jg.thepartner-第18部分

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　her　house　at　all　hours。　Her　phones　were　bugged；　she　knew　this　for　a　fact　because　her　husband　made　his　calls　in　the　backyard　near　the　rosebushes。　She　was　on　the　verge　of　a　nervous　breakdown。　They　were　respectable　people；　she　kept　telling　her　husband。
　By　implying　he　knew　more　than　he　did；　Stephano　had　placed　the　FBI　precisely　where　he　wanted　them。　He　could　get　his　charges　dismissed。　He　could　protect　his　clients。　And；　most　importantly；　he　would　enlist　the　considerable　resources　of　the　feds　to　track　down　the　money。
　〃I'll　have　to　talk　to　my　attorney。〃
　〃You　have　until　5　P。M。　tomorrow。〃
　PATRICK　SAW　his　ghastly　wounds　on　a　late　edition　of　CNN；　in　full　color；　as　his　man　Sandy　waved　the　pictures　around　like　a　boxer　showing　the　world　his　newly　won　belt。　It　was　about　halfway　through　an　hour　wrap…up　of　the　day's　stories。　There　was　no　official　response　from　the　FBI；　said　a　correspondent　who　was　poised　outside　the　Hoover　Building　in　Washington。
　Luis　happened　to　be　in　the　room　when　the　report　ran。　He　froze；　listening　to　it；　looking　from　the　television　to　the　bed　where　Patrick　sat　smirking。　Things　connected　quickly。　〃My　pictures？〃　he　asked　in　heavily　accented　English。
　〃Yes；〃　Patrick　replied；　ready　to　laugh。
　〃My　pictures；〃　he　repeated　proudly。
　THE　STORY　about　the　American　lawyer　who　faked　his　death；　watched　his　burial；　stole　ninety　million　from　his　firm　and　got　caught　four　years　later　living　quietly　in　Brazil　made　for　good　light　reading　in　most　of　the　Western　world。　Eva　read　the　latest　episode　in　an　American　paper　while　sipping　coffee　under　a　canopy　at　Les　Deux　Garcons；　her　fayorite　sidewalk　cafe　in　Aix。　It　was　raining；　a　steady　mist　that　soaked　the　tables　and　chairs　not　far　from　her。
　The　story　was　buried　deep　inside　the　front　section。
　It　described　third…degree　burns　but　did　not　run　the　photos。　Her　heart　broke　and　she　put　on　sunglasses　to　hide　her　eyes。
　Patrick　was　going　home。　Wounded　and　chained　like　an　animal；　he　would　make　the　one　journey　he　always　knew　was　inevitable。　And　she　would　go。　She　would　linger　in　the　background；　hiding　and　doing　what　he　wanted；　and　praying　for　the　safety　of　both　of　them。　She　would　roam　her　room　at　night；　just　like　Patrick；　asking　herself　what　had　bee　of　their　future。
　Fourteen
　FOR　HIS　RETURN　HOME；　Patrick　chose　a　pair　of　aqua　surgeon's　scrubs；　very　baggy　and　loose…fitting　because　he　wanted　nothing　to　aggravate　his　burns。　The　flight　would　be　nonstop；　but　still　more　than　two　hours；　and　he　needed　to　be　as　fortable　as　possible。　The　doctor　gave　him　a　small　bottle　of　pain　pills；　just　in　case；　and　also　a　file　with　his　medical　records。　Patrick　thanked　him。　He　shook　hands　with　Luis　and　said　good…bye　to　a　nurse。
　Agent　Myers　waited　outside　his　door　with　four　large　uniformed　Military　Police。　〃I'll　make　a　deal　with　you；　Patrick；〃　he　said。　〃If　you　behave；　no　handcuffs　and　leg　chains　now。　Once　we　land；　though；　I　have　no　choice。〃
　〃Thanks；〃　Patrick　said；　and　began　walking　gingerly　down　the　hallway。　His　legs　ached　from　toe　to　hip；　and　his　knees　were　weak　from　lack　of　use。　He　held　his　head　high；　shoulders　back；　and　nodded　politely　to　the　nurses　as　he　walked　past。　Down　the　elevator　to　the　basement；　where　a　blue　van　waited　with　two　more　MP's；　armed　and　scowling　at　the　empty　cars　parked　nearby。　A　strong　hand　under　the　arm；　and　Patrick　was　helped　up　and　onto　the　middle　bench。　An　MP　handed　him　a　pair　of　cheap　aviator　sunglasses。　〃Tfou'll　need　these；〃　he　said。　〃It's　bright　as　hell　out　there。〃
