"Any way to go around it?" Gadgets asked.

Luis heard the question from the hand-radio. "Tell your friends I have the fascist's identification. In this uniform and this automobile, perhaps they will allow us to pass without a search."

"With a foreigner and a woman?" Lyons asked. "And what about my partners?"

"Well… perhaps we will pass before they close the highway."

Accelerating, they swerved through the late-night traffic. The powerful Dodge passed the other cars easily, flashing past buses and trucks laboring up the incline. But the Volkswagen lagged. The hand-radio buzzed.

"Ironman!" Gadgets called. "We can't keep up. This thing's got a small engine..."

"Forget it. We're there."

Traffic jammed bumper-to-bumper in the lanes, clouds of exhaust glowing red with brake lights. Luis moved over the center dividing line.

"Don't try to turn around!" Lyons warned him. "They'll spot us for sure. We've got to chance it."

"Of course. But any army officer would not wait with the other cars. Radio your partners to follow."

Lyons keyed his hand-radio. "Stay on our bumper. Luis is going to the head of the line."

"Loading, locking," Gadgets answered.

"Don't even think it. Four pistols and rifles against the army?"

"If it's Unomundo's goons up there," Gadgets asked him, "do you want to be captured?"

"Loading, locking," Lyons responded, clicking off his hand-radio. He opened the Atchisson's case. He jerked back the actuator to feed the first shell into the chamber. He left the autoshotgun concealed in the unlocked case.

Luis turned to the woman. "Hear me, puta. You will not betray us. If we do not return to the city, your children die."

Lyons looked to the hate-filled young man. He shook his head, no. Luis laughed. He leaned on the horn as he sped past the waiting cars, flicking his high beams to warn oncoming traffic.