Milton felt hands on his shoulder and he was pulled across the bench seat, getting his legs down just in time to prevent himself from toppling out. He could just see out from where the drawstring had loosened at the bottom, and he saw a dusty and stony surface that then changed to asphalt. He walked on until the hands held him back. He heard the sound of a roller door being opened, and then allowed himself to be pitched forward until he saw the opening of what he guessed to be the rear loading bay of a small truck. He felt hands on both sides of him—two people—and then he was both hauled up and thrown forward at the same time. He landed on his chest and was then pulled forward until he was inside the new vehicle.

He understood that they were transferring him and La Bruja into something that would melt into its environment more easily. Three Land Rovers would stand out in most places, especially if their destination was an urban area. That gave him a little more to go on. Medellín or Bogotá, he assumed. He had heard only American voices so far, with no one who could have been mistaken for a local. That made Bogotá less likely, especially when added to the distance that they would need to travel from Antioquia to there. So, most likely Medellín.

He thought of the transmitter in the sole of his boot. A city would mean that there was cellphone coverage, and that might mean that his location could be tracked. He wondered how much charge was left in the device. What had Ziggy said? Two days? Three days? It was difficult to remember how long ago it was that he had been picked up at the hotel.

“Get your filthy gringo hands off me!”

Milton turned in the direction of the voice. He couldn’t see through the hood, but he recognised La Bruja’s voice. She was indignant, her voice taut with anger. He heard grunts of exertion as others hoisted themselves into the back of the truck and then the thud of their rubber-soled boots as they made their way to empty spots along the wall where, Milton guessed, they would wait out whatever part of the journey came next.

“What’s going on?” Milton said. “Where are we going?”

“We’re halfway there,” a male voice said. “You two need to shut your mouths and keep them shut. You don’t, and I’ll jab you so full of barbiturates that you’ll be out for a week. You understand?”

“I’ll be quiet,” Milton said.

“¿Entiendes?”

“Yes,” La Bruja said coldly, making a point of answering in English. “I understand.”

The door rattled as it was pulled shut, and then there came a metallic thunk as the lock was engaged. The engine started and the truck rolled out.

Milton sat quietly and waited.

70