The Vivero Letter

I

They chased me like hounds chase the fox. I’ve never been much in favour of blood sports and this experience reinforced my distaste because it gave me a very good idea of what it’s like to be on the wrong end of a hunt. I also had the disadvantage of not knowing the country, while the hounds were hunting on their home ground. It was a nerve-racking and sweaty business.

It began not long after Harry died. I couldn’t do much about Harry although I didn’t like just leaving him there for the forest scavengers. I began to dig a grave, using Harry’s machete, but I came across rock close to the surface and had to stop. In the end I laid him out with his arms folded across his chest and said goodbye.

That was a mistake, of course, and so was the attempt at a grave. If I had left Harry as he was when he died, just a tumbled heap at the foot of a tree, then I might have got clean away. The body of the dead chiclero was found, and so was Harry’s body, a little further in the forest; if I had left him alone then Gatt’s men might not even have suspected that I existed. But dead men don’t attempt to dig their own graves, nor do they compose themselves for their end in such a neat manner, and the hunt was on.

But maybe I’m wrong, because I did take as much loot from the dead chiclero as I could. It was too precious to leave behind. I took his rifle, his pack, the contents of his pockets, a bandolier stuffed with cartridges and a nice new machete, as sharp as a razor and much better than those I had been using. I would have taken his clothing too, for use as a disguise, had I not heard voices on the trail. That scared me off and I slipped away into the forest, intent on putting as much distance between me and those voices as I could.

I don’t know if they discovered the bodies then or at a later time because, in my hurry to get away, I got thoroughly lost for the rest of the day. All I knew was that Gatt’s trail to Uaxuanoc was somewhere to the west, but by the time I’d figured that out it was too dark to do anything about it, and I spent the night up a tree.

Oddly enough, I was in better shape than at any time since the helicopter crashed. I had food and nearly three quarts of water, I was more accustomed to moving in the forest and did not have to do as much useless chopping with the machete, and one man can go where two men can’t — especially when one of the two is sick. Without poor Harry I was more mobile. Then again, I had the rifle. I didn’t know what I was going to to do with it, but I stuck to it on general principles.

The next morning, as soon as it was light enough to see, I headed west, hoping to strike the trail. I travelled a hell of a long way and I thought I’d made a terrible mistake. I knew if I didn’t find that trail then I’d never find Uaxuanoc, and I’d probably leave my bones somewhere in the forest when my food and water ran out, so I was justifiably anxious. I didn’t find the trail, but I nearly ran into a bullet as someone raised a shout and took a shot at me.

The bullet went high and clipped leaves from a bush, and I took to my heels and got out of there fast. From then on there was a strange, slow-motion chase in the humid green dimness of the forest floor. The bush was so thick that you could be standing right next to a man and not know he was there if he were quiet enough. Imagine putting the Hampton Court maze into one of the big tropical houses at Kew, populating it with a few armed thugs with murder in their hearts, and you in the middle, the object of their unloving attentions.

I tried to move as quietly as I could, but my knowledge of woodcraft dates back to Fenimore Cooper and I wasn’t so good at the Silent Savage bit. But then, neither were the chicleros. They crashed about and shouted one to the other, and a couple of shots were loosed off at random but nowhere near me. After a while I began to get over my immediate fright and the conviction grew upon me that if I chose a thickish bit of forest and just stood still I was as likely to get away with it as if I kept on running.

So I did that and stood screened by leaves with my hands sweaty on the rifle until the noise of pursuit disappeared. I didn’t move out immediately, either. The greatest danger was the man more brainy than the others who would be doing the same as me — just standing quietly and waiting for me to come into view. So I waited a full hour before moving, and then, again, I headed west.

This time I found the trail. I burst into it unexpectedly, but luckily there wasn’t anyone in sight. I hastily withdrew and looked at my watch to find it was after five in the afternoon, not far from nightfall. I debated with myself whether or not to take a chance and use the trail. I was tired, and perhaps my judgement wasn’t as keen as it ought to have been, because I said out loud, ‘The hell with it!’ and boldly stepped out. Again it was a relief to have unhampered freedom of movement. There was no need for the machete, so I unslung the rifle and took it in both hands, and made good time, conscious that every step brought me nearer Uaxuanoc and safety.

This time I surprised a chiclero. He was standing in the trail with his back to me and I could smell the smoke of the foul cigarette he was puffing. I was retreating cautiously when, apparently by some sixth sense, he became aware of me and turned fast. I popped off a shot at him and he promptly fell flat and rolled into cover. The next thing was an answering shot, so close that I felt the thrill of air on my cheek.

I ducked for cover and, hearing shouts, pushed into the forest. Again, there was a fantastic game of hide-and-seek. I found another hidey-hole and froze in it like a hare in its form, hoping that the hunt would go around me. I listened to the chicleros plunging about and shouting to each other and there was something about the quality in their voices which made me think their hearts weren’t in it. After all, one of their number was dead, stabbed in a very nasty way, and I had just taken a pot-shot at another. It can’t have been very encouraging; after all, I’d shown definitely murderous tendencies, they didn’t know who I was and I could be standing in wait to garotte any one of them. No wonder they stuck together and shouted at each other — there was comfort in numbers.

