The industrial, chain-driven garage door they’d entered through came down behind them, making a terrible racket. They’d disembarked inside a hangar at the airport with the hangar doors shut and loaded their “guest” directly into the Expedition for the drive to the white site. They wouldn’t unload him until this door closed fully, to minimize the risk of prying eyes observing the personnel transfer if they were being surveilled. This facility—an actual working paint manufacturing plant—was owned and operated by an American expat and former Army officer named José Baldan. Tall, lean, and tanned, Baldan stepped through a door and walked up to greet them. He wore an easygoing smile, kept a regulation high-and-tight haircut, and looked a decade younger than the early fifties Eli had described.

“Elias!” José said, walking up to give Eli a bear hug. “How are you, my friend?”

“I’m good, brother; how are you?” Eli said, returning the backslapping hug.

“Busy—very, very busy.”

“They say busy is the new fine.” Eli chuckled.

“So true, so very true.” José turned with a smile to Jed, Nisha, and Bex, his gaze settling on Bex. “Welcome to Mexico City. It looks like you paid a toll to bring me your new friend.”

“You could say that,” Bex said, sticking out her hand to greet the man. “I’m Bex.”

“Nice to meet you,” José said and clasped her hand. He then shook hands with Nisha and Jed. “You know, it’s rare to capture a Dark One. Congratulations, you guys—very impressive.”

“Thanks,” Bex said, answering for the group.

“Interrogation of the Dark One inside is unlikely to yield much, but if we can reach the man inside—well, that is another matter. Unfortunately, in my experience, the demon or demons inside will drive the host to fight to the death, leaving us nothing but a depleted husk with no pulse.”

Jed raised an eyebrow, the clinical description sounding reasonable but the idea chilling.

“Okay, I read your report, looked at the pictures, and I’m ready to meet your friend. Let’s do this,” José said, nodding at their SUV.