CHAPTER 10
AS I SIPPED one final gin and tonic on the plane, I ran through my story. I didn’t want to accuse Eduardo of anything, but at the same time, I needed to push him enough to get a genuine reaction when I told him one of the attackers gave my team his name. That was how I’d know whether he was mixed up in this.
The aircraft landed with a gentle bump, shaking me from my thoughts, and after disembarking, I went to find a connecting flight to Cali. The city lay three hundred miles from Bogotà, so flying there was faster than driving. An hour later, I clambered onto a small plane with Nate and seven other passengers for the final leg of the journey.
By the time we’d landed at the snappily named Alfonso Bonilla Aragón International Airport in Palmira, I’d shed several layers of cloth