They gave up at nightfall and retreated to wherever they had come from. I stayed where I was and put in a bit of solid thought on the problem, something which I’d been neglecting to do in the hurry-scurry of the day’s events. I’d run into two lots of them during the day, and as far as I could make out, they were moving in groups of three or four. Whereas the first chiclero — the one I had killed — had been alone.

Again, this last lot was neither spying on Uaxuanoc nor staying at Gatt’s camp, and it seemed to me that its sole purpose was to hunt for me, otherwise why would they have been staked out on the trail? It was very likely that Gatt had identified the body of Harry Rider and he had a shrewd suspicion of who Rider’s companion was. Anyway, every time I tried to make a break for Uaxuanoc there had been some one placed to stop me.

Apart from all that, I had no illusions about what would happen to me if I were caught. The man I had killed would have friends, and it would be useless to expostulate that I hadn’t intended killing him and that I was merely dissuading him from splitting Harry’s skull. The fact was that I had killed him and there was no getting away from it.

Remembering how he had looked with the machete obscenely sticking from his body made me feel sick. I had killed a man and I didn’t even know who he was or what he thought. Still, he had started it by shooting at us and he had got what he deserved, yet, oddly, that didn’t make me feel any better about it. This primitive world of kill or be killed was a long way from Cannon Street and the bowler-hatted boys. What the hell was a grey little man like me doing here?

But this was no time for indulging in philosophy and I wrenched my mind back to the matter at hand. How in hell was I going to get back to Uaxuanoc? The idea came to me that I could move along the trail at night — that I had already proved. But would the chicleros be watching at night? There was only one thing to do and that was to find out the hard way.

It was not yet dark and I had just time to get back to the trail before the light failed. Moving in the forest at night was impossible, and movement on the trail wasn’t much better but I persevered and went slowly and as quietly as I could. It was very depressing to see the fire. They had hewn out a little clearing, and the fire itself was built right in the middle of the trail. They sat around it talking and obviously wide awake. To go round was impossible at night, so I withdrew regretfully and, as soon as I thought I was out of hearing, I hacked into the forest and found myself a tree.

The next morning the first thing I did was to go further into the forest away from the trail and find myself another tree. I chose it very carefully and established myself on a sort of platform forty feet above the ground with leaf cover beneath so thick that I couldn’t see the ground at all and no one on the ground could see me. One thing was certain — these boys couldn’t possibly climb every tree in the forest to see where I was hiding, and I thought I’d be safe.

I was tired — tired to death of running, and fighting this bloody forest, tired of being shot at and of shooting at other people, tired because of lack of sleep and because too much adrenalin had been pumped into my system, tired above all, of being consistently and continually frightened.

Maybe the grey little man inside me was intent on running away. I don’t know — but I rationalized it by saying to myself that I wanted a breathing space. I was staking everything on one last throw. I had a quart of water left, and a little food — enough for a day if I didn’t have to run too much. I was going to stay in that tree for twenty-four hours — to rest and sleep and get my wind back. By that time I’d have eaten all the food and drunk all the water, and I’d bloody well have to make a move, but until then I was going to take it easy.

Maybe it’s a trait of little grey men that they only go into action when pushed hard enough, and perhaps I was unconsciously putting myself into such a position that hunger and thirst would do the pushing; but what I consciously thought was that if the chicleros saw neither hair nor hide of me for the next twenty-four hours then they might assume that I’d either quit cold or gone elsewhere. I hoped, rather futilely, than when I came down out of that tree they’d have gone away.

So I made myself comfortable, or as comfortable as I could, and rested up. I split the food up into three meals and marked the water-bottle into three portions. The last lot was for breakfast just before I left. I slept, too, and I remember thinking just before I dozed off that I hoped I didn’t snore.

Most of the time I spent in a somnolent condition, not thinking about anything much. All the affairs of Fallon and Uaxuanoc seemed very far away, and Hay Tree Farm could just as well have been on another planet. There was just the clammy green heat of the forest enfolding me, and even the ever-present danger from the chicleros seemed remote. I daresay if a psychiatrist could have examined me then he’d have diagnosed a case of schizophrenic retreat. I must have been in a bad way and I think that was my nadir.

Night came and I slept again, this time more soundly, and I slept right through until daybreak and awoke refreshed. I think that night’s sleep did me a lot of good because I felt remarkably cheerful as I munched the tough dried beef and ate the last of the bread. I felt devilish reckless as I washed it down with the last of the water from the bottle. Today was going to be make or break for Jemmy Wheale — I had nothing left to fall back on, so I might as well push right ahead.

I abandoned the water-bottles and the knapsack and all I retained were the switchblade knife in my pocket, the machete and the rifle. I was going to travel light and fast. I didn’t even take the bandolier, but just put a half-dozen rounds in my pocket. I didn’t see myself fighting a pitched battle, and all the ammunition in the world wouldn’t help me if I had to. I suppose the bandolier and the water-bottles are still up in that tree — I can’t imagine anyone finding them.

I came out of the tree and dropped on to the ground, not worrying too much whether anyone saw or heard me or not, and made my way through the forest to the trail. When I got to it I didn’t hesitate at all, but just turned and walked along as though I hadn’t a care in the world. I carried the rifle at the trail and held the machete in the other hand, and I didn’t bother to slow at the corners but just carried straight on.

