“Sí, Señor.” Sander took the money, got out of the vehicle, and went inside.
“You scared him half to death.”
“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”
“That was nothing compared to the wayyoulooked at me when you first saw me in these clothes.”
“That’s different.”
“How is it different?” There was a note of humor in her voice now.
“He doesn’t get to look at you like that.”
Soft laughter. “I see.”
“Watch him. You’ve got the HUMINT training. If you think he’s going to betray us, let me know.”
“Of course.”
Sander returned five minutes later with two plastic bags of junk food and water, a pair of sunglasses, and a black Leones del Caracas baseball cap. He opened the rear driver’s side door, handed the hat and the sunglasses to Gabriela, and set the food and water on the seat beside her. “I hope you’re a Leones fan,Hermana.”
“Thank you, Sander.” She put on the hat and glasses. “Is that better?”
Dylan looked back over his shoulder. “Definitely.”
They drove through the streets of San Antonio, heading toward the main highway.
“The first roadblock is just ahead.” Sander flipped on his radio, turned it to a station that played old-time Venezuelan music. “Just relax and try to act like we are having fun. It’s going to be okay. You can trust me.”
Gabriela began a light-hearted conversation with him, asking him questions about himself—where he’d gone to school, his favorite soccer team, whether he was married, whether he attended church regularly, where he worked.
She seemed to hang on his every word as if she were interested in even the smallest details of his life. It took Dylan a moment to realize that she was interrogating him, getting him to reveal himself.
Yeah, she was good.
Dylan couldn’t have done it. He didn’t have the patience or the training to make conversation. It was his job to be the hammer, to bring the pain.
Ahead, traffic slowed and then came to a halt, but Sander left his lane and drove down the center of the road straight toward the roadblock, where men in familiar black uniforms checked IDs and searched trunks.
Guachimanes.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Dylan put his right hand near his concealed pistol.
“Don’t worry.” Sander took out some kind of government ID, slowed down, and held it out the open window.
AGuachimánapproached the vehicle, saw the ID—and waved them through.
Dylan exhaled, the roadblock behind them now.
“I told you.” Sander grinned. “With my SEBIN pass, no one will stop us.”
Dylan hoped he was right.
* * *
“They cannot vanishlike mist or turn into birds and fly away!” Luis shouted into Mono’s stupid face. He stated what ought to be obvious. “They are either hiding in the city, waiting for us to give up, or they are trying to reach Colombia. How do we find them? We stop every car on every highway and check every person in every vehicle.”
“Si,Jefe, wehavebeen stopping—”