“Chase Baxter,” the driver replied. He sounded American.

“Who are you?” Hicks asked her in return.

“Special Agent Ellie Flowers,” she said.

“You’re a federal agent?”

“That’s right.” Her shoulder bumped against the side of the door as Baxter aimed the car around a sharp bend in the road. She winced in pain and indicated her shackled wrists. “Could you get these off me?”

Hicks took a butterfly knife from his pocket and released the blade with a flick of his wrist. She swivelled around so that he could reach her hands, and he sliced through the plastic, freeing her hands.

“Thanks,” she said as she rolled her stiff shoulders and massaged the sore skin. “You want to tell me how you two are wrapped up in this?”

“A friend of ours is in the back of that van,” Hicks said.

“John Milton?”

He glanced over at her. “You know him?”

“A little.”

“You want to tell me how?”

“You want to tell me?”

“I’ve known him for a couple of years. We’ve worked together.”

“He knew my old man,” Baxter said. “Look out—hold on.”

They swung a hard left, coming off the main northbound drag and then crossing the Medellín River by way of the Puenta Madre Laura. The two vehicles they were following were half a mile ahead. They were driving fast.

“Milton,” Ellie said. “You’re working with him now?”

“Yes,” Hicks said.

“How?”

“We’re his backup.”

“Right,” she said.

She was going to add that they weren’t backing him up all that well, given what had just happened, but she let it pass. Hicks, though, saw what she was thinking.

“We lost him when he first got here. They took him for a meeting outside the city and we couldn’t follow.”

“They took him into the jungle,” she said. “That’s where we picked him up.” She was unwilling to go much further than that with two men she had never met before.

“The place you had him, before you drove out—what was that, a safe house?”

“That’s right,” she said, and then—realising that they knew more than they should—she added, “How did you know he was there?”

“Later,” Hicks said. “Your turn first. What’s the FBI doing here?”

“I’m sorry,” Ellie said. “I can’t talk about that.”

“Look, lady,” Baxter said. “This has to be a two-way thing. I can always pull over and ask you nicely to get out. We’re doing you a favour here.”

Ellie grimaced. She didn’t know either of them. She didn’t really know Milton, either, and, although she thought he had told her the truth, what if he was hiding something? On the other hand, if she didn’t get their help now, she was going to lose La Bruja. The operation—what was left of it, anyway—would be a bust.