"Haven't spotted the gray coup lately," he reported. "He may even have turned off when I was held up at that last traffic light."

"We'll soon know," Phillips told him. "There's a police booth up ahead just a few blocks."

Five minutes later he stopped beside a traffic officer who checked their license number and then queried, "Senor Phillips?"

Mort nodded.

"Both cars have pa.s.sed this point," the officer said in heavily accented but intelligible English. "The red pa.s.sed five minutes ago. The gray two minutes ago. I think they proceed on into the city." tt/~i . Gracias.

"Moment.i.to, senor." The officer held them with an upraised hand as Ken started to release the brake. "Ca-pitan Gonzalez also wishes that you have this message. He follows you now in a black sedan. License number X-258-0. Also, senor, I have notified all check points in Monterrey that the two cars have pa.s.sed this station." He stepped back and saluted.

DELAYING TACTIC 57.

"Bueno. Mil gracias." Mort nodded his satisfaction. "Please tell Gonzalez that we are still following."

When Ken had joined the slow lane of traffic once more, Mort said, "Watch the side streets. Mexicans sometimes seem to believe that a full-stop sign is a challenge that should be met with a burst of speed."

The boys were not surprised to discover that the center of Monterrey, like the center of most Mexican towns, was a green path-marked square. As Ken drove along one side of it, Sandy said wistfully, "There's a restaurant. I don't suppose-"

He broke off suddenly and his next words were spoken in a different tone of voice. "There's the other red convertible-parked right in front of that big hotel!"

Ken and Phillips both looked where Sandy was pointing. The hotel stood on a street running off at a right angle and bounding another side of the square. The convertible was standing almost directly in front of the main entrance.

An instant later Ken spotted the gray coupe, parked on the same street but on the opposite side. Both cars were empty.

"What do we do now?" Ken asked Phillips. "They're probably all having lunch in the hotel restaurant."

"That's what we'll do too," Phillips decided. "It's a popular tourist stop, and you two are a pair of ordinary tourists."

Ken swung the car around the corner and a moment later found a parking place less than fifty feet from the gray coupe.

As he maneuvered into position he said, "The gentleman with the lighter is likely to speak to us, if he sees us. Do you want us to remember him?"

"Of course," Phillips said. "It would look odd if you 58 .

didn't. And you can refer casually to having offered me a ride. I hope he does speak to you, in fact. I'd like to get a look at him at close quarters."

"I will give a magnificent performance of a tourist who has nothing on his mind but food," Sandy a.s.sured him.

Ken laughed. "And it won't even be acting, so far as the food is concerned."

Before Ken had his door opened, a small boy with tousled black hair, bright black eyes, and a very clean white s.h.i.+rt above a shabby pair of blue jeans appeared beside the car.

"Watch the car, meester?" he suggested.

Ken looked over his shoulder at Mort. "Should we have the car watched?"

"Sure," Mort told him. "It's standard practice here." He had stepped out of the car and now came to stand beside the boy. "Bueno, chico," he told the youngster. "But watch it well."

"Si." The boy grinned happily. "I watch well, meester."

Phillips ruffled the black hair before he turned and walked toward the hotel with the boys.

They walked through the cool, tile-floored lobby to reach the restaurant beyond it. Several tourists and traveling businessmen sat around the lobby, but Ken saw no sign of a lean, tanned face.

The dining room, large and L-shaped, held fifty or more tables, each covered with a snowy white cloth and set with sparkling silver. At first glance almost all of them seemed occupied.

But a headwaiter appeared in an instant, his welcoming smile a.s.suring them that they would not be turned away.

DELAYING TACTIC 59.

"Buenos dias, senores," he said. Then he s.h.i.+fted to English. "A table for three?"

"Please," Mort told him.

"This way, please." He moved off between the tables, toward the angle of the L, leaving them to follow.

As they rounded the corner and continued on their way to the distant table the headwaiter was indicating, Ken saw the face he had been looking for. He turned his own head quickly in the other direction.

"Here you are, gentlemen." The headwaiter stood aside while they sat down, then stepped forward to present them with large menus that brought an instinctive smile to Sandy's face. "I will send a waiter to you in a moment." With a final smile the man left them.

Ken opened his menu and leaned forward slightly so that he could speak in a low voice.

"Mr. Green Flame is at a table against the wall, near the corner to my left," he said quietly. "I suppose the man with him is Baron?"

Neither Sandy nor Phillips looked immediately in that direction. Both studied their menus for a moment. Then Sandy leaned back and tilted his head casually, as if considering the relative merits of the various dishes.

"Yes," he said a moment later, "that's Green Flame all right."

Phillips had been glancing around the room with the open curiosity normal to tourists and students alike. "That's right," he murmured. "Baron it is. And looking a trifle nervous, I'd say."

A moment later, as he appeared to be studying the gay murals decorating the walls, he added, "See any sign of the man driving the gray coupe? Or don't you know what he looks like?"

Ken shook his head. "No, I didn't see him as we came 60 .

in, and I don't now. I think I'd remember him, all right. Very dark hair, swarthy skin, and a noticeably low forehead."

"They're probably being careful not to be seen together," Phillips said.

Just then, Ken, seated in a direct line with Baron's a.s.sociate, lifted his arm in a wave of greeting. As he smiled across the room he said openly, "Sandy, there's the man we saw at the customs station this morning. He's saying h.e.l.lo."

Sandy looked openly at the opposite table and he too smiled and raised his hand in a casual wave.

Then, careful to show no reaction to Phillips' cautious wink, they both studied their menus again.

"I could eat everything on the list," Sandy said, "but I'm going to play this smart. I'm going to order sandwiches. Then if, for any reason, we-" he lowered his voice-"we have to leave here suddenly, I can pick up my meal and walk."

