The scent of stale gasoline and dry dust assaulted Mateo Rossi’s senses as he killed the engine of the old jeep they had stolen at the base of the mountain. Before him, an abandoned communications post stood like a giant skeleton in the middle of the arid, hidden valley.
The building was surrounded by rusted barbed-wire fences, but don't be fooled. The sophisticated satellite dishes protruding from the roof proved this place was a nerve center for activities far darker than a simple amateur radio station.
This was the territory of the Los Buitres Cartel. A pack of information scavengers who lived off the scraps of Julian Vane’s secrets.
Mateo glanced at Elena in the passenger seat. The woman’s face was still pale, her lips cracked from dehydration and the biting Andean cold they had ju
