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The Mexican drug cartels preferred the brisk efficiency of two cars or trucks driving in opposite directions, though. Lacking a key to the Suburban, they’d obviously used just their own vehicle.

But it did the job.

***

“We have to dump his body,” Galvin said. “No choice.” He looked around wildly, pointing the weapon. “Can’t involve the cops.” Danny looked around as well. Whoever had done this might still be in the immediate vicinity. He saw no one.

Galvin beckoned him over. Danny moved like a sleepwalker, as if hypnotized. Slowly, like wading through a pond.

The lower half of Alejandro’s body had been dumped on a snowbank a ways down the road. Galvin waved Danny over. Danny followed the broad swath of blood on the ground that had gouted from the man’s dismembered legs and torso.

Wound around his feet and ankles was more steel cable, also attached to a galvanized hook. On the feet were black leather boots. On the legs, dress slacks. Above the belt tumbled loops of glistening viscera.

He said, “Oh, dear God,” and was sick again.

“Do you have gloves?”

Danny shook his head.

“Me neither. Just-” Galvin leaned over and grabbed the steel hook, which was dappled with blood. He tried to lift the ruined body, but it was too heavy. Instead, with concerted effort he dragged it along the ground as if it were a side of beef, toward the cliff road. His mouth was set, his face drawn.

“You’re going to throw it over?” Danny asked.

When Galvin didn’t answer, Danny said, “Why?”

“For the vultures, damn them,” Galvin said.

Danny looked at him. He was gritting his teeth in exertion. “At least it’ll slow down the identification of the body.”

“Someone’s going to see all that blood and the… and call the police.”

“Luckily, it’s snowing. Maybe that’ll cover this up. Buy us some time. You take the other…” Galvin gestured with a nod toward the Suburban, toward the horror that had been his driver’s head and hands and torso. He had gone quickly from a near catatonic to a man firmly in control.

In any other circumstance, Danny would have refused. To cover up a crime was to be implicated. But now he assented without a word. He went to the front of the Suburban and reached down and unhitched the galvanized hook from the bumper.

“Oh, good God,” Galvin said, looking away from the torso. “They carved a Z on him.”

“A Z? What’s that-for?”

But Galvin just shook his head.

***

The shadows cast on the mountains had grown longer and more distinct, midnight blue in the clefts and hollows. The jags and promontories were bathed in amber light. The sun hung low in the sky, a fat orange globe against the deepening blue. Above it, streaks and ribbons and whorls of clouds, charcoal and white, seemed to be lit from within. Opposite the sun the narrow pink smear of alpenglow glimmered over the mountaintops.

It had grown cold.

“We have to get the hell out of here. Get the hell out of Aspen, I mean.”

“Who, all of us?”

“All of us, right. Back to Boston.”

“You think-the women are in danger?”

“Maybe. It’s possible.”

“How are we going to explain it to them? Does your wife…? No, of course she knows.”

“We’ll tell them I have an emergency meeting in Boston that just came up. I have to fly back, and since I’ve got the plane, everyone’s going with me. It’s a bummer we have to cut the weekend short, but they’ll deal.”

Danny nodded. “The girls won’t be happy.”

“Call your girlfriend and tell her to pack up,” Galvin said. “Your stuff, too. And Abby. Tell them we need to leave immediately.”

54

Galvin noticed blood spatters on the front bumper and grille. He pulled out a handkerchief and tried to wipe them away, but couldn’t. The blood had frozen on the metal.

“Shit,” he said. “We have to hose the car down or something. I can’t have blood tying this thing back to me.”

“I saw a car wash back in Carbondale,” Danny said. “You think we’d have time to stop?”

Galvin grimaced. “No, not really. But we don’t have a choice.”

***

After they’d gotten into the Suburban, and Galvin was behind the wheel, he tore open the Velcro closure of the left-hand pocket of his parka and took out his phone.

“Curtis,” he said. “Change in plans. I need the jet fueled up and ready to go in an hour. Can you do that?” A pause. “And file the flight plan. Ninety minutes, then. That’s fine. Thanks.” He disconnected the call without looking at the phone.

Galvin was driving crazily. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. A few times, on the winding narrow road, he nearly slammed into the guardrail.

“Jesus, Tom-slow down.”

Galvin just muttered to himself. The car veered off the side of the road and hit a snowbank, then swerved back onto the road. Danny caught his breath and gripped the door handle for support.

“Holy shit! Let’s get there in one piece.”

Galvin groaned. “Great choice of words.” He sighed in frustration. “We gotta get home, make sure they’re okay. And make sure they hustle.”

Danny waited until Galvin’s driving was less frantic, then he called Lucy.

“What happened to you?” she said. “Where’d you go?”

“For a ride with Tom-listen, Tom needs to get back to Boston right away, which means we have to fly back with him.”

“Huh? Did something happen?”

“An important meeting just came up. An emergency.”

“We can’t stay on, the rest of us?”

“He’s taking the plane.”

“Okay, right. Well, that’s a shame. Baby, are you sure you’re okay? You sound-I don’t know, different, somehow. After that head injury-”

“Just bad reception. I’m fine. We’ll be back soon-maybe half an hour or so. Just-hurry.” And he ended the call.

“There it is,” Galvin said, pointing to a car wash up ahead on the right. Tires squealing, he pulled into the lot. It was open, with no other customers around.

A minute or so later, the Suburban bumped along the conveyor track through the clear vinyl panels and into the tunnel, with Danny and Galvin inside.

Danny interrupted the tense silence. “What happened back there, Tom? This is the second driver of yours to be targeted. That I know of.”

Galvin said nothing for a few seconds. He seemed distracted, but maybe he was just scared. “I told you, they’re not just drivers,” he said finally. “They’re babysitters. Minders planted by the cartel. To watch me-and to watch out for me. Which also makes them convenient targets.”

The car moved through the mitter curtains, hanging flaps of cloth that slapped the car’s exterior, swishing and wriggling back and forth. It crawled along at what seemed an excruciatingly slow pace.

“So who did it? Your bosses, the Sinaloans?”

“No… Remember that Z carved into his… abdomen? Tells me it’s Los Zetas.”

“Zetas? What-?”

“That’s another cartel,” Galvin said. “There’s seven major cartels. Biggest players are Sinaloa-my guys-and Los Zetas. Some people say the Zetas are the most sophisticated, the most dangerous of them all. And that thing with the body and the two cars? That’s a Zeta signature.”

“But why would a rival cartel target your driver?”

He shook his head. He shrugged. “I don’t have any earthly idea,” he said, looking at Danny, fear in his eyes.