“Thank you.”

“—but suffice it to say, I can get in and out without being detected. After Ron sent me Guidry’s picture, I went to work. I got lucky.”

It was about goddamn time some luck had been thrown their way. “What about Guidry’s car? You know the make and model. Got a plate?”

“He used a stolen car both times. Both vehicles have not yet been recovered, I’m told. As for gleaning any useful information about the actual abductions, my contact says they were clean jobs—no witnesses or evidence.”

“Gleaning,” Sebastian said. “Look at you, Mr. Walking Dictionary.”

“Trying to educate you,” Frank replied in his characteristic dry tone. “Through osmosis.”

Sebastian cracked a grin—a rarity these days.

Frank said, “If Paul had any capital, he wouldn’t be going the pill route. It’s a short game and, I’m sure he knows, very risky. Raising money with these pills—I think it safe to say your original theory about him not having anyone backing him is correct.”

“And probably the reason why he’s been quiet these past few months. He’s building his own infrastructure, and that takes time, and capital, no matter how small that infrastructure. How did Ron come by this information?”

“One of Ron’s people happened to be at a club, a place called Deliverance, which is conveniently located right over there.” Frank pointed out the windshield, at a building across the busy street.

It was a two-floor structure that took up nearly the entire block—sort of like a little mall plaza you’d find in a nicer part of Mexico. The Spanish architecture was clear—a courtyard behind brick pillars wrapped with strings of party lights where people sat at tables, eating and drinking; flat red roofs, doorways, and windows designed with Moorish influence. But a closer look revealed a more Tuscan aesthetic, with the exterior’s intricate masonry. The windows, he noticed, were stained glass.

“Ron’s guy spotted someone he was sure was Paul dealing drugs,” Frank said. “Paul looks different now—wore glasses and grew out his hair. No more military buzz cuts. Ron’s guy tried following Paul, to get a closer look, but lost him. But he approached the guy he spotted buying the drugs, and when Ron’s person pretended to be an undercover cop, the kid handed over the bag you’re now holding and explained what it was.”

“I take it there’s a reason behind tonight’s field trip.”

“The guy selling the blood pills? I’ve received word he’s here tonight, at the club. We’re watching him as we speak.”

Frank’s phone chirped twice. He looked down at the screen.

“We have him. Let’s go. I’ve already got a place nearby where we can have a nice, friendly chat.”

CHAPTER 19

THE KID’S NAME was Enrique Sabino. He was small, a hair shy of five foot seven, and built like a drinking straw, with thin arms and legs and a mop of thick black hair that hung in long bangs over his forehead and eyes. With the exception of his crotch, nearly every inch of his olive skin was smooth and hairless. Sebastian knew this because he could see nearly every inch; Ron’s men had stripped Enrique to his birthday suit before tying him down, with plastic zip ties, to a battered and dirty rolling desk chair held together by duct tape.