James Patterson - Judge & Jury

"He's going to come to us."

WE HAD TO BE a little patient; we'd known that from the start. Twice a week, Cavello emerged from his compound. It was always on Wednesdays and Saturdays, in the two black Range Rovers, and always around noon. Cavello would drive the first car, while two capable-looking guards followed in the second.

On Saturday we waited at the edge of Ushuaia and picked up his convoy as it headed into town. Was this our chance?

Cavello came in to have a meal-always at the same cantina-pick up some newspapers and cigars, and get laid.

We'd learned from a local bartender, and a waitress, that the American ate at a café called Bar Ideal on San Martin Street, near the port. He sat at the same table in the front window. He sometimes grabbed and flirted with a hot little blond waitress there. A couple of times they had been seen going off together, after her shift, to a hotel down the street. Cavello and the girl usually came out after about an hour or so.

Then, like a sated bull, he would wander over to a smoke shop a few blocks away, on Magellanes, his bodyguards a few paces behind. He'd buy a box of fancy cigars. Cohibas -Cuban. Then he'd take a USA Today and a New York Times from a newsstand down the block. Cavello seemed to be fearless here. Who would recognize him? Occasionally he would sit at a different café, order a coffee, open his papers, and light up a cigar. Merchants seemed to cater to him, as if he was an important man.

As I glimpsed him getting out of his car, I felt my insides ratchet tight. All the anger and anguish from so many deaths came hurtling back at me. I could only watch silently, my skin numb and hot.

How was I going to do this? How could I get him alone? We had no bait.

How was I going to get close to Cavello? And then, what if I did?

That night, we stopped to have dinner in a small café outside of town. Andie seemed unusually quiet. Something was weighing on her, and I was feeling it, too. We'd been so close to Cavello-and he was a free man here. Finally she looked at me."How are we going to get this done?"

I took a sip of the Chilean beer."He's well guarded. I don't know how to get close."

Andie put down her beer."Listen, Nick, what if I can?"

ANDIE HAD BEEN THINKING about this for a long time. She had watched Cavello enough that she just knew. She'd had this feeling even watching him come into the courtroom that first fateful day. She knew how to get close to him if she ever needed to, and now she did.

"I'm an actress, remember?"

She and Nick began to think out a loose plan, just going through the motions.

She had to make sure she wouldn't be recognized, but Cavello had only seen her during the trial-with her hair long and usually tucked in a beret. So she went out to the farmácia and got a dye to lighten her hair to blond. Then she braided it, Indian-style, and put on a baseball cap. With a little orange lipstick and sunglasses, she surprised herself.

"What do you think?"

"I think we take this a step at a time, Andie. I think it's a good disguise."

It wasn't just acting a role now. It was the real thing. It was life and death.

They found a place to lure him easily enough. But with Cavello's bodyguards always around, Nick had to be ready to come in fast. There was always a chance he might not get there in time. And then Andie would probably die. They would both die.

Nick bought a short, serrated blade, a fisherman's knife. And a melon.

"You push the knife in here, " he said, showing her. He guided her thumb to the soft spot under her chin, pressing into her larynx."It'll stop him dead, make him helpless. He won't be able to scream. He'll be too shocked, and bleeding too much to do anything. There'll be lots of blood, Andie. You have to be prepared for that. And you have to keep the knife in him. Until he dies. You think you can do that?"

She nodded tentatively."I can do it."

Nick handed her the sheathed blade."You think so? Show me. "

She held it unnaturally. She'd never used a knife for anything except preparing food. She slowly lifted the blade, still in its sheath, to the spot under Nick's chin. Pressed.

"Let me practice on the melon," she said.

"Practice on me. Harder, " he said.

Andie pushed the blade with more force… into Nick's throat.

He grabbed her wrist." Quick -like this. " His hand jerked upward with a violent movement, scaring her, his thumb going right to the same point in her neck.

She let out a gasp.

" You have to be able to do this, " he said, applying more pressure, his voice hard."If he suspects anything or recognizes you, this is what he'll be doingto you. "

"You're hurting me, Nick."

"We're talking about killing a man, Andie."

" I know that, Nick!"

Nick let her go.

She held the knife until she grew comfortable with it, and it began to fit more smoothly in her palm. She thought of all the times she had wanted to do this to Cavello-in so many dreams that she'd had, over and over again.

She pushed the blade deeper into the spot Nick had showed her.

His head bent with the pressure." Harder. One movement. What if this is all we have, Andie? What if you're in there with him and I can't get there to help?"

Andie jerked her hand and dug the blade under his chin. Nick's head lifted. His face showed pain.

"Better." He nodded and picked up the melon."Now show me again. I want to see you stab this fruit hard. Kill Cavello, Andie. "

DOMINIC CAVELLO'S WEDNESDAY had turned to shit.

He always looked forward to Wednesdays. By then he usually couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take feeling locked up on the remote farm like a prisoner in his own house.

Wednesday was the day he rocked the daylight out of Rita, the hot little tamale who worked at the Bar Ideal. But Rita wasn't around today. The bitch was up in Buenos Aires, at some spic family thing.

So Cavello just sat there in Bar Ideal, nursing a warm beer and sausages, horny and frustrated as hell. For years he never, ever ate alone. He was always surrounded by his men, his business partners, dozens of them if he wanted, plus an assortment of pretty bodies. All he'd have to do was snap his fingers. Now he ate alone all the time.

He might as well be in a federal prison. Well, maybe not.

Cavello was thinking how he missed that sweet little thing he'd had back at the ranch. Mariella. What a shame that was. He thought of her satiny smooth ass, her baby tits. At least -and he chuckled aloud- I was the only one to do her!

Soon the snow would start, and it wouldn't stop for months. It would be even harder to find distractions here then. He took another swig of shitty Argentine beer. He felt so trapped and bottled up, he wanted to kick over the table. Times like this, back home, he'd snap his fingers and he could have all the women he wanted. Any age. Or put a gun in someone's mouth and hear him beg for his life. Yes, he'd done that just for fun! He could do anything back home. He was Dominic Cavello. The Electrician.

These Incas had no idea who he was.

Cavello got up and tossed a few crumpled bills on the table. He went outside and nodded to Lucha and Juan, who were in the Range Rover across the street. He started to head up the hill in his black leather topcoat, his shoulders hunched against the stiffening wind.

Fuck. This. Shit.

With his bodyguards trailing, Dominic Cavello turned up the hill away from the port and headed toward Magellanes. Two dogs were barking, tearing at strips of meat from a tipped-over garbage can. Pretty soon, they would be fighting each other for the scraps. That was his amusement now. He pulled out his gun-shot one of the dogs. Felt better.