The discussion was not an easy one to have. Ellie was completely honest, holding nothing back. She apologised that she hadn’t mentioned the operation in the jungle to him, and did not think to insult his intelligence with anything other than the unvarnished truth: that her superiors in Washington did not trust the Colombian government, the military or the police. She explained how they had been developing their own leads for months and, in the immediate aftermath of the assassination of the ambassador, they had redoubled their efforts to find La Bruja. Valencia listened intently, a frown developing as he realised how thoroughly he had been kept in the dark.

“And that is it?” he said when she was finished.

“Yes, sir. It is.”

“You and your colleagues come here, to my country—to my city—and you lie to me for weeks. You tell me that the hunt for La Bruja continues, when, all along, you know where she is?”

“We didn’t know where she was,” Ellie corrected him, then wished that she hadn’t.

“But you had intelligence that you kept from us,” the colonel snapped, banging his palm against the desk. “The briefings we had, the plans you said you were working on—those were all based on lies?”

Ellie looked down at her hands.

Valencia laughed, but it was a laugh that had no humour in it. “You Americans,” he said. “You think you can do whatever you like.”

“If it’s any consolation,” she began, and then, when he snorted derisively, she added, “and, of course, I know it won’t be, but I’ve always been very uncomfortable with the decision to keep you out of the loop. I’m speaking entirely out of line here, but there should have been a Colombian component to the operation.”

“A ‘component’? This is my country, Ellie. She is a Colombian citizen, and she has killed hundreds of other Colombian citizens. This should have been a Colombian operation—exclusively—without any interference from the FBI or the DEA or the CIA or whoever it is in your country that is responsible for this. She should be detained by the Colombian military and tried in a Colombian court. It is an insult—surely you can see that?”

“I can, Colonel. I can. And all I can do is apologise.”

He let her stew for a moment, watching her shrewdly.

“But something happened, yes? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need my help.”

“That’s right, sir. There’s been an incident.”

He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “You will give me the truth?”

“I will.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

“Please,” he said, nodding that she should continue. “Go on.”