he tread of others, inside the flyer at
their posts, preparing for hasty departure.

Hans snapped off the audiphone and mirror. He bent over his control
panel. "All is well, Gutierrez. In a moment we start."

Through the observatory window I saw the line of De Boer's men coming:
Abruptly Hans gave a cry. "Look!"

* * * * *

A glow was in the room. A faint aura of light. And our disconnected
instruments were crackling, murmuring with interference. Eavesdropping
waves were here! Hans realised it: so did I.

But there was no need for theory. From outside came shouts.

"Patrol-ship!"

"Hurry!"

The ship, suddenly exposing its lights, was perfectly visible above
us. Five thousand feet up, possibly. A tiny silver bird in the
moonlight: but even with the naked eye I could see by its light
pattern that it was the official Porto Rican patrol-liner. It saw us
down here: recognized this bandit flyer, no doubt.

And it was coming down!

There was a confusion as the bandits rushed aboard. The patrol was
dropping in a swift spiral. I watched tensely, holding Jetta, with the
turmoil of the embarking bandits around me. Gutierrez stood with
levelled weapon.

"They have not moved, Commander."

De Boer was here. The treasure was aboard.

"Ready, Hans. Lift us."

The landing portes clanged as they closed. Hans shoved at his
switches. I heard the helicopter engines thumping. A vertical lift:
there was no space in this rocky defile for any horizontal take-away.

He was very calm, this De Boer. He sat in a chair at a control-bank of
instruments unfamiliar to me.

"Full power, Hans: I tell you. Lift us!"

* * * * *

The ship was quivering. We lifted. The rocks of the gully dropped
away. But the patrol-ship was directly over us. Was De Boer rushing
into a collision?

"Now, forward, Hans."

We poised for the level flight. Did De Boer think he could
out-distance this patrol-ship, the swiftest type of flyer in the
Service? I knew that was impossible.

The silver ship overhead was circling, watchful. And as we levelled
for forward flight it shot a warning searchlight beam down across our
bow, ordering us to land.

De Boer laughed. "They think they have us!"

I saw his hand go to a switch. A warning siren resounded through our
corridor, warning the bandits of De Boer's next move. But I did not
know it then: the thing caught me unprepared.

De Boer flung a