Approaching to within a few yards of the group, Steve turned his attention to the wheelboat. As he ran his eyes along its bulk from stem to stern he slid his left forefinger up behind his left ear, located the tiny dime-sized transceiver that had been implanted under the skin just below the line of his skull, and pressed down on it, activating the transmitter. The second touch switched it off. He pressed it on and off again, sending his call-sign in Morse code: H-G-F-R. Hang-Fire...

To anyone watching, Steve appeared to be scratching his neck.

Side-Winder glanced casually over his shoulder as he heard the faint but unmistakable mosquito-like hum in his ear, and caught sight of Steve. He rubbed his neck, sending out the letters M-X to acknowledge the message had been received and understood.

Steve sauntered slowly back down the wharf. Now that he was 'legal' he was in no danger of falling foul of the authorities, but he couldn't afford to hang around for ever. He felt a tap on the shoulder as Side-Winder caught up with him.

'You're the last person I expected to run into."

'Same here,' said Steve. They slapped palms.

Side-Winder looked him over. 'You wanna know something? When you left the boat at Pi-saba, I wouldn't have given a rat's a.s.s for your chances. In fact, I told Mother I figured you'd last a week at the most. But I gotta hand it to you, amigo. For a guy who came on like he didn't know from s.h.i.t you've wired yourself in real good."

'Just happened to be in the right place at the right time . . ."

'Maybe." Side-Winder gave him a shrewd glance. 'I have a feeling there's more to you than meets the eye."

'Listen,' said Steve. 'I don't have time to tell you how and why but I lost my radio-knife. You still in touch with Mike-X-Ray One?"

MX-1 was the code-name for Commander Karlstrom, Operational Director of AMEXICO. 'Mother' was a sobriquet used by mexicans.

'Yeah, what d'you want me to tell him?"

'Tell him I'm still on the case. I've located my targets near Bosona and I'm on my way there now."

'To the Heron Pool?"

'That's right. You did me a big favour by picking up on that."

'All part of the service. Need any help now?"

Steve grimaced. 'I might, but - the trouble is, I won't know until I get there."

'Yeah." Side-Winder sucked on his teeth. 'It's a tough one. ' 'There is one problem you can help me with."

'Okay, let's hear it."

Steve wondered how much he could tell the mexican without compromising himself. He decided he had to take a chance. 'Here's how it plays.

I've got to pull two people out of here. The Heron Pool is at a place called Mara-bara - west of Ba-satana. Without going into details, I think I can handle that end of it. The problem is how to get out of this place. I've been taking a long hard look at the post-house maps and the distances are gi-normous!" He threw up his hands. 'I just don't know how I'm gonna do it!" 'Where d'you wanna get to?"

'Back to the Federation but - here's the killer - I have to go via Wyoming."

Side-Winder responded with a low whistle.

'Wyoming...?"

'I have no choice. That's where my third target is."

'You're right, you do have a problem. They sure gave you one h.e.l.l of an a.s.signment for your first time out."

Steve let it pa.s.s. 'By my reckoning it must be what about five hundred miles from Ba-satana to the sh.o.r.es of Lake In?"

'Something like that. And from there, you got another fifteen hundred miles to Wyoming. At least."

'I figured twelve hundred but - what the heck . . .

another three hundred more or less... ' Steve raised his eyes skywards.

After a moment's silence he eyed the boat and turned back to Side-Winder. 'How did this thing get here?"

'Through the ca.n.a.l."

'The same one that took us to Pi-saba?"

'No. This one runs across Yama-s.h.i.ta's domain. Used to be the border between the Yama-Ha and the Matsu-s.h.i.ta before the families linked up.

It starts at Bu-faro on Lake In runs through Uti-ka and comes out at Taro-ya a few miles upriver from here."

Steve's eyes followed his pointing arm, then swung back on to Side-Winder. 'Supposing I managed to get my two targets from the Heron Pool to here, what are the chances of getting a boat ride?"

'To Lake In?" The mexican pursed his lips. 'Are these guys going to be kicking and screaming?"

'No. If everything goes as planned, they're going to be in a hurry to leave. That goes for me too. Is it possible?"

'In theory, yes, but - I may not be here. But even if I was, I couldn't handle three stowaways. I was able to help you get a free ride, but you'd already managed to get on board by yourself."

'I realise that. The thing is, there might be four of us.

Do the Iron Masters ship Mutes and Trackers along that waterway?"

'Yes, now and then. But you'd need papers. A travel pa.s.s and a doc.u.ment certifying you've been purchased by someone in Bu-faro. A slave-dealer would be best."

'Shee-iit. This is more complicated than I thought."

'It always is."

Steve chewed it over and had the germ of an idea.

'Okay, let's a.s.sume I can get the papers we need. What do they have to say?"

Side-Winder gave him the standard wording and the name of a slave-dealer in Bu-faro. 'I don't see what use this is. You can't even speak j.a.panese, let alone write it."

'Let me worry about that."

'Okay, suppose you do get to Bu-faro. What are you gonna do then?"