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wet dog and patchouli inside, and the seats had no seat belts. The dashboard looked like a mobile Catholic church: pictures of the Virgin Mary, rosaries hanging from the rearview window, several crucified Jesuses, and, to Len’s amusement, lit candles and incense.
    They drove out of the city and into the mountains. The vehicle’s poor suspension, combined with the switchback mountain roads and the ups and downs in altitude, increased Len’s nausea, and twice he had to ask the driver to pull over so he could vomit out the door. Slowly the mountains gave way to low-lying coastal jungle. Cresting a final hill, the rainforest canopy opened up, and Len saw the vibrantly blue ocean. The van pulled up to a dock on the beach, where a speedboat was waiting for them. After tossing Len and his luggage in, the men piloted the boat to an island that Len judged was about five miles off the coast. Around midday they puttered past a breakwater into a small marina on the island. It appeared to be a private harbor, containing a big white yacht and other smaller watercraft. A man carrying an AK-47 came up to the dock and tied the boat down. Len and the men got out. Len surveyed the place. Beyond the marina there was a huge concrete wall surrounding some kind of structure. Along the wall at various intervals were spotlights and armed guards. A wrought-iron gate opened automatically and they all started walking. A roundabout driveway circled a fountain. Inside the wall was an enormous house, a Spanish colonial–style mansion. The men led Len inside the house, and there inside the foyer was Octavia.
    “Daddy!” she squealed.
    “Octavia! Thank God!” Len picked her up and gave her a long, long hug. She looked healthy, which was a huge relief.
    “Daddy! Daddy, guess what? Guess what! Guess what! This house has a swimming pool and games and there are lizards everywhere! And their tails come off when you catch them and then the tails wriggle around like worms. Isn’t that cool? And in the morning we eat fruit and then we go to the beach. Come see! Come see!”
    “OK! I can’t wait to see!” Len had never felt such relief. His little girl was OK, and it was the first time he’d seen her in a month. “Hey, where’s Mommy?”
    “Oh, Mr. Salva—Salva—Salvatierra made her sit in the room with the door closed because she had bad behavior,” Octavia said. “She was yelling too much. I think she’s in time-out. This is Mr. Salva—Salvatierra’s house. He has a mustache. He’s nice. He has a doggy! Daddy, do we have to go back to Pittsburgh?”
    “I don’t know,” Len said.
    “Señor Savitz?” a man’s voice called out.
    Len looked up. A man in his sixties with a white mustache and wearing a tan guayabera was standing on the stairs.
    “Yes?”
    “Hello. I am Jose Salvatierra. Welcome to my home. Please let me show you around. Pedro, please take Mr. Savitz’s bag to his room.”
    A man who was apparently Pedro came out of nowhere and took Len’s bag. Len didn’t want to be shown around, he wanted to take his daughter and escape. But until he figured out how to make that possible, he figured he should try to appear cooperative. “Octavia, can you go play for a little bit? Daddy has to talk to Mr.…?”
    “Salvatierra.”
    Octavia skipped out of the room.
    “Come with me.” Salvatierra led Len around the house, pointing out dining rooms, a game room, bedrooms, and so forth. “In this courtyard is the swimming pool. Your daughter just loves it here. She’s a sweet girl. I took her to the beach the last two mornings. She reminds me of when my children were that age. Through these doors is the guest bedroom where you’ll be staying.”
    “I’ll be staying here?”
    “For tonight. After that, Neith has some work for you to do.”
    Len took note of his surroundings. The mansion was entirely open-air with no windows whatsoever, as houses sometimes were in the tropics. Birds flew in and out as they pleased. A mosquito net