When I arrived at the clearing the chicleros had chopped out for their little camp I stopped and felt the embers of the fire. It never occurred to me to be cautious in my approach; I just marched into the clearing, found no one there, and automatically bent to feel the heat of the embers. They were still warm and, as I turned them over with the point of the machete, there was a glow of red. It was evident that the chicleros were not long gone.

But which way? Up-trail or down-trail? I didn’t particularly care and set off again at the same pace, striding out and trying to make good time. And I did make good time. I had examined the map and tried to trace the course of my wanderings during the days I had been harried. It was something of an impossibility, but as near as I could reckon I thought I was within three miles of Uaxuanoc, and I was damned well going to keep to that trail until I got there.

Fools may rush in where angels fear to tread, but there is also something called Fool’s Luck. All the time those bastards had been chasing me and I’d been scared out of my wits, I had run into them, twist and turn as I would. Now, when I didn’t give a damn, it was I who saw them first. Rather, I heard them nattering away in Spanish as they came up the trail, so I just stepped aside into the forest and let them pass.

There were four of them, all armed and all pretty villainous-looking, unshaven and dressed in the universal dirty whites of the chicleros. As they passed I heard a reference to Señor Gatt and there was a burst of laughter. Then they were gone up the trail and I stepped out of cover. If they’d had their wits about them they could easily have spotted me because I hadn’t gone far into cover, but they didn’t even turn their heads as they went by. I’d reached the stage when I didn’t give a damn.

But I was heartened as I went on. It was unlikely that any more of them would be coming up the trail and I lengthened my stride to move faster so that I’d outpace any possible chicleros coming up behind. It was hot and strenuous work and the precious water I had drunk filmed my body in the form of sweat, but I drove myself on and on without relenting and kept up a lulling pace for the next two hours.

Suddenly the trail took a sharp turn to the left, went on a hundred yards, and petered out. I stopped, uncertain of where to go, and suddenly became aware of a man lying on top of a hillock to my right. He was staring at something through field glasses, and as I convulsively brought up the rifle, he half-turned his head and said casually, ‘Es usted, Pedro?’

I moistened my lips, ‘Si!’ I said hoping that was the right answer.

He put the glasses to his eyes again and resumed his contemplation of whatever was on the other side of the hillock. ‘Tiene usted fosforos y cigarrillos?’

I didn’t know what he was saying, but it was obviously a question, so I repeated again, ‘Si!’ and climbed up the hillock boldly until I was standing over him, just a little behind.

‘Gracias,’ he said. ‘Qué hora es?’ He put down the glasses and turned to look at me just as I brought the rifle butt down on his head. It hit him just above the right eye and his face creased in sudden pain. I lifted the rifle and slammed it down harder in a sudden passion of anger. This is what would have happened to Harry. The sound that came from him was midway between a wail and a grunt, and he rolled over down the hillock and was still.

I gave him a casual glance and stirred him with my foot. He did not move, so I turned to see what he had been looking at. Spread out below was Uaxuanoc and Camp Three, not a quarter of a mile away across open ground. I looked at it as the Israelites must have looked upon the Promised Land; tears came to my eyes and I took a few stumbling steps forward and shouted in a hoarse croak at the distant figures strolling about the huts.

I began to run clumsily and found that all the strength seemed to have suddenly drained from my body. I felt ridiculously weak and at the same time, airy and buoyant and very light-headed. I don’t know if the man I had stunned — or killed for all I knew — was the only chiclero overlooking the camp, or whether he had companions. Certainly it would have been a simple matter for a man with a rifle to shoot me in the back as I stumbled towards the huts, but there was no shot.

I saw the big figure of Joe Rudetsky straighten as he turned to look at me and there was a faint shout. Then there was a bit of a blankness and I found myself lying on the ground looking up at Fallon, who wore a concerned expression. He was speaking, but I don’t know what he said because someone was beating a drum in my ear. His head shrank and then ballooned up hugely, and I passed out again.

II

Water — clean, cold, pure water — is a marvellous substance. I’ve used it sometimes to make those packet soups; you get the dry, powdery stuff out of the packet which looks as unappetizing as the herbs from a witch doctor’s pouch, add water and hey presto! — what were a few dry scrapings turn into luscious green peas and succulent vegetables.

I was very dehydrated after my week in the forest, and I’d lost a lot of weight, but within a few hours I felt remarkably chirpy. Not that I drank a lot of water because Fallon wouldn’t let me and rationed it out in sips, but the sight of that water jug next to my bed with the cold condensation frosting the outside of the glass did me a world of good because I knew that all I had to do was to stretch my arm and there it was. A lovely feeling! So I was feeling better although, perhaps, like the packet soup I had lost a bit of flavour.

Fallon, of course, wanted to know what had happened in more detail than in the brief incoherent story I told when I stumbled into camp. He pulled up a chair and sat by the edge of the bed. ‘I think you’d better tell me all of it,’ he said.

‘I killed a man,’ I said slowly.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Rider? You mustn’t think of it like that.’

‘No, not Harry.’ I told him what had happened.

As I spoke the expression on his face changed to startled bewilderment, and when I finally wound down he said, ‘So we’re under observation — and Gatt’s out there.’

‘With an army,’ I said. ‘That’s what Pat Harris was trying to tell you — but you wouldn’t listen. Gatt has brought his own men from the States and recruited chicleros to help him in the forest. And the fire in the radio shack wasn’t an accident — nor was the crash of the chopper.’

