It really is an awful pity that Thomas Harris got stuck going back to Lecter in Hannibal and Hannibal Rising when he could have been writing more thrillers like this, scultped from soid blocks of gorgeous prose, giving us protagonists like Cari Mora, the ex-FARC child soldier hanging onto residency in the US by the skin of her teeth, caretaker of a house built for Pablo Escobar, where he hid millions in gold bullion. What a brilliant, twisted, twisty thriller it is, by turns atrociously horrible and profoundly humane, way more of a heist than the woman-in-peril suggested by the blurb, but also that to some extent.