I didn't answer, just trained the gla.s.ses on the advancing vehicles-maybe a quarter mile away-which turned out to be two black Range Rovers. The guards at the gate picked up their rifles and jumped to attention.

The Range Rovers slowed to a stop at the estancia's front gate. I couldn't see into them. Their windows were tinted black. One of the guards in the tower waved and said something to the lead driver.

I knew he was in there. Dominic Cavello. I could feel his presence in the pit of my stomach. It was the same terrible feeling I'd had when I saw Manny and Ed lying on that beach in Montauk.

Then the vehicles pulled away, down the valley road, heading for town.

"That's how we're going to do it, Andie." I kept my eyes on the Range Rovers as they bounced down the mountain road toward Ushuaia.

"He's going to come to us."

Chapter 113.

WE HAD TO BE a little patient; we'd known that from the start. Twice a week, Cavello emerged from his compound. It was always on Wednesdays and Sat.u.r.days, in the two black Range Rovers, and always around noon. Cavello would drive the first car, while two capable-looking guards followed in the second.

On Sat.u.r.day we waited at the edge of Ushuaia and picked up his convoy as it headed into town. Was this our chance?

Cavello came in to have a meal-always at the same cantina-pick up some newspapers and cigars, and get laid.

We'd learned from a local bartender, and a waitress, that the American ate at a cafe called Bar Ideal on San Martin Street, near the port. He sat at the same table in the front window. He sometimes grabbed and flirted with a hot little blond waitress there. A couple of times they had been seen going off together, after her shift, to a hotel down the street. Cavello and the girl usually came out after about an hour or so.

Then, like a sated bull, he would wander over to a smoke shop a few blocks away, on Magellanes, his bodyguards a few paces behind. He'd buy a box of fancy cigars. Cohibas Cohibas-Cuban. Then he'd take a USA Today USA Today and a and a New York Times New York Times from a newsstand down the block. Cavello seemed to be fearless here. Who would recognize him? Occasionally he would sit at a different cafe, order a coffee, open his papers, and light up a cigar. Merchants seemed to cater to him, as if he was an important man. from a newsstand down the block. Cavello seemed to be fearless here. Who would recognize him? Occasionally he would sit at a different cafe, order a coffee, open his papers, and light up a cigar. Merchants seemed to cater to him, as if he was an important man.

As I glimpsed him getting out of his car, I felt my insides ratchet tight. All the anger and anguish from so many deaths came hurtling back at me. I could only watch silently, my skin numb and hot.

How was I going to do this? How could I get him alone? We had no bait.

How was I going to get close to Cavello? And then, what if I did?

That night, we stopped to have dinner in a small cafe outside of town. Andie seemed unusually quiet. Something was weighing on her, and I was feeling it, too. We'd been so close to Cavello-and he was a free man here. Finally she looked at me. "How are we going to get this done?"

I took a sip of the Chilean beer. "He's well guarded. I don't know how to get close."

Andie put down her beer. "Listen, Nick, what if I I can?" can?"

Chapter 114.

ANDIE HAD BEEN THINKING about this for a long time. She had watched Cavello enough that she just knew. knew. She'd had this feeling even watching him come into the courtroom that first fateful day. She knew how to get close to him if she ever needed to, and now she did. She'd had this feeling even watching him come into the courtroom that first fateful day. She knew how to get close to him if she ever needed to, and now she did.

"I'm an actress, remember?"

She and Nick began to think out a loose plan, just going through the motions.

She had to make sure she wouldn't be recognized, but Cavello had only seen her during the trial-with her hair long and usually tucked in a beret. So she went out to the farmacia farmacia and got a dye to lighten her hair to blond. Then she braided it, Indian-style, and put on a baseball cap. With a little orange lipstick and sungla.s.ses, she surprised herself. and got a dye to lighten her hair to blond. Then she braided it, Indian-style, and put on a baseball cap. With a little orange lipstick and sungla.s.ses, she surprised herself.

"What do you think?"

"I think we take this a step at a time, Andie. I think it's a good disguise."

