What does he want? "Yes, my name is Sergio Battaglia," said Sergio in Spanish. "By what name may I call you, sir?"

Sergio, a little startled that this old man spoke Spanish, didn't know what to say. He looked at the man carefully. The accent was porteno. The bastard even looked Argentine, if that stereotype even held true any more. Frank hadn't been in Buenos Aires for years. But it didn't matter -- he sure wasn't going to dance a tango with him.

"I'm Frank Suarez, one of Jason Pezanowski's employees."

"Ah, Jason. I have heard about his untimely death. Also Rayburn's. By any chance are you responsible, Mr. Suarez?"

Of course Sergio knew the answer. He also knew this was a man to be feared. Rayburn had also shown him the video taken at the Colombian exploration site.

"Irrelevant," hissed Suarez. "They were collateral damage." He laughed bitterly. "I learned that only recently. They led me to you. It's only you I really want."

"Don't be too hasty," he said. "I think we can make a deal here."

"What kind of deal? You going to give me a pretty whore every night? Ten million dollars?"

"If that's what you want. I can indeed make you a rich man. Beyond your wildest dreams. You could pad that bank account in Grand Cayman and live a life of luxury with Jamie."