As we bumped down into the washout, I lost sight of the T-bird. But by using my cyberear to filter out the noise of our own vehicles I could hear the Aztlan Border Patrol’s response to the T-bird’s incursion into their territory. The noise of several heavy engines combined with the crump of exploding shells and the rattle of machine-gun fire. I shivered, hoping we weren’t due to be on the receiving end of the same thing. And I silently wished the smuggler well. Not for his own sake—for ours. As long as he was up and running and a distraction, we were safe.