The Codex

25

Buenos tardes,” murmured Ocotal, taking a seat next to Philip at the fire.

“Buenos tardes,” Philip said, taking the pipe out of his mouth, surprised. It was the first time Ocotal had spoken to him the entire trip.

They had reached a large lake at the edge of the swamp and were camped on a sandy island that actually had a beach. The bugs were gone, the air was fresh, and for the first time in a week Philip could see more than twenty feet in one direction. The only thing that spoiled it was that the water lapping on the strand was the color of black coffee. As usual, Hauser was out hunting with a couple of soldiers while the others were at their own fire, playing cards. The air was drowsy with heat and the green-gold light of late afternoon. It was altogether a pleasant spot, thought Philip.

Ocotal abruptly leaned forward and said, “I overheard the soldiers talking last night.”

Philip raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“Do not react to what I say. They are going to kill you.” He said it so low and rapidly that Philip almost thought he hadn’t heard properly. He sat there dumbfounded as the words sank in.

Ocotal went on. “They are going to kill me, too.”

“Are you sure?”

Ocotal nodded.

In a panic, Philip considered this. Could Ocotal be trusted? Could it be a misunderstanding? Why would Hauser kill him? To steal the inheritance? It was quite possible. Hauser was no Mr. Rogers. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that the soldiers were still playing cards, their guns stacked against a tree. On the other hand, it seemed impossible. Like something out of a movie. Hauser was going to make a million dollars already. You didn’t kill people just like that — did you? “What do you plan to do?”

“Steal a boat and run. Hide in the swamp.”

“You mean now?”

“You want to wait?”

“But the soldiers are right over there. We’ll never get away. What did you hear the soldiers say that made you think this? Perhaps it was just a misunderstanding.”

“Listen to me, you deficient,” Ocotal hissed. “There is no time. I go now. If you come, come now. If not, adiós.”

He rose easily, lazily, and began strolling down toward the beach where the dugouts were beached. In a panic Philip turned his eyes from him to the soldiers. They were still playing cards, oblivious. From where they were sitting, at the base of a tree, they could not see the boats.

What should he do? He felt paralyzed. A monumental decision had been thrust on him without warning or preparation. It was crazy. Could Hauser really be that cold-blooded? Was Ocotal himself trying to pull a fast one?

Ocotal was now sauntering along the beach, casually looking up into the trees. He stood by a boat and with his knee, slowly and without seeming to do so, began edging it into the water.

It was happening too fast. Really, it hinged on what kind of man Hauser was. Was he really capable of murder? He wasn’t a nice man, that was true. There was something wrong with him. Philip suddenly remembered the pleasure he’d taken decapitating the agouti, the smile on his face when he saw the spot of blood on Philip’s shirt, the way he’d said you’ll see.

Ocotal now had the boat in the water and with a smooth motion stepped into it, picking up the pole at the same time and getting ready to shove off.

Philip stood and walked quickly down to the beach. Ocotal was already offshore, pole planted, ready to shove the boat into the channel. He paused long enough for Philip to wade out and climb in. Then, with a strong compression of his back muscles, Ocotal planted the pole into the sandy bottom and silently propelled them out into the swamp.