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from it。 〃See this；〃 Guy said； as if Patrick had a choice。 〃When the lever is up； the circuit is broken。〃 Guy delicately gripped the rubber tip with his thumb and index finger； and slowly lowered it。 〃But when it moves down to this little contact point here； the circuit is closed and the current moves through the wires to the electrodes attached to your skin。〃 He stopped the lever just centimeters from the contact point。 Patrick held his breath。 The room was still。
〃Would you like to see what happens when the shock is delivered？〃 Guy asked。
〃No。〃
〃Then where's the money？〃
〃I don't know。 I swear。〃
Twelve inches in front of Patrick's nose； Guy pushed the lever down to the contact point。 The shock was instant and horrific…hot bolts of current ripped into his flesh。 Patrick jerked and the nylon ropes stretched。 He closed his eyes fiercely and clamped his teeth together in a determined effort not to scream； but gave up after a split second and let out a piercing shriek that was heard throughout the cabin。
Guy lifted the lever； waited a few seconds for Patrick to catch his breath and open his eyes； then said； 〃That's level one； the lowest current。 I have five levels； and I'll use them all if necessary。 Eight seconds of level five will kill you； and I'm perfectly willing to do that as a last resort。 Are you listening； Patrick？〃
His flesh still burned from his chest to his ankles。 His heart pumped furiously and he exhaled quickly。
〃Are you listening？〃 Guy repeated。
〃Yes。〃
〃Your situation is really quite simple。 Tell me where the money is； and you leave this room alive。 Eventually； we'll take you back to Ponta Pora； and you can carry on as you see fit。 We have no interest in notifying the FBI。〃 Guy paused for drama and toyed with the chrome lever。 〃If； however； you refuse to tell me where the money is； then you'll never leave this room alive。 Do you understand； Patrick？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃Good。 Where's the money？〃
〃I swear I don't know。 If I knew； I'd tell you。〃
Guy snapped the lever down without a word； and the currents hit like boiling acid。 〃I don't know！〃 Patrick screamed in anguish。 〃I swear I don't know。〃
Guy raised the lever； and waited a few seconds for Patrick to recover。 Then； 〃Where's the money？〃 he asked calmly。
〃I swear I don't know。〃
Another scream filled the cabin； and escaped through the open windows； into the crevice between the mountains where it echoed lightly before losing itself in the jungle。
THE APARTMENT in Curitiba was near the airport。 Eva told the cabdriver to wait in the street。 She left her overnight bag in the trunk； but carried her thick briefcase with her。
She took the elevator to the ninth floor where the hallway was dark and quiet。 It was almost 11 P。M。 She moved slowly； eyes looking in all directions。 She unlocked the door to the apartment； then quickly disarmed the security system with another key。
Danilo was not in the apartment； and though this was not a surprise it was still a disappointment。 No message on the phone recorder。 No sign of him whatsoever。 Her anxiety reached another level。
She could not stay long； because the men who had Danilo might be ing there。 Though she knew exactly what to do； her movements were forced and slow。 The apartment had only three rooms； and she searched them quickly。
The papers she wanted were in a locked file cabinet in the den。 She opened the three heavy drawers and neatly placed the paperwork in a handsome leather suitcase he kept in a nearby closet。 The bulk of the files contained financial records； though not much for such a large fortune。 His paper trail was as narrow as possible。 He came here once a month to hide records from his home； and at least once a month he shredded the old stuff。
And for the moment； Danilo couldn't know where his papers were。
She rearmed the security system and made a hasty exit。 No one in the cramped building had noticed her。 She found a room in a small hotel downtown； near the Museum of Contemporary Arts。 The Asian banks were open； and it was almost four in Zurich。 She unpacked a pact fax and rigged it to the phone jack in her room。 The small bed was soon covered with sheets of instructions and wire authorizations。
She was tired； but sleep was out of the question。 Danilo said they'd e looking for her。 She could not go home。 Her thoughts were not on money； but on him。 Was he alive？ If so； how much was he suffering？ How much had he told them； and at what price？
She wiped her eyes and began to arrange the papers。 There was no time for tears。
WITH TORTURE； the best results e after three days of episodic abuse。 The more obstinate wills are slowly broken。 The pain is dreamed of； and looms larger as the victim waits for the next session。 Three days； and most people break and crumble into small pieces。
Guy didn't have three days。 His prisoner was not one taken in war； but a U。S。 citizen wanted by the FBI。
Around midnight； they left Patrick alone for a few minutes to suffer and think about the next round。 His body was drenched with sweat； his skin red from the voltage and the heat。 Blood trickled from under the tape on his chest where the electrodes had been stuck too tightly and were burning into his flesh。 He gasped for breath and licked his dry shriveled lips。 The nylon ropes on his wrists and ankles had rubbed the skin raw。
Guy returned alone； and sat on a stool next to the sheet of plywood。 For a minute the room was quiet； the only sound was Patrick breathing and trying to control himself。 He kept his eyes closed tightly。
〃You're a very stubborn man；〃 Guy said finally。
No response。
The first two hours had yielded nothing。 Every question had been about the money。 He didn't know where it was； he'd said a hundred times。 Did it exist？ No； he had said repeatedly。 What happened to it？ He didn't know。
Guy's experience with torture was extremely limited。 He'd consulted an expert； a really twisted freak who seemed to actually enjoy it。 He'd read a crude how…to manual； but finding practice time was difficult。
Now that Patrick knew how horrible things could get； it was important to chat him up。
〃Where were you when your funeral took place？〃 Guy asked。
There was a slight relaxing of Patrick's muscles。 Finally； a question not about the money。 He hesitated and thought about it。 What was the harm？ He was caught。 His story was about to be told。 Maybe if he cooperated they'd lay off the voltage。
〃In Biloxi；〃 he said。
〃Hiding？〃
〃Yes； of course。〃
〃And you watched your graveside service？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃From where？〃
〃I was in a tree； with binoculars。〃 He kept his eyes closed and his fists clenched。
〃Where did you go after that？〃
〃Mobile。〃
〃Was that your hiding place？〃
〃Yes； one of them。〃
〃How long did you stay there？〃
〃Off and on； coupla months。〃
〃That long； huh？ Where did you live in Mobile？〃
〃Cheap motels。 I moved around a lot。 Moved up and down the Gulf。 Destin。 Panama City Beach。 Back to Mobile。〃
〃You changed your appearance。〃
〃Yeah。 I shaved； colored my hair； dropped fifty pounds。〃
〃Did you study a language？〃
〃Portuguese。〃
〃So you knew you were headed here？〃
〃Where's here？〃
〃Let's say it's Brazil。〃