One minute past eight

The headquarters of Segurnal—short for Seguridad Nacional, sometimes known as the secret police—was the last place Jeff Lane had expected to be his first night in Caracas. He'd arrived earlier that evening and had gone directly to the Hotel Tucan to meet Baker, the private detective who'd cabled he'd found Arnold Grayson, but by that time Baker could no longer talk. Grayson however was there at Segurnal too, still uncommitted, despite the trick at the Miami Airport which had cost Jeff twelve hours and had given Karen Holmes an all-important lead over him. For Jeff and Karen it was to become a game of cat-and-mouse in a strange land among strange people. There were, for instance, Pedro Vidal, head man of Segurnal ; Carl Webb, hood, gambler, and collection-man for a missing hundred and twenty thousand dollars; Muriel Miranda, who had the height to complement her curves; but not the depth to restrain her dreams; and Julio Cordovez, soft-spoken, good friend, and perhaps the most dangerous of all.