Kane shoved upward with his hands, and his feet went smoothly under him in a practiced move. He ran low, muscles warm and fluid, sending him across the open feet of desert to the entrance of the alley Javier had gone through. Smells assailed him: urine and alcohol mixed with cooked meat. He slipped inside the dark shadow of the alley and instantly became part of it. He moved, shrouded in silence, knife in hand, as he approached the street.

The scent of death was strong. Dim light spilled a foot into the alley from the street. He crouched low and carefully searched out the darker shadows. A body lay crumpled against the base of the building, in the darkest spot. Kane crouched beside him. An automatic weapon was still in his hand, and the body was warm. His neck was broken. Javier had encountered an enemy and quietly disposed of him. There was no communication device, which meant either he wasn’t part of a guard detail or Javier had taken the device.

Sighing, Kane rose and stepped to the very edge of the alley where he could scan the buildings across the street. Seeing through a building always took a toll. Javier had to be in position to cover him. He waited, counting the seconds.

Men with guns seemed to be in every doorway, patrolled the rooftops and along the long balcony of the second story. They were out in force, and few people dared to take to the streets. He spotted some teens throwing knives and trying to look tough at the end of the street, closest to the desert. Javier was distinctive. He swaggered with his cool confidence, showing them all how it was done and giving advice. It seemed impossible that he could insert himself into a group on the lookout for strangers, but Javier always managed—and out in the open.