jg.thepartner-第43部分

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…legged；　with　one　hand　in　a　pocket　and　the　other　holding　her　coffee。　She　hid　behind　sunglasses；　which　annoyed　her。　The　beach　was　deserted。　Why　was　she　pelled　to　hide　her　face？
　Like　all　Cariocas；　she　had　spent　a　great　deal　of　her　life　on　the　beach；　the　center　of　culture。　Her　childhood　home　had　been　her　father's　apartment　in　Ipanema；　the　poshest　of　Rio's　neighborhoods；　where　every　kid　grew　up　on　the　beach。
　She　was　unaccustomed　to　long　walks　near　the　water　without　being　surrounded　by　a　million　people　happily　sunning　and　playing。　Her　father　had　been　one　of　the　first　to　organize　efforts　against　the　unbridled　development　of　Ipanema。　He　despised　the　increase　of　population　and　haphazard　construction；　and　worked^　tirelessly　with　neighborhood　groups。　Such　actions　went　against　the　typical　Carioca　attitude　of　live　and　let　live；　but　with　time　came　to　be　admired　and　even　weled。　As　a　lawyer；　Eva　still　donated　time　to　preservation　groups　in　the　neighborhoods　of　Ipanema　and　Leblon。
　The　sun　crept　behind　clouds；　and　the　breeze　picked　up。　She　returned　to　the　house　as　the　seagulls　followed　and　squawked　overhead。　She　locked　every　door　and　window；　and　drove　two　miles　to　a　supermarket；　where　she　planned　to　buy　shampoo　and　fruit；　and　to　find　the　nearest　possible　pay　phone。
　She　didn't　see　the　man　at　first；　and　when　she　finally　noticed　him　he　seemed　to　have　been　standing　beside　her　forever。　She　was　holding　a　bottle　of　hair　conditioner　when　he　sniffed；　as　if　he　had　a　cold。　She　turned；　glanced　from　behind　the　sunglasses；　and　was　startled　by　his　sustained　eye　contact。　He　was　thirty　or　forty；　white；　unshaven；　but　she　didn't　have　time　to　notice　anything　else。
　He　was　staring　at　her；　with　rabid　green　eyes　that　glowed　in　the　middle　of　a　beach…bronzed　face。　She　coolly　walked　away；　down　the　aisle　with　the　conditioner。　Maybe　he　was　just　a　local　character；　a　harmless　pervert　who　lurked　in　the　grocery　and　scared　pretty　vacationers。　Perhaps　everyone　in　the　store　knew　his　name　and　made　excuses　for　him　because　he　wouldn't　harm　an　insect。
　Minutes　later；　she　saw　him　again；　this　time　hiding　near　the　bakery　with　his　face　behind　a　pizza　crust　but　his　metallic　eyes　watching　every　move　she　made。　Why　was　he　hiding；　covering　his　face？　He　wore　shorts　and　sandals；　she　noticed。
　Panic　hit　hard　through　her　chest　and　sent　waves　down　her　legs。　Her　first　thought　was　to　run；　but　she　kept　her　cool　long　enough　to　find　a　small　shopping　basket。　She　had　been　spotted　by　whoever　he　was；　and　it　was　to　her　advantage　to　watch　him　as　much　as　he　was　watching　her。　Who　knew　when　she　might　see　him　again？　She　loitered　in　the　produce　department；　next　picked　her　way　through　the　cheeses；　and　didn't　see　him　for　a　long　time。　Then　she　saw　him　with　his　back　to　her；　holding　a　gallon　of　milk。
　A　few　minutes　later；　she　caught　sight　of　him　through　the　large　front　windows；　walking　through　the　parking　lot；　his　head　cocked　to　one　side；　talking　into　a　cell　phone；　carrying　nothing。　What　happened　to　the　milk？　She　would've　raced　through　a　back　door；　but　her　car　was　parked　in　the　front。　She　paid　for　the　items　as　calmly　as　possible；　but　her　hands　shook　as　she　took　her　change。
