“I’ve got guys lined up in the rain to see this guy,” said Nick. “He was a piece of freak pie.”

“Janet, by the way,” said Swagger, “thanks for saving the bacon. Between you and Chandler, you’re going to keep me alive until the next century.”

Chandler said, “You want backstory on the Snake?”

“Sure,” said Nick. “I haven’t had a laugh all day.”

“We ran the prints, and I got some preliminary info from DEA out of the Mexican State Police. Called La Culebra, Spanish for ‘the Snake,’ he was born in Mexico City as Antonio Jorge López and was known from the age of fourteen as a knife fighter. Very colorful teenage years. Worked freelance; his specialty was cutting out the hearts of snitches. He was so good, he signed on permanently with the late Raúl Menendez. He started this reptile bit a few years ago, since he was no longer on the road. Obviously crazy, but useful in cartel culture: when Menendez met with other cartel big guys, he liked to have the Snake standing close by, in his mask, which is a play on lucha libre, a form of Mexican professional wrestling where everybody’s masked. Anyhow, DEA suggests that there may be some sexual dysfunction as well, since a number of prostitutes have disappeared everywhere La Culebra puts up for a bit.”

“Janet, you couldn’t have picked a better candidate for your first kill,” said Nick.

“I had hoped to find you guys drinking beer over Juba’s corpse,” Mrs. McDowell said.

“And we’d hoped for the same,” said Nick. “But the bastard seems to have given us the slip once again.”

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” she asked.

“Nope. I am legally enjoined from doing so. You have no security clearance.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“It isn’t. But I have to play very much by the rules, for now. I can’t say a word, except to officially express the Bureau’s appreciation for saving one of its delinquents. And promise a nice letter for your Glory Wall.”

“I don’t have a Glory Wall.”

“It’s your letter, do with it what you want. Now, I’m going to have you give a deposition to the Jackson County Sheriff’s Department, have them buy you a big, hearty Wyoming breakfast, and put you on a plane back to Baltimore. When it’s over, maybe Swagger can brief you unofficially. He owes you that much.”

“I can guess most of it already. Juba’s here to take a really long shot. We all know who it’s got to be.”