The hotel was in El Poblado and, with minimal traffic, he arrived in twenty minutes. The district was bright and airy, with greenery everywhere and many of the walls decorated with vibrant street art. A huge red and yellow parrot had been painted on the side of a brewery and, as Milton looked up at a high-rise, he saw an enormous mural of a gorilla looking down at him. The area was evidently something of a nocturnal destination, and they passed bars where music thumped out into the street, and restaurants with diners eating al fresco on busy patios.

“We are here,” the driver said as he swung into the forecourt of the hotel.

He parked up by the entrance and charged a fare that he had obviously inflated in the hope that the gringo wouldn’t realise. Milton did notice, but wasn’t inclined to quibble. He paid him and stepped outside. A bellboy offered to take his carry-on, but Milton politely declined, instead asking him where he could check in.

He glanced back and saw that the Nissan had pulled up behind the cab.

The cartel knew where he was.

Milton was fine with that.

41

Milton unlocked the door and went into the hotel room. It was pleasant: two queen beds, a functional bathroom, a bureau and a television. It was clean and tidy, and the air conditioning was effective. It would suit him very well.

He put his case on the bed and started to unpack when the telephone next to the bed started to ring.

Milton sat down and picked it up. “Hello?”

“Señor Smith?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“A car will come to pick you up tomorrow morning. Be outside the hotel at eight o’clock.”

“Where am I going?”

There was no response.

“Hello? Are you there?”

There was a click as the call disconnected, and then the steady hum of the dialling tone.

* * *

Milton left his room, checking that the corridor was unoccupied, and, once he was certain that he was not being observed, he made his way to the elevators. At the last moment, he decided to take the stairs and climbed to the fifth floor.

He went to room 505 and knocked. Ziggy opened the door and stood aside so that Milton could come in. The room was the same as the one that Milton had been given, although the view from the window was more impressive. Hicks’s suitcase was on the bed, and Ziggy had one of his laptops set up on the desk. Chase was sitting with his back against the headboard of the second bed.

“You’re a popular man,” Hicks said.

“You see the guy with the Hawaiian shirt?”

“He’s downstairs in the lobby with a friend,” Hicks said. “You see the man in the baseball cap?”

“I didn’t.”

“Checked in next to you. The two of them had a chat when you went up to your room.”