“The world is so cracked open,” I said. “The world is broken. She wanted to fix it.” It was all I had. Yes, I was drunk, in a sense. I was not myself. But I meant it, and there it was laid bare: the reason behind the reasons, that meant I still had hope.

“That warehouse was Silvina’s. The animals in it were what she sold to bankroll her crimes. First she stole them, then she sold them. Or tried to. Do you understand?”

I had no answer. The pain was becoming less under ice and more the coals. All I could say, again, was, “Who else have you kidnapped? Who is sitting behind me?”

Vilcapampa drew closer to the screen. I could see the fissures around his eyes. I could see that he wore foundation and concealer for age spots. I could see the ferocity of his gaze and the certainty of it. Almost too much ferocity.

“I thought I owed you a meeting and a reasonable conversation. For who Silvina was, before. But I was wrong. Now it’s time for a different approach. For the old-fashioned, time-honored ways. Good-bye.”

He nodded to Hillman, who snapped the laptop shut.

That was all I would ever see of Vilcapampa. In this life or the next.

“Are you going to let me go now? You can drop me off at—”

Another kick in the ribs and a matter-of-fact look. Just the usual from Hillman.

“Tough luck, but we have to find out everything you know. By whatever means. Doesn’t trust you any more than he trusted Silvina. It’s not up to me if you’re alive at the end—it’s up to you.”

“Did he kill Silvina?”

“You mean, did I kill Silvina? No.”

Hillman sounded insulted. Like I’d said something absurd, and I believed his answer. Even with an undertone I didn’t understand.

He nodded to the two men and they went into the other room to get something. I heard one drop something heavy, metallic, and curse. A sinking feeling to match the ache in my head and my side. I thought I knew why Vilcapampa had risked talking to me direct. Because I wasn’t getting out of here. No matter what I gave up.

“Nothing personal,” Hillman said. “Really, I mean that.”

“It’s all personal,” I said.

Hillman nodded slow, lips pursed, like I’d said something profound.

“Why not just let me die in the fire? You’re about to find out I don’t know anything.”

Hillman ignored me. “We already moved your car, wiped what we could. No one will know you were there. Or us. It’s all on Langer. And maybe you tell us what you know, you get your life back. Or, your choice, you flat-out disappear like Langer got to you. Like you took on Langer because you feared rendition.”

“Retribution.”

“What did I say?”

“Rendition.”

“Is that important?”