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the wall, but Jodi had been with them.

Now that they were on their own there was no telling which way it might

go. 'Haven't heard anyone sing that song in a long time,' he said.

Kelso responded with a dry laugh. 'Not many people know it. Trouble

is, I keep forgetting the words." He hummed a few bars. 'How does the

last bit go?"

'The mission bells told me, I couldn't stay -' Kelso chimed in, 'South

of the border, down Mexico way... Yeah, that's it."

The song, and the exchange of half-remembered lines was one of the

secret signals AMEXICO operatives employed to announce their presence

to any fellow mexicans who happened to be around. Steve fingered the

back of his ear, pressing on the tiny, implanted transceiver but there

was no response to his Morse-coded call-sign. There was always the

possibility that Kelso had heard the routine at one time or another but

even so . . .

Watch your step, Stevie . . .

Kelso, his arms folded, moved closer to Steve and laid his right

shoulder against the wall. 'I hear you're not planning on staying long

either..."

'Who told you that?"

Kaz."

'Oh, yeah?"

'Yeah. I've been reading you wrong, Brickman. I had you figured for a

lump-sucker, but you're all right. You did well today."

'It wasn't any big deal. Any True Blue could've done it."

'Don't bullshit me, Brickman. Modesty doesn't become you."

Steve let it pass.

'These crates we're building. If a guy knew which way to head, he

could go a long way in one of those things."

'Depends on where he was aiming for..."

'Yeah, well, the first thing is to get the hell out of here - then work

out the rest later."

'You're probably right,' said Steve. 'Just how much did Jodi tell

you?"

'Just how much does she know?"

'Come on, Dave. You can do better than that."

'She told me someone was leaning on your kin-sister, that you been sent

to pick up a couple of badhats, and

?. that she's going back in with you."

'And how d'you feel about that?"

'Life in the Big Open ain't all it's cracked up to be.

This deal you promised her. D'you really think you can swing that?"

'Yeah, I'm sure I can. She's already saved my life once. You helped

her, remember? That's why you're both here."

'Don't worry. I hadn't forgotten." Kelso hesitated, then said: 'Could

you get the same deal for me?"

Steve found it hard to read the Tracker's face in the darkness. 'Don't

see why not. But are you sure that's what you want?"

'Listen. If Kaz is happy to throw in with you, then I'd like to come

along too."

'Glad to hear it." Steve wasn't at all sure whether he could really

trust Kelso but - as a long-gone American President once said when

challenged for giving a troublesome opponent a plum post in the White

House it was better to have him inside the tent pissing out, than have

him on the outside, pissing in.

He offered his hand to the renegade. 'Welcome aboard."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

As the month neared its end, Cadillac had every reason to feel

satisfied. The Tracker workforce, assisted by a newly drafted batch of

Vietnamese craftsmen, had put in long hours to convert and complete the

first twelve aircraft. Four had sustained varying degrees of damage

during the initial training period, but these had been quickly repaired

and put back into service.

Of the twelve samurai selected as potential pilots, eight were judged

to possess the necessary aptitude to complete the intensive four-week

training course that was to culminate in rocket-powered formation

aerobatics. By the end of the third week, it became clear that only

five of the eight had the degree of co-ordination required to perform

as a team. The other three had reached a satisfactory level of

competence but lacked that indefinable extra something which, in

another age, had been called 'the right stuff'. Thanks to the efforts

of Kazan and Kelso, his co-instruc