THE YOUNG GIRL'S pathetic wails echoed through the large stone house. Her name was Mariella, and she was still curled up on the bed, blood on the pillow from the cut he'd opened on her face.
"Shut the hell up," Dominic Cavello finally barked at her, wrapping his robe around himself and stepping over to the window. He threw open the shutters, letting in the afternoon light."Better me than some ignorant farm boy, don't you think? Or maybe your father, drunk on beer. Or is your father your lover?"
A brown haze had settled over the vast valley outside the bedroom window. Soon it would be winter. Everything would change. The pastures would be blanketed in snow, and a howling wind would lash them for months-frigid and unending. Cavello's skin turned cold just thinking of it.
Still, it was worth it-all that he had given up to be free. He had the largest ranch in the region. The extradition treaty with the U.S. was weak and rarely, if ever, tested. He had anyone who mattered in the local government on his payroll. He was safe.
And there were no delicacies like young Mariella back at Marion prison.
A couple of bodyguards, armed with machine guns, were lounging on the fence next to one of his Range Rovers, sipping coffee. At the girl's sobs they looked up and met Cavello's eyes. Hard to tell what they thought, and he didn't care.
"I told you to stop whining." He came back at the cowering girl."You sound like a hen. Is that what you want-to sleep in the barn with the other hens? Or maybe"-he undid his robe, feeling himself come alive once more-“you want to screw Daddy again."
She reared up and cursed at him in Spanish. Cavello rushed forward and slapped her across the face again, slicing open her lip. He slipped off his robe and pushed her back on the sheets. He grasped her by the wrists as she struggled, staring at her perfect breasts, at her young pussy."Yes, I think that's what you need."
Suddenly, he heard shouting downstairs, and then a loud knock at the bedroom door.
"Who is it?" Cavello snapped.
"It is Lucha, Don Cavello."
"What do you want? You know I'm busy."
"I'm afraid we have a little problem, Señor," Lucha called through the door.
Lucha ran security for him here at the ranch. He oversaw the men downstairs and the dogs that patrolled at night. All the local law enforcement people in Ushuaia were on Lucha's payroll. He was an ex-policeman from Buenos Aires.
Cavello pulled himself off the girl and belted his robe. He cracked open the door."You're pissing me off. Not a good idea, Lucha. What kind of problem?"
"The girl's father. He is in the house right now. He is demanding to see her, Don Cavello."
"Pay him off." Cavello shrugged."Get Esteban to give him a day or two off. I'm busy now."
"Señor Cavello, this one is different," the security man said."The girl is fifteen."
"Pig! Filth!" The father's angry shouts rang down the hall.
Mariella threw herself off the bed."Papa!" she screamed. Cavello grabbed her. She tried to break free and run for the door.
"This is not so easily disposed of, Don Cavello," Lucha continued."If word gets out, it will draw attention."
The farmhand's loud voice could be heard calling him a pig-and his daughter a whore.
"Bring him here," Cavello ordered."I'll talk to him myself."
"Don Cavello?"
"Bring him here!"
Lucha nodded, and two of his men dragged in the burly, wild-eyed farmer. He glared at Cavello with venom in his dark eyes. He spit on the polished hardwood floor.
"He says he is dead to the world now, Don Cavello. And you as well."
Cavello stared into the farmer's angry eyes, while he stroked Mariella's slender backside."He is right, Lucha. It is wrong to leave him in such shame. Give the man his wish."
"His wish,Don Cavello?" The security man looked on, unsure of what to do.
"Kill him. Shoot him. Bury him."
"No!" The daughter's eyes flared up."No. Señor, no!" She fell to her knees, pleading with him in Spanish.
The security man hesitated. He was paid well to do as Cavello wished, and he would do what had to be done."That will take care of one problem, Don Cavello." He nodded toward the girl."But what of the other?"
Cavello looked at beautiful Mariella, disappointed. He knew he would not find one like this again.
"Kill her, too. Better yet, I'll kill her myself.Eventually. "
IT TOOK TWENTY-TWO HOURS, and three feature-length movies, to travel from London to Santiago, Chile, halfway around the world. Then another four and a half hours on LAN, the Chilean airline, down to Punta Arenas, a gray, ice-free port at the foot of the Andes, at the bottom of the world. We could have flown directly to Ushuaia, but if Remlikov had double-crossed us, I didn't want to be arriving there.
It was autumn in the southern hemisphere, and we were down at the very tip. The sky was slate gray, and a steady wind beat into our faces anytime we stepped outdoors. It took a day to adjust. Remlikov said Cavello's ranch was near Ushuaia, a twelve-hour drive.
"Where the hell isUshuaia? " Andie asked, squinting at the map.
"South."
"I thought we were south." Andie smirked cynically.
