He hands me my whiskey. From the scent alone I can tell it’s quality. And I’m usually a whatever’s-closest-to-the-counter sort of whiskey drinker.

“A woman murdered my granddaughter with a bullet to the head in full view of everyone,” he says.

“Yeah. Funny, you’d think she’d be easier to find. Especially for someone with your resources.”

“Explain yourself,” he says. I pull the folder I got from Chu and hand it to him.

“Her name’s Jacqueline Sastre. She’s a sicaria for the cartels in Mexico. She’s very good and can do subtle if that’s the job, but she really likes the flashy shit. Particularly fire. And torture. They call her La Niña Quemada, the Burning Girl. She’s been hunting mages and setting them on fire using a magic Aztec lighter that will burn anything in nothing flat.”

He pulls the picture from her border crossing and examines it closely. “That’s the lighter, isn’t it? She let them take that picture. She wanted someone to see the lighter.” He looks up from the picture to me. “She wanted you to see it, didn’t she?”

“Yes. I recognized the lighter, and she knew I would because I used to have it. She’s not up here on her own. She’s working for the Aztec wind god Quetzalcoatl. Near as I can tell, her whole job was to sow as much chaos as possible and point it at me to keep me off balance. Quetzalcoatl wanted to push me in the direction of finding a thing they think I have, but I don’t.”

He looks through the remaining photos and reports before saying, “That’s quite a story. I wouldn’t believe it of anyone if I hadn’t heard about your recent troubles in Mictlan ”

“You’re well informed.”

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, Mister Carter. I’m sure you understand.”

“You also don’t have any family in Europe that gives enough of a rat’s ass about you to put a bounty on my head. You did it hoping to either have someone kill me, or flush me out and do it yourself. What if somebody had taken me down and showed up with my head? Would you have paid up?”

“Oh, absolutely. I have a reputation to maintain, you know. I’d let them enjoy some of the luxuries of the upper crust and then have them quietly killed in their sleep.”

“Kinda figured.”

“You have a history with Quetzalcoatl.”

“History. That’s an interesting word for it. You know I was in Mictlan. Do you know why I was in Mictlan?”

“I’ve only heard rumors,” he says. “Something ridiculous about you becoming some sort of king of the dead.”