We hopped a taxi from the airport and directed the driver to take us to one of the Comfort Inns, a chain of medium-cost hotels recommended by the datasoft I’d slotted earlier that day. I’d had trouble making a booking—it seemed like every hotel in Tenochtitlán was full. I’d finally managed to snag the last room at a hotel in Iztapalapa, a suburb to the south of the downtown core. It wasn’t the nicest part of the city, but I figured an ex-cop and a would-be combat biker could handle it.