Maria looked him over. Paris was a very dark-skinned wisp of a man in his early twenties. He was dressed in a white shortsleeve shirt, tan shorts, and sandals. He wore a black kerchief and sunglasses. He spoke impeccable English, French, and Spanish. Maria had an idea. She decided to give him a short trial. She asked him to drive her to Maun. If she were impressed, she said, she would hire him. If not, he would have to drive her back to the car rental, free of charge.
He accepted the offer enthusiastically.
"You will hire me," he said. "I will make this trip even more special for you. Plus," he added, "I can take pictures with you in them. They will not just be scenery and animals."
On the way to town, Maria learned that Lebbard had been educated by missionaries. He was a boyhood friend of the grandson of the man who owned the taxi company. She was a good judge of character. He seemed sincere, hardworking, and honest. When they neared Maun Center, Maria told him that she would be delighted to take him up on his offer to drive her around.
Paris was elated. He told her that the minimum engagement was five hours for a total of fifty American dollars. She accepted. He told her that for an extra fifty dollars, she could have him for the entire following day. She said she would think about it.
The shiny black cab reached the busy heart of the village. It pulled up to a crowded taxi stand on the side of the market.
Maria got out. So did Lebbard, who stood beside the cab on his cell phone. The young man was eager to relay the news to his dispatcher, that he would be staying with his fare for the rest of the day, possibly for the following day.
While he called, the driver reassured the woman that she would learn a lot and that she would also be very safe with him.
"No wild animals and no wild Botswana men will bother you," the young man had insisted with a back and forth wave of his index finger. He told her he carried a.38 in the glove compartment and a rifle in the trunk.
While Lebbard made his call, Maria was eager to get to work. She began walking around the market. The plane carrying the American bishop was not due for another ninety minutes. Right now, she wanted to familiarize herself with the area. See for herself what the police presence was like. What the streets were like. Whether it would be easy to get in and out of here in a cab or on foot. Whether back doors were locked and how many children there were. Where they played, in case there was gunfire. Whether the kids had bicycles. Whether there were adult bicycles in case she needed one.
Maria Corneja moved with the litheness and power of a natural athlete. She stood slightly under five foot seven inches but seemed taller because of the way she held her head. It was set high and confident, her square jaw forward ever so slightly. She looked like a Spanish princess surveying her realm. Her brown eyes were clear and steady, her nose straight, and her thin-lipped mouth set. Her long brown hair hung down her dark neck. Wearing jeans, a black blouse, and a green windbreaker, Maria did not stand out among the more exotically dressed mix of international tourists.
The bazaar was a tourist attraction, with renovated cobble streets and stalls made of handmade fabrics. It was nicknamed Old Maun, and it was set in the heart of a small but modern city. It was approximately 300 feet wide and 700 or 800 feet long. Hundreds of years ago, this had probably been a caravan stop on a trade route. A convenient stop on an L-shaped bend in the Thamalakane River. The town simply grew up around it and remained. Today, the bazaar was crowded with visitors and locals, including a few roaming beggars. They reminded Maria of the homeless people she had seen in places like Calcutta and Mexico City. They were not just poor and unkempt, they looked sickly and broken. She put money in the paper bag of one woman who passed.
The market was also a curious blend of the traditional and the new. It offered everything from fresh produce to the latest electronic devices. There were wooden stands with canvas canopies. They stood on asphalt covered with windblown sand and dead grasses. All around was the quiet clack of laptop computers. The merchants used these to keep track of their sales and inventory. Beyond the market were new, white brick apartments and municipal offices. Stuck between them, in alleys and odd angles, were shanties with warped, discolored shingles. Several of them had small satellite dishes on their sloping roofs. She could see the glow of color televisions through the windows.
At the far end of the market was a building that served as a multidenominational chapel. It was empty. Maria wondered if that had anything to do with the attack on the church at the tourist center. On the opposite end of the market was a bar. It appeared relatively empty as well. Perhaps it was too early in the day for Maunans to drink.
The town was very different from Madrid. The air was different. It was clean and dry. The sunshine felt different, too. There was no smog to filter the heat and brilliance. Maria loved it. She simultaneously felt free and plugged in. And plugged in was not simply a figure of speech. There was electricity under her skin. It was in her fingertips, along the back of her neck, at the peaks of her high cheekbones. Some of the excitement came from being part of a great intelligence machine like Op-Center. But most of it arose from something else. It was something the woman had enjoyed ever since she was four years old, the day when she was seated on her first horse.
Risk.
In her thirty-eight years, Maria had learned that two things made any moment particularly sweet. One was sharing it alone and uninterrupted with your loved one. That had happened once far too many times in her life. With Darrell McCaskey it had happened repeatedly, becoming richer and more textured each time. Maria had grown tired of once. That was why she had made the commitment to her new husband.
But the other most precious times in life were knowing that any given moment could be your last. Every part of one's being came to life in those instants. You could feel it begin to build days before. A sharpening of the senses, memory, intellect, every physical and emotional resource at your command. When Bob Herbert called her the day before, Maria made a decision. She decided there was no reason she could not have a life with both intimacy and danger. Darrell would have to learn to live with that. After all, he was asking her to do the same.
Maybe, she thought, the risk was what made those other moments so wonderful. Once before they went after a militant group of Basque Separatists, a fellow Interpol agent had said to her, "Tonight we make love, for tomorrow we may die." She was not in love with the man, but it was a very intense night.
Even if nothing exciting happened in Maun, Maria was thrilled to be here. Just being involved in a major, evolving operation was exciting. Before leaving Spain, Maria had pulled the Interpol files on Botswana. The history and leadership profiles brought her up to speed on the nation. In a region beset by ethnic squabbles and hungry warlords, Botswana was the self-declared "Gem of Africa." It was a stable, democratic region of economic growth. Pertinent to her own trip, she noticed the laws against women loitering. They were extremely strict. According to a file from the Botswana Directorate on Corruption and Economic Crime, murder, drug dealing, and prostitution were zero-tolerance crimes. Firstoffense prostitution carried a mandatory prison sentence of not less than two years. Nor were the laws against prostitution and drugs based solely on the local ethic. Eighteen percent of the nation's adult population was infected with HIV. The laws were an effort to keep the disease from spreading.
Maria did not intend to linger anywhere. She had been sent to keep a surreptitious eye on the American bishop. But before leaving Spain, she had been informed that a dozen elite soldiers with the Grupo del Cuartel General, Unidad Especial del Despliegue had come over on the previous flight. The Spanish military could look out for the well-being of the bishop. Maria had another goal. She wanted to try to find Father Bradbury. When David Battat and Aideen Marley arrived, she wanted to have leads.