“You know that Heiland destroyed his own boat during our initial operation,” Pablo said. “This, of course, upset our planned extraction. Before we could get an appropriate recovery vessel there, the Americans arrived and raised the test model. They were from their civilian group NUMA, though, so we had no trouble getting the device from them at sea. But two of their men managed to follow us to shore in Mexico. And there was also a female investigator involved.”

“Yes, so I hear.”

Surprised at Bolcke’s comment, Pablo cleared his throat. “There was a traffic incident in the streets of Tijuana as we were making our way to the airport. The device was destroyed, and Juan was killed in the collision. I lost my man Eduardo as we made our way out of the situation.”

“Quite the blown opportunity,” Bolcke said, his eyes narrowing. “At least there appear to be no repercussions.”

“All the men I work with are trained mercenaries from Colombia with manufactured identities and no criminal records. There will be no connection to you.”

“A good thing, as the team you sent to Idaho was also killed.”

Pablo stiffened in his chair. “Alteban and Rivera are dead?”

“Yes. They were killed in a ‘traffic incident’ after departing Heiland’s cabin,” Bolcke said, his expression stern. “The female investigator, one Ann Bennett, and the Director of NUMA, whom you apparently met in Tijuana, were responsible. Fortunately, I was able to arrange the recovery of the research plans in Washington.”

Bolcke reached into a desk drawer, retrieved a thick envelope, and slid it across the desk. “You shall enjoy a fine payday, my friend. Your own wages, plus those of your four dead comrades.”

“I cannot accept this,” Pablo said as he reached over and grabbed the envelope.

“No, I pay for the job, not the results. In light of the events, however, I have decided to rescind the bonus I had intended to pay for your good work at the Mountain Pass Mine.”

Pablo nodded, grateful to get his hands on the envelope. “You have always been generous.”

“I will not be so generous should there be any more failings. I presume you are prepared for the next assignment?” He crossed his hands on the desk as he gave Pablo a fixed stare. Pablo avoided the gaze, instead looking at Bolcke’s hands. That’s what gave the man away, the hands. They were thick, gnarled, and blemished by the sun. They weren’t the hands of a man who had spent his life in corporate boardrooms, as Bolcke appeared to be. They were the hands of a man who had spent a lifetime digging rocks.