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Instead of searching for Io or Fuentes, Cal Baggnell was pulled to take a check-in. He got it. They were limited and sometimes it was necessary to double up on assignments. This was beyond a simple inconvenience, though. If something happened to his Wild Thing…

He paused inside the doorway of the bar, and as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, he scanned El Taller .

The mercenary hangout was packed for a Sunday evening.

Contracts on the government side had been expiring with no renewals, and mercs were getting edgy.

With a little luck, he’d be in and out before any fights started, but it was late enough to make that a coin flip.

Maybe this break in his search for Io would be good.

Focusing on something else for five minutes might clear his thoughts and give him ideas for new places to look for her.

But alarm bells were going off in his head, and the longer he went without a hint about where his woman was, the louder they shrieked.

Cal went to the bar, bought a bottle of beer, and looked for Lurch. He found him at the corner table the team preferred to sit at.

“Dude, what time did you get here to grab prime real estate?” Cal asked as he took a seat to Lurch’s left and put his back against the second wall.

“You don’t want to know. Why are you here, Baggs? I thought Ski was coming.”

With his baby face, Lurch looked as if he should be at a frat party. Instead, he was undercover as a small-time gunrunner and trying to make inroads into Jorge Torres, an international arms dealer and death merchant. His blond hair was more messed up than usual, and he appeared tense.

“I thought he was, too. What’s going on?” Cal asked.

“Almost nothing,” Lurch said. There was a note of frustration in his voice.

“Torres and his men are stonewalling me. I can’t even get an entry-level minion to talk.

In the meantime, Vargas is getting impatient.

He wants that fucking high-tech rifle and he wants it yesterday.

His men are becoming more determined to round me up and issue warnings. ”

“His war with his rival drug lord must be heating up again.”

Lurch drove both hands through his hair, explaining why it looked so messy. “I think Bianchi might become a problem for us, too.”

“Why?”

“Because now his men are trying to bring me in for a conversation. Everyone wants the M4 replacement, but Torres doesn’t want to discuss it. Figure that one out.”

Shrugging, Cal reached for the beer in front of him and took a swig. “I’ve given up trying to suss out these players. They’ve got agendas and priorities that are mysteries to me. Is it always like this?” Lurch had been working covert ops for a few years.

“No,” he shook his head, and lowered his voice further as he said, “This is different. Somehow, we ended up with enough players to field a team and then there’s that fucking treasure becoming more entangled with the arms. Everyone wants it, and that’s not an exaggeration. Just ask my Fireball.”

He nodded. Lurch’s woman had been kidnapped and used as a pawn against him. Cal had been part of the rescue team that went in and got her out. When Lurch said everyone wanted the treasure, that was no lie.

“You still think we should use the treasure to get to Torres?”

Lurch frowned. “We know he’s after it. If he’s not biting on the arms, maybe we can get him to bite on something else.”

“BD didn’t like that idea very much when you brought it up.”

“I know.” The sound of a bottle breaking stopped the conversation. The bar went silent for a moment, and they both looked until they found the source. “Fuck,” Lurch muttered.

One man held a knife, and the other merc wielded the jagged glass of his beer bottle as a weapon.

Cal was a medic. He was used to patching people up.

But not only did he not have his bag, he was undercover as a mercenary who wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about two men slicing each other up.

The bar’s bouncers arrived en masse and herded the combatants outside.

More mercs followed. This was a spectator sport in Trujillo, and wagers would be made on who won.

“Anything else I need to pass along?” Cal asked to get his mind off of what was happening. What he wasn’t able to fix.

“Yeah. The rebel rejects are up and running in small bands. At least a pair of those groups would like to even the score with me over Ramirez.”

“At least a pair?”

Lurch gave another shrug. “I’ve had run-ins with two cells. There might be more. I guess I’ll find out eventually.”

Cal’s gaze went to the door as men filed in. The fight must be over. It was instinct to reach for his medical bag, but of course, it wasn’t there. He curled his hand into a fist and fought off the urge to go outside and check on the condition of the two combatants.

“You’re taking being hunted in stride.”

“You get used to it. It’s when it endangers others that it becomes an issue.” Lurch’s expression darkened. Cal figured he was thinking about his Fireball and how much risk she’d faced because of Lurch’s role.

The Fireball. An idea occurred to Cal. Lurch’s woman worked as a contractor for the Paladin League. “Did the Fireball ever mention someone named Fuentes?”

Lurch’s muscles tightened. “Why do you ask?”

After a hesitation, Cal gave a quick briefing on the Wizard, his Pollita, her missing twin, and the situation.

He left out his personal relationship with Io.

That was nobody else’s business. “Archer sent the twin to look for Fuentes. BD thinks she might have stumbled into the arms dealing. Whatever happened, the Pollita rushed down here to save her. Oz is keeping her out of trouble while I search.”

Lurch studied him. At last, his teammate relaxed. “Before my Fireball left for the States, we discussed all the different factions after the Lost Treasure of Trujillo. She wanted to remind me who to watch out for. It’s a lengthy list, but Fuentes was mentioned.”

“Did she tell you anything else about Fuentes?” Cal tried not to give away how much the answer meant to him.

“You mean beyond the fact that the man is a mystery?” Lurch’s lips curved, but there wasn’t any humor in the expression. “He operates out of Trujillo, but I don’t know how much that helps you. Archer would know the most. BD has his number.”

