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sugar—but they’re patrolling an area we can’t get by without being seen. Let’s hear your better idea....”
    I caught the quick turn of her head in the darkness andthe flash of even, white teeth. “Perhaps you will even like it,” she said.
    I saw her hands move to the drawstring of the blouse by her throat. She moved one shoulder gently and let the dress fall away from her olive flesh. Then she reached behind my neck and pulled me down to the ground in a gentle spiral, took my hands, moved them to the swell of her naked breasts, at once soft and firm, and nestled me between silken bare legs while she busied her fingers with the zipper of my coveralls.
    Her moan of delight came too soon and too loud and one leg thrashed out and kicked into something and—before I had a chance to move or even swear—her mouth closed on mine like a hungry trap, and I had a crazy instant of wondering what the hell I was doing here.
    Under normal circumstances, I would have been hard as a rock with a vixen like this giving herself to me.
    Under normal circumstances.
    The flashlight beams lingered, then one snapped off and the guy behind it said, “Damn, they’ll do it anywhere, these people.”
    Bare-breasted Gaita came out from under me, eyes wild and angry, nostrils flaring as she gave the two cops a Medusa stare, shrieking a stream of Spanish that was blistering even if you didn’t understand it. It was the most beautiful response to getting caught in the act I ever saw.
    And all I could do was try to readjust myself in the greasy coveralls.
    For a second, light splashed my face as I tried to disappearinside the clothes, hoping the makeup and mustache wouldn’t sweat off my face.
    Gaita’s act carried it, though.
    The first one grunted, said, “Shut it, muchacha ,” then added, “Third pair of ’em tonight, and they all turn out the same way. The broad comes charging out like a tiger while the clown she’s with just cowers like a kid caught stealing candy.”
    “These people,” the other one said dismissively.
    His partner paused, then made a motion with the light, streaking the darkness like a drunk guiding a plane in. “All right, you two—get your tails outa here and keep ’em covered. We got public decency laws in this country.”
    She spat at them and swore in her Cuban-dialect Spanish, and damned near kept it up too long. It was like she couldn’t stop swearing and every once in a while something would come out in English.
    Finally I grabbed her arm and dragged her out of there while she was aiming air kicks at their increasingly distant shins, and Shakespeare himself, writing a sequel to The Taming of the Shrew , couldn’t have invented action any better suited to the scene.
    Within minutes, we were outside their perimeter on a semi-darkened street, hugging the shadows while we headed west.
    When I could, I said, “Fast thinking, querida .”
    “It was nothing.” She sneered back at our long-gone audience. “It was what they expected and how they always react.”
    “It’s always good when the other side underestimates you.” I drew in some humid night air. “But we have another problem.”
    “ Señor ?”
    “They may be bigots, but they aren’t dopes. They’ll report the incident or at least start thinking about it.”
    She frowned, considering that.
    I went on: “I’m a lot bigger than your average Cuban, and that’ll make me memorable. There’s a sharp boy named Walter Crowley that these locals will report up the ladder to. He’ll figure it out and widen the area of search.”
    After a moment, Gaita nodded and said, “It is most possible.”
    “It is most probable,” I said.
    Her face tilted up to mine and she gave me a peculiar glance. “But they do not have an army, Señor Morgan. This is a large city, Miami.”
    “They can get an army.”
    Her eyebrows lifted, casual yet serious. “In that case, señor , we must take the car.”
    “What car?”
    “The one I have waiting, a block