‘You’re certain it was sabotage?’

‘Harry was,’ I said. ‘And I believe him. I also think the other chopper — the big one at Camp One — was sabotaged. Your jet is stranded in Mexico City, too. We’re isolated here.’

Fallon looked grim. ‘How many men did you see with Gatt?’

‘I didn’t stop to count — but from first to last I must have seen twenty-five. Some of those I might have bumped into more than once, of course, but I’d say that’s a fair reckoning.’ I stretched my hand and laid it against the coolness of the water jug. ‘I can make a fair guess at what they’ll do next.’

‘And what’s your guess?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? They’re going to hi-jack us. Gatt wants the stuff we’ve brought up from the cenote and any other trinkets we may have found. It’s still here, isn’t it?’

Fallon nodded. ‘I should have sent it out before.’ He stood up and looked out of the window. ‘What puzzles me is how you — and Gatt — can be certain of this.’

I was too tired to yell at him but I made an effort. ‘Damn it, I’ve been bringing the stuff out of the water, haven’t I?’

He turned. ‘But Gatt doesn’t know that. How can he know, unless someone told him? We haven’t broadcast it.’

I thought about that, then said softly, ‘I was in the forest for nearly a week after the sabotage and Gatt still hasn’t made a move. He’s out there and he’s ready, so what’s holding him up?’

‘Uncertainty, perhaps,’ suggested Fallon. ‘He can’t really know that we’ve found anything valuable — valuable to him, that is.’

‘True. But all he has to do is to walk in here and find a million and a half dollars that’s here for the taking.’

‘More than that,’ said Fallon. ‘Paul made a big find in the Temple of Yum Chac. He wasn’t supposed to start excavating, but he did, and he stumbled across a cache of temple implements. They’re priceless, Jemmy; nothing like this has been found before.’

‘Nothing is priceless to Gatt,’ I said. ‘What would it be worth to him?’

‘As a museum collection you couldn’t put a price on it. But if Gatt split it up and sold the pieces separately, then maybe he could pick up another million and a half.’

I looked at Fallon sourly. ‘And you had the nerve to tell me there wouldn’t be any gold in Uaxuanoc. We know Gatt can recognize the value, and we know he can dispose of it through Gerryson. So what do we do! Just hand it to him when he comes calling with his goons?’

‘In all fairness I think we’d better talk it over with the others,’ said Fallon. ‘Do you feel up to it?’

‘I’m all right,’ I said, and swung my legs out of bed.

It was a gloomy and depressing conference. I told my story and, after a few minutes of unbelieving incomprehension, I managed to ram it down their throats that we were in trouble. Fallon didn’t need convincing, of course, but Paul Halstead was as contrary a bastard as ever. ‘This whole thing sounds very unlikely,’ he said in his damned superior way.

I bristled. ‘Are you calling me a liar?’

Fallon put his hand on my arm warningly. Halstead said, ‘No, but I think you’re exaggerating — and using your imagination.’

I said, ‘Take a walk out into the forest. If you run into a bullet it won’t harm you if it’s imaginary.’

‘I certainly think you could have done more to help poor Rider,’ he said.

I leaned over the table to grab him but he pulled back sharply. ‘That’s enough!’ barked Fallon. ‘Paul, if you haven’t anything constructive to say, keep your mouth shut.’

Katherine Halstead unexpectedly attacked her husband for the first time. ‘Yes — shut up, Paul,’ she said curtly. ‘You make me sick.’ He looked at her in bewildered astonishment. ‘You’re not taking Wheale’s side again?’ he said in a hurt voice.

‘There are no sides — there never have been,’ she said in an icy voice. ‘If anyone uses his imagination, it’s not Jemmy.’ She looked across at me. ‘I’m sorry, Jemmy.’

‘I won’t have you apologizing for me,’ he blazed.

‘I’m not,’ she said in a voice that would cut a diamond. ‘I’m apologizing to Jemmy on my own behalf — for not listening to him earlier. Now just shut up as Professor Fallon says.’

Halstead was so surprised at this attack from an unexpected quarter that he remained silent and somewhat thoughtful. I looked across at Rudetsky. ‘What do you think?’

‘I believe you,’ he said. ‘We had some trouble with those goddamn chicleros back at Camp One. They’re a murderous lot of bastards, and I’m not surprised they took a shot at you.’ He squared his big shoulders and addressed himself to Fallon. ‘But this guy, Gatt, is something else again. We didn’t know about him.’

‘It wasn’t necessary for you to know,’ said Fallon colourlessly.

Rudetsky’s face took on a stubbornness. ‘I reckon it was, Mr. Fallon. If Gatt has organized the chicleros it means big trouble. Getting shot at wasn’t in the contract. I don’t like it — and neither do Smitty and Fowler here.’ The other two men nodded seriously.

I said, ‘What are you trying to do, Rudetsky? Start a trade union? It’s a bit late for that. Whether or not Mr. Fallon misled you is beside the point. In any case I don’t think he did it deliberately. The point at issue now is what do we do about Gatt?’

Fallon said wearily, ‘There’s only one thing we can do. Let him have what he wants.’

