DEA Administrator Karen Tandy had just settled into her seat at a U.S. Senate hearing, her prepared text next to the microphone, when the chairman began to rant.

"We are drowning in a flood of imported drugs of unknown composition and origin as well as potentially lethal controlled substances," Sen. Norm Coleman said. Unknown quantities of untested imported drugs too easily slip through customs, he said, mostly through regular cargo to JFK Airport.

"The federal government has been on notice about this issue for at least five years," the Minnesota Republican complained. "Many of the initiatives that we will hear about today sound eerily familiar. I am concerned by the apparent lack of progress in getting our arms around this glaring problem."

Tandy didn't disagree. "The attorney general and I have made it a priority," she said.

CHINATOWN

By midsummer, Carlos and Breeden had finished assembling a team for Operation Carlito's Way:

DEA agent Eric Russ - age 36, a no-nonsense former Marine who had worked hard-core pot, cocaine and heroin jobs, but never a pill case. No Internet jock, he still used AOL dial-up at home. His assignment: With Carlos, supervise the case.

IRS agent Aaron Carp - age 25, eager, hungry for something significant. His assignment: Trace bank records.

FBI agent Jason Huff - age 30, a buttoned-down software engineer recently transferred from the antiterror squad. His assignment: Trace the Web addresses of pharmacies and make undercover online purchases.

Immigration Customs Enforcement agent Andrew McCrossan - age 55, paternal, a customs inspector for 23 years. His assignment: Search passport, travel and global financial databases and determine how pills are smuggled past Customs.

Lower Merion Police Officer Christine Konieczny - age 35, quick-witted, a natural leader, one of a dozen suburban Philadelphia officers on loan to DEA since 2001. Her assignment: Supervise surveillance of the Indian suspects.

At Carlos' request, Konieczny took Carp and Huff on an early undercover job. When the young crewcut agents showed up, veteran cops on the detail cringed.

The baby-faced FBI man wore a suit, making him look a lot like... an FBI agent. And the IRS kid? He sported a Hawaiian shirt and shades, like something off the set of Magnum, P.I.

Konieczny laughed.

FORT LAUDERDALE, FLA.

Vic Devore, who ran bigcitymeds.com, studied the spam e-mail:

The medicine are the best quality available in India. We have made arrangements to ship within five to six days, in any part of USA, without any Customs problem. If you are interested...

Devore, 25, had chiseled cheekbones, white teeth, dark hair, and all-American aspirations to become a celebrity and a millionaire. He appeared well on his way, too. Devore gave traffic reports on South Florida radio and operated Web sites; some of them sold Zippo lighters, some sold generic Valium, Viagra, Darvon and Xanax.

Devore excelled at Web design, but had no medical training, not even a college degree. He didn't read the medical histories customers sometimes sent him. He didn't understand the legal disclaimers he posted. It was just marketing, words to make it all look legit.