For a while he read in the lounge, then followed her upstairs. In bed he lay forming exciting mental pictures of her with glowing anticipation of another glorious night of love-making. Time passed, eleven o’clock, twelve, but still she failed to join him. At last, overcome with impatience, he got out of bed, put on his dressing gown and tiptoed along to her room.
Aghast and shattered, he found it empty and with no trace of her. Hurrying downstairs, regardless of what the night clerk might think, he verified the number of her room. He had been to the right one, but the desk clerk said, ‘The Señorita Enriquez left in her car for Mexico City an hour and a half ago.’
She had said ‘I’ll be seeing you’, but not when; so had practised a cheat upon him. Furious and inconsolable, he had to accept that, for the time being at least, he had lost her.
9
A Dark Ceremony
In the morning, as early as he thought permissible, Adam telephoned the penthouse in the Avenida Presidente Masarik, only to be told that Chela was not there. Then, as it was a Sunday, thinking she might have gone to the house at Cuernavaca, he tried that, but with the same result. This led him to suppose that she had broken her journey to pass the night somewhere on the road, would attend Mass in the morning and would be back in Mexico City at latest by the afternoon.
On enquiry he found there was no morning flight to the capital, so he would have to take an evening plane. In an endeavour to distract his mind, he spent a couple of hours mooching round the town, bathed twice and tried in vain to settle down to a book; but the day seemed interminable. Hour after hour he badgered his wits for an explanation of Chela’s extraordinary conduct. He could think of only one, and that made him utterly miserable.
She had asked for his help in the coming revolution and he had refused it. Bitterly he recalled the midnight meeting between her and Alberuque and overhearing the Monsignor speak of the ‘stranger’ who could prove such a great asset to their cause, and how she must secure his help even if, by inference, she had to sleep with him. That he was that ‘stranger’ he no longer had a shadow of doubt. Chela’s revelation, that in his Mexican incarnation he had been Quetzalcoatl, was ample proof of that. They meant to use him as a figurehead with which to rouse the passions of the Indians. The sight of him, a near-giant, with his red-gold hair and beard, when presented to an already prepared mob, would send them into battle howling with fanaticism.
Yet it seemed impossible to believe that his beautiful Chela, who had given herself to him with such passion, was cold at heart, really cared nothing for him and had just allowed herself to be used as the tool of a scheming priest. There was, too, their wonderful link from the past. Their miraculous coming together again after nearly a thousand years. Surely that unique experience must mean as much to her as it did to him? Nevertheless, she had abandoned him without even a word of farewell, and on the evening after he had refused her his help; so what other explanation for her behaviour could there possibly be?
At last he was in the aircraft on his way back to Mexico City. As soon as he reached his hotel he telephoned the penthouse again, but she still had not arrived. On the chance that he might get news of her he asked to speak to either Bernadino or Ramón, but both were away and were not expected home until the following morning.
After another night of misery he rang up again. This time Ramón came on the line. He had just returned from spending the week-end at Cuernavaca. No, Chela was not there and they were not expecting her. She was away on one of her tours inspecting schools, so might now be in any one of half a dozen towns. Then he asked, ‘Do you happen to be free for lunch today?’
When Adam replied that he was, Ramón said, ‘Then come and lunch with me at the Bankers’ Club. It’s on the top floor of the Bank of Mexico building. That is just past the Palace of Arts and the entrance to the Avenida de Mayo. I’ll be expecting you about two o’clock.’
Thankful that he would have something later in the day to distract his mind and, perhaps, learn something of Chela’s movements, Adam mooned away the morning. He arrived at the Bank of Mexico absurdly early; so on seeing that there was a Sandborn’s next door, to kill time he went in to buy himself a drink.
