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And then, at last, they were on the road that led to Hamilton’s house.

The plan was simple.

Simple plans almost always worked best.

They’d park half a mile from the house, wait until midnight—less than an hour away. They’d lure out the dog or dogs, drop sleeping-tablet laced lumps of chopped beef over the fence, scale the wall, cut the razor wire…

And then play things as they went.

At five minutes to twelve they left the SUV, approached the walled house by creeping through the scrub on the large, empty lot that adjoined it. When they reached the walls, Cam gave a soft whistle. Immediately they heard the padding hurry of animal feet.

“One dog,” Alex whispered. “Big. A rotter, maybe, or a German shepherd.”

Cam nodded, waited until the dog was at the wall, then hurled the bait across.

They heard snuffling, then munching. Then, after what seemed a very long time, the sound of an animal lying down, followed by its unmistakable snores.

“Let’s move out,” Matthew whispered.

Up the wall. Snip the razor wire. Drop noiselessly onto the soft grass on the other side. Hand signals were all they needed to communicate; they’d worked together many times in the past. Each knew the others’ minds as well as his own.

There were half a dozen vehicles parked in front of the house.

Matthew narrowed his eyes. They’d hoped everyone would be asleep at this hour, but this looked as if a meeting were taking place. That made the odds tougher, but it also meant they might catch lots of fish.

He’d blanked his mind to thoughts of Mia. If he thought about her, he knew he’d be unable to function.

The brothers moved on his signal. Scaled the walls of the house. Entered through a window on the second floor. Checked all the rooms, found them empty. Began creeping down the service stairs, to the kitchen.

Alex clapped a hand, then a strip of duct tape over the cook’s mouth. Cam secured her hands and feet with cord and whispered that they weren’t going to hurt her if she behaved herself.

They slipped into the pantry. Listened at the door to the dining room, where a late meal was clearly in progress. Heard at least half a dozen voices, lots of laughter, lots of ribald jokes.

Matthew recognized Hamilton’s voice…

And one other.

His skin crawled.

It was the voice of the man who’d gotten away after murdering Alita, the voice he’d heard in his nightmares all these years.

He took a deep breath. Signaled to Cam and Alex.

Weapons at the ready, the Knights burst into the dining room.

Six men, seated at the big dining room table. Six bodyguards, standing along one wall. The surprise was total. Then one of the bodyguards reached into his waistband.

It was over in seconds. Seconds that felt like hours, as they always did in times like this.

When it was over, three of the bodyguards were dead. Three were wounded. Of the men who’d sat at the table, two lay motionless on the floor. Four others still sat in their chairs, hands flat on the table top, faces white.

They were, indeed, big fish.

Juan Maria-Rosario, the head of the cartel.

Colonel Douglas Hamilton.

One of the biggest North American cocaine distributors.