His arrival at the remote AKMC was inevitable for two reasons: he wouldn’t stop coming until he’d killed Alisha; and we had Harvey on the case insuring that he’d be sent directly to her. I’m not known for placing women in the way of harm, but this was different. Rickard was hell-bent on killing his wife, so it made sense to use her as bait. Harvey was currently hacking into the records at Cedars Medical Center so that a simple check would send the killer our way.

Rickard believed that I’d been eviscerated by a fragmentation grenade: he wouldn’t expect me to be waiting for him to arrive. However, the proliferation of feebies and cops at the scene would put him on high alert. Wouldn’t stop him coming, but he’d be prepared for war. That was all supposing that he’d survived the events in Colombia and was now headed here. If not, we could have a few uncomfortable days squatting in a swamp to look forward to. But Rink and I were up to it: we’d spent many days and nights waiting in even less appealing locations throughout our careers.

Coming to the end of the trail, Rink parked the car under a stand of live oak. We made sure that the windows were all shut tight before climbing out. We didn’t want to return to a vehicle infested with swamp life. Rink popped the trunk and I joined him to haul out our equipment. We’d traveled here in the clothing that Walter had supplied to us the night before, but now we stripped down to our boxers and then slipped into the lightweight DPMs we’d brought. The disruptive pattern material was good camouflage against the swamp. There was netting that we pulled around our faces and peaked caps to cover our hair, but Rink still pulled out a canister of insecticide that we sprayed ourselves with. I was conscious of the chemical smell, but five minutes into the swamp and even a bloodhound would struggle to sniff us out.

Rink dished out the weapons. Courtesy of Walter, we each had a Colt M4 carbine—basically the shorter version of the U.S. Army M16A2 assault rifle—with its capacity for firing one or three bullets with each pull of the trigger. The guns were favored by Special Forces teams engaged in urban warfare as they provided more control over where bullets were placed when fired in shorter bursts. If we ended up entering the hospital buildings, that feature would become very important.

Next, Rink handed me a Ka-bar knife in black epoxy and I clipped it to my belt. I had the switchblade as a backup knife in its obligatory place in my hip pocket. Then there was the SIG-Sauer P226, my weapon of choice.