Suddenly finding one's self in front of a notorious drug lord calls for keeping your cool and a healthy dose of testicular grit. And Rico was about to see if he could manufacture both on short notice. The pot-bellied man with a salt and pepper beard and retreating hairline flashed a slight smile as two larger, muscular men flanked him on both sides.

Shit.

"Trouble with your girl?" Don Mocho said.

"You know how women are." Ricardo shrugged. "One minute they're inviting you to their hotel room and the next they're thinking it might be best if they go home alone."

"Yes, yes," the older man chuckled. "That can happen if you don't know how to convince them."

No thanks. I'll stick with my abuelo's advice: forcing a lady is the game of weak men.

Rico forced a smile. "I'll be sure to remember that."

"Good. Well, it's a shame she left so quickly because my friend Lalo here noticed she'd dropped something back in the house and we wanted to give it back to her. Did you happen to get the name of her hotel before she drove away?"

"Cabañas al Lago. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to head over to my car to find a raincoat before going back inside." He winked.

Don Moncho snapped his fingers and the other henchman produced a 'raincoat,' and handed it to Rico. "It'll save you the trip."

"Thanks. But I'll just grab one from my car. It's nothing personal. I have the same problem when buying shoes—they're size thirteen." Rico gestured to his feet. "Well, you gentlemen have a good night."

The henchman stepped aside to let Rico pass. From the outside, he'd kept things together, but inside, his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest. Still, Ricardo swaggered away with head up. He got into his car, turned on the light and pretended to search through his glove box. Don Moncho and company climbed into a black Hummer and left, heading towards the town.

Rico breathed a sigh of relief.

However, it occurred to him that Don Moncho might not be pleased once he found out Sonia wasn't at that hotel. It would be equally stupid to still be around if and when they came back. But the only thing worse than that would be running into them while trying to skip town. After all, bullets don't respect locked doors. He rubbed his forehead, trying to hatch a solution.

San Rafael. I can go through there.

He could take the long way around. It would set him back by at least an hour, but that was his best card in his hand. Wasting no more time, Rico fired up the engine and went in the opposite direction of Sonia and Don Moncho.

When he made the loop back around to Route 60, Ricardo pulled over to the side of the road near the town of Marinilla and called Sonia. Naturally, she was more than concerned when he explained why he was late. But Rico assured her that he was okay.

Sonia exhaled deeply. "Well, if you're sure you'll be okay, I guess it's only fair to update you on what's happening on my end."

"Shoot."

"Poor choice of words."

"Sorry, it was the first thing that came to mind. Please continue."

"Thank you. Eduardo González, the other driver, has been cleared of all involvement in the theft and subsequent murder of Alvaro Salazar. Video footage surfaced which shows that Eduardo was at a club when the truck was in transit to Bogotá. So barring time travel, teleportation, or aliens, he's off the hook."

"You know I read something online about aliens being involved in this—"

"Please stop talking," she sighed. "Let's focus on the possible. Eduardo mentioned that Alvaro often had drinks at a bar around the corner from the shipping company with someone named Dani. The guys did some more digging and found out that his full name is Danilo Sánchez."

"Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Because he's hosting this year's Miss Universe pageant at his resort in San Andrés."

"Yes, that's right."

"I'm not confident he's our guy due to the fact that it's fairly obvious where he got his money from: Paulina Sierra. In other words, the 'Cartagena Royal Family'."

"I've heard of them."

"Most have. But he's an artist and got rich after the sculptures vanished. Which brings us tomorrow—"

"We're heading to San Andrés."

"Yes. But there's one other thing."

"What?"

"Due to the pageant, I could only get us one hotel room."

I love when Lady Luck throws me a bone.

"I don't snore. Promise."

Sonia laughed. "I suppose that's the most I can ask. Now get your ass back to Medellín and try to get some sleep. We're on the first flight in the morning."

"Of course."

"Call me when you get home, okay?"

"I will."

* * *

The following day, Sonia picked Rico up, and they made their way to the airport. Along the way, Rico weighed the merits of getting some kind of Intravenous tube installed to optimise his coffee drinking. Detective Mendoza shook her head and tried to fight back a smile.

"At this point, I think you're insane," she said.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Genius and insanity walk a blurred line."

"As is your wont." The detective smirked.

Rico smiled. "So, what's our cover for this operation?"

"Well, that depends on you."

"Go on."

"Are you capable of acting like my boyfriend?"

Ricardo almost spit out his coffee.

"My apologies," she replied in a tone dripping with offence. "I didn't realise the idea was so repugnant to you. We can try something else."

"No, it's not that at all. Trust me. I'd be honoured to be your fake boyfriend."

While wishing it was anything but fake.

Sonia cracked a smile. "Only if you're real fake. It has to be believable if we're going to convince Danilo and his-bride-to-be."

"Can do, but only on the condition that you score my performance afterwards."

She giggled. "Alright, we have a deal."

On the bumpy flight, the investigative couple went over all the little details of each other's interests, from hobbies to favourite foods. The pleasant conversation continued smoothly until they arrived at their hotel room.

"That is a single bed," Rico uttered. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought you said there'd be two."

"I did say that. As that's what the booking reference said."

"Interesting."