The camera moved slightly to focus on her, but otherwise there was no sign anyone had noticed their presence at all.

So whats your plan if that gate doesnt open? Callaway said as Harley sat back down. Unfortunately for you, this is one door you cant put your foot through.

Maybe not, Harley agreed. But someone has to come out eventually. And well be waiting.

Terrific. Callaway leaned his chair back and set his hat over his face. Wake me up when they do.

This was the part Harley hated mostthe waiting. Sitting there, boiling in a truck that had no AC, while their killer could be on the other side of that gate living in the lap of luxury. It was enough to drive her insane.

She was just thinking of suggesting they drive around the perimeter of the compound when she noticed a cloud of dust rising from the other side of the gate. She elbowed Callaway, who sat up and adjusted his hat.

They heard an engine cut out. Then the gate swung open on its silent motor, revealing a stocky man dressed in a dark suit. His hair was the color of coal, his face the color and texture of weathered brick. His eyes had a cat-like wariness to them as they studied the sun-reflecting windshield of the truck. Then they relaxed, replaced by an easygoing smile.

Welcome, he said, spreading his arms wide as he approached with an easy grace Harley would not have expected him capable of. Bienvenidos, amigos!

He paused at Harleys window, smiling pleasantly at the two agents. Up close, his face was a chronicle of age and injury: small white scars, smile creases, uneven eyebrows, pebbled flesh that might have been the result of some childhood disease. It occurred to Harley that if she were tasked with drawing him, she would not know where to begin. The whole was less than the sum of its parts.

Were with the FBI, she replied. Wed like to ask your boss a few questions. She glanced through the open gate at the enclosed golf cart parked on the other side. She found she could not stare into this mans eyes for long.

My boss? he replied in halting English. I did not know about this…cómo se dice…visit. No one tell me. He smiled like an old friend trying to smooth over a misunderstanding.

Its a surprise visit, Callaway said. A courtesy call, you might say. There have been some break-ins in the area, and we wanted to make sure everything is okay here.

Break-ins? the dark-suited man replied, pronouncing each syllable distinctly. Im sorry, my English is not so good.

Why dont you call your boss, Harley suggested, and let him know the FBI are at his door. Wed really appreciate a few minutes of his timeif hes not too busy, of course. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.