There were a number of Sandborn restaurants in the city and he had heard them likened to Lyons in London, although, in addition to being restaurants and selling food, Sandborn’s did a big trade in picture postcards, patent medicines, beauty preparations and numerous utility lines. This downtown one was a fine, lofty old building, the interior walls of which were lined with colourful patterned tiles, and it had a minstrels gallery. The waitresses were mostly Indian girls; all of them were dressed in national costumes with big bows on their dark hair and long streamers down their backs. The place was packed with people, and Adam did not wonder after he had found a seat and had a look at the menu, for it offered a fine choice of dishes and the prices were most reasonable.
A quarter of an hour later he walked into the big, marble entrance hall of the bank and was whisked up to the top floor in a lift. From what he had already seen of the way rich Mexicans lived, he had expected the club to be luxuriously equipped, and he was not disappointed. Elegance and comfort could hardly have been better combined. Ramón was there and greeted him cheerfully, then they sat down to drinks.
Adam saw no reason why he should not disclose that Chela had been down in Oaxaca at the same time as himself, but his hope of locating her through Ramón was disappointed. Apparently she went off on these trips fairly frequently and on this occasion she had said she would be away for about ten days; usually she left a note of her itinerary so that letters could be forwarded, but, apparently, this time she had forgotten.
Adam guessed that to be because she had intended to spend several days with him at Oaxaca, but that was now no consolation. Their talk then turned to other matters and, halfway through an excellent lunch, Ramón asked about his guest’s future plans.
‘I really haven’t made any,’ Adam admitted. ‘My object in coming to Mexico was largely to gather background material for a new book. Of course I shall go down to Yucatán and, perhaps, Palenque. Are there any other places that you think are particularly worth seeing?’
‘Yes, plenty,’ came the prompt reply. ‘You should certainly see Taxco, the centre of our silver industry, and the beautiful old churches at San Miguel de Allende. Why don’t you hire a car with a driver-guide and make a round trip? You could go north to the picturesque old Spanish town of Querétaro, across to San Miguel, then to Guanajuato, where there is a lovely eighteenth-century theatre, on to San Diego then down to Morelia. From there it is a delightful drive through San Luis Caliente which would bring you round to Taxco in the south, then back to Mexico City. None of these places is much more than a hundred miles from the next, so you could make the trip easily in a week and have plenty of time for sight-seeing.’
The ancient ruins were of much more interest to Adam than Spanish architecture, but, as Chela had not returned direct from Oaxaco to the capital, it now seemed unlikely that she would be back for another week, and the suggested trip would keep him occupied; so he agreed that it was a good idea.
Ramón promptly volunteered to send him an itinerary, arrange about hotel accommodation and engage a reliable driver-guide. Then, after hesitating for a moment, he gave Adam a quick look and went on, ‘I suppose that, as an author wanting to get as much information as possible, you talked to the guides you had down at Oaxaca not only about the sights they were showing you but about all sorts of other things: the conditions they live under, education, politics and so on?’
As Chela was supposed to have been inspecting schools, Adam naturally refrained from saying that he had had a professional guide only for his first morning, and thought it easiest to reply, ‘Yes.’
‘Did any of them happen to say anything about unrest among the Indians?’ Ramón asked casually.
It was a subject which now deeply concerned Adam, so he was glad that it had been brought up. With the object of d
rawing his host, he replied with a smile, ‘I take it you would not ask unless you believe there to be.’
Ramón was silent for a minute while he ran a hand over his crinkly hair, then he said, ‘I see no reason why I shouldn’t tell you. My job at our Embassy in Washington is Security. The F.B.I, picked up some indications of possible trouble and I was sent back to inform the Minister. When I got here I found that our own people were on to it that there is something brewing. They wouldn’t be much good at their job if they hadn’t. Anyhow, I was ordered to remain here for a bit and lend a hand collating such information as can be picked up.’
Adam was wondering how much Ramón knew about Chela’s activities and if he would in due course try to pump him about her. Smiling again, he asked, ‘Is that why you asked me to lunch?’
‘Gracious no!’ Ramón’s surprise appeared quite genuine. ‘It was my offer to get a good guide for you that led me to ask you about the ones you had at Oaxaca. You see, people of that kind often let off steam about the government to foreigners in a way they never would to anyone like myself, and I just thought you might have heard something.’
