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“A clever deduction, Torio. I want to know who gave them to you and where you picked them up.”

“It was a husky, foreign sounding guy I made the deal with six months ago. Big, hairy ape. He never told me his name, and it wasn’t a guy you could ask questions. He always paid me in advance, then he would tell me when there was a suitcase to pick up. I’d head out south of here, a little ways up into the hills, and a helicopter would come in with the suitcase, and I’d take it out to the ship. Believe me, that’s all I know, friend. I even looked in one of them suitcases, and it was empty. Damned queer business, but I don’t get paid to be curious.”

“How many of the suitcases have you put on the ship?” I asked.

“Lemme see, we took the last one out three nights ago. That’ll make eight, total.”

“Can you take us to where the helicopter lands?”

“Sure, but there’s always a couple of guards there with guns. Them and the pilot, a guy named Ingram, who hangs around there when his whirlybird is in.”

“It’ll be up to you,” I said, “to see that we get past the guards. Now let’s have the directions.”

Pilar drove south and turned into a narrow dirt road indicated by Torio. And then we wheeled into open country. It was fortunate that Pilar had rented the four-wheel-drive Jeep, for it was rough going as the road became a trail, the ground rocky, the terrain rising into rolling hills.

I had the smuggler sitting up in front now, so that when the spotlight hit us he was able to jump up and wave his arms to be recognized before anybody started shooting.

“It’s me, Torio,” he called.

A man carrying a rifle advanced slowly, coming to a stop six feet off to the side. “What are you doing here? There’s no pickup tonight”

“There’s some trouble on the Gaviota,” Torio said. The big man said I should come and tell Ingram.”

“Who are these other two?” the guard asked suspiciously.

“They’re — they’re—” Torio began clumsily.

“We’re with Gorodin,” I cut in. “We have information that must go to Zhizov at once.”

The names carried weight with the guard. The barrel of his rifle lowered, and he walked closer to the Jeep. “Show me some identification, please, sir,” he said respectfully.

“Of course,” I said, and fumbled in my pocket for some scrap of paper. I held it so the guard would have to reach in for it. When he did, I grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward. Pilar quickly hand-chopped the man behind the ear, knocking him cold before he had a chance to cry out.

I put a gag in the guard’s mouth and tied him up with a piece of nylon rope I had found in the boat and appropriated for such an emergency. Swiveling his spotlight, I lit up a small wooden building fifty yards beyond. Just behind it rested a small sturdy helicopter. I killed the light and motioned for Pilar to shut off the Jeep’s motor. Hustling Torio ahead of me, Luger in hand, I climbed out on foot toward the building with the coil of rope and hurried off, Pilar close behind. When we reached the door, I kicked it open and rushed in as I poked the button on the spotlight. Two men sleeping in cots along the far wall sat up abruptly. One was a heavy Slavic type who could have been the brother of the disabled guard at the entrance, the other was a pale skinny man with a big nose and weak chin. He would be Ingram, the pilot, I decided.

The guard type was sneaking a hand toward his rifle leaning against the wall near the head of his cot.

“You’ll die trying,” I told him, and the man froze. Ingram sat numbly, rubbing his eyes and blinking.

Pilar found a light switch and its glaring overhead flooded the single room of the building. Off to our left was a sophisticated short-wave radio set.

“Torio! You sold us out,” the guard accused.

“Sure,” the smuggler said, “with a gun at my head, I sell out fast — just like you, pal.”

“Ingram, you get dressed,” I ordered. “Is the helicopter gassed up?”

“Yes, to capacity,” he answered nervously.

The man was shaking with fear. I didn’t want him so frightened that he couldn’t fly, so I said. “Just follow orders, and you won’t get hurt.” That calmed him, and he began pulling on his clothes.

“Torio, sit in that chair,” I said, and the smuggler hastened to obey. I tossed the coil of rope to the guard and said, “Tie him up. I shouldn’t have to warn you to do a good job.”

I covered the guard and Torio with my Luger, watching to see that Torio was secured with good, tight knots. Pilar had the smuggler’s .38 in her hand and was keeping an eye on Ingram, but he wasn’t going to cause us any trouble.

When Torio was tightly bound, I said to the guard, “Now you sit in the chair on the other side of the room.” When he sullenly obeyed, I said to Pilar, “Get the rope and tie that one, too.”

Pilar handed the Colt to me and walked over to the guard. It was a bad mistake. She had stepped between me and our prisoner. In one swift movement, the man pulled out a knife from somewhere in his clothing and seized Pilar, twisting her around in front of him with her head bent back and his knife blade at her throat.

“Drop your gun or the woman dies,” he grated.

Crouched as he was behind the ample body of Pilar, the man offered no target I couldn’t be absolutely sure of missing her and hitting him in a mortal spot. If I moved the gun to take better aim, he would slash her throat. So I hesitated.

“Goddamn you, I said drop that gun.” he snapped. “Do you think I am bluffing?”

When I didn’t move, the guard twitched the knife and a red worm of blood crawled down Pilars neck. Still I held the Luger poised.

“Ingram, take this idiot’s gun away from him,” barked the guard.

“I–I can’t do it,” the pilot said in a tremulous voice.

The guard snarled at him, “Be a man for once, you sniveling coward or I’ll—”

We never found out what the guard might have done to Ingram because in his anger at the pilot, he had turned his head, just long enough for me to bring the Luger into position and shoot him through his exposed left temple. He spun away from Pilar, bounced off the wall and sagged to the floor. The knife clattered harmlessly away.

Pilar stared at me with a wounded expression. “You’d have let him cut my throat before you gave up your gun, wouldn’t you?” she said.

“Sure,” I admitted. “Once he had my gun, you and I both would have been as good as dead.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose you’re right Just the same—” She shook her head, “You’re a cool one. You give me the chills.”

“We’ll warm you up later,” I said quickly and turned to the pilot “Now, Ingram, you’re going to take me to the place where you pick up the suitcases you deliver to Torio.”

“You mean Zhizov’s hideout?”

“That’s right. Where is it?”

“In the mountains on the border between Venezuela and British Guiana. But I could never land there in the dark. It’s difficult enough in the daylight.”

I checked my watch. “If we take off now, it should be light by the time we get there. And Ingram, if you should happen to fly me in the wrong direction, you’ll be grounded permanently. Six feet under.”

“I’m neither brave nor stupid,” he answered. “I’ll do exactly as you tell me.”

“That’s good, Ingram. You may yet live to write mama all the nasty details.”

Pilar, who had been standing quietly off to the side, spoke now. “Nick, you talk as if you’re going on alone from here.”

“I am,” I said. “This is the end of the line, and there will probably be some fireworks. A woman could be a handicap.”