case, extracted what looked to be a large movie camera and handed it to Hamilton, who pressed a button on the base. There came the faint whirring noise typical of an electric-powered camera.
Diaz said: 'You won't believe this, but it will even take pictures if you wish.'
Hamilton smiled but without humour. 'I don't think I'll be indulging in any photography this time out. What's the radio transmitting range?'
'Five hundred kilometres.'
'Enough. Waterproof?'
'Naturally. You leave tomorrow?'
'No. We have to get provisions and jungle gear and fly them to Cuiaba. We must get the hovercraft on the move. More important, though, I must go ahead and check on our friend Mr Jones.'
'Back to the Colony?'
'Back to the Colony.'
Diaz said slowly: 'You are an extraordinarily persistent man, Mr Hamilton. God knows you've every right to be.' He shook his head. 'I greatly fear for the health of your travelling companions in your forthcoming expedition.'
Hamilton had rejoined his travelling companions-to-be. Outside the uncurtained windows of the Villa Haydn's drawing-room the sky was dark: the room itself was brightly but not harshly lit by the light from the three crystal chandeliers. There were nine people in the room, most of them standing, most of them with aperitif glasses in their hands. Present were Hamilton, the twin Sergeants Herera, Smith and his entourage. Heffner, to whom Hamilton had just been introduced, was slightly flushed of face, slightly loud of voice and was sitting on an arm of the chair Maria was occupying. Tracy was regarding him with disfavour.
Smith said to Hamilton: 'I must say your heavenly twins, as you call them, have an air of competence about them.'
'They're not much at home in drawing-rooms. But in the jungle, yes. They're good. Squirrel-hunter's eyes.'
'Meaning?'
'Either of them, with his rifle, can hit a playing-card at a hundred yards. Most people can't even see a card at that distance.'
'That meant to sound intimidating, threatening?'
'Neither. Reassuring. Very useful accomplishment when wild boars or alligators or head-hunters or cannibals come at you. Let's not confuse this coming trip with a Sunday school picnic.'
'I'm aware of that.' Smith was trying to sound patient. 'Well, your plan sounds reasonable. We leave in a couple of days?'
'More like a week. I repeat, no picnic: you don't go dashing off into the Amazonian rain-forest at a couple of hours' notice, especially when you are going to be passing through hostile territory — and, believe me, we will be. We have to allow several days for the hovercraft to get up to Cuiaba — we don't know what difficulties it might encounter. Then we have to get all our provisions and equipment and fly them over to Cuiaba. At least, you will. I have some business to attend to first.', Smith raised an eyebrow. He was very good at raising eyebrows. 'What business?'
'Sorry.' Hamilton didn't sound sorry. 'Where can one hire a helicopter in this city?'
Smith took a deep breath then clearly made up his mind to ignore the outright rebuff. 'Well, you know I have this freight Sikorsky —'
'That lumbering giant? No thank you.'
'I have a smaller one. And a pilot.'
'Again, no thanks. Tracy's not the only one who can fly a helicopter.'
Smith looked at him in silence. His face was without expression but it was not difficult to guess what he was thinking: it would have been perfectly in keeping with Hamilton's secretive nature, his policy of never letting his left hand know what his right was doing, to have flown his own helicopter over the Lost City, so that no other person could share his knowledge. At last Smith said: 'Gracious, aren't you? You don't see a little friction arising when we set off on this search?'
Hamilton shrugged indifferently. 'It isn't a search. I know where I'm going. And if you think some friction is going to arise, then why don't you leave behind those liable to give rise to friction? It's a matter of indifference to me who comes along.'
'I'll decide that, Hamilton.'
'Will you, now?' Again the same indifferent, infuriating shrug. 'I don't think you've quite got the picture yet.'
It was significant of Smith's perturbation that he actually went to the bar and poured another drink for himself. Normally, indeed invariably, he would have summoned his butler to perform such menial tasks. He returned to Hamilton and said: 'Another point. You got your own way about making the plans — but we haven't yet decided who's going to be in charge of our little expedition, have we?'
'I have. I am.'
Smith's impassive air deserted him. He looked every inch the bulti-millionaire he was reputed to be.
'I repeat, Hamilton, I'm the paymaster.'
'The ship-owner pays his captain. Who's in charge at sea? Even more importantly, who's in charge in the jungle? You wouldn't last a day without me.'
There was a sudden silence in the room. The tension between the two men was all too obvious. Heffner rose from the arm of the chair, lurched once and then crossed to where the two men were standing. The light of battle was in his truculent and bloodshot eyes.
'But, boss! You don't seem to understand.' Heffner didn't speak the words, he sneered them. 'This is the intrepid explorer himself. The one and only Hamilton. Haven't you heard? Hamilton is always in charge.'
Hamilton glanced briefly at Heffner then at Smith. 'This is the kind of irritant I mean. Born to give trouble, bound to give rise to friction. What function does he perform?'
'My chief staff photographer.'
'Looks the artistic type. He coming along?'
'Of course he is.' Smith's tone was glacial. 'Why on earth do you think Mr Tracy and I brought him down here?'
'I thought maybe he had to leave some place in a hurry.'
Heffner took a step closer. 'What does that mean, Hamilton?'
'Nothing, really. I just thought that maybe your friends in the New York police department were beginning to take too close an interest in you.'
Heffner was momentarily taken aback, then he took another menacing step forward. 'I don't know what the hell you mean. You wouldn't think of stopping me, would you, Hamilton?'
'Stopping you from coming along, dear me, no.'
Ramon looked at Navarro. Both men winced.
'Amazing,' Heffner said. 'All you require is twenty pounds over a man to make him see it your way.'
'Provided, of course, that you're half-way sober by that time.'
Heffner gazed at him in alcoholic disbelief then swung a round-house right at Hamilton's head. Hamilton moved inside it and brought up his own right in a wicked jab as Heffner's fist swept harmlessly by his head. Grey- faced and doubled over, Heffner sank to his knees, his hands clutching his midriff.
Ramon said thoughtfully: 'I do believe, Senor Hamilton, that he's half-way sober already.'
'A short way with mutineers, eh?' Smith was unmoved by the plight of his trusty chief photographer, and his irritation had given way to curiosity. 'You seem to know something about Heffner?'
'I read the occasional New York paper,' Hamilton said. 'Bit late when I get them, mind you, but that hardly matters as Heffner's activities covet a fair period. What the Americans call a scoff-law Suspected involvement in various crimes of violence, even gangland killings. He's cleverer than he looks, which I don't believe, or he has a clever lawyer. Anyway, he's always beaten the rap so far. It is impossible, Mr Smith, that you had no inkling of this.'
'I confess that there have been stories, rumours. I discount them. Two things. He knows his job and a man is innocent until proved guilty.' Smith paused and went on: 'You know anything to my detriment?'