It wasn't just acting a role now. It was the real thing. It was life and death.

They found a place to lure him easily enough. But with Cavello's bodyguards always around, Nick had to be ready to come in fast. There was always a chance he might not get there in time. And then Andie would probably die. They would both die.

Nick bought a short, serrated blade, a fisherman's knife. And a melon.

"You push the knife in here, here," he said, showing her. He guided her thumb to the soft spot under her chin, pressing into her larynx. "It'll stop him dead, make him helpless. He won't be able to scream. He'll be too shocked, and bleeding too much to do anything. There'll be lots of blood, Andie. There'll be lots of blood, Andie. You have to be prepared for that. And you have to keep the knife in him. Until he dies. You think you can do that?" You have to be prepared for that. And you have to keep the knife in him. Until he dies. You think you can do that?"

She nodded tentatively. "I can do it."

Nick handed her the sheathed blade. "You think so? Show me. Show me."

She held it unnaturally. She'd never used a knife for anything except preparing food. She slowly lifted the blade, still in its sheath, to the spot under Nick's chin. Pressed.

"Let me practice on the melon," she said.

"Practice on me. Harder, Harder," he said.

Andie pushed the blade with more force . . . into Nick's throat.

He grabbed her wrist. "Quick-like this. this." His hand jerked upward with a violent movement, scaring her, his thumb going right to the same point in her neck.

She let out a gasp.

"You have to be able to do this," he said, applying more pressure, his voice hard. "If he suspects anything or recognizes you, this is what he'll be doing he'll be doing to you. to you."

"You're hurting me, Nick."

"We're talking about killing a man, Andie."

"I know that, Nick!"

Nick let her go.

She held the knife until she grew comfortable with it, and it began to fit more smoothly in her palm. She thought of all the times she had wanted to do this to Cavello-in so many dreams that she'd had, over and over again.

She pushed the blade deeper into the spot Nick had showed her.

His head bent with the pressure. "Harder. One movement. What if this is all we have, Andie? What if you're in there with him and I can't get there to help?" One movement. What if this is all we have, Andie? What if you're in there with him and I can't get there to help?"

Andie jerked her hand and dug the blade under his chin. Nick's head lifted. His face showed pain.

"Better." He nodded and picked up the melon. "Now show me again. I want to see you stab this fruit hard. Kill Cavello, Andie. Kill Cavello, Andie."

Chapter 115.

DOMINIC CAVELLO'S WEDNESDAY had turned to s.h.i.t.

He always looked forward to Wednesdays. By then he usually couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take feeling locked up on the remote farm like a prisoner in his own house.

Wednesday was the day he rocked the daylight out of Rita, the hot little tamale who worked at the Bar Ideal. But Rita wasn't around today. The b.i.t.c.h was up in Buenos Aires, at some spic family thing.

So Cavello just sat there in Bar Ideal, nursing a warm beer and sausages, h.o.r.n.y and frustrated as h.e.l.l. For years he never, ever ate alone. He was always surrounded by his men, his business partners, dozens of them if he wanted, plus an a.s.sortment of pretty bodies. All he'd have to do was snap his fingers. Now he ate alone all the time.

He might as well be be in a federal prison. Well, maybe not. in a federal prison. Well, maybe not.

Cavello was thinking how he missed that sweet little thing he'd had back at the ranch. Mariella. What a shame that was. He thought of her satiny smooth a.s.s, her baby t.i.ts. At least At least-and he chuckled aloud-I was the only one to do her!

Soon the snow would start, and it wouldn't stop for months. It would be even harder to find distractions here then. He took another swig of s.h.i.tty Argentine beer. He felt so trapped and bottled up, he wanted to kick over the table. Times like this, back home, he'd snap his fingers and he could have all the women he wanted. Any age. Or put a gun in someone's mouth and hear him beg for his life. Yes, he'd done that just for fun! Yes, he'd done that just for fun! He could do anything back home. He was Dominic Cavello. The Electrician. He could do anything back home. He was Dominic Cavello. The Electrician.

These Incas had no idea who he was.

