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Unformatted text preview: e. 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, on the hour." "Whatever." "And find the woman." Patrick's head was lifted gently and cool water was poured on his lips. The ropes were cut from his wrists and ankles, and they very slowly removed the tape and the wires and the electrodes. He jerked and twitched, moaning words no one could understand. A shot of morphine was pumped into his well-worn veins, then a light depressant, and Patrick floated away again. At dawn, Osmar was in the airport at Ponta Pora waiting for a flight that would eventually get him to Rio by the end of the day. He had made contact with people in Rio. He had pulled them out of bed with promises of big bucks. They were supposed to be on the streets. SHE CALLED her father first, just-after sunrise, a time of the day he always enjoyed on his small terrace with his newspaper and his coffee. He lived in a small apartment in Ipanema, three blocks from the shore, not far from his beloved Eva. His apartment building was over thirty years old, making it one of the oldest in the poshest section of Rio. He lived alone. He knew from her voice something was wrong. She assured him she was safe and would remain so, that a client in...
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- Spring '10