Smith and Fowler nodded vigorously, and Rudetsky said, ‘That’s what I think too.’ Katherine Halstead’s lips tightened, while Halstead twisted his head and looked about the table with watchful eyes.

‘Is that a fact?’ I said. ‘We just give Gatt three million dollars, pat him on the head and hope he’ll go away. A fat chance of that happening.’

Rudetsky leaned forward. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I’m sure you’re not as stupid as that, Joe. Gatt is committing a crime — he’s stealing three million dollars of someone else’s property. I don’t know who this stuff legally belongs to, but I’m sure the Mexican Government has a big claim. Do you really think that Gatt will allow anyone to go back to Mexico City to put in an official complaint?’

‘Oh, my God!’ said Fallon as the reality of the situation hit him.

‘You mean — hell knock us off — all of us?’ said Rudetsky in a rising voice.

‘What would you do in his position?’ I asked cynically. ‘Given, of course, that you don’t have too much regard for the sanctity of human life.’

There was a sudden babble of voices, above which rose Rudetsky’s bull-like tones cursing freely. Smith yelled, ‘I’m getting out of here.’

I thumped the table and yelled, ‘Belt up — the lot of you!’ To my surprise they all stopped suddenly and looked towards me. I hadn’t been used to asserting myself and maybe I over-did it — anyway, it worked. I stabbed my finger at Smith. ‘And where the hell do you think you’re going to go? Move ten yards into that forest and they’ve got you cold. You wouldn’t stand a chance.’

Smith’s face went very pale and he swallowed nervously. Fowler said, ‘Jeez; he’s right, Smitty! That’s out.’

There was a sudden strength in Fallon’s voice. ‘This is impossible, Wheale; you’re dragging up bogies. Do you realize what a stink there would be if Gatt went through with this... this mass murder? Do you think that a man can disappear with no questions asked? He’d never go through with it.’

‘No? Who else but us knows that Gatt is here? He’s experienced — he has an organization. I’ll bet he can whistle up a hundred witnesses to prove he’s in Mexico City right now. He’ll make damned sure that there is no one to tie him up with this thing.’

Katherine’s face was pale. ‘But when they find us... find our bodies... they’ll know that...’

‘I’m sorry, Katherine,’ I said. ‘But they won’t find us. You could bury an army in Quintana Roo and the bodies would never be found. We’ll just disappear.’

Halstead said, ‘You’ve put your finger on it, Wheale. Who else but us knows that Gatt is here? And the only reason we know is because of your say-so. I haven’t seen him, and neither has anyone else — except you. I think you’re trying to stampede us into something.’

I stared at him. ‘And why the devil should I want to do that?’

He shrugged elaborately. ‘You pushed your way into this expedition right from the start. Also, you’ve been very interested in the cash value of everything we’ve found. I don’t think I have to say much more, do I?’

‘No, you bloody well don’t,’ I snapped. ‘And you’d better not or I’ll ram your teeth down your throat.’ All the others were looking at me in silence, letting me know that this was a charge that had to be answered. ‘If I wanted to stampede you why would I prevent Smith going off? Why would I want to keep us together?’

Rudetsky blew out his breath explosively and looked at Halstead with dislike. ‘Jesus! For a minute this guy had me going. I ought to have known better.’ Halstead stirred uneasily under the implied contempt, and Rudetsky said to me, ‘So what do we do, Mr. Wheale?’

I was about to say, ‘Why ask me?’ but one look at Fallon made me change my mind. He was oddly shrunken and stared blindly in front of him, contemplating some interior vision. What he was thinking I don’t know and I’d hate to guess, but it was evident that we couldn’t rely on him for a lead. Halstead couldn’t lead a blind man across a street, while Rudetsky was a good sergeant type, super-efficient when told what to do — but he had to be told. And Smith and Fowler would follow Rudetsky.

I have never been a leader of men because I never particularly wanted to lead anyone anywhere. I was always of the opinion that a man should make his own way and that if he used the brains God gave him, then he didn’t have to follow in anyone’s footsteps and, by the same token, neither should he expect anyone to follow him. I was a lone wolf, a rampant individualist, and it was because of that, perhaps, I was labelled grey and colourless. I didn’t take the trouble to convert anyone to my point of view, an activity which seems to be a passionate preoccupation with others, and it was put down to lack of anything worthwhile to say — quite wrongly.

And now, in the quiet hut, everyone seemed to be waiting for me to take over — to do something positive. Everyone except Fallon, who had withdrawn, and Halstead, of course, who would be actively against me for whatever peculiar reasons occurred to his warped mind. Rudetsky said in a pleading voice, ‘We gotta do something.’

‘Gatt will be moving in very soon,’ I said. ‘What weapons have we?’

‘There’s a shotgun and a rifle,’ said Rudetsky. ‘Those are camp stores. And I have a handgun of my own packed in my kit.’

‘I have a revolver,’ said Fowler.

I looked around. ‘Any more?’

Fallon shook his head slowly and Halstead just regarded me with an unwinking stare. Katherine said, ‘Paul has a pistol.’

‘A shotgun, a rifle and three pistols. That’s a start, anyway. Joe, which hut do you think is most easily dependable?’

‘Are you thinking of having a battle?’ asked Halstead. ‘If Gatt is out there — which I doubt — you won’t stand a chance. I think you’re nuts.’

