“The bitch finally came through with his home address. The bastard lives in Palermo on the Avenida Santa Fe.”

Paz leapt to his feet. “At fucking last. Good work, Alonso. So, what’s the plan to take him out?”

* * *

Richard Franklin was enjoying dinner with a couple of his senior management team at his favourite seafood restaurant in the Bay Area. His personal wealth had increased by over fifty million dollars in the last few hours. The share price for the corporation was soaring and earlier that morning had hit an all-time high. Ever since his son had secured the Republican nomination, the share price had risen every day. It was almost as if the two were inextricably linked by an invisible thread. The incoming text on his mobile displayed a number that instantly set off an alarm bell. The message only contained three words and was in Spanish. It simply said Call me, Richard.

Franklin instantly made his excuses, left the restaurant, and walked down onto the marina. He stared across the bay at Uncle Sam’s Devil’s Island, better known to tourists as Alcatraz, and pulled out his mobile. He looked up the text and hit the callback icon to speak to his mother. Braun had regained her usual composure and methodically took her son through the events that had played out earlier that night. Her short-term memory was truly remarkable and she recited the lengthy exchanges with Vargas, word for word. Franklin was clearly stunned by this unexpected turn of events and a surge of disbelief and anger raced through his mind. Somehow, his instincts for control and order kicked in and he managed to keep his rage subdued while he replied to his mother.

“Firstly, I will arrange for the immediate removal of the guard’s body. We will dump it somewhere downtown and make it look like a mugging that went wrong. Now, I have some questions for you. What was the name of the man who accompanied Vargas? Did Vargas actually say he still had the original items in his possession? And, most importantly, did he indicate what he planned to do with them?”

Eva Braun’s body may have been ninety-nine years old but her brain was as sharp as ever and she relished the intense questioning from her son. It made her feel alive and relevant.

“Richard, he hardly spoke, but I think he was an American. Vargas never addressed him by his name. As for the items, all I know for sure is what I saw on his phone. He didn’t actually say what he planned to do but clearly he is coming after you.”

“Mother, can you describe the other man to me?”

Braun shut her eyes and allowed her mind to conjure up a clear image of the American. By the time she had completed a detailed description of his features, Franklin had no doubt that she had just had an encounter with Lieutenant Troy Hembury.

* * *