Infiltrator

'The FAC is a government agency,' she pointed out.

Colvin sat back in his chair.

That quieted you down, didn't it? Serena thought triumphantly.

She could see his willingness to believe in the evil of an organization before individual wickedness. It was almost funny. What was the advantage in

believing in hundreds of faceless enemies conspiring against you instead of suspecting one person you knew?

'Make me up a plan and get it to me before I leave today,' Colvin said at last. 'I don't think that's the case, but it's best to be prepared.'

'Always,' Serena agreed. She rose and left quickly, like a woman with a mission.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ASUNCION, PARAGUAY: THE PRESENT

You Victor Griego?'

Griego looked up from his paper and saw a vision from a forties movie. The young man lounging in his office doorway wore a trench coat, fedora, wide tie, and pleated trousers. Victor peeked over the rim of his desk. Nope, no two-toned wingtips. The suede shoe twitched as a giant tropical cockroach scuttled by.

Victor Griego had a limited social life, and made a great deal of use of his VCR; he recognized the look.

'Who's asking?' Griego demanded. Frowning, he tossed the paper aside. It joined other litter, ranging from cornhusks stained with tomato sauce and grease to discarded 3.5-inch floppies. In the courtyard behind the two- story building a cat was calling for love, or at least anticipating fornication.

The youngster sauntered over to him and offered a dog-eared business card with a snap and a flourish.

MARCO CASSETTI PRIVATE INVESTIGAOR

There was a phone number underneath.

' 'Investigaor'?' Victor asked.

Cassetti grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

'I got a discount,' he explained.

Griego raised his brows and offered the card back to the kid with two fingers.

'You got what you paid for,' he said. He leaned back in his chair. 'So, what can I do for you?'

Cassetti twitched his coat aside and hoisted one slim hip onto the corner of Griego's desk.

'Don't do that.' Victor made a flicking motion with his hand. 'I don't like people sitting on my desk.'

Cassetti stood up and thrust his hands deep into his pants pockets, trying to look unconcerned, but there was a flush on his cheeks.

Griego narrowed his eyes, wondering how old he was. Little hijo is just shaving and he's trying out this attitude on me.

'So, what do you want?' he asked, restating the question in less hospitable terms.

The kid narrowed his eyes.

'I just wanted to ask you what you were doing in Villa Hayes,' he said. Only it came out in an almost indecipherable Bogart imitation.

'What?' Griego said, his face scrunched up in confusion. Bad enough this kid was in forties drag, now he was talking like a gringo with a mouthful of corn mush. 'I don't have time for this shit!' he declared. 'Get to the point or get your misspelled card and your baggy ass out of here.'

Marco felt a little deflated but tried not to let it show. Maybe his mother was right and he should just be himself. He crossed his arms over his chest and took a stance.

'I saw you leaving Dieter von Rossbach's party the other night. He didn't seem very happy with you, nor you with him. I was wondering what the story was.'

Griego studied him for a long moment. 'Oh, yeah? Assuming I know anybody named Dieter and that I was at a party the other night, why should I tell you anything?' Victor spread his hands and looked around his grimy little office like it was a palace. 'I mean, what's in it for me?'

Marco blinked. 'That depends on your information.' He kept his eyes and voice level, his mouth firm. If Griego was going to play tough guy he could go along with the script.

Victor tugged the corners of his mouth down. That was a more reasonable answer than he'd expected.

'So who wants to know?' he asked.

'Me,' Marco answered, sounding tough, but also slightly surprised, which lent the single word a questioning air.

'Oh, right.' Victor narrowed his eyes. 'Thing is, I don't think I want to tell you.'

'Sure you do,' Marco said.

He looked around and spotted a chair in a corner. He went and got it, placing it right before Griego's desk. Taking out a handkerchief, he dusted it off and sat down, hoisting the legs of his trousers to preserve the crease.

'The way von Rossbach treated you. I know I'd want to talk about it to somebody.' Cassetti spread his hands. 'And, y'know, there's something about a genuinely interested audience.'

Victor reached over and opened his cigar box. He took out a cheroot, sliced off the end with a clipper, and lit it with an elaborate silver lighter, then blew out a cloud of smoke. Watching the younger man with narrowed eyes he was amused to notice Cassetti's nostrils twitch slightly as the odor reached him.

What the hell. He did want to grouse about von Rossbach. He was used to better from the professionals who used his services. They understood that he was a businessman, and a damned honest one. He always delivered what he said, when he said, where he said. And the government people were sensible enough to appreciate that too. So had von Rossbach when they'd done business.

It rankled still the way Dieter and his entire household had treated him like filth.

And the way the Sector agent had dragged him to von Rossbach's estancia without allowing him to pack so much as a change of socks was insulting too. So

he wasn't a saint, he was a human being just like they were and deserved some respect.

Victor took a deep drag of his cheroot and blew the evil-smelling vapor across the desk. He almost smiled when the kid's eyes crossed. 'So,' he asked, somewhat soothed by feeling more in control, 'what did you want to know?'

Cassetti shrugged. 'What were you doing in Villa Hayes?'

So Victor told him. 'I should have given him the high sign right away,' he finished regretfully. 'But it had been a hard week and I thought it might be nice to exchange a few words with an old friend.'

'Not to mention her son threatened to kill you,' Marco said, a little Bogart creeping back into his syntax.

Victor glared at him. 'Yeah,' he said shortly. He shouldn't have mentioned that.

But this weird kid was a damn good listener.

After a moment Cassetti asked, 'So? Who is this Sarah Connor?'

Griego squinted at him through the smoke and smiled.

'Who wants to know?' he taunted.

'Me,' Marco answered with a shrug.

Victor nodded slowly, puffing his cigar, then he put it in the ashtray. 'Oh yeah!

Of course,' he said. 'There you were lurking around Dieter von Rossbach's house out in Villa Hayes because you enjoy sitting around in thorn brakes all

night. Isn't that right?'

Marco tilted his head back, his hands clasped across his stomach; he wiggled his fingers but said nothing.

'You just decided one day to look into the life of some total stranger, some immigrant estanciero. Right? Like after your movie career, you want to become a vaquero.' Griego picked up the cigar again and rolled it between his fingers.

'What didja do, fall in love with him?'

Marco sat forward, grasping the arms of the chair.