　The　van　never　left　the　base。　It　moved　slowly　over　blistering　asphalt；　through　half…guarded　checkpoints；　never　reaching　thirty　miles　per　hour。　Not　a　word　was　spoken　inside　the　van。　Patrick　looked　through　the　thick　shades　and　through　the　tinted　windows　at　rows　of　barracks；　then　rows　of　offices；　then　a　hangar。　He　had　been　there　four　days；　he　thought。　Maybe　three。　He　couldn't　be　sure　because　the　drugs　blurred　the　earlier　hours。　An　air　conditioner　roared　from　the　dash　and　kept　them　cool。　He　gripped　his　medical　file；　the　only　physical　thing　he　owned　at　the　moment
　He　thought　of　Ponta　Pori；　his　home　now；　and　wondered　if　he　had　been　missed。　What　had　they　done　to　his　house？　Was　the　maid　cleaning　it？　Probably　not。　And　what　about　his　car；　the　little　red　Beetle　he　loved　so　much？　He　knew　only　a　handful　of　people　in　town。　What　were　they　saying　about　him？　Probably　nothing。
　What　difference　did　it　make　now？　Regardless　of　the　gossip　in　Ponta　Pora；　the　folks　in　Bikm　had　certainly　missed　him。　The　prodigal　son　returns。　The　most　famous　Biloxian　on　the　planet　conies　home；　and　how　will　they　greet　him？　With　leg　chains　and　subpoenas。　Why　not　a　parade　down　Highway　90；　along　the　Coast；　to　celebrate　this　local　boy　who　made　good？　He　put　them　on　the　map；　he　made　their　town　famous。　How　many　of　them　had　been　shrewd　enough　to　own　ninety　million　dollars？
　He　almost　chuckled　at　his　own　silliness。
　What　jail　would　they　put　him　in？　As　a　lawyer；　he　had；　at　various　times；　seen　all　the　local　jails…City　of　Biloxi；　Harrison　County；　even　a　federal　holding　cell　at　Keesler　Air　Force　Base　in　Biloxi。　He　wouldn't　be　that　lucky。
　Would　he　get　a　cell　to　himself；　or　share　it　with　mon　thieves　and　crackheads？　An　idea　hit。　He　opened　the　file　and　quickly　scanned　the　doctor's　release　notes。　There　it　was；　in　bold　letters…
　PATIENT　SHOULD　REMAIN　HOSPITALIZED　FOR　AT　LEAST　ANOTHER　WEEK
　God　bless　him！　Why　hadn't　he　thought　of　this　before？　The　drugs。　His　poor　system　had　been　subjected　to　more　narcotics　in　the　past　week　than　he'd　taken　in　a　lifetime。　His　lapses　in　memory　and　judgment　could　be　blamed　on　the　chemicals。
　He　needed　desperately　to　get　a　copy　of　his　release　to　Sandy　so　that　a　nice　little　bed　could　be　prepared　for　him；　preferably　in　a　private　room　with　nurses　running　back　and　forth。　That　was　the　incarceration　he　had　in　mind。　Put　ten　cops　by　the　door；　he　didn't　care。　Just　fix　him　up　with　an　adjustable　bed　and　remote　control；　and　by　all　means　keep　him　away　from　the　mon　criminals。
　〃I　need　to　make　a　phone　call；〃　he　said；　past　the　MP's；　in　the　general　direction　of　the　driver。　There　was　no　response。
　They　stopped　at　a　large　hangar　with　a　cargo　jet　parked　in　front　of　it。　The　MP's　waited　outside；　in　the　sun；　while　Patrick　and　Agent　Myers　went　inside　the　small　office　and　haggled　over　whether　there　existed　a　constitutional　right　for　an　accused　to　not　only　make　a　phone　call　to　his　attorney　but　also　to　fax　along　a　document。
　Patrick　prevailed　after　calmly　threatening　all　sorts　of　vile　litigation　against　Brent；　and　the　doctor's　release　instructions　were　faxed　to　the　law　office　of　Sandy　Mc…Dennott　in　New　Orleans。
　After　a　long　visit　to　the　men's　room；　Patrick　rejoined　his　escorts　and　slowly　climbed　the　steps　into　the　Air　Force　cargo　plane。