Phillips grinned. "You're sure this decision isn't based on the fact that sandwiches are not likely to be served with hot sauce?"

"It is not," Sandy said indignantly.

"I know." Phillips put his own menu down. "As a matter of fact, it's a smart idea. Though we'll let them leave first, and we'll wait here until we get word as to which road they take out of town."

Ken spoke without moving his lips. "Here he comes."

The expression on Phillips' face didn't change. ". . . by all means Vera Cruz," he said, letting his voice raise slightly. "The beach there is wonderful. And if you like fis.h.i.+ng you're-"

"h.e.l.lo."

Phillips broke off as the word sounded close beside DELAYING TACTIC 61.

him, and he and the boys all looked up at the tall man standing near Ken's chair.

"h.e.l.lo," Ken said, and Sandy's voice echoed the greeting.

"I see you got this far all right," the man said pleasantly. "It's a fine road, isn't it?"

"Swell," Ken agreed. "When you said you knew the road so well, I a.s.sumed you'd be way ahead of us by now. But it's easy to make time on this highway." He smiled. "Though mostly we weren't traveling quite so fast as you seemed to be when you pa.s.sed us a while back where we'd stopped for a drink."

"I saw you too," the man said. "But those little stands out in the open don't appeal to me. I've been aiming for this nice cool restaurant for the past hundred miles." His smile died abruptly and his voice sharpened. "Thought for a while we never would get here. Some fool agricultural post back there a way held us up for nearly half an hour. The idea seemed to be that we might be secretly carrying a cargo of poisonous insects."

Sandy laughed. "We were stopped there too. Black fly, or something, I think they're checking on."

"I don't even know what it was," the tall man said. "But I had the distinct impression they were giving us a special third-degree inspection. Several other cars and trucks went through while we were still held up there."

"The ones that went through quickly were probably local vehicles," Mort said easily. "They wouldn't bother searching those so carefully. But out-of-state, out-of-country cars usually get a thorough going over."

The man shrugged, but his eyes were intent on Phillips. "I wouldn't know. Do you make this run often, to be so well informed?"

"I've made it several times," Mort said. "I'm a student 62 .

at the National University, you see, and I have to return to the border every six months to renew my visa." He grinned at Ken and Sandy. "I was lucky this time. I've got a hitch all the way to Mexico City. Sometimes I find myself stuck in a car that's going only a few miles."

The man nodded, almost absent-mindedly, and then glanced back toward his own table. "Well," he said, "I just wanted to say h.e.l.lo. Have a good trip."

"Thanks," Sandy said.

"Yes, thanks," Ken added. "It's been fine so far."

When the man was seated once more opposite the plump figure of Baron, the bank teller, Sandy let out an explosive sigh.

"Whew!" he said. "The gentleman sounds a trifle suspicious."

Mort nodded slowly. "It's possible. Those questions about the agricultural inspection station-" He shook his head. "I don't like it. If he's suspicious already, he may possibly be tying you two in with this, and that's what I'd hoped to avoid. Now I wouldn't feel safe sending you on your way to Mexico City without an escort."

A waiter appeared beside them at that moment, and they all ordered sandwiches and coffee.

"As quickly as possible," Sandy added.

"Si, sefior." The waiter hurried off.

"You both did a good job, though," Phillips said. "Maybe I'm just imagining things-and you too, Sandy."

"Green Flame is leaving-alone," Ken said quietly.

The others couldn't see without turning around, and Ken reported that the tall man had disappeared in the direction of the lobby. Baron, left alone, sipped coffee and kept his eyes lowered to the table.

Phillips thought for a moment. "But he must be com- DELAYING TACTIC 63.

ing back. He wouldn't leave Baron here. There's no point in our das.h.i.+ng out after him."

Their waiter returned then with their food, and devoted himself for some minutes to pouring their coffee and making certain there was nothing else they needed at the moment.

Just as he left, Ken reported that the tall man had returned, said something to Baron, and then snapped his fingers for a waiter.

"Relax," Ken said. "He's ordering more coffee."

The boys and Phillips finished their own coffee and sandwiches, but Baron and his guide still lingered at their table.

"Dessert?" Sandy suggested hopefully.

Phillips nodded. "We might as well."

The waiter brought them a creamy custard in a caramel sauce, and more coffee. And just as it arrived the two men in the other corner stood up. Baron was clutching a brief case in his hand.

"Too bad." Sandy stared down at the dish in front of him. "Looks good, too."

"It is good," Phillips a.s.sured him. "Go ahead and eat it. I'll leave you in a minute and phone the police. There's no use our starting out until we know which road they're taking out of town."

When the two men had had time to get through the lobby, Phillips left the dining room to make his call. He was back in less than five minutes.

"They'll send word through to me here," he said. He ate his own dessert then, and impatiently ordered a third cup of coffee.

Ten long minutes crawled past, after the completion of his phone call, before a waiter approached.

64 .

"Senor Phillips?" When Mort got quickly to his feet, the man added, "Telefono, senor."

Ken paid the bill, then he and Sandy too went out to the lobby. Phillips was using the phone at the clerk's desk, speaking into it in a guarded voice.

"Bueno," he said finally. "Gracias." He set the phone back in its cradle, thanked the clerk, and turned to the boys. "Both cars are heading right on down the main highway toward Mexico City. They've already pa.s.sed the check point at the city limits. Let's go."

"Maybe Green Flame wasn't suspicious of us after all," Sandy said as they headed swiftly for the door. "If he had been, he might have left the gray coup6 behind to keep an eye on us."

"I hope you're right." But Phillips didn't look entirely convinced.

Ken was unlocking the convertible's door when he heard a sharp hiss directed at him from behind the next car. He turned curiously to see the young car watcher peering at him with bright eyes.