　There　were　thirty　cars；　including　her　rental；　in　the　parking　lot；　and　she　knew　she　couldn't　inspect　them　all。　Not　that　she　wanted　to。　He　was　in　one　of　them。　She　simply　wanted　to　leave　without　being　followed。　She　quickly　got　in　her　car；　left　the　lot；　and　turned　in　the　direction　of　the　beach　house；　though　she　knew　she　could　never　go　back　there。　She　drove　a　half　a　mile；　then　made　an　abrupt　U…turn；　just　in　time　to　see　him　behind　her；　three　cars　back；　driving　a　new　Toyota。　His　green　eyes　glanced　away　at　the　last　second。　Odd；　she　thought；　that　he　wasn't　covering　them。
　Everything　seemed　odd；　at　the　moment。　How　odd　that　she　was　driving　along　a　foreign　highway　in　a　foreign　country　with　a　fake　passport　proclaiming　her　to　be　someone　she　never　wanted　to　be；　and　going　to　a　place　that　she　had　yet　to　determine。　Yes；　everything　was　odd　and　blurred　and　frightening　as　hell；　and　what　Eva　needed　and　desperately　wanted　was　to　see　Patrick　so　she　could　scream　at　him　for　an　hour；　and　throw　rocks　as　well。　This　was　not　part　of　the　deal。　It　was　one　thing　for　Patrick　to　be　hunted　for　his　past；　but　she　had　done　nothing　wrong。　Not　to　mention　Paulo。
　Being　Brazilian；　she　normally　drove　with　one　foot　on　the　gas　and　the　other　on　the　brake；　and　the　traffic　along　the　beach　badly　needed　a　good　dose　of　her　native　driving。　But　she　had　to　be　calm。　You　don't　panic　when　you're　on　the　run；　Patrick　had　said　many　times。　You　think；　you　watch；　you　plan。
　She　watched　the　cars　behind　her。　She　obeyed　all　highway　rules。
　〃Always　know　where　you　are；〃　Patrick　had　told　her。　She　had　studied　the　road　atlas　for　hours。　She　turned　north　and　stopped　at　a　gas　station　to　see　what　she　attracted。　Nothing。　The　man　with　the　green　eyes　was　not　behind　her；　but　this　was　of　no　fort。　He　knew　she　had　seen　him。　He'd　been　caught。　He'd　simply　called　ahead　with　his　little　cell　phone　and　now　the　rest　of　them　were　watching。
　An　hour　later；　she　entered　the　airport　terminal　in　Pensacola　and　waited　eighty　minutes　for　a　flight　to　Miami。　Any　flight　would　have　suited　her。　The　one　to　Miami　happened　to　be　the　soonest。　It　would　prove　to　be　disastrous。
　She　waited　behind　a　magazine　in　a　coffee　bar　and　watched　everything　that　moved。　A　security　guard　enjoyed　looking　at　her；　and　she　found　him　difficult　to　ignore。　Otherwise；　the　airport　was　almost　devoid　of　human　activity。
　The　flight　to　Miami　was　by　turboprop　muter；　and　seemed　to　take　forever。　Eighteen　of　the　twenty…four　seats　were　vacant；　and　the　other　five　passengers　looked　harmless。　She　even　managed　a　brief　nap。
　In　Miami；　she　hid　in　an　airport　lounge　for　an　hour；　sipping　expensive　water　and　watching　the　throngs　e　and　go。　At　the　Varig　counter；　she　bought　a　first…class　ticket　to　Sao　Paulo；　one　way。　She　wasn't　sure　why。　Sao　Paulo　wasn't　home；　but　it　was　certainly　in　the　right　direction。　Maybe　she　would　hide　there　in　a　nice　hotel　for　a　few　days。　She'd　be　closer　to　her　father；　wherever　he　was。　Planes　were　leaving　for　a　hundred　destinations。　Why　not　visit　her　country？
　AS　IT　ROUTINELY　DOES；　the　FBI　issued　an　alert　to　customs　and　immigration　personnel；　as　well　as　to　the　airlines。　This　one　specified　a　young　woman；　age　thirty…one；　traveling　under　a　Brazilian　passport；　real　name　of　Eva　Miranda　but　probably　using　an　alias。　Having　learned　the　identity　of　her　father；　getting　her　real　name　was　a　simple　matter。　When　Leah　Pires　walked　through　a　passport　checkpoint　at　Miami　International；　she　wasn't　expecting　trouble　in　front　of　her。　She　was　still　looking　for　the　men　behind　her。
　Her　Leah　Pires　passport　had　proven　quite　reliable　in　the　past　two　weeks。
