"This is not some Hollywood movie," he says, "where the brave women band together, sing 'Kumbaya,' and there's a happy ending. This is-"

Seeing the look on Marisol's face, he instantly regrets what he said.

She says quietly, "I'm very aware it's not a movie, Art. I have seen my dearest friend killed, the town I grew up in devastated, the people I grew up with pack what little they have and trudge down the road as refugees."

"I'm sorry. That was stupid."

The sunlight, filtered by dust, is beautiful-a dark red-gold-in the sunset as they walk from the office to her house. They go past the Abarca bakery, now closed and shuttered, past the tiendita, also closed, its owners now living across the border in Fabens.

Three soldiers, standing behind a barbed-wired sandbag emplacement, watch them walk past.

"They know who you are," Marisol says to Keller, "the big gringo DEA man."

Keller isn't crazy about the fact that he's known, but it's a trade-off he's willing to make if it affords her a little protection when he's there. Erika walks five paces behind them, her rifle in hand now.

She's devoted to Marisol.

Dedicated to her job.

"Thank you, Erika, we're fine now," Marisol says when they get to her house. They kiss each other on the cheeks, and Erika walks back down the street.

Marisol's house is an old restored adobe with a new red tin roof. It's small but comfortable, its thick walls keeping out both the cold and the heat. The windows now have bars and anti-grenade screens that Keller insisted on putting in.

She slides off her white jacket, revealing the shoulder holster with the Beretta Nano, then pours a glass of wine for each of them and hands one to Keller. He's glad that she's carrying the weapon. He bought it for her and took her out into the desert to teach her how to use it.

Marisol was a surprisingly good shot.

Now she plops into the big old easy chair in her small living room, kicks off her shoes, puts her feet up on a hassock, and says, "Christ. What a day."

"Good Friday," he says.

"I forgot," she says. "No procession. No one to do it."

It's painful, Keller thinks. The traditional Good Friday reenactments of Christ's march to Calvary have been replicated all through the valley by processions of refugees leaving their homes. "Do you want to go to church tonight?"

Marisol shakes her head. "I'm tired. And truthfully? I'm losing my faith."

"I don't believe that."

"That's a funny response if you think about it," she says. "Don't let me stop you from going, but what I really want is another glass of wine, a quiet dinner at home, and an early night."

That's what they do.

Keller finds some chicken in her refrigerator and makes a dinner of arroz con pollo and a green salad while Marisol takes a long shower. They eat while watching some American television show and then go to bed.

Marisol sleeps in on Saturday morning, and Keller brings her coffee in bed.

She likes it white and sweet.

"You're an angel," she says, taking the cup.

"That's the first time that's ever been said."

Marisol takes her time getting ready, and then Keller escorts her to her office so she can use the relative quiet of Semana Santa to catch up on some paperwork. He brings his laptop and goes over the classified intelligence briefings.

A top-secret report from DEA and CIA intelligence analysts opines that the Sinaloa cartel has won the war for Jurez and is all but in control there. La Lnea has been virtually annihilated and Los Aztecas, while still fighting, has seen its leadership decimated and is in disarray.

Keller has mixed feelings. He hates that Barrera has won, but the victory might bring an end to the hideous violence. That's what it's come to, he thinks ruefully. That's what we can hope for now-a win by one gang of murderers over another.

The memo attached to the report asks for his commentary, and he writes that while the Jurez cartel seems to be finished in the city, its Zeta allies seem to be getting active along the Chihuahua border and the Sinaloa cartel is taking defensive measures.

Then he reads a series of e-mail exchanges between DEA and SEIDO speculating on the whereabouts of Eddie Ruiz. Is he in San Pedro, Monterrey, Acapulco? Another report has him sighted in Veracruz. All agree that he's flying under the radar, hunted by the Zetas and Martn Tapia.

