Infiltrator

'New clothes?' he said. 'Me, too; me, too.'

'I'll expect you to work off the expense,' she said with a mean-eyed glare.

'Muck out the stall,' he said in resignation. 'Paint the trim, clean the chimney, clean the closets…'

'I mean down at the company,' Sarah said seriously. 'It's time we got you an official driver's license for one thing. And you need to know how the business works. That's another reason I'd like you to come with me to Ciudad del Este; you need to meet my contacts.'

John turned serious. 'I don't know if I want to do that,' he said. He'd had more than enough of secret meetings in squalid rooms with people who genuinely gave him the creeps.

'We'd starve to death without the smuggling, hon.' She tilted her head and studied him. Instinct told her that there was more at work here than just standard teenage rebellion. 'And it's not like we're bringing in guns or drugs. It's just stuff like computers and CDs and so on. Smuggling is what keeps this country running, John. It's like a huge, unofficial, un-sanctioned national industry.'

'Yeah, I know. But that's not the way it's always going to be, Mom. People like Luis want their country to get rich and they know it won't happen by smuggling in everything they want. Things are going to change in the next decade or so and I don't want either one of us to end up in jail.'

Sarah let out a breath, halfway between exasperation and admiration. 'You may well be right,' she conceded. 'But I think we're intelligent enough to recognize the signs and get out of the business before they come to take us away; For right now, though, people rely on us, and frankly, they need us. At least we don't dump knockoffs on them.'

'You're right,' he agreed, falsely chipper. 'We may be criminals, but at least we're not murderers.'

Sarah rolled her eyes. 'I've got to go to work. We can continue this later, if you like. I'll be home around six,' she said, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead.

The door slammed behind her and she took a step, then leaned back to say through the screen, 'Welcome home, son. Love ya.'

'Love you, too, Mom.'

The waitress put down the barbecue beef sandwich with a smile.

'Ah! I forgot your terere, senora. I'll be right back.'

Sarah smiled and nodded; they knew exactly what she liked here, she didn't even have to ask. Of course, they should know. She'd had lunch at the confiteria just down the street from her business for the past five years. Sarah found it reassuring, almost a luxury, to allow others to know her, even to this small extent. To her it symbolized that her life here was free and above board.

She picked up the sandwich in both hands; it was one big piece, hand-cut bread and juicy meat, nothing fancy but all very good. Sarah opened her mouth wide for her first bite.

Her peripheral vision caught a Jeep passing by outside. The driver was male, no passengers.

Adrenaline kicked her heartbeat into overdrive and her stomach clenched like an angry fist; her breath stopped as though she'd been suddenly plunged into cold water.

Sarah froze with the sandwich almost in her mouth. I can't be having the DTs, she thought. I wasn't drinking that heavily!

She could have sworn that she had just seen a Terminator drive by.

She lowered the sandwich, struggling to swallow and breathe at the same time,

and carefully turned to look out the window, down the street where the Jeep had gone. Flashback? she asked herself. The vehicle was still there. The driver was talking to one of the kids who hung out in the park. She couldn't see his face, but the general shape of him…

'Here we are, senora!' the waitress said cheerfully, setting down an iced glass of terere!

Sarah jumped and gasped, whipping her head around to stare at the waitress.

'Oh, senora, you're pale. Are you all right?'

Sarah swallowed and tried to smile. 'Yes,' she said. 'I just thought I saw someone I knew.'

The waitress leaned toward the window, looking down the street. Sarah turned to look, too, just as the Jeep started up again.

'Ahhh, that is Senor von Rossbach.' The waitress sighed. 'What a kuimbae.

Whoo!' she said and fanned her face with her hand. 'You know him?'

'No,' Sarah said and cleared her throat. She put down her sandwich. 'He looked like someone I used to know.' She frowned. 'Who did you say he was?'

'Senor von Rossbach,' the waitress answered promptly. 'Ai, I'm surprised you don't know him, senora. He owns the estancia right next to yours. The old Stroessner place.'

'No,' Sarah said. 'I haven't met him. I was vaguely aware that it had been sold,

but I didn't realize anyone had moved in yet.'

'They say he's from overseas,' the waitress said, her eyes wandering to the window as though he might come driving by again. 'He's ve-rrry handsome.'

She looked back at Sarah and frowned in concern. 'Are you all right, senora?'

Sarah looked down at her sandwich. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I can't eat this now.

Why don't you just bring me the bill?'

'I'll wrap it up for you, senora. Later on you might be hungry and there it will be.' She smiled down at Sarah, concern in her brown eyes. 'Your friend that you thought you saw… did something happen to him?'

Sarah nodded and sighed. 'He died… in a fire.'

'Oh! How terrible! No wonder you look so white. I'll be right back, senora.'

Sarah's mouth lifted in a half smile. Funny how people react when they think you might explode emotionally, she thought. She rose and followed the waitress to the counter.

'It was years ago,' she said to the woman's back. 'It's just that, out of the corner of my eye, it looked just like him for a second.'

'Si,' the waitress agreed. 'That happens sometimes. Especially if someone has been on your mind a little.' She handed over the sandwich and Sarah paid her bill.

'Thanks,' Sarah said.

She left feeling a little better for the waitress's sympathy. She almost felt a little guilty, too, because what she'd said wasn't quite true.

Boy, am I in bad shape today, Sarah thought. Other people see white mice. I see Terminators.

She hurried to her office and walked up to Ernesto, whose legs stuck out from under a truck. 'Hey,' she said cheerfully. 'I just found out I have a new neighbor.'

Her mechanic slid partway out from under the truck.

'That Austrian guy?' he said. 'You just found this out? Senora, he's been there for a month or more!'

'So fill me in,' she said, leaning against the fender.

'I don't know that much,' Ernesto warned. 'People think he's rich. I've heard that he's doing some sort of business with Senor Salcido.' He shrugged and looked up at her. 'People seem to like him and the women go crazy for him. Beyond that, I know nothing.'

'Well, that's a lot more than I knew this morning,' Sarah said. 'I feel bad, I should have done the neighborly thing and welcomed him or something.' She made a face. 'I guess it's too late now. What's his first name, do you know?'

The mechanic narrowed his eyes in thought. 'Something really German.

Mmmm. Dieter! That's it—Dieter von Rossbach.'

'Thank you, Ernesto. I knew I could rely on you.'

'I am not a gossip, senora,' he said, looking hurt.

'No, you're not,' Sarah said over her shoulder as she walked away. 'You're a man in the know.'

He raised his brows at that and smiled, then slid back under the truck.

Sarah went into her office and shut the door. Then she booted up her computer and began looking for