I pointed at a dot at the very tip of South America."All the way south."
For years, Ushuaia was pretty much noted for its remote prison. I had a book on Patagonia by a writer named Bruce Chatwin. He described a fabled and mysteriously remote land. Magellan had stopped there, and all he had encountered were Indians who didn't wear much clothing and huddled around fires in the most hostile climate. The Land of Fire, he named it.Tierra del Fuego.
As we sat there on the second morning in our rented Land Cruiser, ready to pull out, Andie said to me,"All I can say is, if Remlikov turns out to be a liar it's a helluva long drive back."
The route south and east was weather-beaten and winding, but the landscape was spectacular. Like nothing I'd ever seen anywhere. We immediately climbed up through the Andes. Craggy, saw-toothed mountains jutted from sprawling plains. Massive ice-blue glaciers nestled between the peaks. The channel coastline was rocky and irregular, as it must have looked a million years ago. As if God couldn't make up His mind between beautiful and desolate. At almost every turn in the road, swirling clouds opened to sudden chasms of the most brilliant blue.
We finally crossed the border into Argentina. The winding road hugged Beagle Channel, islands and peninsulas pushing out into a blue-gray sea thatlooked freezing cold. Occasionally men on horseback with scarves over their weathered faces waved silently from the side of the road. The landscape was barren and lunar.
We eventually came upon a roadside cantina, the first commercial establishment we'd seen for miles. There were gauchos sitting around outside, hearty-looking locals who looked us over and probably wondered if we'd gotten our seasons wrong.
"I get the feeling we ought to stop," Andie said."Theclosest McDonald's is probably about thirty-two hundred miles away."
The meats at the cantina were roasted on open flames and served smothered in a greenchimichurri sauce with vegetables on tortillas. Not outstanding, but not half-bad. We took a picture of a sign that read ANTARCTICA, 807 MILESin a dozen languages.
A young cowboy with a multicolored shawl let Andie climb up on his horse. Her smile was one I'd remember until I died. I hoped that wouldn't be too soon.
Andie looked wistfully at me as we climbed back in the car."I wish Jarrod could have been here, Nick. All the things he missed."
When we came to the outskirts of Ushuaia there were no picture postcards. The last stopover before Antarctica.
The town sloped upward from the sea against a steep mountain, almost a wall. This was the other side of the world from Haifa, and not just geographically. The place appeared to be a pit. Narrow streets rose up from an industrial port, loaded with locals hawking everything from penguin dolls to Antarctica T-shirts. Packs of mangy dogs roamed the streets. The low stucco houses had these strange baskets atop stakes in front of them. The stunning beauty of our drive there came crashing down.
We found a modest hotel near the port called La Bella Vista that the guidebook said was decent. I shrugged in Andie's direction."The Ritz was booked."
Our room had a queen-size bed, some pictures of the town as it was a hundred years ago, and a framed nautical map of Antarctica, which was as common down here as a print of St. Peter's is in a hotel room in Rome.
We stepped out on the tiny balcony overlooking Beagle Sound. The clouds were low and dark and swift-moving. Mountains rose from the flat land on the other side of the gray channel. A cold, nasty wind smacked us.
"Don't ever say I never took you anywhere interesting."
Andie put her head on my shoulder."No, I can't say that about you, Nick."
We both knew the fun was now officially over.
IN THE MORNING we went downstairs, and after breakfast, we made some inquiries at the front desk. The wavy-haired clerk greeted us as if we were lovers on a holiday, eager to tour the sites."Would you like to see the penguins?"
"No penguins." I took out our map."We're looking for ranches outside town. Maybe you can help?"
"Ahhh,la estancia, " he replied, using the term for the sprawling farms that had been privately owned since the 1800s but were now tourist destinations in national parks.
I handed him the map."We're actually looking for a particular one. It's called El Fin del Mundo."
"El Fin del Mundo," the clerk repeated, nodding.“The End of the World."
"You know it?"
"No." He shook his head."But it is well named."
If I was here on official business there would have been dozens of ways I could have located Cavello. But unfortunately, they all involved the local police. I was sure privacy was a guarded commodity down here, and I didn't want to attract attention.
"There are many estancias north of town." The clerk took out a pen. He circled an area on the map."Here, near the skiing. Orhere. " He circled another area to the west."You have a car, Señor?"
I nodded."A four-wheel drive."
"You will need every bit of it." He grinned as if in on a private joke.
We left town, taking a different route from the way we came in, toward the northeast. The road hugged the coast for a while, passing deserted islands. In the distance the mountains of Chile ringed the horizon.
Then we turned at the mountain road and started to climb,really climb.
"Let me guess," Andie said, feigning disappointment."You reallydon't want to see the penguins?"
"After we find Cavello." I grinned."I'll make sure we leave some time."