Cavello got up and tossed a few crumpled bills on the table. He went outside and nodded to Lucha and Juan, who were in the Range Rover across the street. He started to head up the hill in his black leather topcoat, his shoulders hunched against the stiffening wind.

f.u.c.k. This. s.h.i.t.

With his bodyguards trailing, Dominic Cavello turned up the hill away from the port and headed toward Magellanes. Two dogs were barking, tearing at strips of meat from a tipped-over garbage can. Pretty soon, they would be fighting each other for the sc.r.a.ps. That That was his amus.e.m.e.nt now. He pulled out his gun-shot one of the dogs. Felt better. was his amus.e.m.e.nt now. He pulled out his gun-shot one of the dogs. Felt better.

Then he turned on Magellanes. What else was there to do today except smoke a fat Cohiba and then go home?

Chapter 116.

ANDIE'S CELL PHONE buzzed. She didn't answer. She knew what it meant.

She turned to the short, mustached clerk in the cigar shop who barely spoke English. "These are the best, you say? They're Cuban, right?"

"Si, Senora, the best in the world. At any price."

Andie nervously held out the two cigar boxes. Montecristos and Cohibas. She waited for the sound she knew would be coming, the little bell tinkling behind her-Cavello entering the store. A tingle of nerves danced down her spine. A tingle of nerves danced down her spine. This isn't some stupid play, This isn't some stupid play, she said to herself. she said to herself. You're not on stage here. You have to calm yourself and do this right. You have to be perfect. You're not on stage here. You have to calm yourself and do this right. You have to be perfect.

Finally, she heard the bell, then the whine of the door opening. Andie tensed but never looked behind. She knew who it was.

"But which is the best?" she kept asking. "It's a gift for my husband, and they're expensive. I'm not making myself clear, am I?"

"Senora, they are both both the best," the tobacconist pleaded. "It is a matter of taste." the best," the tobacconist pleaded. "It is a matter of taste."

She looked at the two boxes. "Please."

"You won't go wrong with either of those," she heard the voice behind her say. "But for my money, Cohiba is the best."

Andie sucked in a shooting breath, almost afraid to turn and face him. Finally, she did. She saw a man in a dark black leather topcoat and a tweed cap. Cavello looked a little older than she remembered, his face more haggard. But it was still the same man she hated.

"It is like a choice between a Brunello and a great Burgundy. I go with the Brunello, in this case the Cohiba. But Frederico's right, it's a matter of taste."

The tobacco clerk nodded. "Si, Senor Celletini."

Celletini, Andie noted. She handed the clerk the Cohibas. "I'll go with these." She turned back to Cavello. "Thanks for rescuing me." Andie noted. She handed the clerk the Cohibas. "I'll go with these." She turned back to Cavello. "Thanks for rescuing me."

"No rescue. Even a connoisseur would find it a difficult choice." He moved closer to her. "Business or studies?"

"Sorry?" Andie said.

"It's unusual to find an American accent down here this time of year. Most of the tourists have gone home."

Andie smiled. "Business, I guess. I'm taking a job on an expedition to Antarctica next month."

"An explorer. explorer." Cavello made a show of seeming impressed.

"Not quite. A chef, actually. Maybe more of an escapist than anything else."

"No shame in that." Cavello smiled. "Down here, most everybody is."

Andie slowly lifted her sungla.s.ses. She let him see her face. "So what are you you escaping?" she asked, wetting her lips. escaping?" she asked, wetting her lips.

"At this moment, sheep. I have a ranch, twenty minutes out of town."

"Sheep, huh?" She c.o.c.ked her head coyly. "That's all?"

"All right, you caught me." Cavello raised his hands as if surrendering. "I'm actually in the Witness Protection Program. I made a wrong turn at Phoenix and headed south. This is where I ended up."

"A man with a very bad sense of direction." Andie laughed, and hoped it seemed genuine. "But don't worry, Mr. Celletini, your secret's safe with me."

"Frank," Cavello said. Now his look bore in a little closer. The crafty killer, the psycho. The Electrician.

"Alicia." Andie lied as well. "Alicia Bennett."