‘Would you prefer to let Gatt cut your throat? Offer your neck to the knife? Well, Joe?’

‘Your hut might be best,’ said Rudetsky. ‘It’s near to the cenote, which means they can’t get close in back.’

I looked at the empty shelves. ‘Where’s all the loot?’

‘I packed it all up,’ said Fallon. ‘Ready to go when the helicopter came in.’

‘Then you’ll have to unpack it again,’ I said. ‘We’ve got to get rid of it.’

Halstead jerked upright. ‘Goddamn it, what are you going to do? That material is priceless.’

‘No, it’s not,’ I said bluntly. ‘It has a price on it — seven lives! Gatt may kill us for it, if he can get it. But if we can put it out of his reach he may not consider seven murders worth the candle.’

Fowler said, ‘That figures. But what are you going to do with it?’

‘Dump the lot back into the cenote,’ I said brutally. ‘He’ll never get it out without a lengthy diving operation, and I don’t think he’ll stick around to try.’

Halstead went frantic. ‘You can’t do that,’ he shouted. ‘We may never be able to retrieve it.’

‘Why not? Most of it came out of the cenote in the first place. It won’t be lost forever. Come to that — I don’t give a damn if it is; and neither do these men here. Not if it saves our lives.’

‘Hell, no!’ said Rudetsky. ‘I say dump the stuff.’

Halstead appealed to Fallon. ‘You can’t let them do this.’

Fallon looked up. ‘Jemmy appears to have taken charge. He’ll do what he must.’ His mouth twisted into a ghastly simulacrum of a smile. ‘And I don’t think you can stop him, Paul.’

‘The cave,’ said Katherine suddenly. ‘We can put it in the cave.’

Halstead’s head jerked round. ‘What cave?’ he demanded suspiciously.

There’s an underwater cave about sixty-five feet down in the cenote,’ I said. ‘That’s a good idea, Katherine. It’ll be as safe and unavailable there as anywhere else.’

‘I’ll help you,’ she said.

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ snapped Halstead. ‘You’ll not lend a hand to this crazy scheme.’

She looked at him levelly. ‘I’m not taking orders from you any more, Paul. I’m going my own way for a change. I’m going to do what I think is right. Uaxuanoc has destroyed you, Paul; it has warped you into something other than the man I married, and I’m not going to be used as a tool for your crazy obsessions. I think we’re finished — you and I.’

He hit her — not a slap with an open palm, but with his clenched fist. It caught her under the jaw and lifted her clean across the hut to fall in a tumbled heap by the wall.

I wasted no time in thoughts of fair fights and Queensberry Rules, but grabbed a bottle from the table and crowned him hard. The bottle didn’t break but it didn’t do him any good. He gasped and his knees buckled under him, but he didn’t go down, so I laid the bottle across his head again and he collapsed to the floor.

‘All right,’ I said, breathing hard and hefting the bottle, ‘has anyone else any arguments?’

Rudetsky grunted deep in his chest. ‘You did all right,’ he said. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.’ He helped Fowler to lift Katherine to her feet, and brought her to a chair by the table. Nobody worried about Halstead; they just let him lie where he fell.

Katherine was dizzy and shaken, and Fallon poured out a stiff drink for her. ‘I pleaded with you not to have him along,’ he said in a low voice.

‘That’s water under the bridge,’ I said. ‘I’m as much to blame as anyone.’ Rudetsky was hovering solicitously behind Katherine. ‘Joe, I want his gun. I don’t trust the bastard with it.’

‘It’s in the box by the bed,’ said Katherine weakly.

Rudetsky made a sign with his hand. ‘Go get it, Smitty.’ He looked down at Halstead and stirred him with his foot. ‘You sure got him good. He’s going to have one hell of a headache.’

Katherine choked over the whisky. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.

She fingered the side of her jaw tenderly. ‘He’s insane,’ she whispered. ‘He’s gone mad.’

I stood up and took Rudetsky on one side. ‘Better get Halstead back into his hut. And if it can be locked, lock it. We have enough on our plate without having to handle that lunatic.’

His grin was pure enjoyment. ‘I’d have done the same long ago but I thought Fallon would can me. Oh, boy, but you tapped him good!’

I said, ‘You can have a crack at him any time you like, and you don’t have to worry about being fired. It’s open season on Halstead now; I’ve stopped being so bloody tolerant.’

Rudetsky and Fowler bent to pick up Halstead, who was showing signs of coming round. They got him to his feet and he looked at me blankly with glazed eyes, showing no sign of recognition, then Fowler pushed him out of the hut.

I turned to Katherine. ‘How are you doing?’

She gave me a wry and lop-sided smile. ‘As well as might be expected,’ she said gently. ‘After a public brawl with my husband.’ She looked down at the table. ‘He’s changed so much.’

‘He’ll change a lot more if he causes trouble,’ I said. ‘And not in a way he likes. His credit’s run out Katherine, and you can’t do anything more for him. You can’t be a barrier between him and the rest of the world any more.’

‘I know,’ she said sombrely.

There was a shout from outside the hut and I spun around to the doorway. A single shot sounded in the distance, to be followed by a fusillade of rifle fire, a ragged pattering of shots. I left the hut at a dead run and made for the outskirts of the camp, to be waved down by Rudetsky who was sheltering behind a hut.