We drove up into the high valleys above Ushuaia. The plains were greener here, spotted with vegetation, the mountains sloping and tall. We passed a few wind-battered road signs. BRIDGESESTANCIA. Another with an arrow pointing the opposite way. CHILE.
The scenery was spectacular-frozen falls shooting down from steep, high cliffs, crevices packed with solid ice. We passed a beautiful lake, craggy mountains curling out of it that were twisted into shapes I had never seen before, bathed in a luminous bronze light.
We spent the next two hours bouncing up every marked road we could find. We passed a few wooden gates. All false alarms.
I was sure we were more likely to find Bigfoot up here than Cavello. On the way back, we wrapped around the mountains and came down to the west through the Tierra del Fuego Park. At some point we saw the biggest block of ice imaginable. It was at least thirty feet tall and covered the top of a valley between two peaks for miles.
We came across three ranches. Each was huge and in a beautiful setting, tucked into the mountains, overlooking barren coastline and sea. None were the one we were looking for.
I groaned, completely frustrated. Who knew what Remlikov meant by ‘near Ushuaia'? We didn't even know in what direction.
When we drove back to town around 4:00 p.m. the sun was heading down. It was one of the most scenic days of my life, but that wasn't why we came. We drove back through the seedy streets and pulled up in front of our hotel.
"Señor!" Guillermo, the desk clerk, waved as we came in."Did you find it?"
"I found the end of the world." I snorted with frustration."Just no ranch."
He seemed excited."I asked my wife, Señor. She is Dutch. She works at el pasillo de ciudad. City hall."
I waited for him to tell me.
"El Fin del Mundo. She knows of this place."
I went over and let him fold back the map and indicate a point east of town, nowhere near where we'd been trolling around all day.
"Here.It is owned by an old local family. At least that is what the documents say. But my wife says it belongs to a foreigner. An American, yes?"
I patted Guillermo on the shoulder and smiled."An American-yes."
WE DROVE OUT to find it the next day.
It waseast -not near the other fancy estancias but in a remote valley. We pushed the Land Cruiser up the narrow, winding canyon, cut through sweeping, rocky cliffs and overhanging glaciers. There wasn't a single road sign. We only pressed on because of Guillermo's directions.
We stopped the SUV on what I took to be a high sheep path overlooking the property and made sure it was out of sight.
Then Andie and I crawled to a hidden overhang and peered through the glasses. I knew it was Cavello's ranch as soon as I set eyes on it.
"He's here."
The property didn't look welcoming or open like the other ranches we'd seen. There was no sign over the wooden gate. Instead there was a tower and two men-more like soldiers-leaning back on chairs, flipping cards.
"They're sloppy," I said."That's a good sign. I hope."
Flocks of sheep grazed on land that swept up the steep mountain walls. But the wire that stretched from the closed gate wasn't to keep them in. It was barbed. It was to keep others out.
The men in the tower were armed. Two automatic rifles were leaning against the wall. I spotted four other guards patrolling the periphery with dogs. I wasn't looking at a ranch, I realized, but a fortress.
El Fin del Mundo.
The property was so vast I couldn't even glimpse the main house or the setup. I had no way to determine what the complete security situation was. So I focused on the guards at the gate. The damn thing might be electrified; at various intervals I spotted cameras.
I passed the binoculars to Andie. She took a nervous sweep. I'm sure she never spotted the weapons in the guard tower, but after she surveyed the property, she put the glasses down with a defeated shrug.
"Any idea how we're going to get in there, Nick?"
I leaned back against a rock, picked up a handful of gravel, and flung it loosely to the ground.
"We're not."
WE WATCHED CAVELLO'S ranch the next day too, from the narrow sheep path about a quarter of a mile away. Each time, we hid the car and huddled in it against the rain and chill, just looking over the ranch, waiting for something to happen.
On the third day something finally did.
The front gate started to open. In the tower, the guards stood up. I zoomed in closer with the binoculars.
In the distance, two black blurs were approaching down the road. I hopped out of the Land Cruiser. Andie sensed that something was happening."Nick? What's going on?"
I didn't answer, just trained the glasses 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."
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 Saturdays, 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 Saturday 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 café 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 -Cuban. Then he'd take aUSA Today and aNew 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 café, 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 café 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 ifI can?"
ANDIE HAD BEEN THINKING about this for a long time. She had watched Cavello enough that she justknew. 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 thefarmácia 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 sunglasses, 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 inhere, " 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. 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. "
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, " he said.
Andie pushed the blade with more force… into Nick's throat.
He grabbed her wrist."Quick-likethis. " 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 whathe'll be doingto 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?"
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. "
DOMINIC CAVELLO'S WEDNESDAY had turned to shit.
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 bitch was up in Buenos Aires, at some spic family thing.
