O’Malley lowered the flaps and almost immediately the plane began to bounce. “It gets worse when we’re in over the Bay. It’s a shallow body of water —”

“I know,” Merrill said. “Closed by a sandbar in the 1640s, locked by an underwater wall since 1778. That’s what I know about Cartagena. That, and Sir Francis Drake invading in 1586. The reading of a boy in love with the sea.”

O’Malley eyed him dubiously. “How does an asshole like you get away from guys like them?”

“I heard her screaming.”

“Okay, that was then. What about now?”

“Right now all I have to do is think about it.”

O’Malley corrected the plane’s speed. “Must be nice, to feel like that about somebody.”

“I don’t remember when I didn’t.”

O’Malley shook his head. “I don’t even feel that way about my mother.” The sky glowed a dark red, the city passing to their left, orange mercury vapor lamps showing the streets all but empty of cars. “Come back to Cartagena when you don’t have serious business. Hire a carriage. Listen to the music. Do some dancing. Try to stop yourself once you start.”

The runway spread out before them, a line of strobe lights flashing in sequence to keep them over the center line. The hills and buildings rose up against the red sky as the little plane smacked down hard on the pavement bounced, and rolled out smoothly. “I’m going to take it down to the end,” O’Malley said. “You can get back to the door now. When I turn, I’m going to brake to a near stop. Throw the lever and push. Keep your head down. You have to get under the wing, but outside the landing gear. Keep rolling to get clear of the engine blast. I’ll keep it on a slow roll until I’m sure you’re clear. I have to close the door again and, depending on the traffic, I might just take advantage of my weight and go for it with the wind at my back. I’ve got the power. Don’t forget your topcoat. And here.”

He reached beneath his seat and brought up a banded stack of paper currency. “Ten grand, official American. All new one hundred dollar bills. You have to have walking around money. Sorry I don’t have anything smaller, but where you’re going, if you have any luck, you’re credit cards aren’t worth shit.”

“I didn’t bring any credit cards.”

“Well, at least you know how much I want you to succeed. I hope you find her all right – and Chino on the crapper, with his pants around his ankles. Little chance of that, though. Be careful.”

“Thanks. Good luck to you. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. I’m going to tell them you kidnapped me.”