"But if you had accidentally killed me in the process, that would have been an acceptable outcome."

"We weren't really trying to kill you," Ambo said. He avoided my gaze. "We asked the Bolivian gunners to aim to miss. Just scare you enough to show us where the bomb was. Where the rest of them went."

"Kate," I said. Sat up straight. "Where did the rest of them go? Is she with them? You follow her too?"

"Lost her and monks in La Paz," Hak Po said. "Disappeared off map. Most impressive. Still not know how did this."

I said, "A family man named Fritz."

"Sorry?"

I pitched the keys to our abandoned SUV into the air. They fell to the wooden floor with a clatter. Look, Manuel, here's all that's left.

"World's highest ski resort," I said. "a.s.suming we're all still alive when this is over, you need to buy the former owner a new jeep." I turned to Ambo. "So you have no idea where Kate is?"

Hak Po leaned forward. "No say that."

"So you do know." My chest tightened. "Where is she? Is she safe?" I looked at both of them. "What's going on?"

Ambo bridged his fingers, rested his forehead on his thumbs. "Remember Sergio Salazar?"

"I've heard the name."

"Flew back to Lima. Had a little chat with him last night."

"A private one-on-one," I suggested.

"Something like that." Ambo grimaced. "You know, it's hard to interrogate a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t. Torture doesn't really work."

"Yuck," I said. "What did you do?"

"Put him on a morphine drip. Finally cracked this morning. Just a couple of hours ago."

I laughed. "What did you find out?"

"Sergio has been working for Victor all along. It was his idea I send Pitt to the ashram." A bitter laugh. "Victor played me like a champ. Played you too."

"How's that?"

"Kate told Victor about you. Victor already knew about Pitt from Sergio. Victor had Sergio suggest you for the Hak Po job. Put you and Pitt together, build a guilt complex in my son...now Victor's got access to our supercomputers and a highly trained DSU operative to run interference for him. Which, I might add, Pitt did very successfully, considering I trained him." A wry grin. "And you're the missing link. Pitt used that postcard of yours to get in touch with Victor. The one Kate sent you."

"So the whole thing's my fault," I said. "Anything else you want to blame me for?"

"Don't be like that, Horace."

"Like what?"

"Look, Victor played you both. Pitt never even realized."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

Ambo let out a puff of breath. "Anyway, the information Sergio gave you last week was a deliberate red herring. He wanted us running around after you instead of focusing on Pitt."

"So did he tell you where they are?" I asked.

"Sergio knows these mountains as well as anyone. He was one of the original surveyors who planned the Anglo-Dutch mine. We finally got the name out of him. Mount Testimony."

"Testimony?"

"Cerro Testimonio in Spanish."

I gestured at the laptop, where the image of Pitt had resumed its clockwork back and forth. "Where Pitt is now."

"Katherine too."

I studied the volcano's summit. "Where? I don't see her."

Ambo flapped his great hand at me. "They're guarding Pitt's flank. At the bottom of the mountain, watching the path that leads to the top. It's the logical thing for them to do."

"But when the volcano blows, they'll all die."

"There are worse things than death." He looked at me. "You know that as well as she does."

"So what are you going to do?" I asked.

"Why we need you, Horse." Hak Po's grin stretched rubber-band tight.

Hands out: halt: stop: red light. "Need me? For what?"

Ambo pa.s.sed a hand across his forehead. "I need you to go up there and talk to him. To Pitt."

"h.e.l.lo! The monks are guarding the path. They'll kill me if I try. You just said so yourself."

"Katherine is with them. You think she'd let them kill you?"

I thought about that.

"OK," I said. "But even if I made it up the mountain, what's the point? So I can commit suicide with him? All he's got to do is press the b.u.t.ton. Wherever the b.u.t.ton is." I waved my hand at the screen. "Then everything goes boom."

"Exactly," Hak Po said, and bowed his head.

"Exactly what?"

"What Hak Po means," Ambo said, "is that Pitt's been up there for the last four hours. We watched him lay the charges. The bomb is ready. Why hasn't he pressed the b.u.t.ton? What is he waiting for?"

I shrugged. "For a signal. Who knows."

Ambo's index finger bayoneted my forehead. "He's waiting for you."

His fingernail dug into the skin just below my scalp. I swallowed. "What makes you think that?"

The bayonet withdrew. He plucked a postcard from his jacket, dropped it in my lap. On the front was a picture of Mt. Illimani, the extinct volcano that towers over La Paz. I flipped the card over. It was speckled with Ambo's blood. There was no "Dear Dad," no signature, just the words: Horse was right about us both.

"What did you tell him about me?" Ambo asked.

A private room.

Cocaine and pisco spread on the table. Brown-skinned girls in matching blue lingerie writhed on our laps.

"Best not grow old," I said, my finger moist.

"Why's that, bro?" He tickled the girl on his lap until she contorted in a ma.s.s of giggles.

I reached around a warm t.i.ttie for my gla.s.s of pisco. I drank long and slow. "Wind up like your dad."

"How's that?"

"An old man with a heavy conscience."

