“I--wouldn’t pay too much attention to the news stories. You understand?” “I think so. I’ll buzz you. So long.” _Balsas, Mexico--7:45_ A.M. (_C.S.T._) He left the phone booth, stepped into the hovering ground car, and took off on a cushion of air, silently. Inside fifteen minutes, he entered the outskirts of Teloloapan, without incident. He parked the rented car neatly on a residential sidestreet, and grabbed an airbus downtown. His clothing would be least conspicuous in a working-class place. He found a ginmill open for the go-to-work quickie trade, and settled down. After a week of water and coke, the Mexican beer was biting and strong. He drank slowly; he had a lot of thinking to do first, and over that bridge there had to be room for some action still. Meanwhile, there was plenty of time to think; and to drink--slowly. It was too early to do anything else. At nine o’clock, he began on the phone, trying to locate Phil Kutler. Anyone else would have been better. But like the man said, his was the only game in town. By eleven, the operator had him convinced that the doctor was not registered at any hotel in Mexcity; the only forwarding address at his New York apartment was Moon Dome. “Have you tried Decagon Information?” And why in Hell hadn’t he thought of that _first_? “Just one _mommmmment_....” And she was back--with Jed Harbridge’s Acapulco phone. _Great!_ He went back to his booth, drank one more bottle of beer, and decided to be logical this time. He walked down the length of the bar, toward the sleepy-looking middle-aged Mexican who had perched on the bar stool all morning. “Listen, chum,” he said, without preamble, “I have to talk to the boss, and it irritates him when I make public calls.” The sleepy man looked at him sleepily. “Senor?” “Oh come off it. Look, how about we take a walk? Get acquainted a little?” The sleepy man thought it over. A faint glint showed in his eyes. He shrugged fatalistically, climbed down off the stool, threw a coin on the bar, and followed Johnny into the street. “I owe you congratulations anyhow,” Johnny said. “I sure as hell thought I’d throw you this morning.” The man, no longer sleepy, smiled. “It was nothing,” he said proudly. “I have long experience.” “Damn glad you do,” Johnny said, and meant it. “Look, I wasn’t kiddin’. I want to call your boss. I tried this morning, and he didn’t like me using a public phone, so we couldn’t say much. If you’ll just--” “But _Senor_--” The man was clearly pained. “If I _could_, I would help you gladly, but I have no means....” “I’m not asking you to give me your junior G-man kit or wrist radiophone or anything,” Johnny said patiently, “Hell, I don’t _want_ to know what kind of setup you’ve got. Put it this way. I’ll go back in the bar. You get in touch. See what the man says. Tell him I want some private talk, that’s all. Okay?” The man opened his mouth. “But _Senor_--”