Phil wiped his brow and wondered where the zanjero had gone - the little bastard. Phil was an "Ugly American" and proud of it. Even before 9/11 he'd reclaimed the moniker and wore it more proudly since. It was past time that his country took its rightful place on the world stage.

Phil was making it happen - down here below the boarder, scouting cheap labor for the factory back home.

Damn it was hot.... where was that boy with his water?

Actually, sitting patiently in the nearby bushes while the rohypnol tablets he'd slipped into the fat man's drink dissolved.