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"Where is he?"

"You will probably find him at the Jesuit church in the hills south of Cuesta de Aldapeta," Jorge said. "That's on the west side of the river just outside of San Sebastián."

María thanked him. She took one last drag from her cigarette, then she dropped it and crushed it hard under her heel. She let out the smoke as she walked toward the car. Aideen followed her.

"Father Alcazar is a very pleasant man," Jorge said after them. "But he may not be forthcoming about his flock. He is very protective of them."

"Let's hope that he wants to protect one of them from being murdered," María said.

"You have a point," Jorge said. "Call on your cell phone when you are ready. The helicopter will come back for you here. The airport is small and has been reserved for military business-as a precaution."

María acknowledged brusquely as she got behind the wheel of the car and started it up. Dirt and clods of grass spit behind them as the car tore away from the foot of the hillock.

"You're not happy," Aideen said as she took the map from her backpack and unfolded it. She also had a loaded.38 in the backpack which María had given her during the flight.

"I wanted to kick him," María grumbled. "They only went up there because the station went off the air. The police should have known that someone would go after the radio crew."

"Maybe the police wanted the station to be attacked," Aideen said. "It's the same way with gang wars. The authorities stand back and let the bad guys kill each other."

"It's more likely that they were told to stay out of it," María said. "The men who were killed on the yacht were influential businessmen. They headed devoted familias-employees who will do anything for them, including murder. The police are paid to stay out of such things."

"Do you think the constable-"

"I don't know," María admitted. "But I can't be sure. One can never be sure in Spain."

Aideen thought back to what Martha had said about the police in Madrid cooperating with the street extortionists. That might be diplomacy, she thought, but it stinks. She was forced to wonder if even the government police in Madrid were giving the investigation of Martha's assassination their all.

"That's one of the reasons I left Interpol," María went on as she headed north along the river. "Dealing with these people is more frustrating than it's worth."

"But you came back," Aideen said. "For Luis?"

"No," María replied. "I came back for the same reason I left. Because there is so much corruption the rest of us can't afford to give up. Even to manage my small theater in Barcelona, I had to pay fees to the police, to the sanitation workers, to everyone but the postal workers. I had to pay them to make sure that they did the jobs they were already paid to do."

"So the government workers have their cushion and the industrial workers belong to families," Aideen said. "Independent workers end up paying extortion to one or fighting the strength of the other."

María nodded. "And that is why I'm here. It's like love," she said. "You can't give up because it doesn't work the first time. You learn the rules, you learn about yourself, and you get back in the arena for another run at the bull."

The first pale red light of dawn began to brighten the skies. The hilltops started to take shape against the lighter sky. As she glanced eastward, Aideen thought how funny it was that she liked and admired María.

The woman was no less confident and aggressive than Martha had been. But except for when she'd had to face Darrell back at the airport, there was something selfless about María. And Aideen could hardly blame María for throwing a little attitude Darrell's way. Regardless of who was right and who was wrong, seeing him again had to be rough.

They reached the outskirts of San Sebastián in less than thirty minutes and crossed the bridge at María Cristina. Then they headed southwest toward the church. They stopped to ask a shepherd for directions and were at the church just as the rim of the sun flared over the hill.

The small stone church was open. There