We had decided to make our way back to Tenochtitlán, since there didn’t seem to be much else we could learn by remaining in Izamal. If the policía did stop us to ask questions, the two tickets to the ollamaliztli finals in Rafael’s pocket were a good reason for us to be headed in that direction. And they fit with our cover story—that we were sports buffs on leave from our jobs at the Nuevo Laredo dog racing track. Although we’d be hard pressed to explain why we were coming to the capital from the opposite direction, from war-torn Yucatán . . .