from a nylon shoulder holster. She unscrewed the silencer, put it in the jacket of her blazer and tucked the gun into the waistband of her skirt so it was hidden by the jacket. "But you didn't follow us here," she said, "did you?"
"No," he conceded. "Strasser's name was on the list Max Hartman gave me, along with his address and cover identity."
"He knows what's going on!" Ben said. "He knows who all the players are. He figured I'd eventually track Strasser down."
"But we were able to tail Vogler, who wasn't much concerned about being followed himself. So once we knew he was flying to Argentina, and we had Strasser's address ..."
"You've been watching Strasser's house for the last couple of days," Anna said. "Waiting for Ben to show up."
He glanced around again. "You guys ought to move it."
"Right, but first tell me this," she went on. "Since you've been doing surveillance: did Strasser just recently return to Buenos Aires?"
"Apparently so. Back from some vacation, it looked like. He had a lot of luggage."
"Any visitors since his return?"
The man thought a moment. "Not that I saw, anyway. Just a nurse who got here maybe a half hour ago ..."
"A nurse!" Anna exclaimed. She looked at the white station wagon that was parked in front of the house. The car was emblazoned with the words permanencia EN CASA. "Come on!" she shouted.
"Oh, man," Ben said, following her as she rushed to the front door and rang the bell repeatedly.
"Shit," she groaned. "We're too late." Yehuda Malkin stood back and to one side.
In less than a minute, the door slowly came open. Before them stood an ancient man, withered and stooped, his deeply tanned, leathery face a mass of wrinkles.
Josef Strasser.
"tQuien es este?" he said, scowling. "Se esta metiendo en mis cosas ya ll ego la enfermera que me tie neque revisar."
"He says his nurse is here for his checkup," Anna said. She raised her voice. "No! Herr Strasser stay away from this nurse, I warn you!"
A white shape came into view behind the German. Ben said, "Anna! Behind him!"
The nurse approached the door, speaking quickly, chidingly it seemed, to Strasser. "/Vamos, Seftor Albrecht, vamos para alia, que estoy apurada! iTengo que ver al proximo paci ente tod avia
"She's telling him to hurry up," Anna told Ben. "She's got another patient to see. Herr Strasser, this woman isn't a real nurse I suggest you ask her for her credentials!"
The woman in the white uniform grasped the old man's shoulder and pulled him half toward her in one violent gesture. "jYa mist no she said, "vamos!"
With her free hand she grabbed the door to pull it closed, but Anna bent forward to block the door's arc with her knee.
Suddenly the nurse shoved Strasser aside. She reached into her uniform, and in one swift motion took out a gun.
But Anna moved even more quickly. "Freeze!"
The nurse fired.
At the same moment, Anna spun her body sideways, slamming Ben to the ground.
As Ben rolled to one side he heard a gunshot, followed by an animal like roar.
He realized what had happened: the nurse had shot at Anna, but Anna had dodged out of the line of fire, and it was the Israeli protector who had been hit.
A red oval appeared in the middle of the man's forehead, and there was a spray of blood where the bullet exited his skull.
Anna got off two quick shots, and the fake nurse arched backward and then slumped to the floor.
And suddenly, for the briefest moment, everything was quiet. In the near-silence Ben could hear the distant singing of a bird.
Anna said, "Ben, you O.K.?"
He grunted yes.
"Oh, Jesus," she said, turning to see what had happened. Then she spun back around toward the doorway.
Strasser, crouched on the floor in his pale blue bathrobe, shielding his face with his hands, keened and keened.
"Strasser?" she repeated.
"Gott im Himtnel," he moaned. "Gott im Hitnmel. She ha ben mein Leben gerettet!" Good God in heaven. You saved my life.
Images. Shapeless and unfocused, devoid of significance or definition, outlines blurring into plumes of gray, disintegrating into nothingness like a jet's exhaust tracks in a windy sky. At first, there was only awareness, without even any defined object of awareness. He was so cold. So very cold. Save for the spreading warmth on his chest.
And where there was warmth, he felt pain.
That was good. Pain was good.
Pain was the Architect's friend. Pain he could manage, could banish when he needed to. At the same time, it