Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
After Amé translated Danny’s question, there was a long silence from the mysterious caller. When someone finally spoke, he sounded different from the first. Older, maybe. He didn’t say much, but this time he was perfectly clear.
“No importa.”
And . . .
“Voy a llevar una camisa roja.” I will be wearing a red shirt.
The voice, firmer now: “Ven a nosotros.” Come to us.
Chris had talked with Joe Garrison more than once about how the DEA ran their undercover deals, with Garrison explaining the main concern was always control: controlling the situation, controlling the deal. That was how you best protected the undercover agent. Garrison made it clear they always set up cover teams and never let the bad guys dictate the time and place of a meet, which was a lesson Chris had taken to heart, and why he’d moved them all out to the Far Six in the first place. Now this voice—a voice who claimed he’d be wearing a camisa roja, a red shirt, when they finally did meet—wanted to change the plan again, just as he’d tried to change it with the surprise call late last night, moving the times all around. Now he was demanding America and Fox Uno come to him, but that wasn’t going to happen.
It was never going to happen.
“Is that Gualterio?” Chris asked Amé, but it was Fox Uno who shook his head. “I do not know that man,” he said.
“No, se llega a nosotros,” Chris said, taking the phone from Amé before she had a chance to say anything else. He stumbled a bit with the translation, searching for the words, but he thought he had it right.
He kept it on speaker, repeating himself. Slower, louder. “No, you will come to the place we tell you.” He wanted the voice in the red shirt to understand that if he didn’t come to them, there’d be no meeting at all.
Fox Uno spoke, too. There was fury in his voice, an angry command. He shouted over Chris, and when he spoke fast, loud, it was too much for Chris to follow, but still clear enough—something to the effect of “Stop fucking around.”
He thundered. This was the Fox Uno from Garrison’s folder, and Chris knew that voice—it was Sheriff Ross giving a goddamn order.
Fox Uno finished by telling the voice to do exactly what he was told, and Chris understood that completely.
There was a long, long silence, before the voice spoke again. “De acuerdo, ¿dónde está?” Where are you?
It seemed that negotiations were over. Chris looked over at Danny and Amé, and then at Fox Uno. He stared down at the phone in his hand.
One way or another, it was time.
—