　he　was　unwilling　to　make　plans。
　As　the　months　passed；　Danilo…she　never　called　him　Patrick…became　more　convinced　that　he　would　be　found。　She　refused　to　believe　this；　especially　given　the　meticulous　steps　he　took　to　avoid　his　past。　He　worried　more；　slept　even　less；　talked　more　about　what　she　should　do　in　this　scenario；　or　that　one。　He　stopped　talking　about　the　money。　His　premonitions　were　haunting　him。
　SHE　WOULD　STAY　in　Aix　for　a　few　days；　watching　CNN　International　and　reading　what　she　could　find　in　American　newspapers。　They　would　move　Patrick　shortly；　take　him　home　and　put　him　in　jail　and　file　all　sorts　of　hideous　charges　against　him。　He　knew　he　would　be　locked　up；　but　he'd　assured　her　he　would　be　fine。　He　would　cope；　he　could　handle　anything　as　long　as　she　promised　to　wait　for　him。
　She'd　probably　return　to　Zurich　and　tidy　up　her　affairs。　Beyond　that；　she　wasn't　certain。　Home　was　out　of　the　question；　and　this　weighed　heavy　on　her　mind。　She　had　talked　to　her　father　three　times；　always　calling　from　airport　pay　phones；　always　reassuring　him　she　was　okay。　She　just　couldn't　e　home　now；　she　explained。
　She　and　Patrick　would　municate　through　Sandy；　but　weeks　would　pass　before　she　would　actually　see　him。
　HE　CALLED　for　the　first　pill　just　before　2　A。M。；　after　waking　with　a　sharp　pain。　It　felt　like　the　voltage　returning　to　his　legs。　And　the　cruel　voices　of　his　captors　were　taunting　him。　〃Where's　the　money；　Patrick？〃　they　chanted　like　a　demonic　chorus。　〃Where's　the　money？〃
　The　pill　arrived　on　a　tray　carried　by　a　lethargic　night　orderly　who　forgot　to　bring　cold　water。　He　demanded　a　glass；　then　swallowed　the　pill　and　washed　it　away　with　warm　soda　from　a　leftover　can。
　Ten　minutes；　and　nothing　happened。　His　body　was　covered　with　sweat。　The　sheets　were　drenched。　The　sores　burned　from　the　salt　in　the　sweat。　Another　ten　minutes。　He　turned　on　the　television。
　The　men　who　had　tied　him　down　and　burned　him　were　still　out　there；　looking　for　the　money；　no　doubt　fully　aware　of　where　he　was　at　this　moment。　He　felt　safer　in　daylight。　Darkness　and　dreams　brought　them　back。　Thirty　minutes。　He　called　the　nurses'　station；　but　no　one　answered。
　He　drifted　away。
　At　six；　he　was　awake　when　his　doctor　entered；　smileless　today；　all　business　as　he　poked　the　wounds　quickly；　then　declared；　〃You're　ready　to　go。　They　have　good　doctors　waiting　for　you　where　you're　going。〃　He　scribbled　in　his　chart　and　left　without　another　word。
　Thirty　minutes　later；　Agent　Brent　Myers　sauntered　into　the　room　with　a　nasty　smile　and　a　flash　of　the　badge；　as　if　he　needed　to　practice　its　delivery。　〃Good　morning；〃　he　said。　Patrick　didn't　look　at　him　but　said；　〃Couldn't　you　knock　first？〃
　〃Sure；　sorry。　Look；　Patrick；　I　just　talked　to　your　doc。　Great　news；　man；　you're　going　home。　You'll　be　released　tomorrow。　I've　got　orders　to　bring　you　back。　We'll　leave　in　the　morning。　Your　government　is　giving　you　a　special　flight　back　to　Biloxi　on　a　military　plane。　Isn't　that　exciting？　And　I'll　be　with　you。〃
　〃Could　you　leave　now？〃
　〃Sure。　See　you　early　in　the　morning。〃
　〃Just　leave。〃
