Milton’s heart caught. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he was surprised and there was a moment when he knew it had betrayed him. It was possible that a well-resourced investigation might have been able to dig through the layers of subterfuge that Ziggy had assembled; the legend was only as strong as its weakest link, and a diligent search would have teased out inconsistencies that, when taken as a whole, might peel back the disguise. But Milton hadn’t used his real name—not in Vegas, not in Italy, not in the Netherlands and not here. His identity was classified. Discovering that should have been impossible.

“Surprised?”

There was no point in trying to continue the charade. “A little.”

“The cartel has influential friends,” the man said.

“Apparently so. But you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name—it’s not Eidur, is it?”

“No,” the man said. “My name is Thorsson.”

“What are you? Danish?”

“Icelandic.”

“Special Forces?”

“Once. I was in the SAS. Just like you, Milton. Years ago.”

“And then what? They binned you?”

“No,” he said. “I left.”

“To become a mercenary?”

“No. Not that. Our careers have followed very similar paths. We have much in common.”

“What does that mean? You work for the government?”

“I work for the Group,” Thorsson corrected him.

“No, you don’t. The Group was disbanded.”

“And then put back together again. You didn’t know?”

“I’ve been keeping myself out of the way,” Milton said.

“Yes,” Thorsson replied. “You have. And it would have been better if it had stayed that way.” He spread his arms. “But here we are. It is what it is.”

Milton felt the zip ties against his wrists. They were good and tight. He wondered whether he might be able to engineer one last chance to do what he had come here to do.

“Look, Milton,” Thorsson said. “There’s no point in pretending—you and I both know that there’s no way that you can leave here alive. You know too much. And you’ve made a nuisance of yourself. The cartel wouldn’t allow it. She wouldn’t allow it. She’s very angry.”

“Killing me isn’t going to make her any safer than she is already. The Americans are after her now. Those men who found you in the jungle? They’re SEALs. They won’t just stop, especially after what you did back on the road. I saw—you gunned down a carload of them. You add that to the ambassador and they’ll keep coming and coming and coming until they have her. And you.”

“You know that’s not why she’ll kill you. She’ll kill you because you’ve made her life difficult.”

“So let me talk to her.”

“About what?”

“She’s not interested in how the Americans found her?”

“You led them to the camp. You’ve been working with them.”