Two men in nondescript uniforms stood at a discreet distance to either side, hands folded behind their backs, chests puffed out, eyes staring blankly ahead. Each had a radio clipped to his belt and a pistol on his hip.

Ex-military, Callaway murmured, eyeing the guards.

Mercenaries, Harley murmured back. At least theyre not carrying automatics, right?

The man with the golf club swung. It was a solid hit that sailed far over the wall and kicked up a puff of dust when it landed.

To what do I owe the honor? the man said, handing off the club and turning to face his guests. He was clean-shaven, with blond hair just beginning to gray swept to the side, and a tailored white suit. It was his eyes that struck Harley, however. They were the blue-green of tropical waters, and they might have seemed calming if not for the rakish tilt of his eyebrows.

Are you Mr. Roth? Harley asked.

His smile was easy, relaxed. In the flesh, he answered. I see you already met Felix. He nodded at Felix, who bowed and left the balcony.

Loyal to a fault, that one, Roth said. Rescued him from the streets of Sinaloagot him a role in a movie I was shooting down there with a friend, and hes been with me ever since.

He cleared his throat, as if sensing he had dwelt on this too long. Then he turned and gestured to the golfing green with the fluidity of a man still in his prime. Would you agents care to join me for a round? We have a standing bet, my friend Ferrero and I, on who can hit the bus first.

The bus? Harley said, straining her eyes as she peered out over the wall. I dont see anything.

Smiling, Roth stepped toward her. Before she realized what he was doing, he had slipped one arm behind her as he leaned into her, pointing into the distance. An exotic fragrance of cardamom and cinnamon reached her nostrils.

Right there, he murmured. She could feel his breath on her ear. Do you see it now?

Harley spotted it, a rectangle of rusted metal no bigger than a hair clip. What a bus was doing all the way out here, however, she had no idea.

Yes, she answered, shifting away from him. Before she could pull away, he released his hold on her and stepped aside. She could still feel the light pressure of his hand where it had touched the small of her back.

Flustered, Harley watched as Callaway, who had gotten his hands on the golf club while she was busy searching for the bus, set his feet and prepared to swing.

Your friend looks like he knows what hes doing, Roth said, undeterred by Harleys withdrawal. He spoke in a low, confidential murmur, as if he and Harley were two close friends who had grown up together and had shared experiences no one else could understand.