Page 2 of Rogue Voice

He gave the driver the address of the hotel and leaned back in the seat, placing the backpack with his laptop between his legs. The taxi smelled faintly ofempanada, and as tired as Rogue was, his stomach seemed to wake up. He hadn’t eaten a goodempanadain years. He sighed. That, at least, was something he was looking forward to.

“First time in Colombia?” the taxi driver asked, in passable English. “¿Primera vez?”

“Yes,” Rogue lied, replying in English.

“Turista?” The taxi driver asked, pointing at the camera around Rogue’s neck. In case Rogue didn’t get it, he mimed taking a photograph.

Rogue, who’d much prefer the man’s hands go back to the steering wheel, nodded. “Beautiful country,” he said.

On cue, the man replied the same thing every other Colombian taxi driver had always said to him. “It is. If only our politicians …”

Rogue nodded noncommittally. He wasn’t about to get into politics with this fine gentleman.

He looked out the window, relaxing for the first time since the DEA and Interpol agents had shown up. The dice had been cast, and there wasn’t much he could do now except wait.

One possibility was that his cover would remain in place even after all this time. In principle, Cruz should never have found out that there was anything wrong with the impenetrable encryption software Rogue had designed to enable him to run his entire operation from a laptop.

In principle.

But, even then, Cruz had had friends in high places. It wasn’t inconceivable that he could have learned who Rogue had really been working for.

In which case, he’ll kill me on sight.

The thought didn’t bother him unduly. Rogue didn’t particularly want to die, but he knew there were things much worse than death, and if he could go cleanly, avoiding those, he’d die a happy man.

The taxi braked hard, slamming Rogue’s body forward.

“Eh,señor…” the driver began. His hands went over his head in what looked like a practiced move.

Outside, a car and two motorcycles blocked the road. Two hooded figures stepped out of the car. The two men on the motorcycles stayed on, their feet planted firmly on the ground.

Rogue focused on the weapons pointed in his direction. He recognized two Belgian-made FN Five-seveN pistols, informally known as “cop killers” for their ability to penetrate bullet-proof vests. The men on the motorcycles looked altogether too comfortable with the AR-15 semiautomatic rifles in their hands.

The wheels turned in Rogue’s mind. Four years earlier, when he’d infiltrated Cruz’s group, the drug lord had not had access to such weapons.

Something has changed.

One man took a step forward, using the rifle in his hand to motion Rogue out of the car.

Rogue hadn’t expected it to be this quick. He’d been expecting to spend one or two days at the hotel, at least. Warningbells rang in his head. Cruz must have had access to the flight manifest.

“¿Señor?” The taxi driver’s voice shook.

“It’s okay,” Rogue told him. He didn’t want to cause the man any problems. “No se preocupe. No pasa nada.”

The rifle pointed straight at his chest. If he pressed the trigger, there was no way he would miss.

Rogue realized he’d lost sight of the fourth man an instant before his knees were kicked from behind. He allowed himself to fall to his knees, took a deep breath, and forced himself to stay still as a thick burlap sack that reeked of raw onions was placed over his head. The smell made him want to vomit.

His hands were still free. He could raise one of them and set off the alarm—bring Slate, who was likely no more than a few cars behind, and end this now.

But Rogue wouldn’t do that. He hadn’t been shot on sight, and that had to mean something. It meant there was a chance that his cover was still intact. So he didn’t fight, even as his hands were pulled back behind him and tied with what felt like rough twine.

Let’s see where this takes us.

The first place it took him to was the trunk of a car, when two of the men grabbed him by the armpits and unceremoniously threw him inside.Just before the lid closed, he heard another car speed off.The taxi driver.

Rogue wondered where his backpack would end up. Not that it mattered. He could access anything on his laptop from any device.

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