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Perez and his team engage the shooters from the Los Zetas Cartel, watched the gunfight rage down the street, watching the gutters fill up with blood. But tonight, they’d been right in the thick of things. The bullets had whizzed over his head while he cowered behind a table, a beautiful Mexican goddess trembling beneath him.
    He glanced over at Monica. She was still smiling, but his own smile had vanished.
    â€œI know,” he said into the phone. “I was scared, too.”
    â€œHow soon can you be here?”
    Monica rocked her bottom back and forth for him. She licked her lips.
    â€œPaul?”
    â€œYeah,” he said, shaking himself. “Yeah, I’m here. Um, I’ll be there soon, okay? Forty minutes maybe.”
    â€œHurry, Paul. Please.”
    â€œI will,” he said.
    He hung up the phone, then looked over at Monica. “Listen,” he said, “I hate to do this, but I have to go. Something’s come up. I have to handle this.” He knew he shouldn’t say too much, but damn was she incredible. “It’s about what happened tonight.”
    â€œWill I see you again?” she asked.
    â€œYes,” he blurted out. “Yes. I’d like that. Can I call you?”
    â€œMay I call you?” she said.
    She stood up, radiantly naked, and took her iPhone from her purse. She walked over to him and put her phone next to his.
    He gave her his number and she dialed it.
    â€œWhat ring tone will you give me, Paul Godwin?”
    He thought for a minute. “Sam Cooke maybe. ‘You Send Me.’ ”
    â€œI do not know it. But I look forward to hearing it.”
    â€œAnd for me? What’ll you use for mine?”
    â€œFor you, I think it shall be Vicente Fernandez. He is always the best. I think I shall choose ‘ Aca Entre Nos .’ ”
    He had to think a moment for the translation. Just between us . Hmmm, not bad, he thought. “I like it,” he said. “Listen, I need to—” He pointed to the shower. “I need to get cleaned up and changed before I talk to the press.”
    â€œYes, certainly. Go ahead. May we leave together, when you’re done? I would like very much for you to hold my hand to my car. The city can be very scary at night.”
    â€œYeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
    â€œMe, too.”
    He went to the bathroom, and right before he closed the door, he saw her standing there, still holding her phone, wearing nothing but a smile, giving him a cute little wave.
    He pulled the door closed, feeling like the king of the world.
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    As the bathroom door closed, Pilar Soledad let the playfulness and the encouraging smile that were the hallmarks of her Monica Rivas disguise fall away.
    Her expression blank, she stared at the door, waiting, listening.
    The shower came on, but she didn’t move until she heard the shower door open and the pattering rhythm of the water change. Then, sure that he was in the shower, she went to her purse and removed the adapter she had secreted away there. She plugged one end into her iPhone and the other into his. His phone was password protected, but that didn’t matter. The software built into her phone broke the four digit code easily enough. Having his phone number already plugged in made the process so much easier.
    Her jail-breaking software completed the rest.
    She watched as the display on her screen recorded the software’s progress. One by one, the Unix-based limitations Apple had built into the phone began to crumble until at last her phone had total access to his iPhone’s operating system. E-mail, calendars, text messages, notepads: everything opened for her inspection.
    These Americans and their toys, she thought. Everything was here. His entire life, everything that mattered to him—and more important, to Senator Rachel Sutton—was right here for her to examine.
    It was almost too easy.
    When the process was