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found that the inquiry had been initiated from the Rancho Dolorosa in Ely, Nevada. Naturally I thought of my old friend, the Shoot-'Em-Up Kid."
        Erikson's rocklike features were creased in the closest they ever came to a smile.
        "Naturally." There was going to be no talking my way out of this one.
        "You were on the hijacked plane?"
        "Yes."
        "You may not be accident-prone, but you sure as hell are incident-prone," Erikson observed. "What happened?"
        I told him.
        "And you said you got a good look at the one who got away," Hazel reminded me when I finished.
        I'd left that out deliberately because I could see complications ahead. Hazel kept on talking, explaining to Erikson about Tippy Larkin's money and how I happened to be on the gamblers' chartered flight. Erikson kept nodding, but his eyes were still on mine. "You'd recognize the man?" he asked me when Hazel stopped.
        "I might."
        "Good," he said briskly. "You'll have a chance to recognize him if we get a break in Tucson."
        "Now wait a minute. I'm not volunteering for your campaign. I'm not-"
        "You'd like to get Hazel's money back, wouldn't you?" he interrupted me.
        "Well, sure, but I don't need you hanging around my neck to get it back. If I can find out who hired that plane-"
        "Do I need to remind you that you'll get a lot more information if I'm with you?" Erikson said it confidently as he rose to his feet. "Let's get going. My bullet holes won't stand the long drive down there, so we'll go to the airport in Ely and charter a flight."
        I looked at Hazel.
        "You bring him back here with you afterward," she told me.
        It seemed that I was a minority of one in regard to a chaperoned trip to the Colonial Airport in Tucson.
        

3
        
         THERE were two reasons why I eventually agreed to fly to Tucson with Karl Erikson.
        One was forthright: I wanted a shot at recovering Hazel's money. And my own. I wasn't about to overlook the possibility of a bit of interest, either.
        The second reason was more subtle.
        When I first visited Hazel at her ranch after I escaped from the prison hospital, I was on the run from the law as I had been all my adult life. It didn't make any difference to Hazel, who hadn't been brought up in a vacuum, but I didn't want to bring her any trouble. Then her stepfather, a nice old guy who wouldn't act his age, was killed on the ranch by a bunch of vicious kids who went further than they intended in trying to scare him.
        I got into the tail end of the act, and I sickened the kids of the idea that they were running things in that part of the county. Afterward, though, I had to leave the ranch in a hurry because I couldn't afford to hang around and answer lawmen's questions about what had happened. Or about my background.
        Erikson knew about the background when he recruited me for Cuba, but he needed me for what I could do for the operation. When he finally got back to Florida with the bundle that turned out to belong to the State Department and wasn't partly mine as I'd expected, in partial recompense Erikson gave me his word that no law-enforcement agency would bother me at the ranch.
        I could have kicked myself that I hadn't inserted a stipulation that Karl Erikson couldn't bother me, either. Not that it would really have done any good. There weren't three other men in the world I'd rather have watching my back in a tight spot; but Erikson was a dedicated, hard-nosed government agent who let nothing and nobody stand in the way of getting his job done. I didn't want him twisting my arm in front of Hazel, threatening the removal of my umbrella. I didn't want her upset, but she'd let the cat out of the bag about me getting a good look at the escaped hijacker, and as far as Erikson was concerned, this made me essential to his trip to Tucson.
        I'd much rather