Across the canyon, three hundred fifty meters away, Yaquis wearing their dust-colored uniforms dug more ditches. "From there, we will shoot with rifles and machine guns. When they come, they die."

Blancanales nodded. "A classic 'X' ambush."

"We will need one of you here," Vato continued. He looked to Blancanales. "You, you speak Castilian. You will be here with your radio. And you..." he looked to Lyons "...you will be with me on the other mountain."

"How will you trigger the claymores?" Gadgets asked. "Maybe I can work out something slick. And that other helicopter's got radios. I can monitor the frequencies."

Vato pointed to the helicopter. "I know nothing of that. Talk to Senor Coral. When he is done, he will take you to where the other helicopter is hidden."

"What happened to our prisoners?" Lyons demanded.

"The officers?" Vato asked. "Nothing."

"And the other soldiers?" Blancanales asked.

Not taking his eyes from Lyons, Vato ignored the question, as if Blancanales had not spoken. "Come. I go now to the other hill to wait. I will take you to the officers. You can question them. But we must hurry. We talk too much and the Mexicans come."

"We want in on this?" Lyons asked his partners.

Gadgets nodded. "The man's got it down. No doubt about it."

"If the Mexicans come down here," Blancanales added. The ex-Green Beret surveyed the landscape, the ridge, the canyon, the near-vertical mountainsides, the expanse of desert and hills and gullies continuing into the distance.

Only the plateau where they stood offered the advantages of high, defensible ground and open area for the landing and takeoffs of helicopters. To the north, where the Yaqui machine gunners concealed their firing positions, rocks and sheer drop-offs made landing impossible. To the east, where Vato would place his riflemen and backup machine gun, a hilltop offered only a few square meters of level area. With the uniformed soldiers and the decoy troopships, the plateau looked like a secured landing zone. Blancanales finally nodded his approval.

"And I think they will," he said.

"This means we can't raid the army base," Lyons told his partners. "If they lose the colonel, they'll be on full alert."

"Ironman, get smart. We've got a helicopter. Are they going to expect us to come out of the sky in one of their own troopships? You're just making noise because this ain't your idea."

"I want to get the number-one Nazi, the Mexican traitor who's working for the goons."

Gadgets laughed. "Well, hey, maybe he's coming to you!"

"All right..." Lyons looked across to the other hilltop. "I'll be over there."

And he jogged after Vato.

"Notice Vato didn't answer your question about the soldiers?" Gadgets asked Blancanales.

"Had to ask. I know the answer."

"Yeah. Me, too. Zipppp. Zipppp."

On the trail, Lyons saw the last of the families leaving the pueblo. The houses stood empty. Nothing moved on the dirt road but swirls of dust.

Vato waited for him in the streambed. Lyons splashed through the shallows, his overweight backpack lurching from side to side.

"Where are they?" he asked.

In response, Vato led him up the embankment to a shack made of interwoven branches and plastered with mud. A Yaqui fighter guarding the door nodded to Vato and Lyons.

"We did nothing to them. But I think they will speak."

Lyons looked at the sleeves of the guard's dust-colored shirt. Clotted blood crusted the cloth as high as his elbows. Blood had splattered his shirt and pants. Then Lyons pushed aside the woven-stick door.

Plastic loops still secured the prisoners' wrists and ankles. Tape covered their mouths. But the tape over their eyes had been replaced with blood-clotted strips of green camouflage cloth. The shack stank of the blood.

And shit. The officers had emptied their bowels and bladders into their tailored fatigues.

As Lyons pushed aside the door, the Fascist and the Mexican traitor convulsed, arching their bodies, kicking with their legs in an attempt to push themselves backward through the wall. Animal groans came from their throats. Stepping back, Lyons spoke to Vato in a whisper, "What did you do? Tell me..."

"We put all of the Mexicans in a line. We put these two at the end. To be last. And as all the others went to the gods, they watched. When there was only the two, we went to them and said they were the prisoners of the North Americans. If the North Americans wanted them to live, they would live. And if not, then they would be offered, like all the other soldiers."

Lyons laughed. Vato spoke to the Yaqui guard and they laughed also. In the shack, the prisoners thrashed and groaned, beating their bodies against the mud-plastered sticks.

"Very effective," Lyons told the Yaquis, then he went to the prisoners. To play on their fears, he slipped out his double-edged boot knife. He squatted in front of the gray-uniformed Nazi and tore off the man's blindfold.

The man shook with fear. Blinking against the light, his eyes rolling in their sockets, the blond European-featured Fascist cringed. Lyons grabbed the Fascist's hair and immobilized his head. With the tip of the knife, he cut the tape over the prisoner's mouth.

"Who are you?" Lyons demanded. "Where do you come from? Who is your commander?"

The Fascist stared at Lyons. His voice trembled with panic. "You're a white man... why are you with them? These animals... why do you betray your country? Your race?"

Lyons repeated. "Who are you? Where do you come from? Who is your commander? Answer or die."

The prisoner summoned up his arrogance. "I am an officer of the International. All the power of the International stands behind me. Free me, and as a white man, you can expect mercy... and a position in the New Reich."

Lyons watched and listened as the Fascist spoke.

"You cannot hope to withstand the onslaught of the Reich. The elite of the hemisphere stand united. Even your government, your leaders stand with us, united!"

The knife blade pressed against his mouth stopped his words. "Just answer the questions, filth." Lyons's anger raged through his words.

"I am Captain Graefe of the International, advisor to the International Group of the army of the Republic of Mexico," the Fascist proudly trumpeted.

"Americano!" the Yaqui guard called to Lyons.

"Que?" Lyonsrushed outside.

The Yaqui pointed to a mirror flashing with the dawn light from the eastern hilltop. Lyons saw Vato already running for his position across the canyon.

"Ellos vienen. Vayase! El Brujo lo necesita."

Lyons dashed back into the shack. He replaced the blindfold on the Fascist. As Lyons unrolled fresh tape to blind and gag Graefe, the Fascist said to him, "Now is your chance to save yourself! You face overwhelming force. Nothing can withstand the armies of the New Reich. Take this chance to..."

Tape stopped his words. Lyons looped the tape over the prisoner's mouth, then put a wrap around the man's head to hold the blindfold in place.

"I'll be back," was all he said, a cold fury in his voice.

Lyons ran.