“Do it,” he says.

The young man manipulates the keyboard and the view tightens in on the house, looking down from above, and Pelayo imagines the possibilities of having several drones like this, perhaps armed with weapons. An avenging angel, overseeing his enemies.

He likes that idea.

Sound crackles from the speakers set next to the computer screen. He can hear a car horn, the sound of wind. The figure, wearing a baseball cap and regular clothes, comes to the front door and knocks.

Casper says, “Could that be the Army captain?”

“It might,” Pelayo says.

There’s another knock on the door. And then, a third.

“Could the house be empty?” Casper asks.

Pelayo says, “Don’t even think of such a thing.”

Then…voices. He can actually hear a voice and—

The figure disappears into the house.

Gunshots.

Pow!

Pow!

Three more rapid gunshots in a row.

Then another one.

Pelayo leans over some more, like he’s now part of the drone, watching everything unfold beneath him.

Two figures emerge from the rear of the house, run across the yard. Ferdinand manipulates the keyboard one more time, and they watch as the two people go into a grove of trees.

A minute later, what looks to be a Jeep drives out and onto a road.

The drone follows the Jeep’s progress.

With pleasure in his voice, Casper says, “The Army captain…she drives a Jeep.”

“So she does,” Pelayo says. “I guess that was the Army captain after all, eh?”

He watches as the Jeep maneuvers its way through some streets and then pulls over.

Pelayo says, “The phone, if you please.”

Casper passes it over to him.

He holds it.

Waits a few minutes.

It rings. He answers.

“Yes?”

The woman’s voice comes through clear and strong.

“Got him,” she says.

Pelayo chuckles.

“I know.”

He puts the phone against his chest so she can’t hear what he says to his crew, for he knows that they are still worried and disturbed by the day’s earlier events, and the fact that one chair in this room is blatantly empty.

With a smile to his crew, Pelayo says, “You see? Sometimes it pays to be merciful.”

CHAPTER 58

SO THE son of a bitch knows already, which doesn’t surprise me that much. Having committed at least a half dozen serious capital crimes in kidnapping and threatening my family, there’s obviously something very big on the line for him, so it stands to reason he’d be keeping track of me.

But he doesn’t realize the mistake he’s made in revealing this information, which now gives me some hard intelligence I didn’t have before, knowing for a fact I’m being tracked.

That’s the thing with civilians. They watch some History Channel documentaries, read a bio of a Navy SEAL or two, along with Sun Tzu, and they think they’re a goddamn strategic genius.

I say, “All right. I’ve got him. What now?”

“Let’s verify you have the right person. Will you describe him?”

I give my silent passenger one good look and say, “Gentleman in his late sixties, early seventies. Well-dressed, well-groomed. White beard and hair. Brown eyes. Wearing a nice suit, no necktie. You want I should ask him his blood type?”