So Cavello just sat there in Bar Ideal, nursing a warm beer and sausages, horny and frustrated as hell. 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 assortment of pretty bodies. All he'd have to do was snap his fingers. Now he ate alone all the time.
He might as wellbe 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 ass, her baby tits.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 shitty 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! 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.
Fuck. This. Shit.
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 scraps.That was his amusement 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?
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?"
"Sí, Señora, 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.This isn't some stupid play, she said to herself.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?"
"Señora, they areboth 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."Sí, Señor Celletini."
Celletini, 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."
"Anexplorer. " 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 sunglasses. She let him see her face."So what areyou escaping?" she asked, wetting her lips.
"At this moment, sheep. I have a ranch, twenty minutes out of town."
"Sheep, huh?" She cocked 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."
"Nice to meet you, Alicia Bennett." Cavello put out his hand."Explorer."
They shook hands. His touch was rough and scaly to her. Andie tried not to flinch. She fished in her wallet for money.
"And what about you?" Cavello smiled, keeping up the banter."What areyou escaping?"
"Me, I'm a desperate housewife." Andie chuckled.
"You must be very desperate, if you'rehere. But you don't look it."
"I saw this ad." Andie shrugged."It promised the end of the world. I figured it meant here in Ushuaia, but if I'm buying Cuban cigars and talking to an American about TV, I guess I haven't found it yet. So I'm heading farther south."
"Your husband must be quite a confident man to let you come down here by yourself, Alicia. Or maybe it'shim you are escaping?"
Andie sighed, a little embarrassed."Actually, I lied. I'm not married. I was trying to pretend not to be some dumb woman for the store clerk here. The cigars are for the ship."
"Buying them so early?" Cavello looked at her."You certainly are a prepared little girl."
Shit. Andie flinched. The first mistake.
The proprietor handed her the package. Andie took her change.
"You've made a wise choice to go with the Cohibas, Alicia. And as far as the end of the world, I think that's something I could show you. And you may not have to go as far as you think."
"Is that so? What do you mean?"
"My ranch. That's what it's called. This must be fate, Alicia."
"I don't believe in fate," Andie said, smiling once again. She put her package under her arm and slipped past him as he held the door."But I believe in lunch."
Andie's heart started to quicken.Stay cool, she said to herself.Just a few seconds more. You have him-don't lose him.
Cavello followed her out to the sidewalk. Down the street, Andie noticed two bodyguards milling around, not paying too much attention. Sloppy, just as Nick said.
"I have lunch Saturdays at the Bar Ideal," Cavello said."It's down by the port. If you care to join me."
"It all depends," Andie called, backing down the street. She could see the gleam in his eye. She had him hooked.
"On what?" Cavello followed her a few steps.
"On what you did to get yourself in the Witness Protection Program, Mr. Celletini. I only go out with a certain kind of man."
"Oh, that. " Cavello grinned, taking one more step after her."Mafia boss. Does that qualify?"
SATURDAY CAME.
Andie was already sitting in the café when Cavello arrived. The two black Range Rovers pulled up down the square, and the door to the lead one opened. Cavello got out looking full of himself as always.
This was no game, no role, she knew. This man would gladly kill her given the chance. But she had to do this, she told herself. She had to stay calm. She had to act!
Cavello looked pleased and maybe even a little surprised as he stepped up to her table. He was wearing the same black leather topcoat and dark sunglasses, the tweed cap."I'm very happy to see you, Alicia. I see my past occupation didn't scare you off."
"Gee, and I thought we were only playing with each other." Andie looked at him over her own sunglasses."Should I be scared?"
She had let down her hair this time, and was wearing an orange T-shirt that read BALLBUSTERin small type under her waist-length denim jacket. Cavello read the lettering on her shirt."Maybe it's me who ought to be scared, Alicia. May I sit down?"
"Sure. Unless you like to eat standing up."
He sat down and took off his hat. Cavello's hair was slightly grayer. His face had barely changed from the one she had stared at with hatred in the courtroom, the day of the new trial.
"You don't seem too sinister to me," she said."Anyway, how could anyone who farms sheep be so bad?"
Cavello laughed, and she knew that he could be charming when he wanted to."You know, that's what I've been trying to tell the Justice Department for years."
Andie laughed. They both did.
A waiter came up. He seemed to recognize Cavello.
"The empanadas are like rocks here. But the margaritas are the best north of Antarctica," said Cavello.
"Margarita," Andie said, not even opening the menu. Cavello asked for an Absolut on the rocks.
"So whyare you here?" She tilted her chair."They have sheep all over, don't they? You don't seem like much of a farmer, Frank."
"The weather." Cavello smiled, then went on."Let's just say it suits me here. Desolate. Lonely. Isolated. And those are the good points."
