"That's the highway?" Blancanales pointed to the edge of the paper. "What's that other line?"

"A railroad connection. At one time the Rancho processed sugar cane for Mexico and the United States. That is why there is also a dock for ships."

"And what does it process now?" Lyons asked.

"That was fifty or sixty years ago," Colonel Gunther answered. "Now the Rancho is only for the army."

"There's no heroin labs there?"

"I did not see that."

"What army?"

"The army of Mexico."

Lyons pointed to the gray fatigues and black web gear and boots Gunther wore. At his collar, a silver eagle clutching lightning bolts in its claws identified Gunther as a colonel. "You're not wearing a Mexican uniform. Who hired you?"

"General Mendez."

"General Mendez of the International?"

"That is what they call themselves."

"Who are they?"

"The International? I don't know. Rich men. I know only General Mendez. He paid me. He issued instructions. I know only him."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"How do you contact him?"

"I don't. He called me."

"Is he in Culiacan?"

"I don't know."

"Where is the base in Culiacan?"

"There is no base in Culiacan. There is only the Rancho, near Obregon."

"Where are you based?"

"At the Rancho..."

"Before the Rancho?"

"In New York and Washington. The capital of your country."

"Where are the bases?"

"I don't know. We worked in hotels."

"This general lives in hotels?"

"The general never took me to his home."

"The International does business from hotels?"

"For security. They rent conference rooms for the meetings. Then no one needs to go outside the hotel during the meetings."

"Where are you from?"

"I was born in Paraguay."

"You look German."

"My family came from Germany."