“That’s right,” he lied. “And you think she wouldn’t be interested in what I know? I’ve been involved in this for months. The meeting with López in Amsterdam. Getting Jackson out of the way so that he would take my proposal more seriously. Coming here, then getting them to take me into the jungle. Are you seriously saying that she wouldn’t be interested in everything I know? Who I’m working for. What they’ll do next. Everything.”

The bluff was as convincing as he could make it. Thorsson narrowed his eyes a little, but, before he could answer, the door to the room opened for a second time. La Bruja stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light. Milton straightened his back a little. He felt the itch of incipient violence that he remembered so well.

Thorsson stepped to the side so that she could see Milton without obstruction.

“Señor Milton,” she said.

Milton did not reply.

She angled her head to Thorsson. “What has he said?”

“He says that he has been working for the Americans.”

“And do we believe him?”

Thorsson shrugged. “I’d say it’s likely.”

“Our friends don’t know anything about it, though?”

“No,” Thorsson said. “Apparently not. But that’s not necessarily surprising. The FBI and DEA have partitioned their operation very well. We had no warning of it.”

La Bruja took another step into the room. She was alongside Thorsson now, close to where Milton was sat on the floor. He needed her to come a little closer.

“How did you lead the Americans to us?” she said.

“They were following me,” he said.

“And how would they do that?”

“They were watching,” he said, pointing his shackled hands up to the ceiling.

She turned to Thorsson. “Is it possible?”

“Of course. A drone or a satellite. That’s why we need to get you away from here.”

“We are fine,” she said. “A cowardly attack in the jungle is one thing. In Medellín? When we know that they might come?” She scoffed. “No, I do not think so. They would have to involve the government, and, if they did that, we would know. They should have shot me in the jungle. They had their opportunity then.” She took another step closer to Milton. “You could have done it, perhaps. I know your history now. You are an assassin.” She gestured behind her to Thorsson. “Like him.”

“I could have killed you,” Milton bluffed. “In the jungle—it would’ve been easy enough. But they don’t want that. They want you in chains in a New York courtroom.”

“Of course they do. They want their show trial. They want to show the world how they are winning the war on drugs.” She laughed. “Pathetic.”