jg.thepartner-第5部分

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age　and　the　heat。　Blood　trickled　from　under　the　tape　on　his　chest　where　the　electrodes　had　been　stuck　too　tightly　and　were　burning　into　his　flesh。　He　gasped　for　breath　and　licked　his　dry　shriveled　lips。　The　nylon　ropes　on　his　wrists　and　ankles　had　rubbed　the　skin　raw。
　Guy　returned　alone；　and　sat　on　a　stool　next　to　the　sheet　of　plywood。　For　a　minute　the　room　was　quiet；　the　only　sound　was　Patrick　breathing　and　trying　to　control　himself。　He　kept　his　eyes　closed　tightly。
　〃You're　a　very　stubborn　man；〃　Guy　said　finally。
　No　response。
　The　first　two　hours　had　yielded　nothing。　Every　question　had　been　about　the　money。　He　didn't　know　where　it　was；　he'd　said　a　hundred　times。　Did　it　exist？　No；　he　had　said　repeatedly。　What　happened　to　it？　He　didn't　know。
　Guy's　experience　with　torture　was　extremely　limited。　He'd　consulted　an　expert；　a　really　twisted　freak　who　seemed　to　actually　enjoy　it。　He'd　read　a　crude　how…to　manual；　but　finding　practice　time　was　difficult。
　Now　that　Patrick　knew　how　horrible　things　could　get；　it　was　important　to　chat　him　up。
　〃Where　were　you　when　your　funeral　took　place？〃　Guy　asked。
　There　was　a　slight　relaxing　of　Patrick's　muscles。　Finally；　a　question　not　about　the　money。　He　hesitated　and　thought　about　it。　What　was　the　harm？　He　was　caught。　His　story　was　about　to　be　told。　Maybe　if　he　cooperated　they'd　lay　off　the　voltage。
　〃In　Biloxi；〃　he　said。
　〃Hiding？〃
　〃Yes；　of　course。〃
　〃And　you　watched　your　graveside　service？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃From　where？〃
　〃I　was　in　a　tree；　with　binoculars。〃　He　kept　his　eyes　closed　and　his　fists　clenched。
　〃Where　did　you　go　after　that？〃
　〃Mobile。〃
　〃Was　that　your　hiding　place？〃
　〃Yes；　one　of　them。〃
　〃How　long　did　you　stay　there？〃
　〃Off　and　on；　coupla　months。〃
　〃That　long；　huh？　Where　did　you　live　in　Mobile？〃
　〃Cheap　motels。　I　moved　around　a　lot。　Moved　up　and　down　the　Gulf。　Destin。　Panama　City　Beach。　Back　to　Mobile。〃
　〃You　changed　your　appearance。〃
　〃Yeah。　I　shaved；　colored　my　hair；　dropped　fifty　pounds。〃
　〃Did　you　study　a　language？〃
　〃Portuguese。〃
　〃So　you　knew　you　were　headed　here？〃
　〃Where's　here？〃
　〃Let's　say　it's　Brazil。〃
　〃Okay。　Yeah；　I　figured　this　was　a　good　place　to　hide。〃
　〃After　Mobile；　where　did　you　go？〃
　〃Toronto。〃
　〃Why　Toronto？〃
　〃I　had　to　go　somewhere。　It's　a　nice　place。〃
　〃Did　you　get　new　papers　in　Toronto？〃
　〃Yeah。〃
　〃You　became　Danilo　Silva　in　Toronto？〃
　〃Yeah。〃
　〃Did　you　take　another　language　course？〃
　〃Yeah。〃
　〃Dropped　some　more　weight？〃
　〃Yeah。　Another　thirty　pounds。〃　He　kept　his　eyes　closed　and　tried　to　ignore　the　pain；　or　at　least　live　with　it　for　the　moment。　The　electrodes　on　his　chest　were　smoldering　and　cutting　deeper　into　his　skin。
　〃How　long　did　you　stay　there？〃
　〃Three　months。〃
　〃So　you　left　there　around　July　of　'92？〃
　〃Something　like　that。〃
　〃And　where　did　you　go　next？〃
　〃Portugal。〃
　〃Why　Portugal？〃
　〃Had　to　go　somewhere。　It's　a　nice　place。　Never　been　there。〃
　〃How　long　were　you　there？〃
　〃Coupla　months。〃
　〃Then　where？〃
　〃Sao　Paulo。〃
　〃Why　Sao　Paulo？〃
　〃Twenty　million　people。　A　wonderful　place　to　hide。〃
　〃How　long　did　you　stay　there？〃
　〃A　year。〃
　〃Tell　me　what　you　did　there。〃
　Patrick　took　a　deep　breath；　then　grimaced　when　he　moved　his　ankles。　He　relaxed。　〃I　got　lost　in　the　city。　I　hired　a　tutor　and　mastered　the　language。　Lost　a　few　more　pounds。　Moved　from　one　small　apartment　to　another。〃
