Ellie did as she was told and waited as the soldier pulled back the seat opposite her and lowered himself into it. Valencia was in his late middle age, although he could have passed for someone ten years younger. He was of medium height and build, with a wiry compactness that suggested that he spent time in the gym. His skin was tanned, and his black hair was perfectly coiffed, slicked back with product that made it glisten in the light. His uniform was immaculate, as ever; the olive-green jacket and trousers were beautifully pressed, the shirt was as white as ice, and the tie—in a nod, perhaps, to his education in England—was worn in a Windsor knot. He had been made available by the Colombians as their primary military contact. Ellie had reviewed his file before their first meeting last week. He was the national director of the Colombian drug enforcement unit and had made his name with a number of impressive coups against the cartels.

She could have asked him how he knew that she was in town, but it was unnecessary. She knew that she would have been picked up as soon as she disembarked from the plane. The Colombians had operatives at the airport, and she had never made any secret of her identity and whom she worked for. A phone call would have been placed, hotel records checked, and voila—as if by magic, here he was.

Valencia took off his cap and laid it on the table so that the brocade faced toward her. “You didn’t tell me that you were coming.”

“It was a last-minute call,” she said. At least that was true; she suspected that everything else she would say would be a lie.

“Can I ask why?”

“We’re bringing more agents down,” she said.

“Really?”

“The president wants a result. He doesn’t think we’re making progress fast enough.”

Valencia shrugged. “Then he expects a miracle. An operation against El Centro will take months, if it is possible at all. If it was easy, it would have been done by now.”

“Politicians,” she said. “I know you have to deal with the same expectations.”

Ellie wondered whether he could see through her obfuscation. She knew that she couldn’t tell him about CHILD and the intelligence that had been promised.

He nodded in assent. “Do you need anything while you are here?”

“I’m good,” she said. “But thanks.”

“And you will tell me if you are able to develop anything?”

She clenched her fist under the tablecloth. “Of course,” she said. “Likewise?”

He gave a deep nod. She knew he was as full of it as she was, but it was part of the dance that they each had to play.

“Excellent,” he said. “It is good to see you again, Ellie. If you need anything—anything at all—then, please, you only need to ask.”

“Thank you, Colonel. I will.”