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y to be known as an intellectual； was to risk being drawn into el proceso； a trial without either lawyer or jury； it was to risk being 〃disappeared。〃
Her thoughts turning by moments more and more morbid； Tori gathered up her purse and small shopping bag。 But before she could rise； she saw Estilo。 He was a German…Argentine chanta； one of the few who had sought out her pany but not her bed。 He was different in other ways； as well。 He was a square…jawed man in his early fifties with long steel…gray； slicked…back hair； a patrician mustache； and a sense of style no full…blooded German ever had。 his manner was often brusque； but he told the truth more often than other chantas； and for this Tori forgave him everything。
Estilo made his way toward her table。 He was smiling； surprised and happy to see her。 He had with him a younger man； slim…hipped； wide…shouldered。 The man； handsome； with the rugged outdoorsy face of an estanciero…a rancher…was most likely in his mid…thirties； roughly the same age as Tori。 He was dressed in a pair of baggy silk trousers and a washed silk shirt； open at the neck； under a trim linen sport coat。 He had the thick black hair； the heavy…lidded eyes of the Latin porteno。
Estilo caught her appraising look。 〃My darling Tori！〃 he exclaimed； clamping her in a fervent embrace。' 'Why didn't you tell me you were ing？ I would have made preparations！〃
' 'I didn't know myself until the last minute；'' Tori said。' 'You know how my life is。〃
Estilo gave her a rueful look。 〃Too chaotic for someone in so early a retirement。〃 He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth。 〃I keep telling you to find a line of work that interests you。'' He smiled； showing large； nicotine…stained teeth。 〃And if not； you have a permanent invitation to join my business。〃
〃Just what is your business？〃 Tori asked。
Estilo threw his head back and laughed； then he grabbed at the sleeve of the younger man； pulled him down to a seat next to him at Tori's table。 〃Tori Nunn； I'd like you to meet a friend of mine； Ariel Solares。 Ariel is a norteamericano who spends a majority of his time here。 his most fervent desire is to bee a porteno； no； Ariel？〃
〃My friend exaggerates； as usual；〃 Ariel Solares said。 〃Actually； I wish to understand the porteno。 I e to Buenos Aires to soak up the air of the mythical yesterday。〃 He took a deep breath； let it out。 〃Can you not smell it； perfuming the air like a rose？〃 He shrugged。 〃My own past…my whole life up until now…could not be more prosaic； so I visit Buenos Aires to let this city touch me； perhaps in some way to change me。''
〃Nonsense；〃 Estilo said。 〃You e here to do business。〃 But Tori could see that he was impressed with what Ariel had said。 Estilo； like all portenos； was drawn to myth and all its fascinating ramifications。 For him； ancient gods dwelled in the rain forests and in the Pampa； and； because they had been written about； spirits inhabited his city； sitting like gargoyles upon the cornices of the modern buildings。 This was the power of myth。
〃You speak of Buenos Aires as if it were Lourdes；〃 Tori said； suddenly wanting to draw Ariel out。 〃As if it had mystical healing powers。〃 It did for her； why not for him？
Ariel Solares cocked his head。 〃Well； I never thought of it in just that way； but perhaps there is some truth in what you say。 But 'healing；' I don't know whether that is quite the correct word。 I am not sick； merely bored。〃
〃But； my friend； surely boredom is a form of sickness；〃 Estilo said； his gaze swinging from Ariel to Tori。 〃A person…all people…need a purpose。 Without one； life bees meaningless； and further sickness…of a deeper； more serious nature…will surely follow。〃
Now Tori knew that Estilo was speaking directly to her； and she averted her eyes。 The tango music； drifting along the avenue； had turned bitter； introspective； a harbinger of the last burst of violence and fury that was； inevitably； to e。
〃I'm quite all right；〃 Tori said softly； not looking at either man； but rather into the heart of the dark tango。
〃Of course you are； my darling；〃 Estilo said； patting her hand affectionately。 He had big hands； blunt and strong。 〃I did not mean to infer otherwise〃…although Tori knew that was precisely what he had meant to do。 〃I merely assumed your boredom needed alleviating。 In that event； I would be delighted if you joined me tonight at my home。〃 his mustache arched as he smiled。' 'A very private party。 If you aren't a friend of mine； you aren't ing。〃 He paused a moment； then said； 〃Ariel will be there。〃
Tori turned her head； looked again at the younger man； his skin burnished by the sun and the wind。 She could imagine him riding the infinite pampas or； bending slightly； his hair swept back by the wind and the speed of his mount； swinging a polo mallet at Palermo Fields。 But there was something different about him； he was not a typical porteno； or even trying to be； and these things intrigued her。
〃All right；〃 Tori said。
〃Wonderful！〃 Estilo beamed at her as he rose。 〃Until tonight； then！〃
For a moment Ariel sat facing her； his coffee…colored eyes staring into hers。 Then he took her hand； kissed it lightly； and was swept away by Estilo。
After the men were gone； Tori sat and sipped a brandy。 It was； to her mind； a melancholy drink； invoking intimations of broken promises； lost dreams； the ashes of desire。
When at last she rose； the tango had finished its haunting tale； and only the unlovely noises of the restless city remained。
Estilo's home was an apartment that took up the entire top floor of an anonymous…looking high rise in the Recoleta。 It was just a few blocks from the cemetery； the ne plus ultra address in all of Buenos Aires； which perhaps told you as much about the portenos as you needed to know： the dead possessed a presence that made them in some subtle； mystical sense less dead than the dead of other cultures。
The vast apartment which snaked from east to west was furnished in Italian high fashion； which was to say with equal amounts of chic and money。 Each piece of furniture exhibited low； sleek lines and the distinctively patterned fabrics of Ungaro and Missoni。
The place had been designed by Estilo's current thistress； Adona； a stunning black…haired Argentine woman from the alta sociedad… the cream of porteno society…who； in some ways； reminded Tori of herself。 She had wanted more from her relationship with Estilo； and had insisted that he take her into me jungles of South America； where many of his dangerous business dealings took place。 Adona was as good at dispelling distrust as she was at disarming Estilo's enemies。
She was an unusual hostess in this snobbish city； for she genuinely loved people； and attended to their individual wants。 She and Tori embraced warmly； in the manner of sisters too long kept apart。
She drew Tori aside。 In the kitchen uniformed servers were loading chased…silver platters； enormous chafing dishes； with food。 Adona ignored these people。
〃You look tired。 Tori。〃
〃Perhaps I am； a little。 But if so； it's only the fatigue of inaction。〃
' 'Yes。'' Adona nodded。' 'I know you well。 You need passion。 Like with Estilo and me； there is a passion。 But your passion is for