"You know, I'm actually starting to believe that Witness Protection thing." She eyed him with a coy smile.
The waiter brought their drinks. Andie lifted her margarita. Cavello, his vodka.
"To the end of the world," he said,"and whatever hopes and expectations go along with it."
Andie met his eyes. They clinked glasses."Sounds like a plan."
She took a sip and looked past him into the square. Somewhere out there Nick was watching. That gave her strength, and God she needed it right now.
"So, what sort of hopes and expectations do you have, Frank?" she asked, peering over her sunglasses.
"Actually, I was thinking of you."
"Me?" Andie, nervous again, put down her glass."What do you know about me?"
"I know people don't come this far because they're happy. I know you're very attractive, and apparently open to new things. I know you're here."
"You're quite the psychologist."
"I guess I just like people. How their minds work."
He asked about her, and Andie went through the story that she and Nick had fabricated. About how her first marriage had crashed, and how some Boston restaurant where she was a sous-chef had failed, how it was time for a change in her life-new adventures. So here she was.
A couple of times she touched his arm. Cavello responded by leaning closer. She knew how the game was played. Andie just prayed he hadn't already seen through her act.
Finally Cavello locked his hands in front of his face."You know, Alicia, I'm not the kind of person who beats around the bush."
"No, Frank." She took a sip of her drink.
"No, Frank?" He paused, disappointed.
Andie smiled at him."No, Frank, I never got the impression that you were."
Cavello grinned, too. Under the table she shifted her leg so that it brushed against his.
Cavello sat there staring at her. This was so pathetic-and nauseating.
"You might like to see my ranch. It's not too far away. The vistas are some of the best anywhere."
"That would be nice. I'd love it. When were you thinking?"
"Why not this afternoon? After we eat."
"We could do that." Andie shrugged."I have another idea, though. My hotel is just a few blocks away. Frank, I'm pretty sure I can give you an equally stunning view."
I WAS WATCHING the two of them from the cover of the Land Cruiser parked across the square. As Andie and Cavello rose from the table and started toward the hotel, I felt my heart begin to pound. She had done her job. They were heading to her hotel room.
Cavello nodded toward someone in the lead Range Rover, which I was praying meant, Take the rest of the afternoon off.
It didn't.
Two men stepped out immediately. One was squat with a shaved head and a mustache, the other tall with long black hair, wearing an Adidas warm-up top. The bodyguards fell in twenty yards behind. This wasn't good.
For the first time since Andie and I planned this, reality smashed me in the face. I knew that just the feel of Cavello's hand must be agony for her. His putting his hands all over her would be sickening, and maybe too much for her to take. And now there was the issue of the bodyguards. They were obviously accompanying Cavello to the hotel.
I touched the grip of my Glock, loaded and ready in my jacket. Then I stepped out of the Land Cruiser.
The question exploding in my brain-did I try to take them out now?
ANDIE WAS JUMPY as she turned the key to the hotel room door. Cavello barely gave her time to catch a breath."Let me," he whispered, close to her ear.
He took the keys out of her hand and, a second later, pushed her up against the wall inside, pressing his body hard against hers. He put his tongue into her mouth.
Andie almost gagged.
Then Cavello had his hand underneath her T-shirt, pawing at her breasts.
Oh, God. This was Dominic Cavello. He was Jarrod's killer.
Andie closed her eyes, then felt his hand slowly slide down her stomach, slipping underneath her panties.
"You're all hot." Cavello pulled away, grinning luridly.
"Yeah. Let's not rush this, though, Frank. We have all the time in the world."
He pulled her denim jacket off, tossed it on the floor."You knowthe second I saw you I wanted this to happen. I wanted to take you right in that store."
"Does that mean the trip to the ranch is off?" Andie said, trying to be cute.
Cavello laughed again, pulling her in to him, cupping his hands over her breasts again. She wanted to kill him right now.
"I need a couple of seconds." Andie gasped.
"Not right now." He pulled her T-shirt up, started licking her breasts and shoulders. He began to grind against her thigh. Then he ripped her bra off in a violent tug and started fondling her bare breasts.
"Please, I need a second," she said."The bathroom."
Cavello looked into her eyes."You don't want to back out now?"
"Who's backing out?" Andie tried to laugh, but Cavello grabbed her by the wrist and flung her onto the bed. He seemed out of control. She tried to calm herself, but she was thinking of the knife. She slid herself up to the pillow, where it was hidden. She'd cut through that melon. She could cut Cavello.
Cavello thrust himself between her legs. He was trying to get her jeans off.
"Slower," Andie said, pretending to help him, shuffling back until the pillow was under her head. She reached behind, feeling for the blade. She stretched out, pretending to enjoy Cavello undressing her. She prayed that Nick would come through the door. Where was he?