I went forward at a crouch and joined him. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

‘Halstead made a break for it,’ he said, breathing heavily. ‘He ran for the forest and we tried to follow him. Then they opened up on us.’

‘What about Halstead? Did they fire on him?’

‘I reckon he’s dead,’ said Rudetsky. ‘I saw him go down as he reached the trees.’

There was a muffled sound from behind and I turned to see Katherine. ‘Get back to the hut,’ I said angrily. ‘It’s dangerous here.’

Two big tears squeezed from beneath her eyelids and rolled down her cheek as she turned away, and there was a dispirited droop to her shoulders.

I waited there at the edge of the camp for a long time but nothing happened; no more shots nor even the sound or sight of a living thing. Just the vivid green of the forest beyond the cleared ground of the city of Uaxuanoc.

III

Everything we did was under observation — that I knew. So I had a problem. We could take all the valuables down to the cenote quite openly and sink them, or we could be underhand about it and do it in secret. On balance, I thought that secrecy was the best bet because if we did it openly Gatt might get worried and jump us immediately with the job only begun. There was nothing to stop him.

That meant that all the packages Fallon had made up had to be broken open and the contents smuggled down piece by piece to my hut next to the cenote. Probably it would have been best to have just dumped the stuff as I had first suggested, but it seemed a pity to do that when the cave was available, so we used the cave. That meant going down there while Rudetsky lowered the loot, and that was something better left for after nightfall when prying eyes would be blinded.

For the rest of the daylight hours we contrived to give the camp an appearance of normality. There was a fair amount of coming and going between the huts and gradually all the precious objects were accumulated on the floor of my hut, where Rudetsky filled up the metal baskets we had used for bringing them from the bottom of the cenote in the first place.

Also on the agenda was the fortification of the hut, another task that would have to wait until after darkness fell, but Smith and Fowler wandered about the camp, unobtrusively selecting materials for the job and piling them in places where they could be got at easily at night. Those few hours seemed to stretch out indefinitely, but at last the sun set in a red haze that looked like dried blood.

We got busy. Smith and Fowler brought in their baulks of timber which were to be used to make the hut a bit more bullet-proof and began to hammer them in position. Rudetsky had organized some big air bottles and we hauled the raft into the side and loaded them aboard. It was tricky work because they were heavy and we were working in the dark. We also loaded all the treasure on board the raft, then Katherine and I went down.

The cave was just as we had left it and the air was good. I rose up inside, switched on the internal light I had installed and switched off my own light. There was a broad ledge above water-level on which the loot could be stored, and I sat on it and helped Katherine from the water. ‘There’s plenty of room to stash the stuff here,’ I said.

She nodded without much interest, and said, ‘I’m sorry Paul caused all this trouble, Jemmy. You warned me, but I was stupid about it.’

‘What made you change your mind?’

She hesitated. ‘I started to think — at last. I began to ask myself questions about Paul. It was something you said that started it. You asked me what it was I had for Paul — love or loyalty. You called it misplaced loyalty. It didn’t take me long to find the answer. The trouble is that Paul hasn’t — wasn’t — always like this. Do you think he’s dead?’

‘I don’t know; I wasn’t there when it happened. Rudetsky thinks he is. But he may have survived. What will you do if he has?’

She laughed tremulously. ‘What a question to ask at a time like this! Do you think that what we’re doing here will do any good?’ She waved her hand at the damp walls of the cave. ‘Getting rid of what Gatt wants?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘It depends on whether we can talk to Gatt. If I can point out that he hasn’t a hope in hell of getting the stuff, then he might be amenable to a deal. I can’t see him killing six or seven people for nothing — not unless he’s a crazy-mad killer, and I don’t think he’s that’

‘Not getting what he wants might send him crazy-mad.’

‘Yes,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘He’ll be bloody annoyed. He’ll need careful handling.’

‘If we get out of this,’ she said, ‘I’m going to divorce Paul. I can’t live with him now. I’ll get a Mexican divorce — it will be valid anywhere because we were married in Mexico.’

I thought about that for a bit, then said, ‘I’ll look you up. Would you mind that?’

‘No, Jemmy; I wouldn’t mind.’ She sighed. ‘Perhaps we can begin again with a fresh start.’

‘Fresh starts don’t come so easily,’ I said sombrely. ‘We’ll never forget any of this, Katherine — never!’ I prepared to put on my mask. ‘Come on; Joe will be wondering what has gone wrong.’

We swam out of the cave and began the long job of transferring the treasure from the basket which Rudetsky had lowered into the cave. Basket after basket of the damned stuff came down, and it took us a long time, but finally it was all put away. We had been under for two hours but had never gone below sixty-five feet so the decompression time was just under an hour. Joe lowered the hose which dangled alongside the shot line and we coupled the two valves at the end to the demand valves on our scuba gear. During the hour it took us to go up he fed us air from the big bottles on the raft instead of using the air compressor which would have made too much noise.

When we finally reached the surface, he asked, ‘Everything okay?’

‘Everything is fine,’ I answered, and swore as I stubbed my toe on an air bottle. ‘Look, Joe: tip all these bottles over the side. Gatt might start to get ideas — he might even be a diver himself. He won’t be able to do a damned thing without air bottles.’

