come for us, they came for the bishop, but I intend to use them. What the league needs, more than anything else, is publicity for our cause. If Muniz and Ferraz crack a few heads-'
'They'll do more than crack a few heads. They'll kill people. Back off, Pillar. This whole thing isn't worth spilling blood for.'
'No? Then why did they? You mentioned Aurelio Azevedo. He was my friend, Chief Inspector. They nailed him to a tree. They shot his wife, Teresa. They even killed Paulo and Marcela, their two kids. Paulo was fourteen. Marcela was only nine.'
'A tragedy, I admit that, but-'
'Not only a tragedy. A travesty. A travesty of justice. You think we don't know who did it? You think we don't… ah, why am I wasting my breath. What's the use of talking to you? You can't help.'
Luiz Pillar lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch. The face of it was scratched, and it had a cheap plastic band. 'Look, I'm busy. If you want to continue this conversation you'll find me at our encampment, out on the Fazenda Boa Vista.'
He left without offering either one of them a hand.
Chapter Thirteen
Diana's heart gave A leap when she heard the sound of a key in the lock. A moment later someone forced the front door against the chain.
'Diana? Are you there?'
Lori's voice. Diana breathed a sigh of relief.
'What's going on?'
Lori had her mouth against the narrow opening between the door and the jamb. There was an edge to her voice.
'Coming,' Diana said, making an effort to keep her own voice cheerful and nonchalant. Hurriedly, she closed the file she'd been working on, exited the word-processing program, and switched the computer off.
'Diana?'
Lori kicked the door. Hard.
Diana slipped off the chain and tried to relieve her partner of one of the brown paper bags, but Lori brushed by her, hurried into the kitchen, and set both of them on the counter. She kept her back turned to Diana.
'Are you alone in here?' she said.
'Of course I'm alone.'
Lori spun around and eyed Diana suspiciously. 'Then why the chain?'
'You're jealous?' Diana said.
'Have I reason to be?'
'No, Lori, you don't. The door was on the chain because I… I didn't want anyone to walk in on me while I was working.'
It was the truth, but even to her it sounded like a feeble excuse.
'Including me?' Lori said. When Diana didn't reply to that, she continued, 'Because I thought no one else except you and I have keys to this apartment.' Lori turned her back again and started taking groceries from the bags, setting them on the counter with just a bit more force than was necessary. 'So what are you hiding?' she said.
'I'm not hiding anything,' Diana said. 'I'm just being careful. Here, let me help you.'
Diana picked up a six-pack of yogurt and put it into the fridge. Lori opened the door to one of the cabinets and stood poised with a can of chickpeas in her hand. She was a short woman and had raised herself on the tips of her toes. Now, without putting the can away, she sank back onto her heels.
'Why careful?' she said.
'I can't tell you.'
'You-can't-tell-me?' Lori doled out the words one by one.
'Not because I don't want to,' Diana said, hastily. 'It's because I promised someone I'd-'
'Hold it right there! You promised someone you were going to keep secrets from me?'
'It's for your own good, darling. Be a sweetheart and hand me that package of butter.'
Lori handed her partner the butter and leaned her derriere against the sink. She crossed her arms and watched Diana put the package into the compartment at the top of the refrigerator door.
Diana glanced at her. 'What?' she said.
'You don't trust me.' It was an accusation, not a question.
Diana closed the door to the fridge and breathed out in exasperation. 'Of course I trust you.'
'Then tell me.'
'No.'
'Why not?'
'Because… because it's dangerous. If a certain party gets wind of it before it's published, God knows what he'll do.'
'Who is he?'
Diana shook her head.
'Have it your own way,' Lori said.
She turned her back, went into their bedroom and slammed the door. Diana heard the key turn in the lock. She sighed to herself, returned to her office and rebooted her computer. Lori would come around. Eventually. But until Diana had her work in print she wasn't going to get a good night's sleep, and not just because she'd be spending all of those nights on the couch.
Her biggest threat came from the kids themselves. Those kids were used to selling their bodies, which aside from being humiliating, was often more painful than selling information. If it occurred to one of them that Ferraz would pay him for what he knew, the kid would betray her in an instant. And whatever most of those kids were, they weren't stupid. At least one of them was bound to figure it out before long. That's why she and Anton had agreed that it was safest not to tell Lori anything. If Ferraz came for her, the less Lori knew, the better.
Up until that moment, the moment she resumed her seat, Diana had taken only minimal precautions. She hadn't typed up the interview transcripts at the office. She hadn't left any record of what she was working on in the computer there. She'd been careful on the telephone. She'd even made sure Lori hadn't caught her working at home. Until now.
The risk hung over her head, and it was a deadly risk, but it was worth it. This was going to be the series of her journalistic life. She didn't want to rush it into print. She wanted more color, more human interest, more juicy details. That's what sold newspapers. That's what won prizes for journalism. That's what could catapult her into the big time.
And once Lori read her work, then she'd understand, and all would be forgiven. Lori could be temperamental at times, but Diana had grown confident about the depth of their love. It was a far cry from their first few months together, when Diana was always asking herself how a blonde goddess with fashion sense could be interested in a square-shouldered woman with no waist.
She glanced at her watch. The bank was open late. She could just make it.
She transferred everything she was working on, transcripts and all, onto a CD, put the CD into a large envelope, added the memory sticks from the camera and the copies of the audiotapes. Then she typed out a short note, put it into a smaller envelope, and added stamps.
She went to the door of their bedroom and tapped lightly. 'Lori?'
No response.
'Lori, I'm going out. Just for a little while. I'll be back for dinner.'
Still no response.
Diana gave it up, picked up her knapsack, and left the apartment, locking the door behind her. Down in the garage she fired up the Honda Valkyrie, her favorite bike. Her business at the bank took no more than ten minutes. She mailed the letter to Anton Brouwer on her way home.
