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got out of his Chrysler, I saw Cate standing next to
her metallic blue Cadillac Seville. Handing Pauli the
key card to my room, I went toward her.
"Did you find anything?" she asked.
"Not much. I have to develop some film and see if
I can figure out his hieroglyphics. There was one CD
that might have had something on it, but it was
protected, and we were hesitant to take it."
Cate handed me a business card with her name
embossed on the front.
"Bradley and Hammond," I read aloud. "Very
elegant."
"My home number is on the back along with the
private number to my office and my cell phone
number."
"How come you let Susan get top billing?" I
smiled.
"Alphabetical order. And since she invited me to
join her firm, I'm really the junior partner."
"I'll let you know if anything exciting happens.
Otherwise, don't hold your breath."
 Let me have your cell number in case I need to
contact you, Cate said as she fished a pen from her
purse.
 Never use  em.
She looked at me in disbelief.  You re not kidding,
are you?
 Nope. I had to use one for a couple of years while
I was on assignments in the States, but I never
remembered to charge the fuckin thing or wasn t
close enough to a tower to pick up reception. Besides,
now that I m retired, there isn t anyone I either want
or need to talk to.
Cate nodded and got back into her car. I watched
as she drove out of the parking lot before joining
Pauli in my room.
Pauli and I spent the remainder of the morning
and early afternoon trying to figure out what Kyle
had written, without having much luck, and were
both frustrated by the time we decided to give up.
"This James Bond shit is gettin' you nowhere,
Pauli said.  You need someone on the inside to get
close to the kid."
"You mean at the newspaper?"
"Yeah. At least to find out what the fuck this story
is about besides illegals."
"I might know someone....if I can talk her into it."
 Who s that? Pauli asked, stretching his huge
frame.
 Stevie Leonard, I said.
 I thought she dropped off the radar screen after
she got shot up in Mexico.
 She did. Last I heard she was living in a cabin
somewhere along the Guadalupe.
 Weren t you two an item once upon a time?
 Yeah. I frowned.  Once upon a time.
Stevie Leonard had been a moderately
experienced photojournalist when she accompanied
me to cover the Indian revolt in the Chiapas area of
Mexico in 1994. We had been on two other
assignments together prior to Chiapas and had found
enough attractive about each other to entertain
ourselves during our downtime. The situation in
Chiapas had escalated faster than anyone anticipated,
leaving us vulnerable. The Mexican government and
army regulars hadn t wasted much of their time
attempting to peacefully quell the revolt.
It had been a relatively peaceful afternoon when
the quiet was shattered by the sound of sporadic
gunfire and screaming. Reacting instinctively, we
both grabbed our cameras and ran toward the action.
Stevie was almost fifteen years younger and an
exercise addict in good physical condition. When I
made it over the top of a small rise close to the sounds
of the gunfire, a few seconds behind Stevie, I was
immediately knocked to the ground. My left leg
burned and blood spread rapidly down my jeans.
Glancing around without getting up, I spotted Stevie
on the ground about ten yards in front of me. I
couldn t tell if she was alive or dead, but she had
obviously been shot. I lay as still as possible for what
seemed like an eternity before the firing ceased and
the afternoon was quiet again.
By the time I reached her body, Stevie was
unconscious and her skin was white and cool from
blood loss. As I said her name over and over, I saw
that she had been hit at least three times. A military
helicopter came into view and hovered near us as I
tried to shield Stevie s body with mine. I barely
remembered being evacuated to a hospital.
Two days later I was released from the hospital
and preparing to return home. Stevie had been taken
to Mexico City and then flown to Houston. The doctor
wasn t sure whether she had survived or not, but
even if she did, he was certain she would be
paralyzed.
When I drove up to her cabin, I wasn t sure what [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]