The following night, McCain's last in Rio, the designer who brought them together had scheduled a farewell party for McCain. He and Elena planned to go to dinner first. He arrived at her apartment about eight, knocked on the door, and readied himself to be greeted by the Aunt or one of the servants. No one answered is knock. He tried the door, found it unlocked, and let himself in.
"I'll be right out," Elena called from the bedroom.
McCain wandered onto the terrace. The moon was glinting off the bay. A bottle of champagne was chilling in a bucket of ice. When Elena joined him a few minutes later, she was not, McCain would later say, dressed for dinner.
The next morning McCain raced to the airport to catch his plane. Elena did not go with him. He never saw her again.
(ht reader d)