"_Ave Maria, que magnifico!_" Gutierrez had retreated to our doorway, more alert than ever upon me and Jetta. Hans called through the window-slit: "All is well, Franks!" "Got it?" "Yes! Make ready." There was a stir outside as several of the bandits hastened down the defile to meet De Boer. And the 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 another switch. My senses reeled. I heard Jetta cry out. My arm about her tightened.