Texas Showdown by Don Pendleton, Dick Stivers

paper. "Grover Cleveland, my favorite president!"
    While Gadgets laughed, Furst stripped off another bill and laid it on the table. Another thousand dollars.
    "That for Marchardo? Morgan?"
    "You. I need a favor."
    His laughter gone, Gadgets waited. There was only one chair in the small room. Furst pushed aside assembled components and sat on the edge of the table.
    "You seem to be able to do anything with electronics. Can you make miniature transmitters? Bugs? And a receiver?"
    "Ah... sure. If I can get the parts. I don't have the parts here."
    "So you go to El Paso tomorrow."
    * * *
    Lyons waited, invisible in a shadow, for some minutes before realizing his mistake.
    Moving fast, Lyons returned to the barrack. He glanced at the Mercedes en route. Other than some dust on the tires, the luxury sedan was immaculate. Furst could not have come from the outside.
    He was oh his way out. Lyons went into the barrack.
    "Hey, you still awake?" Lyons whispered to Blancanales.
    "You do it?"
    "Not yet. I think he's leaving the camp. Therefore I am going to be an uninvited hitchhiker."
    "I'll stand by. Adios."
    Snatching a dark blanket from one of the bunks, Lyons hurried outside. He tried the driver's door. Locked. Then he tried one of the back doors. It opened. With a last glance down the base road, Lyons climbed into the car and dropped down into the back seat's footwell.
    The Mercedes had dark leather upholstery and black carpeting. With the dark blanket over him, Lyons hoped he would become only a shadow. He waited, watching the second hand of his luminous-dialed watch as it slowly completed circles.
    Ten minutes later, he heard voices outside. The front passenger door opened, keys jingled at the driver's door. Then he identified the voices: Furst and Pardee.
    "...we'll have to relieve the two squads down there in a few days," Pardee told Furst. His voice sounded slurred. "So he'd better come up with some new radar-baffling stuff. We can't keep pulling the same tricks on the Mexicans."
    "I've got him working on more sophisticated devices," Furst responded as the car started up. "I'm sending him into El Paso tomorrow to get the electronics he needs. And he'll have another week..."
    "You sending him in alone?"
    Cramped under the blanket, Lyons felt the Mercedes slow for the speed bumps at the guard station. Pardee was drunk. The smell of alcohol-breath filled the car's interior. Through the soles of his boots, Lyons felt the faint vibration of a power window. Cool night air rushed into the Mercedes. He heard a sentry: "Good evening, Commander. Captain Pardee."
    "And to you, soldier," Furst replied. The car accelerated. They lurched over the second set of bumps, then the Mercedes gained speed on the main road. "No, he won't be going alone. I'll have one of the platoon leaders drive him into town."
    "Is tonight an urgent meeting?" Pardee asked abruptly. Before Furst could answer, Pardee laughed.
    "Depends on what you mean by..." Furst laughed also. "I don't know why Lopez thought it necessary to fly in tonight. Maybe he wants to give us a speech."
    Both men laughed again. For minutes, they alternated between laughter and silence. Furst seemed slightly drunk also. Lyons felt the Mercedes float through the curves and dips of the road through the hills.
    "When we go up there," Furst spoke carefully, without humor, "we need to control what the old man says around Lopez. All his talk about war with Mexico must stop. God help us if Monroe talks about nuking the country."
    "Why? You think that pompous wetback will call it off?"
    "I don't worry about that. It only means less of Monroe's money in my account. What bothers me is, if we panic Lopez, he could turn us in to the Feds — American and Mexican federals."
    "We'll kill him."
    "Won't keep us out of prison. What we really need is Monroe's doctor at the meetings. To give the old man an injection when he starts raving."
    The conversation turned to jokes and laughter again. Soon the Mercedes