“I sure hope you don’t expect me to mop up that mess you’re about to make.”

The voice came from the doorway. Court spun the pistol around quickly and pointed it there, a reaction to a surprise threat, an instinctive move, nothing more.

Zack Hightower stood in the doorway silhouetted by the headlights. His hands were empty. He grinned. “Make up your mind, bro. You gonna shoot you, or are you gonna shoot me?”

Court quickly wiped wetness from his face with his forearm. He lowered the gun. “What are you doing here?”

“Hanley sent me.”

“Who is with you?”

“All by my lonesome. Matt wants a word.”

Court shook his head. “No need. I know everything now. I killed the wrong man.”

Zack shrugged. “Yeah. I kinda told you that, didn’t I?” He moved into the trailer and sat down across from Court, placing his back against the wall. He looked around in the little room. The lights from the truck outside reflected off the walls, though it was still dim.

Court said, “I was so sure of my intel, Zack.”

Another shrug from the big man with the silvery blond hair. “Fuckin’ towelheads. They all look alike to me, too. Hey, Six, you really thinking about eating a bullet? That’s not your style.”

Court found himself embarrassed. “It wasn’t my first choice, but my masterful plan to prove I did nothing wrong went tits-up the moment I found out I did something wrong. I’m not going to be taken alive, and I don’t much feel like running anymore. Not sure where that leaves me.”

“Looks like it leaves you sitting on your ass in a moldy mobile home with puke on your face and a gun in your mouth.”

Court said, “Still telling it like it is, I see.”

“You want some advice?”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll want to angle that pistol up to about sixty-five degrees. Roof of the mouth. You’ll hit the brain stem that way. I won’t have to watch you flop around like an idiot for more than a second or two.”

Court closed his eyes. Despite himself, he chuckled. Gallows humor. “With friends like you, Zack.”

“On the other hand,” Hightower said, “I came a long ass way. Would it kill you to talk to Hanley on the sat phone for two minutes? If you do that for me, I promise I won’t get in the way of your little art project.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, amigo. I do know my orders are to put you two in touch, and I know Hanley will kick my dick if I don’t deliver.”

“I thought you were Denny’s bitch.”

“Hanley’s a smart guy. He’s a brasshole, everybody at Langley is, but he’s one of the better ones. Give him a couple of minutes.”

Court sighed and held his hand out.