“You were right. I bet my career on connecting tiger trafficking to terrorism, but I’m chasing a ghost. I’ve got to be the unluckiest son of a bitch in history.”

Bullshit, Knight thought to himself. “In my experience, unlucky people don’t end up righting their ship. You know why?”

Davis forced down another painful sip. “Why’s that?”

“Because they were never unlucky in the first place. They made their own bad luck. You doubled down on a bet everyone told you was dog shit from the start. That’s not luck; that’s hubris.”

Knight paused, considering the predicaments both men found themselves in. “That’s how mankind got into this whole mess.”

“Did you find what you needed?” Davis asked, keeping it vague.

“I suppose so.”

“And did you find what I need?” Davis added.

“That cub in Florida that killed all the cats at SafariWorld—it came from a tiger farm in Laos. The guys running the farms are some bad motherfuckers. If they aren’t stopped, they are going to push through legislation that will be the end of wildlife as we know it.”

Davis seemed to sense the rare note of sincerity in Knight’s voice. “Look, Knight, I know it’s typically your place to be the cynical one, but at this point I couldn’t give a shit about animals.”

Knight was taken aback by his tone. Davis continued, “I need a terror connection, or my career is over, and I flew eleven goddamn time zones because you promised me one. Can you deliver a link between traffickers and terrorists, or not?”

Knight gave him a conspiratorial look. “You said your job at the agency was tracking money, right?”

Two hours and four Johnnie Walkers later, Knight rubbed his red, tired eyes. He fished another bottle out of the minibar in his hotel room and poured it, mustering the courage to place the phone call. As he dialed, he thought about hanging up. There would be no way to unfuck this once it was done.

“I hope you have good news,” Lee said in greeting.

“I found a supplier in the States who can deliver thirty mature purebred Sumatrans. It’s all going to be off the books, so you’re going to have to pay a premium for their silence. The cost will be three million US.”

“How much is your cut?” Lee asked.

“This one’s on the house,” Knight told him. “As long as you guarantee my company gets the insurance contracts when the legislation goes through and this all becomes legal.”

“Where do I deliver payment?”