The flight was pretty uneventful. Sure, there were a few passengers and a flight attendant that I would have liked to lay into and really let em have it, but the goal here is to keep a low profile. I wanted to grab the snotty. older stewardess by the throat, the one that repeatedly ignored my requests for a drink, and scream into her face "I'm James '****' Coverstone, bitch! Now get me that **** drink!" But that would not have been within the realm of keeping a low-profile. That would have brought lots of attention and that's something I don't need right now.

   The plane landed in Rio, and as promised, a car was waiting to take me wherever I wanted to go. I clutched my bag of gadgets and climbed in. I needed seclusion. Hopefully my contacts came through and got me a place far enough away from civilization to give me comfort, yet close enough to easily get supplies and such. I **** hate this lying low ****. This is so not me. 

********************************************************************************************** 

   The car pulled up in front of a large Spanish villa. I stood in front of th structure and surveyed the surroundings. Not bad. Not as nice as my home in the states, but not bad for short notice. Now I just wanted to sleep. Nightmares and flashbacks make it near impossible to be well rested, but at this point any sleep would do.