　FT　LANDED　at　Keesler　Air　Force　Base　at　twenty　minutes　before　noon。　Much　to　Patrick's　surprise；　and　a　little　to　his　dismay；　there　were　no　festivities　awaiting　his　arrival。　No　throng　of　cameras　and　reporters。　No　mob　of　old　friends　rushing　forth　to　offer　assistance　in　his　hour　of　need。
　The　landing　field　had　been　sealed　off　for　the　moment　by　higher　orders。　The　press　had　been　excluded。　A　large　group　congregated　near　the　front　gate；　a　mile　and　a　half　away；　and　for　good　measure　taped　and　photographed　the　plane　as　it　flew　over。　They　were　greatly　disappointed；　too。
　Frankly；　Patrick　wanted　the　press　to　see　him　as　he　emerged　from　the　plane　in　his　carefully　selected　surgeon's　scrubs；　and　awkwardly　limped　his　way　down　the　steps　to　the　tarmac；　and　then　shuffled　like　a　crippled　dog　in　leg　chains　and　handcuffs。　It　could　have　been　a　powerful　image；　the　first　seen　by　all　tibose　potential　jurors　out　there。
　As　expected；　the　Coast's　morning　paper　had　run　the　story　of　his　lawsuit　against　the　FBI　on　the　front　page；　as　the　lead　story；　with　the　pictures　large　and　in　color。　Only　the　meanest　of　souls　couldn't　muster　a　trace　of　sympathy　for　Patrick；　at　least　at　this　moment。　The　other　side…the　government；　the　prosecutors；　the　investigators…had　been　softened　by　the　blow。　It　was　to　have　been　a　glorious　day　for　law　enforcement；　the　return　of　a　master　thief；　and　a　lawyer　at　that！　Instead；　the　local　office　of　the　FBI　had　its　phones　unplugged　and　doors　locked　to　keep　reporters　out。　Only　Cutter　ventured　forth；　and　he　did　so　secretively。　It　was　his　duty　to　meet　Patrick　as　soon　as　he　touched　ground。
　Cutter　was　waiting　with　Sheriff　Sweeney；　two　Air　Force　officers　from　the　base；　and　Sandy。
　〃Hello；　Patrick。　Wele　home；〃　the　Sheriff　said。
　Patrick　extended　his　hands；　cuffed　at　the　wrist；　and　tried　to　shake　hands。　〃Hello；　Raymond；〃　he　answered　with　a　smile。　They　knew　each　other　well；　a　mon　acquaintance　between　local　cops　and　local　lawyers。　Raymond　Sweeney　had　been　the　chief　deputy　of　Har…rison　County　nine　years　earlier　when　Patrick　arrived　in　town。
　Cutter　stepped　forward　to　introduce　himself；　but　as　soon　as　Patrick　heard　〃FBI〃　he　turned　his　face　and　nodded　at　Sandy。　A　navy　van；　one　remarkably　similar　to　the　van　that　had　just　deposited　him　at　the　plane　in　Puerto　Rico；　was　nearby。　They　piled　in；　with　Patrick　in　the　back　next　to　his　lawyer。
　〃Where　are　we　going？〃　Patrick　whispered。
　〃To　the　base　hospital；〃　Sandy　whispered　back。　〃For　medical　reasons。〃
　〃Good　job。〃
　The　van　puttered　along　at　a　snail's　pace；　past　a　checkpoint　where　the　guard　lifted　his　eyes　from　the　sports　page　just　for　a　second；　then　down　a　quiet　street　with　officers'　quarters　on　both　sides。
　Life　on　the　run　was　filled　with　dreams；　some　at　night　during　sleep；　real　dreams；　and　some　when　the　mind　was　awake　but　drifting。　Most　were　terrifying；　the　nightmares　of　die　shadows　growing　bolder　and　larger。　Others　were　pleasant　wishes　of　a　rosy　future；　free　of　the　past。　These　were　rare；　Patrick　had　learned。　Life　on　the　run　was　life　in　the　past。　There　was　no　closure。
　Other　dreams　were　intriguing　musings　of　the　return　home。　Who　would　be　there　to　greet　him？　Would　the　Gulf　air　feel　and　smell　the　same？　When　would　he　return；　in　what　season？　How　many　friends　would　seek　him；　and　how　many　would　avoid　him？　He　could　think　of　a　handful　of　people　he　wanted　to　see；　but　he　was　not　sure　if　they　wanted　to　see　him。　Was　he　a　leper　now？　Or　a　celebrity　to　be　embraced？　Probably　neither。
　There　was　a　certain；　very　small　fort　in　the　end　of　the　chase。　Horrendous　problems　lay　ahead；　but　for　now　he　could　ig