Nita and Kovit made their way toward the conference hotel, following the map on Nita’s phone. They walked north, up a wide cobblestoned pedestrian street full of clean, pricy shops interspersed with bookstores and fast-food chains. There must have been three McDonald’s in just as many blocks. Glass windows and modern blocky buildings mixed with massive stone archways and turn-of-the-century European construction styles. All along the streets, manteros had laid mats on the ground and spread jewelry, wire animals, sandals, belts, and an assortment of other things up for sale.

The echo of currency exchange people calling, “Cambio, cambio, cambio,” mixed with the roar of the nearby roads and the chatter of hundreds of people on the crowded street, many of them exchanging their unstable pesos for dollars and euros, currencies with less fluctuation.

Nita stuck close to Kovit, trying to distance herself as much as possible from the crowds of strangers. She curled her body away each time someone brushed past and clenched her fists at her sides.

She kept her head low, trying to avoid notice. It was only a matter of time before the black market realized she was in Argentina. INHUP had leaked her location before, but she hadn’t traveled with INHUP this time. Did whoever had leaked her information last time have access to flight manifests? Passport control records? She didn’t know.

Her hair fell over her eyes and watched the people around her carefully. She couldn’t let her guard down just because they were in a new city.

Nita and Kovit eventually turned toward the water, crossing a series of massive highways to get to a bridge. The bridge was designed all in white with tall ridges on one side that made it look like a sail floating across the waves. The wooden boards creaked as they walked across, and the sound reminded Nita too much of the groan of the wooden docks in Death Market.

Ultramodern and ultra-expensive, the conference hotel resembled nothing more than a cubed fishbowl. Nita hated buildings like that, they made her feel like she was back in a glass cage again.

The lobby was as plush and modern as the building promised, all circular white couches and pristine white desks. A stairwell on the far side of the lobby led up to the second floor, and pleasant-looking signs were posted in gold at various points, directing people to different rooms.

Nita pulled up her list of major dignitaries attending the conference and showed it to Kovit. She’d weeded through it earlier and picked out the people who seemed important enough that Alberto Tácunan would take notice. “We want one of these men.”

Kovit scrolled through the list, examining the pictures and smiling slightly. “Does it have to be one of these guys, or will any rich middle-aged man do?”

Nita rolled her eyes. “You know they won’t.”