Then, all at once, the narcorrancho stirs to life. First to arrive are some of the peons, say three or four, in a Combi, and they spend a day getting the big house ready. Then come the bodyguards, the muscle, in their black Suburbans or Spirits or Peregrinos, and the first thing they do when they show up, besides strut around, is set a security perimeter. Finally the boss and his right-hand men make their appearance. Armored Mercedes-Benzes or Porsches snaking through the desert. At night the lights never go out. You see all kinds of cars, even Lincoln Continentals and vintage Cadillacs,
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