She felt the handle of the knife under the pillow. She had to get him a little closer. She fixed her eyes on Cavello's neck-the spot where Nick taught her to plunge the blade.
"What's the name of your ship?" Cavello said, startling her.
"What? E-excuse me?" she stammered.
"The name of your ship, Alicia." He had her wrists pinned. She couldn't move."The one to Antarctica."
Andie froze. She stared back into his eyes. Her heart thumped as she struggled for an answer.
"Nothing goes out this time of year. They leave in the spring, not winter," Cavello said."You're a fox, Alicia." He dug one hand into her throat."But now I think it's time you tell me who the hell you are."
THEY'D BEEN UP THERE for seven minutes. I knew I couldn't wait any longer. It didn't matter that the bodyguard in the Adidas warm-up was smoking a cigarette in front of the hotel entrance. Or that the other one, with the shaved head and mustache, had followed Cavello and Andie inside.
I had to go in.
Los Pelicanos wasn't exactly a five-star. It was sleepy and quiet, with a tiny lobby and a single clerk behind the desk. A cramped three-person elevator served its five floors.
I went around back to a small alleyway. I couldn't chance going into the lobby. Above me, there was an old fire escape, the kind with the lowest platform hanging from the second floor. I jumped, latched onto a grate, and yanked myself up. The window facing me opened to what looked like a hallway. But the window was locked.
I cocked my elbow back and hit the pane. Shards of glass shattered all over the floor. I squeezed my hands through the splintered pane and lifted the frame. The window rose. Then I ducked inside the hallway, the Glock in my hand.
In front of me was the elevator landing and a narrow staircase leading to the upper floors. That's where Andie was, on three. I made my way up the stairs.
I stopped on the third-floor landing. I saw Shaved Head leaning against the wall. He had his back turned to me and was gazing out a hallway window.
I rushed him-and he must have heard me coming. In a frantic motion, he fumbled for his gun.
I flattened the muzzle of my weapon against his jacket and jerked the trigger, twice. The retort convulsed him, the sound muffled against his body. He slumped against the wall, his hand still grasping for his gun. He slowly slid down as his eyes rolled back. A crimson stain spread out on his shirt.
I raced down the hallway to 304. I held back at the door for a second; then I heard a gasp-Andie.
"YOU KILLED MY SON!"
Cavello's eyes bulged as he tried to make sense of what she said. Then recognition spread across his face. He reached for the dog tag Andie always kept around her neck. It had Jarrod's birthday on it.
"You're from the trial! You're the one whose kid was on the bus!"
"You pig!" Andie tried to twist out of his grasp, but Cavello held her tight.
"You'll like this," he said."I wanted to do you all through the trial. Right in the jury box."
Suddenly the hotel room door crashed open. Cavello spun around.
"Get off her!" Nick yelled as he stepped into the room, his gun leveled at Cavello.
The strangest look came over the gangster's face. He was shocked at first, staring at the gun muzzle. But then he couldn't hold back an incredulous grin. "Nicky Smiles."
"You told me to come and find you. So I did."
"You've been wasting your talents, Nicky. All these years, working for the FBI." He looked at Andie."And you. You lost out on a really good time."
Without a word, Andie punched his face as hard as she could."A good time? I had to keep from throwing up. You killed my little boy! "
"Well, that really stings, Alicia, or whatever your name is. Tell me, Nick, is this little rendezvous official? How'd you find me?"
Cavello rose from the bed, rubbing his jaw and moving it around.
"El Fin del Mundo. This is it. Remlikov sold you out."
"Remlikov?" Cavello squinted."Who's that?"
"Nordeshenko," Nick said."You got a lot to pay for, Dom."
"Yeah, well I figure I got time. The extradition treaties don't move so fast down here. Not to imply I'm not totally humbled-you guys coming all the way down here to take me back."
Nick stared at him coldly."What makes you think anyone came down here to take you back?"
The color in Cavello's face began to drain."You're a federal agent, Pellisante."
"Actually, not anymore. What do you think of that?"
Cavello sniffed."Well, waddaya know. I'm impressed, Nicky Smiles."
In a swift motion, Cavello took the small writing desk by the window and hurled it.
Nick fired. The bullet tore into Cavello's shoulder.
Nick jumped back as the desk crashed against the wall. Cavello made a leap for the window, hitting it with his clenched fists. He crashed through the glass.
Both Nick and Andie ran to the broken window. They saw Cavello writhing on the ground, three stories below. Then he started to rise. He struggled to his feet, clutching his shoulder. And he began to stagger away.
I BOUNDED DOWN the stairway at the end of the hall, two steps at a time. Then I remembered Cavello's other bodyguard. He was still guarding the hotel entrance, and that was a problem.