Tapia is back in the country, trying to piece together the remnants of his brothers' organization into something called the "South Pacific cartel." Most of the analysts agree that it's not going particularly well-most of the major Tapia players have sided with Ruiz, who, in any case, seems to have recruited the best killers. And there are reports that Martn, perhaps out of grief for his brother, has adopted Diego's cult of Santa Muerte and is spending more and more time in religious observances, and that his wife isn't happy about it.

Martn's rumored to be in Cuernavaca, Yvette is said to be living somewhere in Sonora.

Keller reads more reports.

CIA warns that the Zeta presence in Central America is getting stronger, especially in Guatemala, in the northern provinces like the Peten and the city of Cobn. The report also indicates that the Zetas are openly advertising for more Kaibiles, but also recruiting MS-13 gang members from the slums of El Salvador.

It makes sense, Keller thinks. The Zetas are fighting on five fronts and need troops.

Keller's own "Zeta front" is bogged down. They know that Rodrguez, Z-20, is somewhere in the Veracruz area, because he surfaced as the leader of a Zeta team that lobbed incendiary grenades into the house of a Veracruz police operations director.

The wooden structure went up in flames. Just to be on the safe side, Rodrguez and his men waited outside to gun down anyone who made it out.

No one did.

The police commander, his wife, and his four young children died in the fire.

- Keller and Marisol do go to Mass that night, if only because the people of Valverde expect their mayor to be present at Holy Saturday services. The church is only half full anyway, so many people have left town. By tradition, the statue of the Virgin Mary is draped in black for mourning, and the obvious symbolism of the current situation escapes no one.

The whole valley, Keller thinks, is on the cross.

Marisol doesn't take communion and neither does Keller. As they're sitting in the pew, he feels his cell phone vibrate in his pocket and steps outside. It's a computer tech at EPIC.

They've picked up cell phone traffic between Rodrguez's cousin and him in Veracruz and they have an address.

Keller gets on the horn to Ordua. If they move fast, they can get Z-20.

The plan was for Keller to spend the night and then go to Jurez with Marisol for Easter-a dinner with Ana and the crew. Then he was going to fly back to Mexico City and she was going back to Valverde for a meeting with the mayors and city councils from the Valley. When she comes out of the church, Keller tells her that he has to leave. They go back to her house so he can get his things.

"Go to El Paso," he asks.

"I can't. I have things to do," she says. "I'll be fine. I'm going into the city for an Easter party with the crew."

"Te quiero, Mari."

"Te quiero tambien, Arturo."

- Marisol and Ana leave the Easter party in separate cars to go back to Valverde for the meeting tomorrow morning. The plan is for Ana to stay at Marisol's that night and come back after the meeting. She follows Marisol down Carretera 2.

Ana is going to write a story on the meeting as a way of explicating the "Woman's Rebellion" in Chihuahua. In the valley, in Jurez, in little towns all across the state, women are standing up, filling positions in the government and police, demanding accountability, transparency, answers.

Marisol is tired and would have preferred to stay in Jurez, but the meeting is at eight in the morning, and besides, she doesn't like to leave Erika on her own for too long. The young woman has done a good job but she's still nineteen years old.

The party had been fun-good food, good company-although Marisol missed Arturo being there. She's glad that he likes her friends and that they like him; otherwise, it would make the relationship horribly awkward.

It's a crisp Juarense night and she wears a heavy sweater and a scarf. The pistol that Arturo gave her is in her purse, within easy reach on the passenger seat. She wonders about her relationship with Keller. She loves him, she knows that, more than she ever loved her husband, probably more than she's ever loved anyone. He's a wonderful man-intelligent, funny, kind, a good lover-but the challenges to their relationship are formidable.

He needs to understand-well, he does understand, he needs to accept, Marisol thinks-that I'm as committed to my work as he is to his. And if I'm under threat, so is he. Arturo's old-school in that regard-being in danger is a man's role, not a woman's.

And Arturo is far more North American than he thinks he is-he has that North American belief that every problem has a solution, whereas a Mexican knows that this isn't necessarily true.

