"What?" the lieutenant asked.

"The Reich. The Nazis. The International Group. The Guerreros Blancos. Who are you with?"

"What do you talk about?"

Vato and Gadgets crouched behind the compact, their weapons ready. But they held their fire.

Two soldiers stopped Jacom, putting the muzzles of their M-16 rifles through the car's window. The Yaqui kept his hands on the steering wheel as one of the soldiers reached in and switched off the engine.

Gadgets called out to his partners. "It's a Mexican standoff!"

"Surrender or we kill you," the lieutenant threatened.

"Tough talk, Lieutenant," Lyons warned. "Any of your men shoot and you' re gone.''

"May I attempt to negotiate this problem?" Blancanales suggested.

"You are my prisoners," the lieutenant stated. "My sergeant has another twenty men watching the streets."

"Lieutenant," Blancanales said calmly, "there is a conspiracy operating within the Mexican army and various offices of the regional governments. This conspiracy also employs agents within the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency. We are special antiterrorist operatives. We came to your country to participate in a bilateral investigation, and it's been one long fight. We fought a battalion of the Mexican army called the International Group. We fought Federates. We fought drug-syndicate gunmen. We'll cooperate with any legitimate Mexican authority, but you must recognize our problem. We've been tricked and betrayed by everyone, in your government and in ours. Is it possible you could call your commanding officer? I'm sure if we discuss this, we can resolve the situation."

"American antiterrorist operatives?"

"We came to investigate links between an international death squad, Los Guerreros Blancos, and the international drug syndicates."

"Did you have a helicopter?"

"We captured it from the Mexican army unit called the International Group.''

The Lieutenant shouted out to his soldiers. "No dispare! Esperan. Me dijeron que son agentos de anti-terrissimo de los Estados Unidos." He turned to Blancanales. "Release me. We will talk. Remember, escape is not possible.''

"Not for you!" Lyons countered.

"Release him," Blancanales instructed his partner. "But remember this," he said to the lieutenant, his voice rising. "We have been tricked by your government and ours. Betrayal is everywhere. Seriously, how do you expect us to take such insanity? You think we should just take this shit?" His eyes glared with fury and determination.

Lyons broke his lock around the lieutenant's throat. But he kept the man's automatic.

Lieutenant Soto spoke into his walkie-talkie. A voice answered. As the lieutenant whispered into the radio secured to his chest strap, the scene remained otherwise motionless.

The soldiers watched Able Team, Able Team watched the soldiers. No one risked a sudden move.

Finally, the lieutenant spoke to the foreigners again. "He will come."

Then he called to his soldiers. The two men pointing rifles at Jacom stepped away from the rental car. They took positions watching the foreigners. Soldiers blocked the other exit at the far end of the alley.

Lyons and Blancanales sat with Lieutenant Soto on the truck ramp. The headlights of the rented cars lit the scene. Blancanales used the wait to question the lieutenant.

"Your commander is a patriotic soldier?"

"Claro que si! Why do you ask such a question?"

"And as a senior officer, he earns a good salary, yes?"

"He is comfortable. Why do you..."

"Lieutenant, I do not mean to insult your commander. But I must ask. Has he become inexplicably more comfortable, even wealthy in the past year?"

"He says he has been successful in his investments."

"He says?"

"I do not interrogate my commander."

"And your sergeant. Is he a successful investor also?"

"No," the lieutenant laughed. "For a gift for his grandchild's baptism, he borrowed the money from me."

"Could you perhaps ask the sergeant to watch the street? If anyone other than your commander appears, if the sergeant sees cars or trucks he does not recognize, could you ask him to notify you immediately? Please do not misunderstand me. But it is possible that anything is possible."

The lieutenant nodded and spoke quickly into his walkie-talkie. A voice answered immediately. The lieutenant relayed the message to his captors.

"He sees many headlights."

Lyons yelled, "Wizard! Jacom! Off the lights! Right now!"

Moving slowly, Gadgets set down his Uzi, then leaned into the car to switch off the headlight. The lights of the second car went black an instant later.

They heard engines. Tires squealed around corners. Blancanales spoke quickly to the lieutenant.

"Tell your soldiers to take cover! The International..."

"You are my prisoners, you don't give me commands!"

"Lieutenant! They are the enemies of your nation and ours! Your men will die if...''

Tires screeched to a halt. Autofire shattered the night. Bullets shrieked the length of the alley. A soldier screamed with pain.

Soldiers returned the fire. Other soldiers shouted to their lieutenant for instructions.

"We're on your side, Lieutenant," Lyons told the Mexican officer.

"Return my pistol!"

Lyons eased down the old Colt's hammer and passed it to the lieutenant.

Snapping back the hammer, Lieutenant Soto aimed at Lyons's face.

Autoweapons flashed, lighting the alley like strobes. A single tracer streaked across the darkness, sparked against a wall, spun wildly into the night.

Gadgets stayed flat on the asphalt. He heard a wounded man screaming. Slugs hammered the rented car, glass shattered and fell. Voices shouted Spanish. The wounded man called for his friends to help him, his words going from sobs to moans to cries for help again. Gadgets reached out and grabbed Vato's arm.

"What're they saying? What's going on?"

"The soldiers call the lieutenant. For instructions. The lieutenant calls for soldiers to take the prisoners. The gang tells them to run away, to leave the North Americans."

Gadgets shouted toward the warehouse ramp. "Pol! Ironman! Let the lieutenant go."

"I did! He's pointing a pistol at me."

"Silence!" Lieutenant Soto ordered.

Slinging his captured Uzi over his shoulder, Gadgets slipped out his Beretta 93-R. He touched the extractor to confirm a round in the chamber. Then he whispered to Vato.

"Count to ten, then switch on the car lights for an instant. Just an instant. On and off. Think you can do that without getting shot?"

"When the gang sees the lights..."

"I know, I can dig it. Instant target. Just on and off. I only need a millisecond of light."

"To free the others, yes?"

"That's the scam."

"Go."

"Just do it and get down. One!"

Counting to himself, Gadgets crept across the asphalt to the ramp. Before the firefight, he had seen Lyons and Blancanales with the Mexican lieutenant in the corner of the freight dock. Now he navigated by memory through the darkness. The shouts and shooting covered his steps.

His fingers found the concrete ramp. Paralleling the ramp, he continued to the spot where the ramp met the elevated loading dock. Kicking through litter, he heard Blancanales arguing with the lieutenant in an urgent whisper. Gadgets pointed the Beretta into the black.

The lights came on, Gadgets lining up the sights on the Mexican officer, the lieutenant turning, the muzzle of the Colt swinging around, Lyons moving, Blancanales shouting, "Don't kill him."

Darkness again. Then the Colt flashed, lighting the image of Lyons pushing the Colt up to the sky with his left hand as his right fist hit the lieutenant's jaw. Gadgets held the Beretta ready as he listened to Lyons disarm the Mexican.