The pain settled into a steady roar, which helped to keep him conscious. He was Adolfo Alcazar again but the agony in his limbs and in his throat made it difficult to string thoughts together. He couldn't decide whether he'd acted courageously by holding out for as long as he did or cowardly for having succumbed at all. Flashes of thought said yes he'd been brave, then no he hadn't. And then it didn't seem to matter as he shivered and the pain suddenly attacked him. Sometimes it came in like the tide, engulfing him. Sometimes it lapped at him like tiny breakers out at sea. The small swells he could manage. But the big ones tortured him. God, how they made him shake all over.

He had no idea how long he lay there and whether his eyes had been open or closed. But suddenly his eyes were open and the room was brighter and there was a figure bending beside him.

It was his brother, Berto.

Norberto was weeping and saying something. He was making signs over his face. Adolfo tried to raise his arm but it didn't respond. He tried to speak-

"A… ma… do… ri."

Did Norberto hear? Did he understand?

"City… chur… church."

"Adolfo, lie quietly," Norberto said. "I've telephoned for a doctor-oh. God."

Norberto continued saying a prayer.

"Warn… Gen… er… al… they… know…"

Norberto laid a hand on his brother's lips to silence them. Adolfo smiled weakly. His brother's hand was soft and loving. The pain seemed to subside.

And then his head rolled to the side and his eyes shut and the pain was gone.

EIGHTEEN

Tuesday, 4:19 a.m.

San Sebastián, Spain

The helicopter set María and Aideen down south of the city. It landed atop a hillock along a deserted twist in the Rio Urumea, the river that ran through the city. A rental car, reserved by a local police officer who worked with Interpol, was waiting for them near the road. So was the police officer, thick mustachioed Jorge Sorel.

During the helicopter trip, María had studied a map she'd brought with her. She knew the route to the radio station and Aideen could tell that she was anxious to get there. Unfortunately, as María lit a cigarette, Jorge told her there was no reason to go.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"Someone attacked the staff a little over an hour ago," he said.

"Someone?" María said. "Who?"

"We don't know yet," admitted the officer.

"Professionals?" she said impatiently.

"Very possibly," he acknowledged. "The attackers seemed to know exactly what they were doing. There were numerous broken limbs and everyone had a broken jaw."

"What did they want?" María asked.

Jorge shook his head. "Again, we can't even begin to speculate. The only reason we went up there was because the station suddenly went off the air."

María swore angrily. "This is maravilloso," she said. "Marvelous. Are there any leads?"