 Ciudad del Este, Paraguay—Saturday afternoon Sitting at an outside table in front of the Mercado cantina, possibly the slummiest bar in the southern hemisphere, Dax Killian made one more careful checkmark in his notebook, right next to the word "asshole." It was the third such mark he'd made in the last hour—sixty minutes, three assholes. Not bad. Things were heating up. Taking a short swallow of beer, he keyed a number into a small receiver and held it to his ear, tapping back into one of the transmitters he'd planted in the Galeria Viejo down the street. Three days in this hellhole of a city, with one day left ... | 
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