To draw Ramón further, Adam had to play a card; so he said, ‘As a matter of fact, I did. I gather that the peasants have been disappointed time and again about promises that they should be given the land, and they have become so fed up that they are likely to rise in a mass and take it.’
Ramón nodded. ‘That’s it. Was any mention made of the Church?’
‘No. Is it involved in this?’
‘Yes, up to the eyes. The Church was sitting pretty as long as the Spaniards ruled the roost here. It ran a virtuous sideline of protecting the Indians from exploitation and in the meantime accumulated enormous wealth. But after Independence it was forced to disgorge, and ever since it has been our downfall, continually inciting trouble in the hope of getting its ill-gotten gains back.’
‘I see; and it is able to make use of the peasants because the great majority of them are such devout Catholics?’
‘Devout Catholics! Don’t you believe it. At heart they are every bit as pagan as they were a thousand years ago. They attend the ceremonies of the Church, of course, but only because all pagans believe that any god may play them a dirty trick if they fail to propitiate him. And to them the white man’s God must seem pretty powerful. When they show particular devotion to a Christian saint they are really asking some favour from one of their own deities with whom they have identified him. What is more, most of them come to Mass on Sunday morning after having participated in a good old-fashioned blood sacrifice of a cock and a hen the previous evening. The priests know that perfectly well and make no effort to stop it. All they care about is the hold they have over the people.’
‘I must say I find this a bit surprising.’
‘It’s common knowledge. Ask anyone. The Indians are so riddled with paganism that they don’t even bother to hide it. Right here in the middle of Mexico City there is a Witches’ Market.’
‘Oh, come! You’re pulling my leg.’
‘I’m not, I assure you. I’ll take you to it after lunch if you like.’
‘I’d be most intrigued. But what do you deduce from all this?’
‘That the Church is planning the overthrow of our agnostic government by inciting the peasants to rise in a jacquerie. If it succeeds, all hell will be let loose. The Indians and Mestizos have always hated our guts. By “our” I mean Mexicans of pure Spanish descent and the many Americans and Europeans who live here for business reasons’.
‘What are the chances of nipping this threat of revolution in the bud?’ Adam enquired.
‘It’s hard to say. The damn’ thing is so nebulous. So far we have not got a line on any of the leaders. It seems to be like a sort of epidemic and is a general movement right through the country. I suppose it might be stymied if we pulled in all the priests and put them behind bars. That has been done before—in part at least. On one occasion when the Jesuits were getting above themselves their quarters were simultaneously surrounded and every single one of them was arrested overnight. But an operation of that kind now could prove the fuse to set off the dynamite and launch ten million Indians on the warpath.’
For a few moments Ramón’s brown eyes were lowered, as he stared unhappily down into his balloon brandy glass; then he said, ‘I suppose the chaps you talked to down at Oaxaca didn’t mention any names?’
Adam shook his head. ‘No, it was just general grumbling about the awful conditions in the small towns and villages, and the sort of vague, sullen threats of the discontented that one does not take very seriously.’
Ramón looked up. ‘But it is serious, believe me. That’s why I have decided to ask your help. It only occurred to me a while back when we spoke of this week’s tour you have decided to do. As I mentioned, the ordinary people are very cagey with anyone they feel might report what they say; but they talk pretty freely to foreigners. In the evenings you will be sitting about in cafés and, no doubt, talking to people. You might pick, up quite a lot. Should you hear anything worth while, I’d be awfully grateful if you’d let me know.’
