Traveling at one hundred kilometers per hour on a freeway to the village of Amitatlan, Able Team interrogated Captain Merida. Lyons and Blancanales shoved their wounded prisoner down into the foot-well between the front and second seats, and held him down with their feet.

Gadgets drove, watching the buses and trucks and cars in the lanes beside the Silverado for police.

Lyons stripped off his filth-ruined sports coat. He put on a black nylon windbreaker to conceal his shoulder-holstered Python. Blancanales asked the questions.

"Where did you intend to take us? Blancanales asked him.

"Why do you do this, gringos? Are you Communists?" Merida gasped.

"Where did you intend to take us?" Blancanales repeated.

"My superiors said you search for Unomundo. They told me to help you. But now you torture me."

"Who are your superiors?"

"Colonel Morales."

"Who else works for Unomundo?"

"We are patriots. We will save our nation from communism."

"Answer the questions," Lyons hissed.

Blancanales continued patiently, his voice quiet and calm. "Where did you intend to take us?"

"To the buses. To find the man who worked..."

Lyons slapped the sole of Merida's shattered foot. The young officer screamed into the floormats. He thrashed and struggled to break the plastic handcuffs binding his wrists and ankles.

Blancanales glanced to the cars in the other lanes. With the windows of the Silverado rolled up and the traffic noise drowning out what sound escaped, the other drivers heard nothing. Blancanales continued his quiet interrogation.

"We know you and the colonel intended to kidnap us, then kill us. Tell us where you would have taken us."