The weaponsmith lifted out Lyons's favorite assault weapon. Looking much like a standard M-16, but heavier, larger, the Atchisson fired twelve-gauge shells in semi-auto, three-shot burst, or full-auto modes from a seven-round box magazine. Konzaki hand-loaded the shells, cramming a mixed load of double-ought and Number Two steel balls into each shell.

"Hey, Ironman," Gadgets jived. "Your true love just made her entrance..."

Lyons didn't take his eyes from the colors and Mayan faces of the book.

"Hey! Listen up!" Konzaki ordered.

"What?"

"Briefing isn't over yet. Here's your LCKD — The Lyons Crowd Killing Device," he said as he passed the Atchisson across the aisle. "Pay attention, or someday you just might not come back."

"Someday I might find someplace I don't want to comeback from."

"Look at him," Gadgets told the others. "He likes that book."

"I like what I see. Maybe this is the place I don't come back from."

"Ironman the Romantic," Gadgets laughed.

"And Mr. Schwarz," Konzaki continued. "You're carrying the radios and electronic gear. We thought of assembling the same package of components you took into the Amazon, but I rejected the idea. Anywhere in Guatemala, you've only a three-or four-hour drive from phones with microwave links to international lines."

"Thank God. That satellite radio must've weighed fifty pounds on its own."

"Everything else is standard. The Beretta 93-Rs. Radio detonators and a kilo of C-4. Battle armor. Bandoliers. Ten thousand dollars cash for expenses. Except for the long guns, everything's in backpacks, ready for a hike. So, gentlemen, questions?"

Lyons looked from the beauty of the Mayans to the weapons, the ammunition, the explosives. He looked at the other military gear. An uncharacteristic sadness touched his face. Then his eyes returned to the book. He read the strange and beautiful words aloud: