Constanza lifted the back of Alison's head and gave her a sip from a bottle of spring water. The jeans and black beaded sweater she wore looked elegant on her, but her gentle, exotic face was dark with anguish and concern.

"Donald doesn't know I am down here," she said. "He has forbidden it, but I know where the key is. I have lived here in this house for ten years. There is little I don't know. Beatriz and I heard you screaming last night and the night before from upstairs, even though this room is below the basement. It was very frightening."

"He has caused me terrible pain," Alison replied. "And he plans to continue torturing me until he is convinced I have told him all that he wants to know."

"And why won't you tell him?"

"Because then he will kill me. Sooner or later, he plans to kill me anyway."

"I can't believe that about Donald."

"Constanza, please, please listen to me. You must listen and help me. Help me or I will die. Donald works for the government."

"No, he is a businessman."

"Does this look like something a businessman would do?"

"Who are you? I remember you from the nail shop. What is your name?"

"Please. I won't last much longer. My name is Alison. I work for the government, too—just like Donald."

"I'm sorry he had to do this to you."

Alison studied the woman's face but could see no sign that she was lying—that she had been sent down by Griswold to accomplish what his muscle-tearing chemical and the Alupent overdose could not.

"He didn't have to do this to me, Constanza; he wanted to. Please untie me. I am in so much pain."

"Donald is sending us away," the beauty said, pointedly ignoring Alison's pleas.

"You and Beatriz?"

"Yes. There is a woman in Mexico City he knows. We are to leave to go there in just a few minutes, and wait until he sends for us. We are all packed. We have money. He is sending a car to take us to the airport."

Don't bother coming back to this house, Alison was thinking. It's not going to be here. Soon—maybe as soon as tonight—your Donald is going to see to it that this place mysteriously burns to the ground. That is what people like him are expert at—covering up and then counterattacking. It was one thing to blow the whistle and bring charges against such highly connected people. It was another to come up with the evidence to make them stick.

"What time is it now?" she asked.

"Almost nine in the morning. Donald has gone to work."