Adam considered the matter for a long minute. When down at Cuernavaca, while eavesdropping under the bridge, he had assumed that Bernadino was involved. That night the fact that Chela had purloined Ramón’s briefcase to let Alberuque see his papers had indicated that, although the capitalists and the Church might both be planning a revolution, they probably had different aims and were certainly not working hand-in-glove. Yet Hunterscombe had been of the opinion that both were involved and had asked him to spy on Chela, Alberuque and Bernadino. But now, from what Ramón had just said, it was clear that Hunterscombe was mistaken. The capitalists might not like the government, but regarded the Church and the Indians as a menace, so would do all they could to maintain the status quo. Therefore, when Bernadino had spoken of warning certain people, he had not been referring to fellow conspirators but, most probably, telling the principal executives in his organisation to keep their eyes open for signs of coming trouble. This new assessment put the Enriquezes, father and son, in the clear; but it still left Chela vulnerable if the part she was playing was discovered.
He had never subscribed to Chela’s belief that if the masses rose everywhere the government would be overwhelmed in a matter of hours. The Mexican regular army might be small, but it had tanks. There was, too, an air force that would probably obey orders to machine-gun mobs, and the police could be counted on to use their pistols and tear gas. Against even a small minority so equipped, the largest force of malcontents could not swiftly prevail. Ferocious fighting must result. Many thousands of innocent people caught up in it would lose their lives or have their property destroyed.
All that Hunterscombe had said supported that belief, and Adam now decided that he could not possibly refuse to do what he could to prevent such tragic happenings. As far as Chela was concerned, he thought it highly improbable that during his proposed trip he would meet anyone who had even heard of her and, should her name be mentioned in connection with the conspiracy, he could suppress it.
Ending his long silence, he said, ‘All right. I don’t suppose there is much chance of my picking up anything of value, but I’ll keep my ears open and get in touch with you on my return if I have anything of importance to report.’
‘Many thanks,’ Ramón smiled. As by then they had finished their coffee and liqueurs, he added, ‘Now let’s go to see the Witches’ Market.’
Adam had expected the market to be hidden away in some building and that they would be questioned by watchers before they were allowed to enter it; or, at least, that it would be in some narrow street in the heart of a noisome slum. On the contrary, although it was in a poor part of the city, it faced on to a broad boulevard and several cars were drawn up in front of it.
The market consisted of two avenues lined with, in all, some thirty or forty small shops. In front of each was an array of a score or more sacks open at the top to display a variety
of dried herbs. Beside each array of sacks sat a witch. Most of them were fat and elderly, but none of them looked particularly evil, and with cheerful greetings they cried their wares.
But it was the windows of the shops that at once caught Adam’s eye. They were filled with grotesque masks, dried bats, rats and other animals, the bald, fleshless heads of vultures; toads and newts in jars of spirit, rosaries made from the skulls of small animals and glass bottles partly filled with most sinister-looking concoctions.
‘Apart from practising witchcraft,’ Ramón told Adam, ‘these old beldames do a big trade in herbs. Most of us tend to forget that nearly all modern medicines are derived from herbal remedies of the distant past. Many, too, have never been studied by our research chemists, so are not available to qualified practitioners. For example, you see that pile of nuts over there. If you always carry two of them—a male and a female—in your pocket, should you be a victim to piles you will never suffer from them again.’
‘Thank goodness, I don’t. But is that really so?’
‘Yes; many people swear by them. A European Ambassador who left here some months ago found them so efficacious that he recently wrote to a chap in our Foreign Office asking to have half a dozen pairs sent him for friends of his who were sufferers.’
Adam pointed to a string, from which dangled several vegetables looking like carrots, but having roughly the form of a man, with legs ending in points. ‘I imagine those are mandrakes. What do they use them for?’
‘Oh, they grind them up with other horrors to make potions. For quite a small sum they will sell you a concoction that will bring your rival out in boils; and under the counter they keep stuff that, if you pay them well enough, will ensure your old aunt’s dying a pretty painful death, apparently from natural causes, so that you can inherit her money.’
‘But do they really cast spells?’
‘Indeed they do. As I’ve told you, the mentality of the Indian peasants has hardly advanced at all since Cortés arrived here. They are so devil-ridden with superstition that if they think they have been bewitched they develop the ill that they have been cursed with. There is no scientific explanation of how such physical changes take place, but there is no doubt that they do.’
Unholy Crusade Page 17
