What ever it took, he was going to make sure Castillo did not walk away from this. The bastard had used up nine lives three times over. The pudgy rogue agent expected that Castillo would use a knife and come in close to the target. The man had been famous for his knife work.

As soon as they were close enough to speak quietly, Gina blurted out, “9:00 tonight, the Dalai Lama has a private meeting with Martin Castillo.”

A wave of cold horror chilled Sonny.

Ricardo Tubbs stepped through the door, and hesitated for one shocked instant at the sight of Freidman tied to the chair. He stepped into the room toward the older doctor and in that moment Reese reached around the door and struck with another pinprick. The detective collapsed like a dropped sack of potatoes. Reese caught him before he hit the floor.

Sonny turned onto one of the seaside streets Rico remembered so well. You could hear the ocean and smell it, but not really see it this time of day. The street was so empty they could have been the last people in the world trying to go nowhere in a hurry. Just an endless line of streetlights into the distance. He remembered a lot of nights when they seemed to be driving like this.

The Testarossa passed under a tractor trailer with a shattering explosion of windshield glass, as the top of the frame hit the trailer bottom and warped. The second trailer was a few inches higher and the car was well past when he heard the explosive sound of the Javelin being torn apart.

Faint ripples of light reflected from a small garden pool into the screened-porch on the back of Chata’s house. It gave the impression if not the reality of coolness. Chata and Castillo both sat facing the small nearly invisible garden with the steady song of frogs and night insects as background music. They sat in meditative silence for a long time, drinking cold tea.

“Come out of the shadows, I cannot help you if I cannot see you.”

A faint slither of cloth against wood answered her, and she turned slowly to gaze at the apparition standing just out of the darkest shadows in silence.

Rain slashed Miami in torrents that night. Squalls swept in from the gulf tearing across the city leaving shiny wet darkness reflecting neon in watery magical flares. In other places it was the hot slick wet darkness of blood on black vinyl. Martin made his way through Miami like an escaped panther.

“He’s a national security threat, if the Cowboy broke him, that means a major assassination is scheduled, you know how this works. He’s also the only one of the cowboys horses we’ve ever taken before the event. I’m going to keep it that way.”

Sonny stopped dead in his tracks, and Marco had to stop short to keep from bumping into him. The look in the older man’s eyes left him no doubt. Those greenish blue eyes were hard as gun-metal. When Crockett spoke, his voice was soft and very level.