The affect was instantaneous. My cyberear picked up murmurs of a " la serpiente " and whispered questions about Rosalita’s disappearance. The rebels gave Rafael and I sidelong glances, uncertain whether or not to believe that a grandson from El Norte would have turned up suddenly in the Yucatán, just like that. It was just too convenient, they thought. Too much like a trick Aztechnology would pull. We had to be spies . . .