Milton sipped his coffee. He was about to answer when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He fished it out, put his finger to his lips to ask for quiet, and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Smith?”

“Yes?”

“I have a message for you from Señor López.”

“I’m listening.”

“He says that he would like to get to know you a little better.”

“Okay,” Milton said. “That’s fine. Where and when?”

“He would like you to travel to Colombia.”

Milton paused. “What?”

“Specifically, to Medellín.”

“Can I ask why?”

“He would like to show you some hospitality.”

Milton was elated—an invitation was what he wanted most of all—but he knew that they would expect him to protest. “That really isn’t necessary. Why? What for? He doesn’t trust me?”

“He would like you to meet some of his colleagues.”

“I don’t know,” Milton said.

“It is non-negotiable if you would like to work with him.”

“When?”

“Señor López has business there tomorrow. He suggests you should leave today so that you can meet him then. Call this number when you reach Medellín.”

The line went dead. Milton put the phone down on the table and stared at it, aware that the others were looking at him.

“Well?” Hicks said.

Milton leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. “López wants to meet.”

“Where? The club?”

“No,” Milton said. “Not the club. Medellín.”

“You made an impression,” Hicks said.

“It looks that way.”

“This is good, right?” Chase said. “They wouldn’t want you out there if they weren’t serious.”

“No,” Milton said. “Probably not.”

“On the other hand,” Hicks said, “it’ll be easier to get rid of you there than it would be here.”

“That’s also true,” Milton said.

Chase looked as if he was about to speak but, instead, he bit his lip.

“Ziggy,” Milton said, “could you book me a ticket on the first flight out?”

39

Milton would not ordinarily have chosen to fly business, but he knew that there was a very good chance that he would be observed while he was in transit, so he made a concession to appearances and turned left when he boarded the KLM 737 from Schiphol to Medellín, via Barcelona and Bogotá. He was taken to his seat and offered a glass of champagne, which he politely declined in favour of an orange juice and a bowl of warmed nuts.

He sat down, clipped the belt around his waist and took out his phone. He dialled, and after a moment, Hicks answered.

“You were followed,” he said.

“Go on,” he said quietly.

“Leather jacket. He tried very hard to be discreet, but it was obvious.”