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details. Tracy, by the way, is both a qualified pilot and helicopter pilot.'

'Helps. Where are the details?'

'Tracy has the details.' Smith said this in such a way as to convey the impression that he was not the man to be concerned with details, which was probably quite an accurate impression for he was famous for his gift in picking top-flight lieutenants and delegating the bulk of the executive work to them. Tracy, who had been following the conversation closely, rose, crossed to where they were standing and handed Hamilton a folder. The expression on Tracy's face bespoke a marked lack of affection: managing directors do not take kindly to being called nosey bastards. Hamilton appeared to notice nothing amiss.

He took the folder, read rapidly through the loose-leaf contents, pausing briefly now and again as something in particular caught his attention, then closed the folder. One could have been forgiven for assuming that Hamilton had already absorbed the contents: he probably had. For once, Hamilton seemed fairly impressed.

'Quite an air/sea fleet, haven't you? Everything from a Boeing 727 to a Piper Comanche. Double rotor freight helicopter - this is a Sikorsky Skycrane?'

'Yes.'

'And a hovercraft. Can the helicopter lift the hovercraft?'

'Naturally. That's why it was bought.'

'Where's the hovercraft? Corrientes?'

Smith said: 'How the devil do you know?'

'Logic. Wouldn't be much good to you here or in Rio, would it? I'll take this folder. See you this evening.'

'This evening?' Smith looked unhappy. 'Damn it, man, we have to draw up our plans and —'

'I'll draw up the plans. I'll explain them when I return with my assistants this evening.'

'Damn it all, Hamilton, I am putting up all the money. The man who pays the piper calls the tune.'

'This time out, you're second fiddle.'

Hamilton left, leaving behind him a brief but profound silence. Tracy said: 'Well. Of all the arrogant, hard-nosed, intransigent bastards —'

'Agreed, agreed,' Smith said. 'But he holds the cards, all of them.' He looked thoughtful. 'Enigma. Rough, tough, but dresses well, speaks well, obviously at home in any territory. Nuances, clever nuances. At ease in my drawing-room. Not many strangers are. Come to that, nobody is.'

Tracy said: 'And he's come to the conclusion that this Lost City is so dangerously inaccessible that he's not prepared to try the same route again. So - a helicopter. Or hovercraft.'

'I wonder.' Smith was still looking thoughtful.

'Why else would a man like that throw in his lot with us?'

'Because he's convinced he can eat us alive,' Maria said. She paused. 'Maybe he will at that.'

Smith looked at her without expression then crossed to the dining-room window. Hamilton was just moving away in his black Cadillac. A chauffeur stopped polishing a nondescript Ford, glanced towards Smith's window, nodded, climbed into his car and followed the Cadillac.

Hamilton was driving down one of Brasilia's broad boulevards. He consulted his rear mirror. The Ford was about two hundred yards behind. Hamilton increased his speed. So did the Ford. Both cars were now traveling well above the speed limit. A police car appeared behind the Ford, switched on the siren, overtook and flagged the Ford to a stop.

The Ministry of Justice was a rather splendid building and the large airy office in which Hamilton sat opposite across a polished leather table from Colonel Ricardo Diaz was suitably sumptuous. Diaz, in an immaculately cut uniform, was large, tanned and looked competent to a degree, which indeed he was. Diaz took a sip of some indeterminate liquid and sighed.

'About Smith, Mr Hamilton, you know as much as we do - everything and nothing. His past is a mystery, his present an open book that anyone is welcome to read. The dividing line between the present and the past can't be precisely delineated but it is known that he appeared - or, rather, emerged or surfaced in Santa Catharina, a province with a traditionally heavy Germanic