　〃What　did　you　do　with　the　money？〃
　A　pause。　A　flinch　of　the　muscles。　Where　was　the　wretched　little　chrome　lever？　Why　couldn't　they　continue　chatting　about　the　chase　and　lay　off　the　money？
　〃What　money？〃　he　asked；　with　a　passable　effort　at　desperation。
　〃e　on；　Patrick。　The　ninety　million　dollars　you　stole　from　your　law　firm　and　its　client。〃
　〃I　told　you。　You　got　the　wrong　guy。〃
　Guy　suddenly　yelled　at　the　door。　It　opened　instantly　and　the　rest　of　the　Americans　rushed　in。　The　Brazilian　doctor　emptied　two　more　syringes　into　Patrick's　veins；　then　left。　Two　men　huddled　over　the　device　in　the　corner。　The　tape　recorder　was　turned　on。　Guy　hovered　over　Patrick　with　the　chrome　lever　in　an　upright　position；　scowling　and　angry　and　even　more　determined　to　kill　him　if　he　didn't　talk。
　〃The　money　arrived　by　wire　to　your　law　firm's　account　offshore　in　Nassau。　The　time　was　exactly　ten…fifteen；　Eastern　Standard。　The　date　was　March　26；　1992；　forty…five　days　after　your　death。　You　were　there；　Patrick；　looking　fit　and　tanned　and　posing　as　someone　else。　We　have　photos　taken　from　the　bank's　security　camera。　You　had　perfect　forged　papers。　Shortly　after　the　money　arrived　it　was　gone；　…sent　by　wire　to　a　bank　in　Malta。　You　stole　it；　Patrick。　Now；　where　is　it？　Tell　me；　and　you'll　live。〃
　Patrick　took　a　last　look　at　Guy；　and　a　last　glance　at　the　lever；　then　he　closed　his　eyes　tightly；　braced　himself；　and　said；　〃I　swear　I　don't　know　what　you're　talking　about。〃
　〃Patrick；　Patrick…〃
　〃Please　don't　do　it！〃　he　begged。　〃Please！〃
　〃This　is　only　level　three；　Patrick。　You're　halfway　there。〃　Guy　pushed　the　lever　down；　and　watched　the　body　bolt　and　straighten。
　Patrick　screamed　with　no　restraint；　a　scream　so　fierce　and　horrible　that　Osmar　and　the　Brazilians　froze　for　a　second　on　the　front　porch。　Their　conversation　stopped　in　the　darkness。　One　of　them　offered　a　silent　prayer。
　Down　the　road；　a　hundred　yards　away；　a　Brazilian　with　a　gun　sat　by　the　dirt　trail　and　watched　for　approaching　cars。　None　were　expected。　The　nearest　dwelling　was　miles　away。　He　too　offered　a　small　prayer　when　the　screaming　started　again。
　
　Four
　IT　WAS　EITHER　the　fourth　or　fifth　call　from　the　neighbors　that　sent　Mrs。　Stephano　over　the　edge；　and　it　also　forced　Jack　to　tell　his　wife　the　truth。　The　three　men　in　dark　suits　loitering　outside　the　car　parked　in　the　street　directly　in　front　of　their　house　were　FBI　agents。　He　explained　why　they　were　there。　He　told　her　most　of　the　Patrick　story；　a　serious　breach　of　professional　etiquette。　Mrs。　Stephano　never　asked　questions。
　She　didn't　care　what　her　husband　did　at　the　office。　She　did；　however；　hold　some　rather　strong　feelings　about　what　the　neighbors　might　think。　This　was；　after　all；　Falls　Church；　and；　well；　people　would　talk。
　She　went　to　bed　at　midnight。　Jack　napped　on　the　sofa　in　the　den；　rising　every　half…hour　to　peek　through　the　blinds　and　see　what　they　were　doing　out　there。　He　happened　to　be　asleep　at　3　A。M。　when　the　doorbell　rang。
　He　answered　it　in　his　sweatsuit。　Four　of　them　were　at　the　door；　one　of　whom　he　immediately　recognized　as　Hamilton　Jaynes；　Deputy　Director；　FBI。　The　number…two　man　at　the　Bureau；　who　just　happened　to　live　four　blocks　over　and　belong　to　the　same　golf　club；　though　the　two　had　never　met。
　He　allowed　them　into　his　spacious　den。　Stiff　introductions　were　made。　They　sat　while　Mrs。　Stephano　wandered　down　in　her　bathrobe；　then　scurried　back　up　at　the　sight　of　a　room　full　of　men　in　dark　suits。
