The crewmen were locals with no capacity for the English language. They didn’t try to communicate anyway—they had their instructions and that was all. They flew us almost due north to a strip of land in a valley of the Santa Marta Mountains, where we found a transport plane of the 920th Rescue Wing waiting for us. A few hours after that we descended toward Patrick Air Force Base, Cocoa Beach a luminescent silver strip against the dark of the Atlantic Ocean on our right. A limousine—a government battlewagon—waited for us in the tepid evening warmth. Walter, Bryce Lang and SAC Ron Hubbard stood next to the limo, and I noted at least four armed guards covering their asses: Luke Rickard was the type for direct attack and not even an air force base overflowing with security and crawling with Homeland Security personnel would put him off.

On the flight there I’d cleaned myself up as best I could, but I still looked like a herd of wild bulls had stampeded over me. I felt a little like that too. As I walked across the tarmac it was with the robotic steps of an alien from a 1950s B movie. Shaking loose the kinks in my muscles was on the agenda if I ever hoped to be ready for when I caught up with Rickard.

Walter gave me a fatherly clap on the shoulder. “Things were pretty rough down there, huh?”

“It got a little out of hand, if that’s what you mean.”

“Looks like it.” He wrinkled his nose. I probably smelled like a herd of bulls had run over me.

“I know. I need a shower.”

“And food, drink and rest,” Walter said. He scrutinized Rink and Harvey. “All of you.”

“Jeez, we didn’t get this type of treatment in the old days,” Rink said. He eyed the limousine with unabashed admiration. Rink likes expensive vehicles, but his are usually sportier. He was possibly wondering if his Porsche had been delivered back to his place yet.

Bryce exchanged greetings with us. Then, eyes downcast, he said, “Jimena Grajales. I can’t believe it.”

“Like you told me, Bryce, I should’ve taken the shot. None of this would’ve happened if I’d done Abadia when I had the chance.”

Now it was he who laid a hand on my shoulder. “A man like Luke Rickard would commit murder, whoever was behind him. It doesn’t matter now.” When he stepped away from me to shake hands with Rink and then Harvey I could see tears in his eyes. I couldn’t decide if it was with relief, or with regret that he had led our old teammates to a horrible ending.

SAC Hubbard was an unexpected guest at this reunion. When I looked at him he returned my gaze and it was as if he read my mind.