Ellie King sized up the situation. She ran around in back of the bus, avoided two guides and slipped onto the vehicle with the other blacks.

One of the guides tried to restore order.

"People, the Zambian delegation is late for a special reception we've set up for them. There will be a press conference at the Olympic Village on UCLA's campus tomorrow at 10 A.M. I promise you the biggest story of the Olympics at that time."

"Why are you speaking for the Zambians?" an indignant reporter shouted. "Let them say a few words."

The burly guides began to bulldoze the press away from the athletes.

"Special press conference, my ass," Gadgets said. "Something stinks."

"What are those bastards doing?" Lyons exclaimed. He pointed at three men in gray suits who were roughing up Sheldon Archer. The men had found Archer's credentials. The large blond leader was shouting. Handguns appeared everywhere. Petra Dix, showing incredibly bad timing, stuck her microphone in the face of the head gunman.

"Archer and Dix are boxed in," Lyons said. "Move."

Blancanales straight-armed Dix's cameraman to the ground to get the flunky out of the way.

Able Team attacked.

Sheldon Archer held his own. He grabbed the hand of the top gunman. He forced the hand to give up the gun.

Gadgets took a long flying tackle, knocking Petra Dix to the pavement. He rolled with her, shielding her body with his.

Pol's Beretta whispered at one of the graysuits. He connected with the head. The guncock folded and dropped to the pavement. Politician was wheeling to fire another shot when he was nailed by the 9mm slug of a Makarov. He just grunted. The spacesuit had worked.