　But　the　customs　agent　had　seen　the　alert　an　hour　earlier　during　a　coffee　break。　He　pushed　an　alarm　button　on　his　scanner　while　he　slowly　examined　every　word　of　the　passport。　The　hesitation　at　first　was　annoying；　then　Leah　realized　something　was　wrong。　The　travelers　at　the　other　booths　were　breezing　through；　barely　slowing　long　enough　to　open　their　passports　and　having　the　approvals　nodded　back　at　them。　A　supervisor　in　a　navy　jacket　appeared　from　nowhere　and　huddled　with　the　agent。　〃Could　you　step　in　here；　Ms。　Pires？〃　he　asked　politely　but　with　no　room　for　discussion。　He　was　pointing　at　a　row　of　doors　down　the　wide　corridor。
　〃Is　there　a　problem？〃　she　insisted。
　〃Not　really。　Just　a　few　questions。〃　He　was　waiting　for　her。　A　uniformed　guard　with　Mace　and　a　gun　on　his　waist　was　waiting　too。　The　supervisor　was　holding　her　passport。　Dozens　of　passengers　behind　her　were　watching。
　〃Questions　about　what？〃　she　demanded　as　she　walked　with　the　supervisor　and　the　guard　to　the　second　door。
　〃Just　a　few　questions；〃　he　repeated；　opening　the　door　and　escorting　her　into　a　square　room　with　no　windows。　A　holding　room。　She　noticed　the　name　of　Rivera　on　his　lapel。　He　didn't　look　to　be　Hispanic。
　〃Give　me　the　passport；〃　she　demanded　as　soon　as　they　were　alone　and　the　door　was　closed。
　〃Not　so　fast；　Ms。　Pires。　I　need　to　ask　you　a　few　questions。〃
　〃And　I　don't　have　to　answer　them。〃
　〃Please；　relax。　Have　a　seat。　Can　I　get　you　some　coffee　or　water？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃Is　this　a　valid　address　in　Rio？〃
　〃It　certainly　is。〃
　〃Where　did　you　arrive　from？〃
　〃Pensacola。〃
　〃Your　flight？〃
　〃Airlink　855。〃
　〃And　your　destination？〃
　〃Sao　Paulo。〃
　〃Where　in　Sao　Paulo？〃
　〃Maybe　that's　a　private　matter。〃
　〃Business　or　pleasure？〃
　〃Why　does　it　matter？〃
　〃It　matters。　Your　passport　lists　your　home　in　Rio。　So　where　will　you　be　staying　in　Sao　Paulo？〃
　〃A　hotel。〃
　〃And　the　name　of　the　hotel？〃
　She　hesitated　as　she　struggled　to　grab　the　name　of　a　hotel；　and　the　little　interval　was　deadly。　〃Uh；　the…the　…Inter…Continental；〃　she　finally　said；　without　the　slightest　hint　of　truthfulness。
　He　wrote　it　down；　then　said；　〃And　we　can　assume　the　room　there　is　reserved　in　the　name　of　Lean　Pires？〃
　〃Of　course；〃　she　said；　snapping　back　nicely。　But　one　quick　phone　call　would　prove　she　was　lying。
　〃Where　is　your　luggage？〃　he　asked。
　Another　crack　in　the　facade；　and　this　one　even　more　revealing。　She　hesitated；　glanced　away；　and　said；　〃I'm　traveling　light。〃
　Someone　knocked　on　the　door。　Rivera　opened　it　slightly；　took　a　sheet　of　paper；　and　whispered　to　his　unseen　colleague。　Leah　sat　down　and　tried　to　relax。　The　door　closed　and　Rivera　studied　his　evidence。
　〃According　to　our　records；　you　entered　the　country　eight　days　ago；　here　in　Miami；　on　a　flight　from　London　which　originated　in　Zurich。　Eight　days；　and　no　luggage。　Seems　odd；　doesn't　it？〃
　〃Is　it　a　crime　to　travel　light？〃　she　asked。
　〃No；　but　it　is　a　crime　to　use　a　false　passport。　At　least　here；　in　the　U。S。〃
　She　looked　at　the　passport　lying　on　the　table　near　him；　and　she　knew　it　was　as　phony　as　could　be。　〃It's　not　a　false　passport；〃　she　said　indignantly。
　〃Do　you　know　a　person　by　the　name　of　Eva　Miranda？〃　Rivera　asked；　and　Leah　couldn't　keep　her　chin　up。　Her　heart　stopped　and　her　face　fell；　and　she　knew　the　chase　was　over。
　Rivera　knew　they　had　snared　another　one。　〃I'll　have　to　contact　the　FBI；〃　he　said。　〃It　will　take　some　time。〃
　〃Am　I　under　arrest？〃　she　asked。
　〃Not　yet。〃
　〃I'm　a　lawyer。　I…〃
　〃We　know。　And　we　have　the　right　to　detain　you　for　questioning。　Our　office