Paul Dye was flying me over the Columbian jungle one day. While we were talking above the roar of the engine, the subject of the FARC guerrillas and drugs came up. "Look," he said, "the authorities can't seem to find these cocaine farms;" he tilted the airplane and pointed out more than a half dozen cocaine fields. He knew what every missionary in Columbia knew, the FARC were a force to be reckoned with.