utside the Seville airport terminal, a taxi sat idle, the meterrunning. The passenger in the wire-rim glasses gazed through theplate-glass windows of the well-lit terminal. He knew he'darrived in time.

He could see a blond girl. She was helping David Becker to achair. Becker was apparently in pain. He does not yet knowpain, the passenger thought. The girl pulled a small objectfrom her pocket and held it out. Becker held it up and studied itin the light. Then he slipped it on his finger. He pulled a stackof bills from his pocket and paid the girl. They talked a fewminutes longer, and then the girl hugged him. She waved, shoulderedher duffel, and headed off across the concourse.

At last, the man in the taxi thought. At last.