The turn-off for the airport came and went, and the convoy swung right and continued towards Candilejas and then La Victoria. It was an easy tail until they turned off the highway on the approach to El Cebadero. Hicks knew immediately that he was going to have to make a decision.

“What do we have off this exit?” he asked.

Chase looked at the satnav. “It runs due north,” he said. “There’s a village and then nothing much.”

Hicks let the car slow as the Escalade and the Mercedes angled off the highway to the off-ramp.

“Too exposed?”

“Not worth the risk,” Hicks said. “We follow them off, that Mercedes is going to wonder what we’re still doing behind them. Maybe not right away, but eventually they’re going to figure us out.” He shook his head. “We have to call it off.”

“Shit,” Chase said.

He put his foot back on the pedal and drove past the off-ramp. He looked across at the junction. The road that the convoy had taken was narrow, with barely enough room for two cars to pass. He had made the right call.

“Get Ziggy.”

Chase placed the call.

“Where are you?”

“In the sticks,” Hicks said. “Coming up to La Victoria. You still got him?”

“No. Lost the signal five miles outside the city.”

Hicks looked to the right, into the foothills and then the mountains beyond.

Shit was right.

Milton was on his own.

46

They drove north. Milton watched through the windows as they climbed up into the mountains.

“Where are we going?”

It was the third time that Milton had asked, and the third time that he did not receive a reply. He decided not to press. The man in the passenger seat was big, with blond hair and fair skin that suggested that he might not be Latino. He kept his attention on the road for the most part, but Milton caught him looking back in the mirror on occasion and saw that he had vivid blue eyes. The driver was smaller than the blond man, with a nervous tic that pulsed in his neck. His black hair was lank, greasy fronds falling over his collar, and dandruff was scattered across his shoulder. Neither man spoke and, after a while, the passenger reached over for the radio and turned the dial. Vapid pop music played.