of their direction. Now and then he
spoke. "More to the right when you can. We're about a hundred yards to
the left of our base line." Then, "Straighten out. We're on course
again."

After what seemed to Rick an eternity of plowing through the heavy
growth, Scotty said quietly, "Pick a place to turn around, then kill the
lights and motor."

Rick reached a place where there was room, swung the wheels hard,
backed around, and put the jeep in its own tracks facing the other way.
He turned off the lights and cut the motor switch. The silence and
darkness flooded in.

"Just sit still until our eyes adjust," Scotty said, very quietly. "If
I've figured right, we're about a hundred yards from the dirt road, just
about in front of the Guevara driveway. We'd better walk the rest of the
way, in case of guards."

Rick waited until the blackness lessened. His pupils were fully dilated
now, and he could see surprisingly well. There was a moon, but at the
moment it was behind a cloud bank. When it emerged, he would be able to
see perfectly.

"Let's go," Scotty said. "No more talking now. When I hold up my hand,
stop and wait for me."

The ex-Marine took the lead, Montoya following and Rick bringing up the
rear. He took the night stick from his belt and hefted it. The weight
was comforting in his hand.

Scotty found his way with the ease that Rick always admired. Their steps
were noiseless on the carpeted jungle floor. Presently Scotty held up
his hand, and Montoya and Rick stopped, waiting. Scotty disappeared
ahead of them.

The seconds ticked by. Mosquitoes found them and whined around their
heads. Neither moved.

Scotty returned as silently as he had gone. Beckoning them close, he
whispered, "One guard at the gateposts. Give me one minute, then walk
forward until you reach the road. Call to him in Spanish, Captain. I
want to be sure his attention is on you."

"I understand," Montoya said softly.

Rick put a finger on his pulse and began counting. He could tell his
pulse was a little fast. When the count reached ninety he tapped Montoya
on the shoulder. But the officer was already moving.

Rick followed close behind, the night stick held in a palm that had
grown sweaty with tension. The San Luzian picked his way carefully, but
he moved at a good speed. Then, suddenly, he stopped. Rick peered past
him and saw the lighter color of the dirt road.

Montoya took a breath, then he called clearly, "_Hola, amigo! Que
pasa?