"Nothing," I said. I tossed the postcard to the side. "Why don't you ram a missile down his throat? You just said you've been watching him for hours."

"Not as simple as that," Ambo said. "Suppose we hit the payload? Suppose we set off the chain reaction? We can't take that chance."

"Or send in commandoes in a helicopter? I got to think up everything for you guys?"

"Pitt sees us coming he'll blow the mountain before we even get close."

I swore. Why was I getting so worked up about this? Here I had my chance: one little red b.u.t.ton. One push and the world and the pain go away.

"Then why didn't you take him out in the desert before he even got to the mountain?" I asked. "Why didn't you guard all the likely volcanoes in the region? You could have picked him up anytime."

"First of all, we only found out about all this from Sergio three hours ago. The full extent of the conspiracy. Second, there are twenty active and semi-active volcanoes in the Salar. Seventeen have weak spots Victor could exploit. The Salar covers thousands of square kilometers. Finding one man in that s.p.a.ce, even with all our satellites and drones looking for him, is a needle in a haystack. If it weren't for Sergio, we wouldn't have found him at all."

"But why me? What about his wife? Go get Janine up here. Have her talk to him."

Ambo hung his head. "Janine has disappeared. The kids too. No note. Nothing. For all we know, she's part of the conspiracy."

Something nagged at me. What was it? Images flashed through my brain. La Paz, the witches' market, Aurora, that woman, the photo.

The motorcyclist.

"Or maybe," I suggested, "you knew where he was all along, and did nothing."

Instead of the violence I'd hoped for, Ambo sighed and lowered his chin into his palm. "Are you a father, Horace?" he asked. He ran a fingertip across his lower lip.

"That's a low blow," I said.

"Why?" he asked. "Because it's true? Because you're a failure of a father, just like me?"

"You knew where he was all along."

"He was playing a double game. After we had you released from jail, Pitt got in touch. Said he was following you, thought you were part of the conspiracy." Ambo held out his hands, let invisible sand trickle through his fingers. "We thought he was on our side. We were wrong."

I stood, turned my back on him. Clenched my fist, desperately looking for someone to punch, something to destroy. Through a narrow slit of gla.s.s I could see the j.a.panese tourists smoking, wrapped in blankets, hot mugs steaming in their fists. The Frenchwoman said something and the Dutch backpacker in the llama earflaps laughed, mouth wide, shoulders thrown back.

Aurora spotted me. Waved. I ducked sideways. Smacked my head against the wooden wall.

I am such an idiot. All around you people are dying, you yourself want to die, have nothing to live for, your ex-wife is a suicidal environmental terrorist, and all you can think about is this woman. Aurora.

What would she say if she knew? If I told her? My best friend killed your boyfriend. Thanks anyway for the s.h.a.g in the jeep. I closed my eyes.

"I am dying," Ambo said. Blood pulsed from the wound on his shoulder.

"I can see that."

"No." He looked away. "Cancer. Six months max. Pancreatic. No treatment. Lots of pain."

"No less than you deserve," I said.

He nodded. "Time to reflect on my life."

"Time to relive your sins over and over again, replay them in your mind until you go mad, until the only thing you crave is death?"

He pressed his chin to his chest. "I believe in G.o.d, Horace. I believe in America. But that doesn't mean I don't have doubts. Have I always done the right thing? Am I a bad man?"

"Well," I said. "Let's see. No. And yes."

Ambo nodded his head, each downward movement drooping lower than the last. "I loved my wife and now she's dead. Because of me." He looked up at me suddenly. "But what if you could end the guilt?" he whispered. "What if, in one good deed, you could wipe the slate clean? Unburden your soul of its weight, and start over?"

For a time I had thought it was possible. It's what had sent me on this wild-goose chase in the first place. I had closed that door on Isla del Sol when I knelt over a blond-haired corpse. To rip open that wound once more-to be tortured by false hope-it was more than I could bear.

"If only," I said. "If only G.o.d existed, and trees were made of chocolate, and the sea was made of beer. And not that c.r.a.p American dog p.i.s.s, but decent brown ale." I stood. "But it's not, is it."

"Please." Ambo's outstretched arm was pathetic. "You're the only one who can do this. Anyone else goes up that mountain, Pitt will blow it up."

"So let him," I said. "He deserves it. So do you. So do I. So do we all." I held on to the wooden door handle, like a drowning man groping for a life preserver. "Besides," I said. "It's not my fight. If the world is doomed to end this way, then let it. The human race has made its bed. Now let it lie in it."

Hak Po spoke. "Chinese state pay much your help. Much you like. Never work again."

I laughed, let go of the door handle. "You think this is about money?"

He took a small plastic bag from his jacket pocket. "All cocaine you want. Lifetime supply. No charge."

It was tempting. Never have to worry about nightmares again. Spend the rest of my life awake. Able to control the demons that lurked just beneath the surface of the world. I reached for the bag. He drew back his hand.

"Get high and stay that way," I said.

"Exactly. Please." He held it out to me again. "Take. Sniff snort." He tapped a finger against his nostril, grinned.