“Either BD doesn’t want to call him, or Archer isn’t sharing any intel. I have nothing but the name.”

There was a lull in the conversation, but Cal didn’t prod.

At last, Lurch said, “Yeah. Archer didn’t fill in his team about Fuentes or other intel they should have known, like the fact that KW located a piece from the treasure in the convent.

I’m not sure how much you could trust anything the man did pass along.

For sure you couldn’t count on it being complete.

” He paused, scowled, and added, “About Fuentes, my Fireball didn’t know much and most of what she told me was guesswork from the rumors she heard.

Her theory is that the man is methodically researching the treasure. ”

Cal nodded, but it wasn’t very helpful.

“Not what you were hoping for?” Lurch didn’t wait for an answer.

“If you want to find Fuentes, I’d look for clues to the location of the treasure.

My Fireball didn’t have any proof, but she believes there’s a map and that Fuentes knows it exists.

She believes he’s beaten her team to some of the archives and thinks the man will stop at nothing to reach the treasure first. It appears to be common knowledge that the Paladin League is hunting for it.

If the woman you’re searching for crossed paths with Fuentes, the sooner you find her, the better. ”

The last place Archer wished to be on a Sunday evening was his office. At times, it was tempting to bring the papers home and work from there, but despite his precautions, the security at his residence wasn’t nearly as robust as at Paladin League headquarters.

His cryptographer’s report interested Archer enough to drive in to read it immediately instead of waiting for the morning.

Nyx Templeton was correct. There was a map to the treasure.

Her conjecture was borne out by the code deciphered in the journal that she’d brought with her from Puerto Jardin to Los Angeles.

It seemed Mother Bonifacia Emilia, the first Mother Superior of La Convento de Madres Fieles, had quite a talent for encryption.

Leaning back in his chair, Archer stared out at the lights of the city.

He tried to put himself in the place of the British ship’s captain who’d stolen the treasure.

The man would have been desperate, knowing the Spanish authorities were closing in on him and his first mate.

He wouldn’t want to be captured with the map in his possession.

But giving it to Mother Bonifacia Emilia?

That’s what Archer couldn’t understand. Granted, she had brought food and water and had generally been sympathetic to them.

It seemed the Reverend Mother wasn’t a fan of the Spanish occupation and was a closet supporter of the rebellion taking place in 1820.

Archer shook his head. There were religious relics included in the Treasure of Trujillo. At the very least, he imagined she would have wanted them returned to the church. From all accounts, the woman was devoted to her faith.

Turning back to his desk, Archer read through the report again.

The facts hadn’t changed. According to the code in Mother Bonifacia Emilia’s diary, the captain had given her the treasure map and she’d hidden it.

Where? That wasn’t revealed in her diary.

It was possible that even with the encryption, she hadn’t trusted that the authorities wouldn’t decipher her words.

His thoughts returned to the one thing he couldn’t comprehend. Why did the captain give that map to the nun? He could have concealed it in the convent himself. That was where he and his first mate were hiding when they were recaptured.

Not having the answer to a question this large bothered him.

It could sway the interpretation of the intel or open new avenues of investigation.

And there might be no solution to be found.

Not over two hundred years after the fact.

Everyone involved was long dead, paperwork destroyed or buried in archives and forgotten.

Francesca and Ellis continued the hunt for documentation. They’d discovered nothing relevant since Nyx had returned with the journal.

And those other papers. The research by Diego Ramos.

Standing, Archer went to his secure vault and retrieved the documents. Nyx had gone through them and believed Ramos had discovered something. He was less convinced, but she had been correct about the map.

Placing them on his desk, he resumed his seat and read through the papers again. If Diego Ramos had stumbled across intel, the originals were in the possession of a drug lord. Sending Francesca and Ellis in to locate them was not an option. Not when he still had one missing employee to worry about.

Where was Iona Desmond? Why had she disappeared? And most important of all, would the Special Forces team in Puerto Jardin be able to find and rescue her?

If she wasn’t already dead.

Fuentes stood on the balcony and looked at the ballroom below. The Presidential Palace was alive with music and crowds of partygoers. Everyone appeared to be having fun. Traveling to Rio Blanco, though, hadn’t been on the agenda for the week and it was damnably inconvenient.

Still, when one received a summons to attend a Cardozo soiree, it was wise to accept. The president of Puerto Jardin was known for rewarding his favorites and punishing those who displeased him. No one with sense wished to be in the latter group.

A waiter with a tray of champagne flutes stopped and Fuentes took a glass. It was an excuse to stand in one place. An excuse not to mingle.

Fuentes had gone through the receiving line, greeted Cardozo and his wife, socialized with the Puerto Jardinese elite, and wanted to leave. A glance at the time said it was too early. It would be at least another hour before it would be acceptable to say goodbyes and exit.

Even then, returning to Trujillo tonight was out of the question. The drive through the mountains was far too treacherous in the dark.

Senora Adames, champagne flute in one hand, her evening bag in the other, stopped and began conversing. The Senora was tall, bedecked in jewels, and a grande dame who liked to gossip. She might know something helpful about the hunt for the treasure.

The blonde woman, drugged and locked in a room on the upper level of the hacienda, came to mind. She’d remain unconscious until Fuentes returned.

At least she should.