I came to a stop on the second floor. The elevator was there. I reached in and pushed the button for the lobby, sending it on its way. Then I backtracked and crept along the staircase, following the clanking elevator down.
I waited for the doors to open to the lobby.
The second I heard the elevator rattle to a stop, I stepped out, my pistol drawn.
Cavello's bodyguard must have heard the commotion upstairs because he had his semiautomatic pistol trained on the opening doors. He heard a noise and spun toward me. I squeezed, popping two rounds into the logo on his mint-green warm-up, blowing him back into the empty elevator car. Then I ran out the front door.
Outside the hotel there was no sign of Cavello.
I took off in the direction of the harbor, back toward the Bar Ideal, where the Range Rovers were parked.
As I turned into the square I saw Cavello. He was limping toward the cars, getting close.
With a glance back, Cavello pulled himself up into the lead Range Rover and started the engine. He jerked it into reverse, did a three-point turn, smashing into a street sign and sending a few onlookers jumping out of the way.
I ran over to my Land Cruiser, which was parked across the square. I pulled out after him. I knew that if he got to his ranch, he was lost to me. At best, there'd be months of red tape and diplomatic protocol, and a lot of explaining about my involvement.
Besides, I hadn't come down here to see him put on trial a third time.
Cavello gunned the Range Rover through the town streets, careening around tight curves, flying through any stop signs and red lights. I followed a few car lengths behind.
We made it to the east road out of Ushuaia-then he accelerated, going seventy, eighty, in the direction of his ranch. I picked up speed behind him. He passed a slow-moving truck, gunning for the narrow space between it and an oncoming bus, loudly honking its horn. Cavello didn't move out of the way. The bus driver hit the brakes. Cavello jerked the car back in its lane, missing the bus by inches.
I passed the truck, doing everything I could to keep the Land Cruiser on the narrow, weather-beaten road. The speedometer climbed. We both got up to about 160 kilometers, close to a hundred miles an hour. I could make out the back of Cavello's head, checking me in the rearview mirror as I closed on him. His Range Rover began swerving. Once or twice I thought it was going to fly off the road.
Suddenly Cavello's window went down. I saw a semiautomatic.
I slammed on the brakes as bullets ricocheted off the Land Cruiser. I hunched low over the steering wheel.
Up ahead, I spotted a road sign, and a road approaching on the right. DAWSONGLACIER. I hit the gas one more time, making up distance. Then I plowed into Cavello at full speed!
The Range Rover shot forward and spun. This time he couldn't control it. He hit the brakes, screeching into a hundred-and-eighty-degree spin. I thought he was going to roll over, and hoped he would. The Range Rover somehow righted itself and clung perilously to the shoulder, dust and gravel billowing everywhere.
I pulled forward and slammed my brakes, too. When I came to a stop I was blocking him. Our eyes met.
Cavello's only way out was into the canyon. He sent a spray of bullets my way. Then he took off up the road.
You're mine.
IT WAS A ROCKY, unpaved mountain road, barely wide enough for a single vehicle. If we didn't have SUVs, neither of us would have been able to stay on it for a hundred yards.
And it was starting to climb higher.
I pursued Cavello, my head nearly bouncing against the roof. I didn't know if he knew where he was heading. But I sure didn't, and I didn't like the idea of this ominous-sounding glacier ahead and the unknown terrain. The canyon walls rose above us, overhanging and steep. Cavello's vehicle sped ahead. It was hard to make up distance. Every time I hit a bump or a dip, I clung to the steering wheel as if it were a life preserver.
The land had the look of a primordial world. Vegetation dwindled down to nothing. Ahead, gleaming, snow-capped peaks came into view. Frozen cataracts hugged icy cliffs overhead. It was surreal.
We were going fifty or sixty, careering over huge bumps and dips. Any second, either of us could blow a tire and be dead because of it. Cavello fishtailed perilously around turns, scraping boulders and branches.
I had to end this.
Cavello slid around another turn, and I floored the accelerator, ramming his back end. The Range Rover swerved, trying to hold the turn-then its wheels sputtered wildly into a gully.
The Range Rover rolled over, then landed upright in a cloud of dust. I slammed on my brakes and jumped out with my gun ready. I didn't see any movement, and it looked bad.
Suddenly, the passenger door creaked open. I couldn't believe it! Cavello, with a bullet in his shoulder, along with whatever other injuries he'd just sustained, crawled out of the vehicle. He was still holding the gun, and he sprayed a barrage of bullets my way. I moved behind the SUV as bullets pummeled the Land Cruiser, shooting out windows. He kept firing until the magazine was empty.
I called out to him."End of the world, Dom-for you."
I STARTED TOWARD HIM, and Cavello began to hobble up the slope toward the ice field, limping horribly. What was with this guy?
"It's pay-up time, Dom. You remember Manny Oliva? Ed Sinclair?" I yelled, and my voice echoed.
