If José had been playing at double agent, working for both the Azzie government and the AFL at once, his game had ended. The Azzies’ final payment to him had been death. But perhaps he had been innocent of malice. Perhaps he had been exactly what he’d seemed—an AFL member who’d had the misfortune to get captured at the border. The border patrol might have forced information about Rafael and me out of him under torture or by magical spell—and then turned him over to Vargas for vengeance after learning that the people he’s smuggled in were targeting a member of the priesthood.