We rolled the bottles over the side and they splashed into the cenote and sank. When we got ashore I was very tired but there was still much to do. Smith and Fowler had done their best to armour the hut, but it was a poor best although no fault of theirs. We just hadn’t the material.

‘Where’s Fallon?’ I asked.

‘I think he’s in his own hut.’

I went to look for Fallon and found him sitting morosely at his desk. He turned as I closed the door. ‘Jemmy!’ he said despairingly. ‘What a mess! What a godawful mess!’

‘What you need is a drink,’ I said, and took the bottle and a couple of glasses from the shelf. I poured out a couple of stiff tots and pushed a glass into his hand. ‘You’re not to blame.’

‘Of course I am,’ he said curtly. ‘I didn’t take Gatt seriously enough. But who would have thought this Spanish Main stuff could happen in the twentieth century?’

‘As you said yourself, Quintana Roo isn’t precisely the centre of the civilized world.’ I sipped the whisky and felt the warmth in my throat. ‘It’s not out of the eighteenth century yet.’

‘I sent a message out with the boys who left,’ he said. ‘Letters to the authorities in Mexico City about what we’ve found here.’ He suddenly looked alarmed. ‘You don’t think Gatt will have done anything about them, do you?’

I considered that one, and said at last, ‘No, I shouldn’t think so. It would be difficult for him to interfere with them all and it might tip off the authorities that something is wrong.’

‘I should have done it sooner,’ said Fallon broodingly. ‘The Department of Antiquities is goddamn keen on inspection; this place will be swarming with officials once the news gets out.’ He offered me a twisted smile. ‘That’s why I didn’t notify them earlier, I wanted the place to myself for a while. What a damned fool I was!’

I didn’t spare him. ‘You had plenty of warnings from Pat Harris. Why the hell didn’t you act on them?’

‘I was selfish,’ he said. He looked me straight in the eye. ‘Just plain selfish. I wanted to stay while I could — while I had time. There’s so little time, Jemmy.’

I drank some whisky. ‘You’ll be back next season.’

He shook his head. ‘No, I won’t. I’ll never be back here. Someone else will take over — some younger man. It could have been Paul if he hadn’t been so reckless and impatient.’

I put down my glass. ‘What are you getting at?’

He gave me a haggard grin. ‘I’ll be dead in three months, Jemmy. They told me not long before we left Mexico City — they gave me six months.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘They didn’t want me to come here — the doctors, you know. But I did, and I’m glad I did. But I’ll go back to Mexico City now and go into a hospital to die.’

‘What is it?’

‘The old enemy,’ said Fallon. ‘Cancer!’

The word dropped as heavy as lead into the quiet hut and there was nothing I could say. This was the reason he had been so preoccupied, why he had driven so hard to get the job done, and why he had stuck to one purpose without deflection. He had wanted to do this last excavation before he died and he had achieved his purpose.

After a while I said softly, ‘I’m sorry.’

He snorted. ‘You’re sorry! Sorry for me! It seems as though I’m not going to live to die in hospital if you’re right about Gatt — and neither is anyone else here. I’m sorry, Jemmy, that I got you into this. I’m sorry for the others, too. But being sorry isn’t enough, is it? What’s the use of saying “Sorry” to a dead man?’

‘Take it easy,’ I said.

He fell into a despondent silence. After a while, he said, ‘When do you think Gatt will attack?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘But he must make his move soon.’ I finished the whisky. ‘You’d better get some sleep.’ I could see Fallon didn’t think much of that idea, but he said nothing and I went away.

Rudetsky had some ideas of his own, after all. I bumped into him in the darkness unreeling a coil of wire. He cursed briefly, and said, ‘Sorry, but I guess I’m on edge.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘If those bastards attack, they’ll be able to take cover behind those two huts, so I took all the gelignite I could find and planted it. Now I’m stringing the wire to the plunger in our hut. They won’t have any cover if I can help it.’

‘Don’t blow up those huts just yet,’ I said. ‘It would come better as a surprise. Let’s save it for when we need it.’

He clicked his tongue. ‘You’re turning out to be quite a surprising guy yourself. That’s a real nasty idea.’

‘I took a few lessons out in the forest.’ I helped him unreel the wire and we disguised it as much as we could by kicking soil over it. Rudetsky attached the ends of one set of wires to the terminals of the plunger box and slapped the side of it gently with an air of satisfaction. I said, ‘It’ll be dawn fairly soon.’

He went to the window and looked up at the sky. ‘There’s quite a lot of cloud. Fallon said the rains break suddenly.’

It wasn’t the weather I was worried about. I said, ‘Put Smith and Fowler on watch out at the edge of the camp. We don’t want to be surprised.’

Then I had an hour to myself and I sat outside the hut and almost nodded off to sleep, feeling suddenly very weary. Sleep was something that had been in short supply, and if I hadn’t had that twenty-four hour rest in the forest tree I daresay I’d have gone right off as though drugged. As it was I drowsed until I was wakened by someone shaking my shoulder.

It was Fowler. ‘Someone’s coming,’ he said urgently.

‘Where?’

‘From the forest.’ He pointed. ‘From over there — I’ll show you.’

I followed behind him to the hut at the edge of the camp from which he had been watching. I took the field glasses he gave me and focused on the distant figure in white which was strolling across the cleared land.

The light was good enough and the glasses strong enough to show quite clearly that it was Gatt.