“The maid. She’s very young.”

He wanted me to come up with a solution before I’d even assessed what the problem was.

“Ok, I’ll send her away for a week and when she comes back you give her a raise and we’ll keep an eye on her to see if she keeps her mouth shut. Got it?”

Tinco nodded. I yawned and headed for the bank of elevators.

Usually I showered and went to bed now and slept until two or three in the afternoon, when the older, tradition-bound Peruvians were getting up from their siestas. And like I say, it had been a tedious, tiring night and I was looking forward to some shut-eye.

Hopefully, this wouldn’t take too long.

I pressed the P button and the lift sped me up to the penthouses on the fiftieth floor. It was a boast of the hotel that it was one of the tallest buildings in South America but even the express elevators seemed to take forever.

I took the time to adjust my appearance in the mirror.

My hair was in the crew cut of an Israeli commando, dirty blond, but recently I’d noticed a couple of gray strands around the ears. I hadn’t had a chance to shave, and I looked a little rougher than usual, though the Peruvian sun had done much to erase the obvious Paddy pallor in my features. I’d do.

The elevator doors clicked.

I checked guns one and two, hitched down the bottom of my trousers, drank the rest of my coffee. I turned left and strolled toward room LY.

The sound of fighting coming down the hall. No, not fighting, someone smashing things up.

So he hadn’t got himself exhausted just yet.

I hastened my pace.

Nice up here. Plush golden carpets, paintings of the Andes and Indian women in bowler hats. Fresh flowers, views up and down the foggy coast.

I turned the corner. There was a maid I didn’t know and Tony, one of my boys, standing patiently at the stateroom’s entrance. Tony smiled at me and jerked his thumb through the door.