Taking the elbow chair, he insisted that the family should join him at table. All of them except Juanita, who was evidently restraining herself, to give a lady-like impression, ate voraciously. Adam, in spite of his normally big appetite, found it difficult to do full justice to the feast. His thoughts remained focused on Hunterscombe and in what sort of state they would find him.
As far as he had been able to judge, the bullet had pierced the Wing Commander’s right lung; so it was a nasty wound but not one from which a man was likely to die, given proper medical attention. The cave where he lay had been dry and the chill in it was not too great to have offset the warmth of the feather cloak in which Adam had wrapped him. While piloting the helicopter and staggering down from the area made poisonous by sulphur fumes, he must have lost a certain amount of blood; but once he had settled in the cave there was a good chance that his blood had coagulated where his shirt stuck to the wound. The biggest feature for hope lay in his not being the type of man to turn his face to the wall, and he had said himself that, somehow, he would stick it out till help came; so it seemed all the odds were in favour of his still being alive when they reached him.
Nevertheless, Adam’s anxiety about him was acute and he did his best to hurry the others into finishing their big meal. It had, also, occurred to him that, although there was every reason to hope that he would find Hunterscombe again much as he had left him, when they did move him his wound would begin to bleed again, and a further loss of blood before they could get him to hospital might prove fatal; so, as soon as Juanita ceased eating, Adam asked her if she could let him have a pen and paper.
From a drawer in the dresser she produced a Biro pen and a pad. On a sheet of it, he wrote:
‘I, Wing Commander Jeremy Hunterscombe, of the British Embassy, Mexico City, hereby testify that Mr. Adam Gordon has, at my request, been investigating a conspiracy against the Mexican government; and that it was solely due to information received by me from him that I was enabled to warn the authorities about the subversive meeting held last night at Teotihuacán. Between us we captured Monsignor Alberuque, the leader of the conspiracy, who later died of wounds received during the fighting on the top of the Pyramid of the Sun.’
He added the date and put the Biro in his pocket. As soon as they reached Hunterscombe, he would get him to sign the statement and, if the Indians proved unable to write, they could put their marks under the signature, as witnesses. Then, if the Wing Commander did succumb on the rough, twelve-mile journey into Apizaco, Adam felt confident that when he produced the document he would have nothing to fear.
By the time he had completed this precautionary measure, the others were ready to start. While the brothers collected the home-made stretcher, Adam went in to look at Chela. Finding her condition unchanged, he quickly joined the three Indians, and they set off up the mountain.
Seeing it in daylight, Adam realised how lucky they had been not to have landed on the top of one of the much loftier peaks that still had snow on them, and that the Zupango farm was a good halfway up it, instead of near the bottom. Had either not been so, they would all by now have been dead.
Looking back over the roofs of the farm, the view was magnificent and, far below could be seen a little cluster of houses that one of the brothers pointed out as Xalcatlan. Far away on the other side of the long valley there rose the other chain of mountains, their peaks, some of which were snowcapped, outlined against the pale-blue sky. Two of the highest were veiled in cloud and in the bright sunlight the vivid colouring of the countryside made a perfect picture-postcard landscape. Where they were, halfway up the volcano, the air was crisp and windless, so there could not have been better conditions for climbing. But soon they were in difficulties.
Adam had already learned through Juanita that none of the men knew of a cave high up on the volcano that was sometimes used as a shelter by a goatherd; so it fell to Adam to guide the party as best he could and the paths branched so frequently that he had not the least idea by which one he had come down. By half past two they reached the sulphur-affected level, and he knew that he had left Hunterscombe well below that; so they turned back and traversed the mountain lower down, ascending again from time to time by other routes.
As they trudged up and down the winding tracks they yodelled now and then, but only the echoes came back. When coming down Adam had naturally always taken the easiest way, with the least steep slope, which had frequently led to his having to proceed for some way almost at right angles to a line of straight descent. In consequence, he was not even certain on which side of the mountain he had left Hunterscombe, and that made the area to be searched very large. Moreover, the surface was far from being as comparatively smooth as in the darkness he had supposed it to be. The relatively easy ways of descending were along the rivers of lava which had flowed down the volcano sides; but between them were high cliffs, elbows that stuck out forming overhangs and great humps of piled-up boulders. The little plateau where Hunterscombe had been left might lie hidden behind any of these and probably could be seen only from above. On the other hand, alongside the lava flows, there were many small plateaus with low cliffs and caves in them; so they might have passed the place more than once without Adam recognising it.
For the first hour of their search Adam had not been particularly worried but, as time went on, he became more and more so. Although he regarded it as unlikely, he had visualised the possibility of finding Hunterscombe dead; but he had put that thought from him and it had never even occurred to him that they might not be able to find him at all.
At five o’clock they were still high up on the mountain. It was still light there, but the late February dusk still comes early. It had fallen in the valley and was creeping upwards. By then it was getting on for four hours since they had left the farm and, although the hardy little Indians did not show fatigue, after the gruelling Adam had been through the previous night, he was feeling terribly tired.