　He　bounced　from　the　room　and　closed　the　door。　Luis　was　next；　arriving　quietly　with　a　tray　of　coffee　and　juice　and　sliced　mangoes。　He　slid　a　package　under　Patrick's　mattress；　and　asked　if　he　needed　anything　else。　No；　Patrick　said；　thanking　him　softly。
　An　hour　later；　Sandy　arrived　for　what　he　thought　would　be　a　long　day　of　digging　through　the　past　four　years　and　finding　answers　to　his　countless　questions。　The　television　went　off；　the　shades　opened；　the　room　brightened　up　as　the　day　began。
　〃I　want　you　to　go　home；　immediately；〃　Patrick　said。　〃And　take　these　with　you。〃　He　handed　over　the　package。　Sandy　sat　in　the　only　chair；　flipping　through　the　photos　of　his　naked　friend；　taking　his　time。
　〃When　were　these　taken？〃　he　asked。
　〃Yesterday。〃　Sandy　made　a　note　of　this　on　a　yellow　legal　pad。
　〃By　whom？〃
　〃Luis；　the　orderly。〃
　〃Who　did　this　to　you？〃
　〃Who　has　custody　of　me；　Sandy？〃
　〃The　FBI。〃
　〃So；　I　think　the　FBI　did　it　to　me。　My　own　government　tracked　me　down；　caught　me；　tortured　me；　and　is　now　hauling　me　back。　The　government；　Sandy。　The　FBI；　Justice　Department；　and　the　locals…the　D。A。　and　the　rest　of　my　weling　party。　Just　look　at　what　they've　done　to　me。〃
　〃They　should　be　sued　for　this；〃　Sandy　said。
　〃For　millions。　And　quickly。　Here's　the　plan：　I'm　leaving　in　the　morning　on　some　type　of　military　flight　to　Biloxi。　You　can　imagine　the　reception　I'll　get。　We　should　take　advantage　of　it。〃
　〃Take　advantage？〃
　〃Exactly。　We　should　file　our　lawsuit　late　this　afternoon　so　it'll　be　in　the　paper　tomorrow。　Leak　it　to　the　press。　Show　them　two　of　the　photos；　the　two　I've　got　marked　there　on　the　back。〃
　Sandy　shuffled　until　he　picked　out　the　photos。　One　was　a　close…up　of　the　burns　on　Patrick's　chest；　with　his　face　visible。　The　other　showed　the　third…degree　burn　on　his　left　thigh。　〃You　want　me　to　give　these　to　the　press？〃
　〃Only　to　the　Coast　paper。　That's　the　only　one　I'm　worried　about。　It's　read　by　eighty　percent　of　Harrison　County；　where　I'm　sure　our　jury　will　e　from。〃
　Sandy　smiled；　then　chuckled。　〃You　didn't　sleep　much　last　night；　did　you？〃
　〃I　haven't　slept　in　four　years。〃
　〃This　is　brilliant。〃
　〃No；　but　it's　one　of　the　few　tactical　advantages　we　can　spring　on　those　hyenas　circling　my　carcass。　We　broadside　them　with　this；　and　we　soften　up　the　sentiment　a　bit。　Think　of　it；　Sandy。　The　FBI　torturing　a　suspect；　an　American　citizen。〃
　〃Brilliant；　just　brilliant。　We　sue　only　the　FBI？〃
　〃Yes；　keep　it　simple。　Me　versus　the　FBI；　the　government…for　permanent　physical　and　psychological　injuries　sustained　during　a　brutal　torture　and　interrogation　session　somewhere　in　the　jungles　of　Brazil。〃
　〃Sounds　wonderful　to　me。〃
　〃It'll　sound　even　better　when　the　press　gets　finished　with　it。〃
　〃How　much？〃
　〃I　don't　care。　Ten　million　in　actual　damages；　a　hundred　million　in　punitive。〃
　Sandy　scrawled　notes　and　flipped　to　the　next　page。
　Then　he　stopped　and　studied　Patrick's　face。　〃It　wasn't　really　the　FBI；　was　it。〃
　〃No；〃　Patrick　said；　〃it　wasn't。　I　was　delivered　to　the　FBI　by　some　faceless　thugs　who've　been　chasing　me　for　a　long　time。　And　they're　st