Like the mist, no jungle could stop him in his mission.

Mack Bolan would pursue Liu to the very end.

Liu's directors, cowering in fear even before the refinery battle broke out, were now locked in the same office where Bolan had first found them, gathered together without weapons but deep in the mire of their propositions and dirty deals of killing and staying alive: vicious vermin, chewing at each others vitals in the face of death instead of uniting in the face of attack.

They would stay there, under lock and key, until Nark, representing the CIA, blew the place sky high.

Bolan descended to the ground floor where Heath and the copilot were finishing mining the refinery. It was the last installation to be mined on the hardsite.

"Everything is wired up to one bravo, mama," said Heath. "That way when we leave, all it'll take is one turn of the handle."

"Have you done the vault yet?" asked Bolan. The door had to be blown. It was locked, and only Liu knew the combination.

"Thought we'd leave that to last," said Heath. "The vault's right next to the file room. Could damage the files."

"Not if we do it properly," said Bolan. "I promised the Meo the gold when the fighting was over. It's over."

They set out for the administration building. It was daylight, a cold, windy morning.

In the cloudy sky, birds of prey circled, waiting for the humans to leave so they could begin their feast.

"Colonel, when are we moving out?" asked Heath.

"Not before tonight," Bolan replied. "Nark says it'll take that long to transmit all the files. Why?"

"I was wondering. One of those helos on the LZ wouldn't take too much to fix. A Texas Ranger. Big enough to carry all of us. We'd save ourselves a walk."

"Try it," said Bolan. "If we can fly out, so much the better. Only put a guard on it when you're through. I wouldn't like Liu to lay his hands on it."

"You still think he's in the camp, sir?" asked the copilot.

"I'm certain of it," said Bolan. He pulled out the aerial on his radio. "Phoenix to Mr. Ly." Ly was leading the search for Liu.

"This is Ly, Colonel."

"Anything to report?" asked Bolan.

"Colonel, I tried to get you, but your radio did not answer," said Ly. "A prisoner told us he saw Liu near the administration building when the fighting started. I think he is mistaken. We searched everywhere, but we found nothing."

Blood rushed to Bolan's head. "Mr. Ly, you must try again. I want the whole area turned upside down. The admin building, the power house, the tool sheds, the warehouses. Everything must be searched all over, do you understand?"

"Colonel, we did that. He is not in the area. If he is in the camp as you say, he must be hiding in the other section, but we must wait for the ruins to cool down. It is very hot there."

"Mr. Ly, I insist. You must search the..."

The thunder of hooves interrupted him. From around a corner a group of Montagnard riders emerged going at full gallop. The first one rode Nark's horse. It was Liu. The pepeshas in their hands flickered as they bore down on the whites.

Bolan dived to the ground to avoid the tracers. A moment later shapes flew past and over him amid a cacophony of hoofbeats and gunfire. A hoof kicked his head, sending stars dancing before his eyes. By the time the stars cleared, the riders had gone.

Bolan ran to the radio lying on the ground. "Mr. Ly! Mr. Ly! Liu is escaping! Order the gates closed!'' But he was wasting his breath. The fall had broken the radio.

"Looks like someone else had the idea of switching uniforms," said Heath. "Did you notice one of them rode Nark's horse?"

Nark! Bolan raced for the administration building.

A crowd had gathered outside. He pushed his way through, his heart beating wildly at the thought of what he might find in the file room. He ran into the building and crossed the foyer where naked Montagnards were trying on uniforms left by Tiger. He descended the stairs two at a time, ran into the file room, and sighed with relief. Both were alive.

"Did you get him?" asked Nark, dabbing iodine on a gash in Stressner's scalp.

"They got away," said Bolan, panting. He looked at the open vault gleaming with yellow metal. "So that's where they were."

"We didn't even hear them," said Nark. "Our backs were turned and the radio was on."

"To be KO'd with a gold brick," said Stressner. "Who'll ever believe it?"

Bolan inspected the vault. It had a door that could be opened from the inside. The racks were filled with enough gold bars to set up the Montagnards for life.

From the stairway came the sound of feet, and Vang Ky appeared followed by Heath and the copilot. "They took the northern trail," the headman announced. "The gate guards took them for our men," he added by way of an excuse.

"To be expected," said Bolan.

"Must be heading for Burma," said Nark.

Bolan walked to where two backpack radio sets stood against a wall. They were Russian Z-l0s, among the communication equipment parachuted the previous night. No one was using them because the small sets were handier, but these had a superior range.

"What are you doing?" asked Nark, seeing Bolan strap one on.

"Going after Liu," said Bolan. "I'll leave you to blow up the place. I'll check in every hour on the hour, wherever you are."

"John, don't be foolish," said Nark, going up to him. "Why risk your life for one man? The mission is over,"

"No, Nark," Bolan replied. "Drug syndicates are like hydras. To destroy them you have to cut off all their heads. If I'm not at the rendezvous, leave without me. I'll make my way back somehow."

"Colonel, let me come with you," said Heath.

"You fix that chopper," said Bolan. "I may need it yet." He turned to Vang Ky. "Well, Major, the gold is all yours. Our deal is complete." He took off the watch and handed it to him. "Thanks for letting me use it."

"And the other thing?" asked Vang Ky.

"You'll be contacted," Bolan replied. "Should something happen to me, Nark will handle it. He knows. You will provide security until Nark is through?"

"You have my word."

"Sombaj, Major. See you guys."

He ran upstairs, picked up a Kalashnikov, and rode off. A quarter of an hour later he was galloping on the northern trail toward Burma, determined not to leave Southeast Asia until he had settled scores with Liu. He owed it to Janet.

Janet Wynn, dead at twenty-two.

A bright girl. A nice girl. In her second year of medical school at the University of Miami she met Bob, a handsome intern. He invited her to a party where, halfway through, people began "chasing the dragon," as heroin smoking is called.

When Bob offered Janet some she refused, but they were such good talkers, he and his friends. Try it, they said, it expands consciousness, it gives new perception, leads to self-discovery. Peer pressure made her give in.

A week later Bob invited her again, and again she smoked.

Like most people, Janet found it a pleasant experience. There were no needles, it did not cost anything, and it gave a nice high. After a smoke she had a feeling of well-being, a warm glow, and she felt part of the crowd.

What Janet did not realize was that she was being set up as an addict so Bob could have another customer, which is how addiction spreads; the addict turns pusher to pay for his habit. There is even a name for such parties; a monkey bait party.

By her tenth party Janet had become an addict, which is when nice Bob turned not-so-nice and told her from now on she would have to pay for her heroin at seventy-five dollars a fix, the standard Tiger price. Bob was a Tiger man.

To raise cash Janet began selling or pawning everything she could. She also switched to the needle to get the maximum out of her purchases, smoking being wasteful. The maximum effect, in turn, increased her dependence on the drug.