“The FBI and the DEA are involved in an operation against the cartel. You read the papers? The ambassador got killed. You might have heard about it. We captured the cartel’s senior leadership and we were taking her across town to the airport. The idea was that we would be on our way back to the States around about now. And then—well, I guess you saw what happened next.”

“I was right behind you when you got hit,” Hicks said.

“I heard shooting,” Ellie said.

“They shot up the other car. I’m not sure—maybe someone pulled a weapon—but the guys you had in there are all dead.”

“Shit,” she said. “Shit.” She took a moment, staring ahead at the white van and the Dodge and wondering what she should do. “Look—do you have a phone? I need to call for backup.”

Chase hit the brakes before Hicks could answer. “They’re going right,” he said. “It’s going to be pretty easy to make us if we follow.”

Ellie looked out of the windshield. They were in the hills of the city, heading north towards Santa Cruz and Villa Niza and Acevedo. The districts around here were poorer than their neighbours to the south, populated by the underclass in shanties that were similar to the favelas of Brazil. This was cartel territory. They were running back to El Centro’s stronghold.

“Keep going straight,” Hicks said.

“What?” Ellie said. “No! You’ve got to follow.”

“They’ll see us,” Hicks said. “And, if that happens, there’s a good chance we won’t get to drive out again. We’ve got to be patient.”

“Shit,” she said. “We’ll lose them.”

“No, we won’t. Chase—give me the phone.”

Chase reached for a phone on the passenger seat and handed it back to Hicks.

“Ziggy? You there?”

A voice sounded from the speaker. “I’m here.”

“You get all that?”

“Loud and clear.”

“You still got him?”

“I do. He’s on Calle 105. Near the—” he paused “—the Parroquia La Transfiguración.”

“The Church of the Transfiguration,” Chase said, translating. He reached back for the phone and Hicks handed it to him. “Can you drop a pin on it.”

“Sure.” Ziggy paused. “Done.”

Chase glanced down at the screen. “I got it. You can still track this phone, right?”

“There’s coverage where you are. Should be fine.”

Ellie gestured to the phone. “You can follow Milton?”

“He has a tracker in his shoe,” Hicks explained.

Chase pulled over at the side of the road. There was a series of tiered streets to their right as the favela ascended the steep hill all the way to the top. They were outside a store that offered SERVICIO ELECTRICO by way of a hand-painted black-on-yellow sign. The store was penned in on both sides by tall, narrow houses. Alleyways snaked between them, vertiginous passageways that wound their way up.

“What are you doing?” Hicks said.