By the fortieth hour he had made his choice. It had not been easy to reach a decision. Every seemingly suitable dropping place had some kind of disadvantage, proving yet again that the ideal hideout does not exist. One would be beautifully positioned from the strategic viewpoint but lack adequate cover. Another would have first-class natural concealment but dangerous location.

The captain came in saying, “I hope you’ve picked a point on the night-side, If it isn’t, we’ll have to dodge around until dark and that’s not good. The best technique is to go in and get out before they’ve time to take alarm and organise a counter-blow.”

“This is it’ Mowry indicated the place on a photo. “It’s a lot farther from a road than I’d have liked, about twenty miles and all of it through virgin forest. Whenever I need something out the cache it will take me a day’s hard going to reach it, maybe two days. But by the same token it should remain safe from prying eyes and that’s the prime consideration”

Sliding the photo into the viewer, the captain switched on the interior lighting and looked into the rubber eyepiece. He frowned with concentration.

“You mean that marked spot on the cliff?”

“No-it’s at the cliff’s base. See that outcrop of rock? What’s a fraction north of it?”

The captain stared again. “It’s hard to tell for certain but it looks mighty like a cave formation.” He backed off, picked up the intercom phone. “Hame, come here, will you?”

Hamerton, the chief navigator, arrived and studied the photo, found the indicated point. He compared it with a two-hemisphere map of Jaimec, made swift calculations.

“We’ll catch it on the night-side but only by the skin of our teeth”

“You sure of that?”

“If we went straight there we’d make it with a couple of hours to spare. But we daren’t go straight; their radar network would plot the dropping-point to within half a mile. So we’ll have to dodge around below their radar horizon. Evasive action takes time but with luck we can complete the drop half an hour before sunrise.”