For a further twenty minutes he cast desperately about, shouting Hunterscombe’s name until he was hoarse. Then, as the shadows gathered about the little party, he had to confess himself defeated. As they had failed to find the Wing Commander during the hours of daylight, it was certain that they would not be able to do so in darkness. By pointing downwards towards the farm, he indicated to the Indians that he was calling off the search.
To renew it the following morning would be pointless. By then it would be over thirty hours since Hunterscombe had received his wound. He could not possibly last so long without even a drink of water. The thought that he must have been tortured by thirst all day was a terrible one. Perhaps that explained their not having found him. Desperate for a drink, he might have left the cave, attempted to make his way down the mountain and gone headlong over a precipice. It was not Adam’s fault that he had slept on until midday; but he had meant to be up there first thing in the morning and now he felt that, indirectly, his friend’s death lay at his door.
His having slept for so long was not Hunterscombe’s tragedy alone; it was also his. All too well he realised that, with the failure of the search, his one hope of proving his innocence was gone. Now, only his wits and endurance could save him from years of imprisonment, or perhaps death.
21
A Bid for Freedom
On his way down the mountain Adam had had ample time to consider the bleak prospect that now confronted him. When warning him of the situation in which he might possibly find himself, Hunterscombe’s advice had been to make for the coast. To do so and hope to get aboard a ship certainly seemed the best bet; in fact there appeared to be no promising alternative. But Adam had no illusions about his poor chances of keeping clear of the police. His height and red-gold hair alone were a complete give-away. Something must be done about them, and he would need a number of things for his journey.
To secure them presented a major problem, as he dared not show himself in the village. On further thought, too, he felt that he would be unwise to remain in the f
armhouse, even for another night. During the morning, the wrecked helicopter might well have been spotted from a searching aircraft. If so, the authorities would assume that he and Alberuque were somewhere not far off and already, perhaps, police and troops were being mustered to scour the whole district.
Obviously, if he set out as he was, he would stand no chance at all, so he decided to enlist the help of Juanita.
When he reached the farmhouse, he found her sitting with Chela, who had come out of her drug-induced sleep that afternoon. But to his considerable annoyance he learned that the old woman, after feeding her with some broth, had given her another potion from which it was unlikely that she would wake until early the following morning. As he must be on his way long before then, that meant he must go without being able to tell her why it was imperative that he should leave her, what he planned to attempt and say good-bye to her. But the chance had gone and there was nothing he could do about it.
While he had been feeling Chela’s pulse, Juanita had left the room and now returned with a noggin of tequila which, bobbing respectfully, she offered him. Tired after his hours of climbing, he drank it down gratefully, then said to her:
‘Juanita, you are a sensible girl and I can talk frankly to you. I expect you have heard rumours about my return to earth to lead a movement which would overthrow the present government and restore the land to the descendants of its original inhabitants?’
She nodded, and he went on, ‘The coup was planned to take place last night. It failed. As a result the government people are now hunting for me everywhere to capture and, perhaps, kill me.’
Giving him a puzzled look, she said, ‘But, Lord, if you really are a god, surely … ?’
He cut her short. ‘No. Matters are not ordered like that. I am not a god but a Man-God. It is decreed that I should spend certain periods on earth and I am not permitted to shorten such visits by a single second. During that time, as I told you last night, I am subject to all the weaknesses and needs of an ordinary man.’
‘I understand,’ she said gently. ‘You are like our Lord Jesus, and while on earth must suffer without complaint.’
At the comparison he had unconsciously led her to suggest, he felt profoundly ashamed; but, knowing that his life might depend on securing her help, he forced himself to respond. ‘Yes; that’s it. But … well, I have work to do here, and I’m not willing to allow myself to be put to death yet. I’ve got to get away.’
Her face glowed and in a low voice she said, ‘I should be proud, Lord, to have helped you.’
Again he felt shamed at taking advantage of her belief in him, but he said, ‘You can, Juanita. At present my appearanee would give me away to the first policeman I ran into. To stand any chance at all, I’ve got to have my hair cut and my beard shaved off. Have you a pair of scissors, and is there a shaving kit in the house?’
‘I have scissors with which I could cut your hair. The men of my family shave on Sundays and on the days of the great feasts of the Church. I will borrow their razor for you.’
He smiled at her. ‘Bless you, my dear. Then I’ll need some sort of haversack and a good supply of food to carry in it, because for several days I don’t want to enter any village in case someone identifies me. I mean to make my way through the fields and forests. For that my present clothes are far from suitable. Do you think you could get me some spare clothes which your menfolk have worn, and maybe a hat? Of course, I would pay for them.’
Juanita returned his smile. ‘All these things I will get for you, Lord. But how soon do you need to have them?’
