He had a point. Hicks was dressed like a drifter. He had been surveilling López, and, because Milton’s assessment had been that the Mexican was likely to be a careful man, they had decided that Hicks would need to blend into the background. To that end, he was wearing a blue woollen hat, a T-shirt that bore the stains of spilt beer and food, and jeans that were ripped at both knees. It was an authentic-looking ensemble.

“Are we ready?” Milton said.

Ziggy grinned. “Ready.”

Hicks nodded. “Ready.”

Chase put the coffee cup down. “Been ready since I got here. Feels like we’ve been arguing with a wooden Indian.”

Ziggy frowned. “What?”

“Burning daylight,” Chase said. “Kicking our heels.”

“Oh,” Ziggy said. “You mean we’ve been wasting time.”

“Damn straight.”

Chase Baxter had a colourful way of speaking, just like his father. The four of them had been together in Amsterdam for just a few days, and Milton could see that the American was already impatient, hungry to get started. Milton could easily understand his desire to get the show on the road, but, on the other hand, there was no profit in pushing on without being sure of the terrain ahead.

Milton stretched out his arm and checked the Rolex on his wrist. “I’m going to leave in fifteen minutes. We don’t know how López will take the approach, so I’ll be happier knowing that you’re close at hand.”

“In case they bundle you into a back room and kneecap you?”

“Thank you, Hicks. But, yes—I’d prefer to avoid that if we can.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

Milton turned to Ziggy. “You’ve got what you need?”

He nodded and tapped his fingers against the lid of one of his laptops. “They’ve got Wi-Fi cameras everywhere, but they bought them cheap from China. All the data is stored in Shenzhen. Took me twenty minutes to get inside, and, once I’d done that, I could do this.”

He turned the machine around so that Milton and the others could see what was on the screen. It had been quartered into equal-sized panes, and each pane showed the feed from a security camera. The footage gave them four distinct views of the interior of a club: the reception area, the bar, the corridor that led to the restrooms, and the VIP area.

“There are another six,” Ziggy said. “I got them all. I’ll be able to see you unless they take you into the back.”

“Good,” Milton said. “Well done.”

“How long do you think this’ll take?” Chase asked.

Milton looked over at him. His impatience was obvious and looked to be curdling into irritation. He stood and motioned outside.

“Come with me.”

* * *

Chase stood and followed Milton out the doors that led to the apartment’s balcony. Milton closed the doors behind them.