The words out of her mouth came without conscious thought. "I remember you!" Kennedy told the girl.The girl was now shorter than Kennedy; her hair was...darker brown.She smiled at Kennedy. "You have the advantage of me, then. I'm afraid I don't remember you at all, much less your name."Kennedy stifled the urge to giggle. "Well, actually, a couple of years ago I saw you at a Faire. I remember your face and your dress."The girl stretched out her hand towards Kennedy's waist, but didn't touch the. Luckily, the hotel manager spoke English and was able to find me an interpreter, a winsome young mestizo boy with the improbable name of Tolerante dos Rios. A part quiche Indian, Tolerante was sixteen and had one of those angelic Mexican faces with the Walter Keene eyes. I immediately took him to my room so as to avoid being overheard, but when I boldly told him that I wanted to meet whoever might be in charge of the local drug traffic, and would pay for that information, he was so startled. More

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