Page 93 of Four Cards Exposed

I’m counting on it.

They were a nice pair of Ray-bans—nobody in their right mind would trash them, which was why they were a great place for a tracking device.

James hooked his hand on the waistband of his boxer shorts. “Should I keep going?”

Mendoza shook his head angrily. “Comprobad toda la ropa.”

James stood still as the thugs first shook out his clothes, then pressed each item to a boxy device. Finally, they proclaimed everything clean.

“Get dressed.”

Though he bristled at the tone, James didn’t need to be told twice. He was back in his clothes, his boots still unlaced but on his feet, in the space of thirty seconds.

“What do you care more about, Special Agent Ramsay? Your ego, or Milena—sorry, I’m still not used to calling her Susan.”

James didn’t hesitate. “She’s what I came for.”

“Good. I hope, for her sake, that you’re telling the truth,” Mendoza said, his tone formal. “Now listen. I’m only going to say this once. If you so much as look at me or my men the wrong way, I’ll make sure she knows this was your doing before I slit her throat.”

James fought back bile.

“Put these on. We need to get this show on the road, as you Americans would say.” Mendoza threw a pair of handcuffs at him. James put them on but didn’t tighten them overly.

“Don’t mess with me,” Mendoza said, tightening the cuffs until James gritted his teeth, then double-locking the cuffs.

With what he hoped was a weary glance, James let himself be pushed towards the car.

Idiots.

They’d cuffed his hands in front of him rather than behind his back.

Mario and Luigi were both too short to reach his head, so they pulled on him from his shoulder to get him into the SUV. It smelled of sweat, dust, and leather. It was a pungent combination.

“No es tan duro el gringo,” Luigi said, taking the driver’s seat.

“Espera a que vea lo que le espera,” Mario said.

James didn’t even try to translate. He knew nothing those men said would matter to him. He kept his gaze on the window, paying close attention to every curve and every shift in direction. He needed to know how far they went.

Mendoza sat beside him, a gun digging painfully into James’s lower back.

“Just in case you get any ideas.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Susan.” He paused for a second. “You will let her go, won’t you, Mendoza? You’ve got me now. You know, none of this was her fault.”

“Shut up, or I might decide to shoot you now,” Mendoza threatened, baring his very white teeth.

James relaxed against the seat, looking out the window. Dusk was falling fast. The jungle outside looked dark and menacing. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to see two feet out in front of him. Not that it mattered. He’d been counting the minutes and counting the turns. It’d be good to be able to make their way back towards the airfield, if it came to that.

His hands clenched in his handcuffs. He forced himself to relax, knowing Miguel would draw on any weakness.

And then the jungle gave way to a large man-made clearing with a round walled structure in the middle of it. Dim yellow lights provided the only illumination.

“You haven’t paid your electricity bill, Mendoza?” James drawled.

“In my business, it pays not to be in the spotlight.” He cocked his head sideways. “I thought you, of all people, would understand and respect that.”

“This is a lab, then?”