He showered and dressed, took a moment to compose himself, and, finally ready, he opened the door and followed the corridor back to the front of the house.

* * *

Hector del Pozo was having his breakfast on the veranda. Milton sat down opposite the Mexican.

“Did you sleep well?” del Pozo asked him.

“Seriously?”

Del Pozo looked at him quizzically.

“I had an unpleasant visit.”

“Ah,” del Pozo said. “Yes, of course. Apologies. But we have to be thorough. Some might think that your story might be a little too good to be true. The coincidence that you should appear just as Señor Jackson had his legal difficulties…”

“I told you—again and again and again—that has nothing to do with me.”

“Of course. But we need to be sure.”

“The big guy—who is he?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Big guy. Blond. Looks like Thor.”

“Eidur? He concerns himself with security for the cartel.”

“What is he? A mercenary?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

Milton wondered whether del Pozo would expect his indignation, but decided that there was no point in dragging it out. If they wanted to maintain the charade of civility, that was fine. He could do that.

“Next time you have a question, please, just ask me. There’s no need to rough me up.”

Milton looked out at the desert beyond the casa and the mountains that prickled the horizon. Del Pozo’s daughter was cantering an Arabian horse around the paddock and, as Milton watched, she nudged it in line with a brush fence and held on as it cleared it with distance to spare.

A member of the household staff came over and asked what Milton would like for breakfast. Del Pozo had a bowl of fruit and a mug of coffee on the table, and Milton said that he would like the same. The woman gave a nod and went over to a serving area where a buffet had been set out.

“So,” del Pozo said once the woman was gone, “shall we continue our discussion from dinner?”

“Have you thought about it?”

“I have.”

“And?

“We might be open to a relationship.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. And my terms?”

Del Pozo spread his hands on the table. “They are acceptable to us.”

“Excellent,” Milton said.

“The arrangement is agreed in principle.”

“Meaning?”

“You have proposed a significant relationship. Señor Jackson was an important distributor for the cartel. Replacing him—replacing the income that he generated, and the presence in your market—will not be a simple matter.” Milton started to protest, but del Pozo stalled him with a raised hand. “Perhaps you can do it. Perhaps. But before we are prepared to consider what a relationship with you might look like, there are certain formalities that must be taken care of.”

“Like what?”

“You will travel into the jungle.”

Milton paused. “What? Why?”