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'Pelota seemed to think there was still something pretty special about the place.'

'There is,' Morrison said. 'An old fortress they've turned into a prison for political offenders. It's the final resting place for anyone they really want to get rid of. So far nobody's survived long enough to be released.'

'So that's what Pelota meant when he said Garcia would receive his reward here on earth.'

Morrison nodded. 'I don't know what the poor devil's expecting. If he's lucky, it'll be a bullet.'

There was a short silence and then Viner said slowly, 'Forgive me, Mr Morrison, but it would appear that there is much more to this affair than appears on the surface. Am I right?'

Morrison took his time over a lighted cigarette. When he looked up, his face was grim. 'By agreement with Great Britain, the United States has certain bases in the Bahamas.'

'You mean in connection with the Canaveral project?'

Morrison nodded. 'There are stations containing electronic brains which track, guide and probe missile behaviour during flights, on Grand Bahama, San Salvador and several other islands.'

'Everyone knows that. It's common knowledge.'

'Three weeks ago, one of them was badly sabotaged.'

'You've kept damned quiet about it,' Manning said.

'We had to. You can imagine the king-sized international row there'd be if it got out.'

'And you think it was the same people who were responsible for this latest affair?' Viner said.

Morrison nodded. 'We think they're based here in the Bahamas.'

Manning whistled softly. 'Seven hundred islands and two thousand cays and rocks. That's quite an area to search.'

'And the whole thing's got to be done under cover. We just can't afford a stink at this stage. The eyes of the whole world are going to be turned this way when the President and your Prime Minister meet here in a couple of weeks.'

'The Russians as usual, I suppose?' Viner said.

'I don't think so. Since the Cuban crisis, they've been leaning over backwards to keep things from boiling over. More likely some undercover group of Cuban fanatics. They're the only ones who'd stand to gain from promoting another international row. They haven't been too pleased with Moscow lately. Maybe they're trying to force their hand.'

'And Garcia's the only lead you've got?' Viner said.

'And he'll be landing in San Juan about now.'

Manning went to the bar and got himself a large rum. When he got back, he was frowning. 'The word is, you've got agents all over Cuba. Why can't someone go to San Juan, see what he can dig up on Garcia. For all we know, he could be sitting in the best hotel in town living it up.'

'Somehow I don't think so.' Morrison shook his head.

'Surely it's worth checking on?'

'In any case, we've been having to take it pretty steady ourselves since the crisis. We don't want another storm at the moment any more than the Russians do. A Yank in Cuba just now would be like a red rag to a bull.'

'How about an Englishman?'

Morrison frowned. 'You must be crazy.'

'I don't see why not,' Manning said. 'Relations between Cuba and Britain aren't exactly marvellous, but they're better than yours are.'

'You'd be running your head straight into a noose.'

Manning shrugged. 'All I need is a good cover story.'

'We couldn't help you. We couldn't help you at all. You'd be strictly on your own.'

'Who said I needed any help? If I went, it would be for personal reasons. I've as much interest as you have in running this group down.'

Morrison shook his head. 'An attractive offer, Manning. I won't deny that, but it wouldn't work. In the first place, you just couldn't sail into San Juan. They'd clap you in jail the moment you landed.'

'I don't know about that,' Viner said. 'There are men from the islands, British citizens, who still make the occasional run to San Juan and out again.'

Morrison turned to him and frowned. 'Are you sure you know what you're talking about?'

Viner selected a cigarette and fitted it into his holder. 'My business activities are varied, Mr Morrison. They