They changed into light khakis and Illya Kuryakin strapped on two of the camera cases for sake of appearance. It was possible that THRUSH had implanted some of its number in Teclaxican to act as scouts and they did not want to take any chances.

Solo felt much better now that he had eaten and he no longer had the chills which had been with him on the ride down from Oaxaca. Perhaps, he decided, the capsules the U.N.C.L.E. doctors had given him before he left New York were working after all. To be on the safe side, he would take another one before they left.

Someone in the hotel had brought up a pitcher of drinking water while they had been eating. It was in an earthenware carafe on the nightstand. Solo found a relatively clean glass in the bathroom and poured it full from the carafe. He popped one of the capsules in his mouth, tilted his head back and drank from the glass.

The pill stuck halfway down his throat. He coughed, spitting out the water. He choked the pill down and went into a series of rasping coughs.

"What's that matter?" Illya asked him.

Solo got his breath. "Try some of this," he said, handing Illya the glass.

Illya sipped some of the water. "Well," he said, "it looks as if our bird friends are hard at work again, testing or whatever it is they're doing."

The water in the glass carried the unmistakable taste of salt.

ACT II: DEATH LIVES HERE

They found Diego Santiago Y Vasquez in the El Pomo Cantina. He had, it appeared, been there since he left them when they checked into the hotel that morning. He had, it appeared, been drinking more than just a little of a potent Mexican cognac called aguardiente. He was most liberally drunk. He sat at a table against the rear wall of the cantina, with his chair tilted back precariously, arms folded across his chest. He was snoring loudly.

Solo shook him gently. Diego Santiago opened one bleary eye, closed it again, and then re-pried it open. He gave them a crooked smile.

"Ah, senor Solo," he said. "Como esta?"

"Not particularly well," Solo said. "You seem to be doing rather nicely though."

"We must have a drink," Diego Santiago said, reaching for the nearly empty bottle resting on the table top.

Napoleon Solo moved the bottle out of reach. "No more of that," he said. "We're going for a little ride."

"A ride, senor?"

"To the lake."

"The lake?" Diego Santiago said blankly.

"In the foothill," Solo said. "The lake, you know?"

"Oh, sí, sí," Diego Santiago said. "But the road, she is—"

"We know that," Illya said. "We're going as far as the slide."

"You wish me to drive you there?" Diego Santiago said, squinting at them.

"That was the general idea," Illya said.

"Senor," Diego Santiago said indignantly, drawing himself erect, "I do not drive when I am drinking. I am the safest driver—"

Looking at him, Solo decided that he was right. In Diego Santiago's condition, driving a car on a mountain road would be akin to suicide. "All right," he said. "If you'll give us the loan of your car and directions how to get there, well—"

"My car?" Diego Santiago said. Oh, no, I could not possibly, senor. My car, she is my living, my little child. I do not even allow my wife to drive my car."

Illya Kuryakin stepped forward. He took several bills from his pocket, holding them where Diego Santiago could see the denominations and began to leaf through them slowly. Diego Santiago wet his lips. He tugged at the corner of his mustache. He leaned forward His eyes grew bright.

When Illya Kuryakin had counted off a sufficient number of bills to suit their guide, Diego Santiago cleared his- throat. "Perhaps," he said, "if you were very careful, and were to promise to return by nightfall..."

"We'll be careful, all right," Illya said.

"Then," Diego Santiago said happily, "I consent." He snatched the bills from Illya's hand and tucked them safely away in his shirt pocket. He gave them his crooked smile.

Solo said, "We'll need directions." Diego Santiago explained how they could reach the lake from Teclaxican. Solo asked him if there were another road leading there other than the one that was asked if there were a trail of some sort that they could take on foot. Diego Santiago said there was, and told them where it was located. Satisfied, Napoleon Solo asked for the keys.

Diego Santiago produced them from his trousers. "Remember, senors," he said, "Be very careful. My car is my living, my little child..."

"Don't worry," Illya said. "We get along famously with children." Behind them, Diego Santiago called out to the bartender for another bottle of aguardiente. He was going to put his new-found wealth to good use.

TWO

They turned off the main road on to the one leading up to the mountain lake ten miles to the east of Teclaxican. The main road had led them in straight, perpendicular line to the base of the foothills, and then had veered sharply to the right to parallel them. The secondary road, on which they were now traveling, was little more than a narrow trail, allowing passage of but a single car.

Illya Kuryakin, driving, had been having more than a little difficulty with the sedan. The clutch slipped badly, and the steering was as tight as a diesel truck's. His arms ached from gripping the wheel. He observed dryly to Solo that Diego Santiago y Vasquez's little child had a typical female disposition.

Two miles into the secondary road they began to climb. The road began to wind, gradually at first, and then became a series of sharp turns as they moved upward. On their right were walls of shale and banks of light jungle; on their left a scant few yards off the road was a long, rocky slope that fell away into a valley below.

Illya held the sedan in low gear, hands white on the wheel, and they climbed at a bare crawl. "Nice road," Solo said, looking out at the shale bluff to his right.

Illya glanced cautiously into the open space of the drop and shuddered. "I keep thinking," he said, "how lucky we are Diego Santiago decided to get drunk."

Napoleon Solo grinned. "The slide should be up ahead about a mile," he said. "Do you think they'll have guards posted there?"

"Lookouts, probably," Solo said. "Hidden from sight."

"We'll have to go up to the lake through the jungle," Illya said. "Where did our friend Diego say that path was?"

"Just after the first turn before the slide." Solo said.

"They'll know we're coming."

"Can't be helped," Solo told him. "There's no other access to the lake. And we've got to have a look up there."

"I have the strangest feeling we're walking into something," Illya said.

Solo said nothing. He felt faintly' on edge, as well, a vague uneasiness.

They heard the jeep before they saw it. The sound came from behind them, the whine of an engine being geared down. Solo sat up on the seat, ears straining. "What's that?"

"Sounds like a jeep," Illya said, listening. "Behind us." Solo turned, looking out the rear window.

"I don't see anything." Illya hunched over the wheel, increasing his speed slightly. The road straightened as they came around a turn, dropping into a long dip and then rising steeply on the other side. They were climbing again when the jeep came into view around the turn.