He continued to claw his way up the slope, falling back, righting himself, grabbing at rocks and loose gravel. I kept up, maybe thirty yards behind.
Over a ledge ahead of us was a massive block of ice. It was thirty feet tall-and vast-clinging to the valley walls between two mountains. It was breathtaking. Could've sunk a thousandTitanic s, and Cavello was headed toward it.
He started to slide and fall. This time he cried out in pain.
"How about Ralphie's sister, Dom? Remember her? How about that little girl, the one you burned? What was she, a year old?"
Cavello backed up against an ice-filled crevasse that was maybe twenty feet deep. There was nowhere else to go.
He turned and faced me."So what do you want now? You want me to kneel and beg? You want me to say I'm sorry? I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" He mocked me and everything I stood for, believed in.
I was breathing heavily, and exhausted. I reached out the gun, pointed it in the direction of the mobster's chest. He just stood there, at the edge, with nowhere to go. I'd waited for this for so long.
"Go on, Nicky Smiles. You won! It's cold, and who knows what kind of animals are up here in the wild. You want some last words? I'm so sorry, Nick. I really am. I'm sorry I never got the chance to fuck her first before you came in. Quite a piece of ass. There you go, Nick. See how sorry I am! Go on.Shoot me! "
I did. I sent a bullet ripping into his leg. Cavello buckled and howled. He staggered backward. I shot again, the ankle this time, shattering it.
Cavello screeched then hobbled back; then his foot slipped over the edge. He began to tumble into the crevasse, scratching at the ice. He landed heavily on his back. Now he was completely trapped-no way for him to get out of there without my help.
For a second I thought he was dead. He was bloody and twisted and barely moving.
Then he stirred, clawing himself up to his knees. His eyes were glazing over."You think you're better than me? You're done too, Pellisante. You'll be lucky if you don't spend the rest of your life in jail. You get the joke, Nick? You'll give up the rest of your life, just to getme. So go on." He spread out his arms."Get it over with. Shoot! Better that than some wild animal. Make my day."
I aimed the Glock at Cavello, ready to take this pathetic animal out. I was thinking that we were in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles. He couldn't climb out. The smell of blood would act as a magnet and draw whatever predators were up here. Or maybe he'd just die of exposure during the night.
I lowered my gun.
"Y'know, Dom," I said,"I kind of like your idea. I like it a lot. The part about the animals coming for you."
"C'mon, Nick, do it," he snarled."What's the matter, you don't have the guts?"
"His name wasJarrod, Dom. He was ten years old."
"C'mon,do it. Kill me, you sonovabitch.Shoot me! "
"You remember what you said to me that night in jail when I came to visit you, the day the juror bus blew?"
Cavello kept glaring at me.
"Well, I just want you to know-I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight."
I watched Cavello for another minute or so, until I was sure there was no way he could get out of there. Then I left.
ANDIE AND I landed back at JFK in New York two nights later.
I half-expected to be held by the police as soon as we got off the plane, but we breezed through customs and immigration. The terminal was crazy. Families and limo drivers, hands in the air, waving at everyone arriving. Some guy in a slick black suit came up to us."Need a ride?"
Andie and I looked at each other. We hadn't made a plan, didn't know how we were going to get back to the city."Sure, we could use a ride," I said.
I gave the driver Andie's address. For most of the ride into Manhattan we just stared at the familiar sights-the fairgrounds, Shea Stadium. I think we were both nervous and scared about what was going to happen next. I wasn't sure I had a job anymore. I didn't know if I would get arrested. And Andie-somehow I didn't see her going back to auditioning for Tide commercials.
We crossed over the Triborough Bridge, and as we got closer to Andie's neighborhood, she just looked at me. Suddenly, there were tears in her eyes. She shook her head."I'm sorry, Nick, I just can't."
"Can't what, Andie?"
"I can't get out of this cab. I can't go back to my life without you."
I put my hand to her face and brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye. She held my hand tightly."I can't go back to my apartment and pretend I'm going to start my life over, and that I'm the same. Because I'm not. And if I walk through my door I'll have to face what's there, my stupid life."
"Then don't." I held her by the shoulders."Walk through mine."
"I can't forget my son, Nick, and I never will. But I don't want the rest of my life to be just missing him."
"Andie"-I put my finger to her lips – “walk through my door."
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. I didn't know if they were tears of anguish or joy."You know what I earned last year?" she said."Twenty-four thousand six hundred dollars, Nick. That's all. And eventhat was mostly from residuals."
"I don't much care," I said, holding her, caressing her."I know the truth. You don't have to prove it to me. The girl can act. "
Andie choked back a laugh. Her mascara was running. I called up to the driver."Change of address."
I gave him mine. We were going home, together.