"I managed a small legitimate theater in Barcelona," she said. "For excitement I took up skydiving. For even more excitement I acted in some of the plays. I've always loved acting, which is why I loved undercover work." Her tone was personable, her eyes unguarded. Whatever memories had troubled her back at the airfield were passing.

"That was your specialty?" Aideen asked.

María nodded. "It's very theatrical and that's what I enjoy." She tapped her duffelbag. "Even the codes are from plays. Luis uses numbers which refer to acts, scenes, lines, and words. When I work out of town he phones them. When I work in town he often leaves slips of papers under rocks. Sometimes he even writes them in the open as graffiti. He once left me-what do you call them? Good-time numbers on a telephone booth."

"That's what they call 'em in the States," Aideen said.

María smiled a little for the first time. With it, the last traces of her anger appeared to vanish. Aideen smiled back.

"You've had a terrible day," María said. "How are you feeling?"

"Still pretty shell-shocked," Aideen replied. "All of this hasn't really sunk in yet."

"I know that feeling," María said. "For all its finality death never seems quite real. Did you know Martha Mackall well?"

"Not very," Aideen replied. "I'd only worked with her a couple of months. She wasn't a very easy woman to get to know."

"That's true," María said. "I met her several times when I lived in Washington. She was intelligent but she was also very formal."

"That was Martha," Aideen said.

Mentioning her stay in America seemed to bring María back down again. Her little smile evaporated. Her eyes darkened under her brow.

"I'm sorry about what happened back there," María said.

"It's all right," Aideen said.

María stared ahead. "Mack and I were together for a while," she continued as though Aideen had not spoken. "He was more caring and more devoted than any man I've ever met. We were going to stay together forever. But he wanted me to give up my work. He said it was too dangerous."

Aideen was starting to feel uncomfortable. Spanish women talked openly about their lives to strangers. Ladies from Boston didn't.

María looked down. "He wanted me to give up smoking. It was bad for me. He wanted me to like jazz more than I did. And American football. And Italian food. He loved his things passionately, including me. But he couldn't share all of that the way he wanted to, and eventually he decided he'd rather be alone than disappointed." She looked at Aideen. "Do you understand?"

Aideen nodded.