"The lieutenant's with them?" Lyons asked. "I thought so…"

"The other Lizco," Gadgets corrected.

The Lieutenant Lizco whom Lyons knew came from the headlights. He had his M-16 slung over one shoulder. He joined the guerrillas crowding around Able Team.

"I introduce my brother, Captain Alfredo Lizco," he said.

His older brother extended a hand to Lyons and Blancanales. "Pleased to meet you. Enemies of Quesada are my friends."

"Mucho gusto, comrade," Blancanales said.

"Amigo," the captain corrected. "That other word is for other fighters."

"You're not Communists?" Lyons asked, shaking the captain's hand with enthusiasm.

"No!" The older Lizco spat out the denial. "Now come. We talk too much here."

Slowly, painfully, Lyons stepped back into the jeep. Captain Lizco caught his arm.

"Please," he said. "Come with us in truck. We talk in truck."

"Are we your prisoners?" Lyons asked.

"We do not take prisoners," the captain stated simply.

Gadgets laughed. "The man talks straight. In the truck, Ironman. We got to make out of here, muy rapido."

Two guerrillas got in the jeep. Pausing to find only empty Atchisson mags on the floor of the jeep, Lyons followed the others. He staggered a few steps to catch up with Guillermo Lizco, the lieutenant.

"Why didn't you say your big brother was up here?" he said. "Me and my partner and Ricardo just took the kamikaze tour of the Quesada estate. With two M-60s, we ripped that place apart. But with your brother's men, we could have taken Quesada and the plantation and all his people."

"Until an hour ago," the lieutenant answered, "I did not know my brother still lived."

"You just bumped into him? By coincidence?"

"No," the elder brother told him. Captain Lizco explained as they climbed into the back of a slat-side farm truck. "My commander send me here because my brother fights with Las Boinas Negras. I come to make contact with him. To stop the Stalinistas, those crazy Soviet rojoswho kill everyone. Farmers, soldiers, children."

Able Team, the Lizco brothers and several guerrillas crowded into the truck. They had only plastic tarps to shelter them from the rain and the wind. The convoy of the truck and the two jeeps sped away from the burning hulks.

Guerrillas stuck the barrels of their autorifles and M-60 machine guns out the slats. One machine gunner watched each side of the road. A rocketman slipped a projectile into his RPG launcher and straightened the wire on the rocket's safety cap.

"You killed the Stalinistas." Captain Lizco continued. "But still there are many questions. The people tell us of soldiers and Communist assassins together. Many strange stories. Now we will not know the truth about the Communists and what they did. But I thank you for doing our work."

Lyons looked to Blancanales and Ricardo, cautioning them to silence. "But the Communists are your allies. Why would you want them dead?"

"There are Communists, yes, in our alliance. There are Marxists, there are Socialists. Unionists, Christian Democrats, Indians, Jews, Buddhists, anarchists, Utopians. There are many ideologies. But they do not slaughter campesinos and their families. They do not kill every thing that lives. What the Stalinistas do is a crime against God. They are not our allies, they are not fighting for Salvador. They fight only to take. Like the Soviets. The Soviets are not Communists. They want only power. Communist, Soviet, Stalinist, fascist, Nazi. Only words. They are the same. They are terrormongers for power."

Lyons laughed. "That is the fact. You, sir, know an international truth. The kid there..." he pointed to Ricardo "...he was with the PLF. We wiped out the Commie unit, but we didn't get their officer. When we infiltrated the plantation, Ricardo spotted his officer with the fascists..."

"What?" the captain asked.

"We saw La Vibora," Blancanales repeated.

"Mr. Snake," Lyons continued. "With a Salvadoran army officer. On their way to meet with that Nazi Colonel Quesada."

"And I called you paranoid," Gadgets commented to Lyons. "Maybe I don't have the imagination for Salvadoran politics."

"Who could?" Lyons answered.

"This La Vibora," the captain asked, "he is still with Quesada?"

"He's dead. Ricardo killed him with a frag."

"That is a problem," the captain said. "Many questions will not be answered. We will not learn who else collaborates with the families."

"Ask Quesada," Lyons told him.

Blancanales shook his head. "The mission's over. Like you said, we lost the element of surprise. Now he knows we're here."

"He knew we were here..." Gadgets spoke up.

Lyons interrupted. "He thinks some mercenaries rescued a squad of soldiers. He still doesn't know who hit him and why."

"Ironman, Quesada Nazado knows!" insisted Gadgets. "That's why he canceled the ambush of the journalists. The death-squad officer wanted to go find the reporters. But Quesada told him there were, and I quote, 'North American agents sent to kidnap him.' He wanted the officer, a Lieutenant Kohl, to attend a meeting. I got that right, Lieutenant?"

The younger Lizco brother made a correction. "He said you were 'North American paramilitary agents.'"

"I knew it!" Lyons cursed. "I knew it. That's why I won't use Agency papers. That's why I didn't trust the lieutenant here. We can't even trust our own government."

"Not the government," Blancanales told him. "Individuals within the government. Or the administration. Or Congress. Or the Agency. Somewhere, there's someone working for the Salvadoran fascists. Someone with access to our mission information. Before the next mission, we'll have to deal with the informer."

Lyons shook his head no. "We're not going back without the Man. We'll ask him who the informer is. He'll know."

"I vote for a tactical withdrawal," Blancanales stated. "They know we're here. They know we're after Quesada. The fincawill be locked down so tight it'd take a battalion of Marines to seize him. And you, we have to get you to a hospital for a few days' observation."

"I'm all right!" Lyons said.

"You hit that gate at eighty or ninety miles an hour. You could have a subdural hematoma. You could have a ruptured spleen. You could have a hundred internal hemorrhages. You could fall over dead any minute. Soon as the Wizard can put out the signal, we're on our way back."

"Hard to argue with that," Gadgets told Lyons. "Second the motion. Don't want to lose our shock-trooper."

"Captain..." Lyons turned to the guerilla officer "...Quesada's in that plantation. He has the answers to your questions. You want to go get that Nazi, I'll go with you."

The captain smiled. He looked to his younger brother. "Who are these men you brought to our country? They kill the Stalinistas, they kill the fascists. Other North Americans talk of democracy, but they..." he pointed at the three warriors of Able Team "...they fight for democracy."

The brothers laughed. The captain turned to his men and translated what had been said. Some laughed. Others gave Lyons the clenched-fist salute. One man talked with his leader for a moment. The captain turned to Able Team again.

"That man says to remember the Abraham Lincoln Brigade in Spain. When the Spanish people fought the Castilian fascists and the German Nazis, some North Americans joined the war. Perhaps if an Abraham Lincoln Brigade came to Salvador, we could make a democracy."