San Jose. Like any estrangeiro they will stay on it because the jungle is thick.'
'Probably.' Quickly he went back inside and pulled two military M-16 rifles from a footlocker. He had bought these guns only after Eden's murder. He grabbed a backpack already loaded with the basics-knives, lighters, water, and the like. He stuffed all the ammunition in the packsack. Back at the footlocker, he removed a Glock 10mm model 20, with fifteen-round clip, and for her a Glock 9mm model 17, with a seventeen-round clip. As much as he liked any gun, he liked this one and he had plenty of ammunition. Then he considered that they should both be using the same ammunition, so he grabbed a second 9mm and took the 10mm as a backup. He got her a pack for her ammo and water, then threw in some more supplies. Normally, she would need only matches, salt, a fishing line, and a knife to survive in relative comfort for lengthy periods, so she would be traveling in relative luxury. In the packsacks were a num ber of individual flour sacks that had been dipped in liquid latex, making them waterproof and buoyant, allowing the backpack to double as a crude flotation device. Anything that needed to remain dry went in a latex-coated sack.
'We may die trying. Is this worth it to you?' Michael was tempted to revert to Portuguese for the philosophical aspects of this question.
'It is worth it.'
Before they left, they practiced with the guns for half an hour, and when they were finished, she could use the M-16 to obliterate a stump in seconds. Her facility with the guns was almost unnerving.
They gathered up their things and began walking toward the Tapiche. Somewhere between the Tapiche and the Galvez they would find the trail of the men who came to steal again, perhaps to rape and kill. And they would kill them.
Baptiste made his way to a small holding area where informants, witnesses, and prisoners could be interviewed by the government. He did not want to speak to Benoit Moreau in her cell or in the regular visiting area. By bringing her out, he hoped she would begin to feel what was possible and to build in her soul a yearning so deep that she could not resist the generous offer of the French government.
She waited in the holding area, a neat and clean room with a fresh coat of paint, sitting in a nice chair, such as the kind that might be used by an executive secretary. There was even a desk for her to sit behind; in a way she could imagine that she was interviewing him. These were props of pride and position, luxuries that would never again be hers…
Unless.
He had come up with the idea himself, like a car sales man who puts you behind the wheel of a brand-new Citroen. There was a glass window in the office and blinds that were partially open to let in light and to allow her to see snatches of what was going on outside the door of her little office. She sat in the chair in chains. That was different from the Citroen and the unctuous salesman, but necessary for the time being.
He started by offering a friendly smile. He was not good at them, as his wife often pointed out.
'I'll get right to the point,' he said when Benoit showed no reaction. God, she was beautiful. He knew it, he had seen her, but still he wasn't quite ready for it. And for just a brief second he wondered whether he might ever have sex with her, and then he blew the notion out of his mind, knowing that it was incredibly weak and incredibly dangerous. Straight- backed and lithe, she projected a cold sexiness even in her prison suit.
He sat, determined to let her see nothing in his eyes. 'I called you here to begin a discussion regarding an offer from the French government.'
'Aren't you going to greet me? How are you, mademoi selle? How do you like the office, mademoiselle? Nice weather we're having? No small talk or chitchat? Amazing for a man with a big plan.'
'What big plan is that?'
'Whatever big plan you have to lift yourself from obscurity in a job that is going nowhere and a future that is only slightly less dull than this office.'
'I like my job. I take it very seriously. You are the one with no future.'
'Really?'
Something about her unbelievable confidence was unnerving.
'You think you have a big future? You can go back to your cell in your chains and rot.'
She rose, completely unperturbed. 'I'm ready. I'm sure that the admiral will be wanting to see me, so give him my best regards and tell him I am looking forward to our meet ing.'
She was ambling toward the door in her chains. A wave of panic washed over him. Could she…? The admiral was reputedly a womanizer like many Frenchmen in positions of prominence.
'Unfortunately, you won't be seeing the admiral.'
'Uh-huh.'
'Get back there and sit down,' he said.
She sat and smiled. 'It's true that I've only seen him once. He was curious like all men. He lusts, but he is too smart to ask for sex. Just as you are. But, just like you, he was tempted.'
'I am not going to waste time on your games.'
'What, then? Will you physically abuse me? Are you going to rape me as well?' She studied him with bright ap pealing eyes. 'You want my help with the genetic science of Grace Technologies, particularly Chaperone, but of course at the same time you're wondering if we might one day have sex. Don't deny it and we'll get along better. I hate men who lie to me.'
'I am interested in making an arrangement where you can do France some good, instead of sitting on your ass all day. In exchange you would be released from prison each day. Of course you return here at night. And there would be security to and from and at work. The key is that you earn our trust. Which you are not doing right now. For example, you could start by telling me what the name Chaperone means. Why did they call it that?'
'For me your offer is a way out of that hole at least for the day, to see the pigeons on a windowsill, to watch it rain, to walk outside, to be with normal people instead of lunatics, maybe to have sex in the copy room. And by telling you about Chaperone, God knows what little extras I might get. I got it. But I'm not interested.' 'Why?'
'Because it's not good enough. I can touch and hold, but I cannot take a bite and cannot really taste. No thanks. My imagination does the same for me here. I'd rather rot.'
'But there are possibilities. Real possibilities.'
'Yeah? Like what?'
'If your work were good enough. If you were reliable. Maybe, who knows, a sort of house arrest? You weren't convicted of actually pulling the trigger on anyone. There were a lot of charges for conspiracy, and of aiding and abetting, that sort of thing. Nobody, though, said you shot anybody or poi soned them, except of course Chellis, but he didn't die and he mistreated you, I am sure. An argument could be made.'
'I'll think about it.'
'You do not have long.'
'I want to talk to the admiral before I make a deal.' She stood and her chains rustled. On her, the chains seemed nearly elegant.
'He is too busy.'
'No. You are too afraid. Tell me what you are afraid of?'
'Nothing. Absolutely nothing,' Baptiste responded.
'Then we have no deal.'
'Do you know now if Chaperone is actually one mole cule? Do you know how it works or where it came from?'
'I know more than you,' Benoit challenged.
'I am offering you something. If you don't want it, just say so.'
'Fine. I say no.' She stared at him with confidence born of resignation. Even though she didn't like prison, clearly she could stand it. The question was: could he?
She shuffled toward the door, not even bothering to look at him.
'I've got to move quickly. You and I are going to come to an arrangement or I will find a way to make your life hell.'
'My life is already hell. But I'm listening.'
'What do you want?' he demanded.
'Before we do business, you have to make love to me. Take it or leave it.'
He was stunned. Oddly, he didn't know what to say.
