EDUARDO GUZMAN HAD BEEN JUST A BIT SURPRISED when the Land Rover in which he was driven across the border from Brazil had turned into the dreary village of Quijarro instead of swinging onto the highway heading west toward the Chapare region, but as they had wound through the town's mud-splashed, tumbledown streets, his driver had explained that he wanted to buy something to drink from one of the vending stalls near the railway station. Had Eduardo known of his intention to stop for a refreshment, he might have suggested doing so before they passed through the customs post in Corumba, where there had been many decent places to eat along the river promenade. Though a long ride and many miles of open country lay ahead, the filthy conditions outside their vehicle had squelched any hunger or thirst he might have worked up in the last few hours.

Still, he needed only to consider what he had left behind in order to cheer himself. There had been his betrayal by that damnable whore who had been working in league with the national police even as she worked his cock, performing brilliantly on both counts, tricking him into selling thirty kilos of cocaine to some "associates" of hers who turned out to be undercover agents. After his arrest, Eduardo had spent three days in lockup with piss-smelling thieves and drunks, sweating out the days and nights trying to remember everything he'd foolishly told the woman of his activities and waiting to see what charges would be pressed against him.

Thank God, someone in the organization--it was unclear to Eduardo whether this had been his uncle Vicente, or Harlan DeVane himself--had reached out to a government functionary and secured his release. Before dawn that morning, only hours before his scheduled arraignment, two plainclothes officers had appeared outside his detention cell, quietly removed him, and accompanied him into an unmarked sedan parked in front of the Sao Paulo jailhouse. They had taken him as far as the Corumba border crossing, exchanged some private words with the customs guards, and transferred him to the Land Rover in which his current driver, a barrel-chested man named Ramon, had been waiting near the checkpoint.

Once Eduardo had climbed into the front passenger seat and they were under way, Ramon had explained that they would be traveling to DeVane's ranch outside San Borja to meet with him and Vicente. This had caused a knot of apprehension in Eduardo's stomach, but speaking with the air of fraternal confidentiality common to rank-and-file members of any organization when discussing their superiors, Ramon had told him that a substantial payoff had been needed to compel the authorities to drop their case against him, and that the two bosses merely wanted to be shown proper appreciation for having interceded on his behalf.