She punches the radio to an El Paso station that plays country-western music, her secret guilty pleasure.

She chuckles. Me and Miranda Lambert.

- Despite four bullet wounds, Rodrguez is still breathing with the help of an oxygen mask, his chest heaving as he lies on a gurney in the back of the ambulance now racing across Veracruz toward the hospital.

Keller thinks the man is going to make it. They'd hit Rodrguez's safe house in Veracruz just before dawn and took it by surprise. The raid netted Rodrguez, five armored cars, radio equipment, and Rodrguez's famous gold-plated M-1911 pistol, with his aportos encrusted in diamonds.

Now one of the Matazetas, his face disguised under a black balaclava, looks at Keller and asks, "This is one of the pendejos who killed Lieutenant Crdova's family?"

Keller nods.

The Matazeta turns to the EMT monitoring the oxygen tank. "Turn around, my friend."

"What?"

"Turn around, my friend," the Matazeta repeats.

The EMT hesitates but then turns around. The Matazeta looks at Keller, who merely looks back, then leans across and takes the oxygen mask off Rodrguez's face. Z-20's chest heaves faster. He starts to panic and gasps, "I want a priest."

"Go to hell," the Matazeta says.

He lays a jack of spades over Rodrguez's heart.

- Marisol sees the lights come up in her rearview mirror and wonders why Ana is passing her on this two-lane road at night.

She looks over to see the window roll down and the gun barrel come out.

Then the red muzzle flashes blind her, she feels like something is punching her in the chest, and then her car flies off the road.

- An unmarked car picks Keller up outside the hospital where Rodrguez is delivered DOA, and takes him to La Boticaria airfield. His presence in Veracruz is a secret, as is his participation in this, or any, raid. He boards a Learjet 25, provided by Merida, for the flight back to Mexico City.

Ordua is on the plane. "I hear Rodrguez didn't make it."

"He died of complications on the way to the hospital," Keller says.

Which is true enough, he supposes. It's an unspoken understanding. Nobody who participated in the killings of Crdova's family is going to make it into a police station or a hospital. Rodrguez knew that, which is why he pulled his gold-plated pistol and tried to slug it out.

So now they've killed every Zeta who took part.

Mission accomplished.

Yeah, not quite.

Now they have to get the men who ordered it.

Keller takes a seat and pours himself a scotch. As the plane takes off, Ordua hands him Forbes magazine and says, "You're going to like this."

Keller gives Ordua a questioning look.

"Page eight," Ordua says.

Keller turns to the page and sees it. Adn Barrera is listed as number sixty-seven on the Forbes annual list of the world's most powerful people.

"Forbes," Keller says, tossing the magazine down.

"Don't worry," Ordua says. "We'll get him."

Keller wonders.

He pours two fingers of scotch on the ice and relaxes during the flight. When he lands, his phone rings.

"Keller, this is Pablo Mora."

The man sounds shaken. He might even be crying.

"It's Marisol."

- Marisol is not going to make it.

This is what the doctors tell Keller.

She took bullets to the stomach, chest, and leg, in addition to a broken femur, two broken ribs, and a cracked vertebra suffered when the car crashed after the gun attack. They almost lost her three times on the drive to the hospital-twice more on the operating table, where they had to remove a section of her small intestine. Now the issue is sepsis. Dr. Cisneros is running a high fever, is very weak, and is, frankly, seor, unlikely ever to emerge from the coma.

Even if she does, there is the possibility of brain damage.

Keller flew directly to Jurez on a military flight. When he got to Jurez General, Pablo Mora was in the waiting room with Erika.

Erika was crying. "I didn't protect her. I didn't protect her."

Mora told Keller what he knew.

They had just left an army checkpoint a mile behind when a car came racing up, pulled around Ana's car, and came up alongside Marisol's. Ana remembers seeing gun flashes out of the passenger window. Marisol's car swerved off the road into a ditch. The attacking car stopped and went into reverse.