The night before, the general had mobilized all available forces to search the capital of Mexico for the Americans. He had authorized his unit leaders to hire drug-syndicate gunmen as reinforcements. Other International units, serving in the states of Sonora and Sinaloa, had received commands to return to Mexico City.

He had told his unit leaders that he would not accept failure. If they did not find and destroy the Americans, the leaders faced execution themselves. As an added incentive, he promised rewards to the units. One hundred thousand dollars for the freeing of Colonel Gunther; one hundred thousand dollars for the confirmed killing of an American; and two hundred fifty thousand dollars in gold to any officer of the International who succeeded not only in freeing Colonel Gunther, but also in capturing an American for interrogation.

Now, as the general listened to the tapes of the intercepted phone calls, units of the International battled with the Americans in the streets.

But after hearing the tapes, he dreaded the imminent victory. No longer did he view the Americans as a problem to the security of the International. The taped communications had altered his concerns. The communications threatened the general with death and the KGB with failure.

United in their conservatism and Castillian heritage, several countries in the Americas — El Salvador, Guatemala, Chile, Argentina — had contributed funds and soldiers to the cause of the International. The men fought in the belief they opposed the advance of Soviet communism.

But the Americans now knew that Colonel Gunther and General Mendez served the Soviet Union.

If captured by a unit of the International, the Americans would reveal the allegiance of the International's commander and the supposedly Paraguayan Colonel Gunther.

Perhaps General Mendez could explain away the story of KGB sponsorship of the International. Who would believe the truth? European and North American peaceniks denounced the armed forces of the conservative Pan-American nations as armies of fascist assassins. Voice of Moscow broadcasts labeled the governments of all Western Hemisphere nations — except Cuba and Nicaragua — as fascist regimes. The soldiers of the International would not believe they fought for the Soviet Union.

But what if the Americans played the tapes of Gunther's interrogation? What if International soldiers listened to the tapes and understood? What if the fantastic revelation started the soldiers questioning?

General Mendez armed his forces with weapons purchased on the international arms market — Israeli Uzis, American M-16 rifles, Belgian FN rifles. But some situations required more sophisticated weapons: explosives, or electronics, or antiarmor-antiaircraft rockets. Secrecy dictated a secure supply of high-quality weapons. The Soviet Union provided these weapons through intermediaries. The general then told his subordinates that he had purchased the Soviet ordnance from the Israelis, who had captured the materiel in Lebanon.

If an officer suspected the fascist-Soviet link, the officer might investigate. The simple procedure of matching the serial numbers of their weapons to the lists of serial numbers compiled by Israel after the Lebanese invasion would reveal a discrepancy. Perhaps the general could explain that away also...

And perhaps not.

The general knew he must act immediately to end the risk. He keyed a code into the intercom. A minute later, the technician who had supervised the interception entered the penthouse office. Like General Mendez and Colonel Gunther, the technician worked for the KGB.

"Who else heard this?" General Mendez tapped the roll of reel-to-reel magnetic tape.

"No one, General. I dismissed all the other technicians from the project. When I heard the interrogation, I... realized the significance immediately."

"Good. Return to the communications suite. Wait for my instructions. We may need to communicate with our friends."

General Mendez meant their friends at the Soviet Embassy.

"Yes, my commander." Saluting, the technician left the office.

The telephone buzzed. A static-scratched voice came through the receiver as one of the field units reported via the highest-priority channel, a secure-frequency radio-telephone channel that linked the unit leaders directly to their commander.

"The Ochoas captured one of the gringos," a unit officer reported.

"What of Colonel Gunther?"

"Nothing yet."

"And the others?"

"They are with the army."

"Does an officer loyal to the International command that army detail?"

"Yes. But he says he must wait to take the Americans. The time is not right for his move."

"Tell them to bring the captured American to the underground garage at this address." The general told the technician the name and number of an office building only a hundred meters away from the Trans-Americas tower.

"They want the reward, General. They say they will not deliver him until they see the money."

"Then have the Ochoas bring him. Our units will escort the Ochoas. Then they will receive their reward. Order ten men to take positions around the garage. They must be concealed and waiting when the Ochoas come."

"That is very close to these offices. Could that compromise our operations here?"

"I will supervise the... the payoff. I do not have time to travel across the city."

The general hung up the phone. He could not risk an interrogation of the American. He could not risk anything the American might have already told the Ochoas. The American and all the Ochoas who captured him must be annihilated.

When they came to deliver the prisoner, all would receive the same reward.

Death.

"I will explain."

Lyons lay on the concrete floor, his ankles tied, his hands bound behind him. Coral stood over him while other Ochoa gunmen searched Lyons for weapons. They found revolvers, the reengineered Colt Government Model, the Uzi, a knife and the Atchisson. The collection of weapons went into a burlap bag. The hand-radio went to Coral, who slipped it into his coat pocket.

"What is there to explain? How much Gunther promised to pay you?"

"I will explain how valuable you are to the International."

Lyons spun on his hip and kicked Coral with both feet. The Mexican staggered back. The other Ochoa men grabbed Lyons, immobilizing him on the floor.

"You are a fighter," Coral said, laughing. He limped back to Lyons. "The International hired many gunmen today. We joined them also. There is a reward for any of you Americans — one hundred thousand American dollars. Very good, yes? Now we take you to them."

The gunmen of the Ochoa gang carried Lyons to a panel truck. They threw him inside. Lyons thrashed and struggled, straining against the ropes that dug into his wrists. But the men sat across his legs and back.

A Mexican army colonel in uniform leaned into the truck. Behind him, Lyons saw soldiers in camou fatigues. The colonel grabbed Lyons by his hair and jerked his head back. Lyons twisted his head, tried to throw off the weight of the men on his back, and the colonel laughed at him.

Steel clanked. The warehouse doors opened. The colonel and his soldiers stepped back as Coral slammed the truck's cargo doors closed. Then they drove from the garage. The truck sped through crowds of curious people, its horn sounding.

"You believe I betrayed you, yes?" Coral asked Lyons.

"You Nazi scumbag," spat Lyons. "All your talk about understanding Mexico, about poverty, about troubles."

Coral laughed. "You do believe! Let us hope the colonel also believes I betrayed you, too. But it is not true."

"Then what is?"

"I took Gunther to my friends. We wanted information from him. We want revenge against the Blancos and Gunther knows who they are. But he told us nothing. He can tell us nothing..."