“So it was a test.”

Hererra separated an orange segment from the sphere. “If you want to think of it that way.”

“How else should I think of it?” Essai was clearly upset. “You don’t trust me.”

“Estevan isn’t here.” Hererra popped the orange segment into his mouth, then in a blur of motion pressed the knife blade against Essai’s throat. He pointed westward with his other hand. “Out there are the Pillars of Hercules. Legend says there is a phrase engraved on them: Non plus ultra.”

“ ‘Nothing further beyond,’ ” Essai said.

“Unless you explain yourself, Essai, there is nothing further for you beyond this point.”

“You have no cause for either anger or concern.” Essai’s head was tilted back in a vain attempt to get away from the blade. He could feel the cool metal pressing against the pulse in his neck, and he fought the urge to swallow, a sure sign of his fear. “You sent me to bring Estevan Vegas back. But in Colombia I got a better idea. In Colombia I met Jason Bourne.”

Hererra’s eyes opened wide. “You sent Bourne to fetch Estevan?”

“You know Bourne personally, Don Fernando. Is there anyone better for the task? He’s certainly a better choice than I am, especially once I discovered that the Domna had readied its attack on Vegas.”

Hererra’s eyes darkened. He put the knife away, but he was far from relaxed. “What did you tell Bourne?”

“Not the truth, if that’s what you’re worried about. I told him that Vegas is a weak link in the Domna chain.”

“That much is true.”

“Lies require a certain amount of truth in order to be believable.”

Hererra stared at the incomplete sphere of the orange and shook his head. “It’s never wise to lie to Bourne.”

“He’ll never find out.”

Hererra’s eyes flicked up. “How do you know? Estevan—”

“Vegas isn’t going to say a word to Bourne. He has no reason to and every reason not to.”

Hererra appeared to consider this for a moment. “I still don’t like it. You’ll have to contact Bourne, tell him to bring Estevan and the woman here. It’s too dangerous.”

“There are tickets waiting for him in his name at a regional airport. When he gets to Seville, there will be a packet with the rest of the details.” Essai shrugged. “It’s the best I could do, under the circumstances.”

“You should have manipulated the circumstances better,” Hererra said sourly. “You had Corellos in your pocket. What more did you need?”

“Corellos is about as stable as a boat taking on water. The man’s a walking time bomb.”

“All this may be true,” Hererra said, “but it doesn’t change the fact that Corellos is still useful to me.”

“Owning Aguardiente Bancorp isn’t enough for you? It’s one of the largest financial institutions outside the United States.”

Hererra looked up into the clattering fronds beyond which the sky shone as blue as his eyes. “Aguardiente is my day job.” He broke off another orange segment. “I need to be engaged at night.” His gaze, lowering like the sun, settled on Essai’s face. “You should understand that better than most.”

Popping the segment into his mouth, he chewed reflectively for a moment, savoring the sweet-tart juice, then swallowed the pulp. “But this isn’t about me, Essai. It’s about Bourne.”

He broke off a third segment, but instead of eating it he handed it to Essai. Then he waited, patient as a r

Essai sat with the segment balanced on the fingertips of his right hand, staring as if it were a sculpture he had just bought, not something to eat. “You know what he did to me.”

“Invading your house is not something one forgives easily.”

Essai was still staring at the orange segment. “Or at all.”

Hererra grunted and put aside what was left of the orange. “Now I’ll tell you a secret, Essai. Bourne invaded my house, too.”

Essai’s eyes snapped up to meet his, and Hererra nodded.

“It’s true. He came to the house in Seville with a woman named Tracy Atherton, posing as—” He waved a hand dismissively. “What matters is that it was as much an invasion as his stealing into your home.”

“And what did you do?”

“I?” Hererra appeared surprised by the question. “I did nothing. Bourne was doing what he had to do. He had no reason to trust me and every reason not to.” He allowed his echo of Essai’s own phrase to sink in before he continued. “There was nothing to do. It’s all part of the territory you and I and he inhabit.”

Essai frowned. “You think I’ve taken this too personally.”

“I think you need to gain perspective.”

“You ignore the differences between the Muslim and the Western worlds.”

“It’s the Western world you’ve chosen to live in, Essai. You can’t have it both ways.”

“He deserves—”

“You’re using him to bring Estevan here; that’s enough. I know this man better than you do. It would be a mistake to push your luck.” Hererra pointed to the orange segment. “Don’t disappoint me.”

After a moment, Essai pushed the fruit between his lips and bit down.

Come, sit by the fire.” Estevan Vegas patted the raised stone hearth. “You’ll be dry in minutes.”

Bourne stepped across the kitchen and sat beside the older man. Rosie was at the stove, seeing to dinner. Night had come on with a jaguar’s rush. Lashings of warm yellow light from the gas lamps Vegas had lit kept the dark from drifting in through the windows. The storm had abated, but the sky was still thick with filthy clouds. Outside, the blackness was absolute, it was as if they had been transported to the bottom of a well.

“You were expecting Jalal Essai?”

Vegas raised his eyebrows. “Is Essai in Colombia? I have no knowledge of that.”

“Then these elaborate preparations—”

Vegas’s eyes slid away. “For… others.”

Bourne took the older man’s right hand in his, stretched out the forefinger. A pale circle of flesh bore witness to the ring that had been recently discarded. Vegas jerked his hand away as if Bourne had drawn it into the fire.

“I know about the Domna,” Bourne said.

“I have no idea—”

“They are my enemies as well as yours.”

Vegas rose abruptly. “This was a mistake.” He backed away from Bourne. “As soon as your clothes are dry you will leave.”

Rosie turned from the oven. “Estevan, where are your manners? You can’t send this man out into the cold and dark.”

“Rosie, stay out of this.” Vegas’s gaze remained on Bourne. “You don’t know—”

“I know what it means to be a decent human being, mi amor.”

She could have said more, but she didn’t. Instead, her eyes willed Vegas’s to meet her own. It was there the argument was decided.

“Fine,” he grunted. “But first thing tomorrow morning.”

Rosie’s smile burst across her face like sunlight. “Yes, mi amor. As you wish.” She pulled the roast out of the oven. “Now, por favor, offer our guest a drink before the poor man dies of thirst.”

Bourne carried his cachaça—a fiery liquor made from fermented sugarcane—and stood by a window. Behind him, Rosie was making the final preparations for dinner and Vegas was adding another place setting at the table.

He saw only his face in ghostly reflection, which was fitting, he thought. I’m only a shadow, moving through a world of shadows. His thoughts turned to Jalal Essai. Was he still working for the Domna? He had certainly been moving contraband through Suarez and his FARC cadre. Suarez was a member of the Domna, but he was also a political creature. FARC had been Suarez’s life, fighting against the Colombian government. So was Essai using him for his own purposes? But what could those purposes be? Was the story about his daughter a fabrication, as well? If so, then his plan for a murderous revenge against the Domna was also a lie. Bourne took a sip of the liquor. It was possible that Essai’s grudge was against Benjamin El-Arian personally and not the Domna collectively. That scenario put an entirely new spin on the situation. If it had any basis in fact. The truth was, Jalal Essai was a complete mystery. Neither his actions nor his motives were clear.