“What about the Colombians?” Eight asked. “Are they involved?”

“No. The Americans don’t trust them.”

“Not unreasonable,” Thorsson said. “El Centro owns the police. They wouldn’t let them get her to the airport if they knew. This will have been kept very, very quiet.”

Eight got up. “Do you know when they’re planning on moving her?”

“An FBI Gulfstream is inbound now. Wheels down in two hours. They’ll turn it around, fuel it up and get it ready to head back out again. We suspect that they’ll transfer her to the airport once it’s dark, get her onto the jet, and that’ll be that. The next time she’ll be seen will be in a courtroom in New York, and by then it’ll be too late.”

“We might need more than three of us,” Thorsson suggested.

“Agreed. I sent for reinforcements. Ten and Eleven were already in theatre in Mexico. They’re flying down now. Two got on a plane from Dallas at seven this morning. He’ll be here mid-afternoon. You’ve got a team of six.”

“Better,” Thorsson said, and nodded.

Weaver looked at them, one after another, and saw that they were already considering how they could best achieve the objective that they had been set.

“Do you have the equipment that you need?”

Thorsson nodded in the direction of the second room. Weaver walked over and looked through the open doorway: the room held a small arsenal of weapons and other equipment. He saw M4 rifles and M9 pistols, three Mossberg 12-gauge shotguns, plate carriers with side plates, a crate of flash bangs and thermite grenades. In addition, there were flexicuffs, helmets, CamelBaks, helmet lights, dump pouches, and MBIT radio units. The Group Five quartermaster who had supplied this safe house had gone above and beyond. There was enough to equip a small army here.

“We’re good,” Number One said. “But we’ll need to know how many we’re going up against.”

“They sent two troops of SEALs to get her. She’s been handed over to the FBI and DEA agents. A small number of SEALs are staying behind to assist with security.”

“We need to scout it,” One said.

“I can help with that,” Six said.

She went over to a large plastic case, flicked open the clasps and opened the lid. She took out two long pieces of curved plastic, each around eighty centimetres long, and a more bulbous component with a propeller at one end. It was a drone.

“I thought it might come in useful in the jungle, but it’ll help here, too.”

“Good,” Weaver said.

“What about Smith?” Thorsson said. “You think he’s involved?”

“I don’t know,” Weaver admitted.

“You don’t think it’s a coincidence that he was in the camp at the same time as the Americans hit it?”

“I do,” Weaver said.

“What do we do with him?”