　Jaynes　did　all　the　talking　for　the　FBI。　〃We're　working　nonstop　on　this　Lanigan　discovery。　Our　intelligence　informs　us　that　he's　in　your　custody。　Can　you　confirm　or　deny？〃
　〃No。〃　Stephano　was　as　cool　as　ice。
　〃I'm　holding　a　warrant　for　your　arrest。〃
　The　ice　melted　a　bit。　Stephano　glanced　at　another　stone…faced　agent。　〃On　what　charges？〃
　〃Harboring　a　federal　fugitive。　Interference。　You　name　it；　we'll　include　it。　What　difference　does　it　make？　I'm　not　interested　in　convicting　you。　All　I　want　is　to　haul　your　ass　off　to　jail；　then　later　we'll　get　the　rest　of　your　firm；　then　we'll　lock　up　your　clients。　Take　about　twenty…four　hours　to　round　up　everybody。　We'll　get　the　indictments　later；　depending　on　whether　or　not　we　get　Lanigan。　You　get　the　picture？〃
　〃Yeah。　I　think　so。〃
　〃Where's　Lanigan？〃
　〃Brazil。〃
　〃I　want　him。　And　now。〃
　Stephano　blinked　a　couple　of　times；　and　things　fell　into　place。　Under　the　circumstances；　handing　over　Lanigan　was　not　a　bad　move。　The　feds　had　ways　of　making　him　talk。　Faced　with　life　in　prison；　Patrick　just　might　snap　his　fingers　and　make　the　money　appear。　There　would　be　enormous　pressure　from　all　angles　to　produce　it。
　Later；　Stephano　would　again　ponder　the　incredible　question　of　how　anyone　in　the　world　knew　he　had　captured　Lanigan。
　〃All　right；　here's　the　deal；〃　Stephano　said。　〃Give　me　forty…eight　hours；　I'll　give　you　Lanigan。　And　you　burn　my　warrant　and　drop　the　threats　of　future　prosecution。〃
　〃It's　a　deal。〃
　There　was　a　moment　of　silence　as　both　sides　savored　the　victory。　Jaynes　said；　〃I　need　to　know　where　to　pick　him　up。〃
　〃Send　a　plane　to　Asuncion。〃
　〃Paraguay？　What　happened　to　Brazil？〃
　〃He　has　friends　in　Brazil。〃
　〃Whatever。〃　Jaynes　whispered　to　an　associate；　who　then　left　the　house。　〃Is　he　in　one　piece？〃　he　asked　Stephano。
　〃Yeah。〃
　〃He'd　better　be。　One　bruise　on　his　body；　and　I'll　hound　you　to　hell。〃
　〃I　need　to　make　a　phone　call。〃
　Jaynes　actually　managed　a　grin。　He　scanned　the　walls　and　said；　〃It's　your　house。〃
　〃Are　my　lines　tapped？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃You　swear？〃
　〃I　said　no。〃
　〃Excuse　me。〃　Stephano　stepped　into　the　kitchen；　then　to　a　utility　room　where　he　kept　a　hidden　cell　phone。　He　walked　onto　the　rear　patio　where　he　stood　in　the　wet　grass　by　a　gaslight。　He　called　Guy。
　THE　SCREAMING　had　stopped　for　the　moment　when　the　Brazilian　guarding　the　van　heard　the　phone　ringing。　It　rested　on　its　power　unit　in　the　front　seat　of　the　van；　its　antenna　shooting　fifteen　feet　beyond　the　roof。　He　answered　it　in　English；　then　ran　to　get　an　American。
　Guy　rushed　from　the　cabin　and　grabbed　it。
　〃Is　he　talking？〃　Stephano　asked。
　〃A　little。　He　broke　about　an　hour　ago。〃
　〃What　do　you　know？〃
　〃The　money　still　exists。　He　doesn't　know　where。　It's　controlled　by　a　woman　in　Rio；　a　lawyer。〃
　〃Do　you　have　her　name？〃
　〃Yes。　We're　making　calls　now。　Osmar　has　people　in　Rio。〃
　〃Can　you　get　any　more　out　of　him？〃
　〃I　don't　think　so。　He's　half…dead；　Jack。〃
　〃Stop　whatever　you're　doing。　Is　the　doctor　there？〃
　〃Sure。〃
　〃Get　the　boy　treated　and　spruced　up。　Drive　him　toward　Asuncion　as　soon　as　possible。〃
　〃But　why…〃
　〃Don't　ask　questions。　There's　no　time　for　it。　The　feds　are　all　over　us。　Just　do　as　I　say；　and　make　sure　he's　not　hurt。〃
　〃Not　hurt？　I've　been　trying　to　kill　him　for　five　hours。〃
　〃Just　do　as　I　say。　Put　him　back　together。　Drug　him。
　Start　toward　Asuncion。　Call　me　every　hour；