He heaved a sigh. ‘After last night and the hours I spent on the mountain this afternoon, I’m very tired. I must have a few hours’ rest, but I ought to leave here by about two o’clock in the morning. There is one other thing, though. Your parents and brothers have not your education. It might prove difficult to explain my situation to them; so it would be better if they knew nothing about it. Do you think you could get the things I need without their knowledge, stay awake to give them to me and cut my hair in the middle of the night, then afterwards keep the secret of what you have done for me?’
Suddenly she knelt down, seized his hand, kissed it and, her eyes shining, exclaimed, ‘Dear Lord, even torture would not drag a word from me. All my life I shall remember this day with joy, and be so very proud of having had the privilege of serving you.’
Again Adam felt a qualm at being treated as though he really were a divinity. For such a situation to occur in the age of space travel seemed hardly believable. But, just as the Jews had been brought up to expect a Messiah, so the Mexican Indians had long believed that Quetzalcoatl would return to them. And Adam could not doubt that young women similar to Juanita had shown equal joy and devotion when serving Jesus of Nazareth.
Their conversation had taken only a few minutes and, as Adam had passed through the living room, he had seen that the evening meal was ready; so he and Juanita went through to join the others. Normally, he felt sure, the Zupangos would have eaten earlier and their supper consisted of a few tortillas and a beaker apiece of acid, home-made wine; but the dishes provided were again a feast.
Not knowing when he would again have sustaining food, he tucked in heartily; with the result that the heavy meal, taken while he was still tired after his climb, gave him an overwhelming desire to go to sleep. But he resisted it, for he had another matter to see to before he could allow himself to rest.
After his failure to find Hunterscombe, he had to consider what to do about Chela. While he was fully confident that the Zupangos would give her every possible care, and thought it probable that the old crone’s treatment of her wound would prove as efficacious as any she might receive from a proper doctor, he was most averse to leaving her with them for longer than was absolutely necessary. The fact that the bone of her leg was not broken at least meant that there was no urgency about getting it properly reset; but the Zupango household was far from sanitary and the palliasse on which she was lying would prove anything but comfortable when she was no longer under drugs; so he must get her taken to hospital as soon as possible.
The snag was that, in order to do so, explanations would have to be given; and as soon as it became known, if it was not already, that the helicopter had come down on the nearby volcano, the whole area would be alive with police. After much thought, Adam had decided that Chela’s wound would not be adversely affected if he gave himself twenty-four hours’ start, and he could be reasonably certain of gaining that time if he sent a telegram that would not reach Mexico City until late the following afternoon.
Producing the Biro he had borrowed from Juanita, he asked her to let him have the writing pad again. Then, while the family regarded him with interest and awe, he wrote out a telegram, and a letter to Chela.
He addressed the telegram to Bernadino Enriquez, stating, with Juanita’s help, where the farm was situated and adding only that Chela was there, wounded but not dangerously, and being well cared for.
To Chela he explained why he was compelled to leave her and said that, if he did succeed in getting away, immediately he was safe he would let her know. He mentioned the great debt they owed the Zupangos, then ended by saying how greatly he loved her and that, although they might never meet again, he would treasure the memory of her all his life.
By the time he had done, the men of the family were, as well as they could, politely suppressing their yawns. Knowing that in the ordinary way they would have turned in soon after sundown, he asked Juanita to thank them for all they had done and tell them to go to bed, while she and he repaired to the other room.
With smiles and deep bows they wished him good-night in dumb show then, the mother included, they proceeded to spread their palliasses on the floor in front of the cooking range.
When he and Juanita had settled themselves in the bedroom, he gave her the draft of the telegram and asked if she could send it the following afternoon from the village.
She shook her dark head. ‘No, Lord
. It is a little place and has no post office. But I could take a mule and ride in to Apizaco with it.’
‘Good enough,’ he smiled. ‘It is important, and I am sure you will not fail me in getting it off. But I don’t want you to hand it in before four o’clock.’ Giving her the letter for Chela, he went on, ‘I want you to give this to the Señorita as soon as she is sufficiently recovered to read it. She is a great lady and her father is immensely rich. You may be sure that he will reward you and your family handsomely for all your kindness to us.’
At that Juanita bridled. ‘We need no reward, Lord. To have had you in our home is a great honour.’
He smiled again. ‘I am sure that your father would have felt insulted if I had offered him money in return for his hospitality. But you have promised to provide me with some clothes, the razor and other things. For those I insist on paying. There is also the telegram.’
A week or so earlier, Hunterscombe had given him approximately fifty pounds of Secret Service money to use, if need be, for bribes or in an emergency. The handful of coins concealed in his shoes had been to enable him to telephone from a public call box; by far the greater part of the money was in notes, which he had since hidden in the lining of his jacket, just below his right armpit. Fishing them out, he gave Juanita three hundred-peso notes.
As she took them, she said, ‘That will be more than enough, Lord. I will collect the things as soon as the others are sound asleep.’
‘There is one other matter,’ he told her. ‘The day after tomorrow, the police will come here. They may take you all in to Apizaco to question you about the Señorita and myself. She, of course, will still be in bed here, but I shall be gone and they will press you to tell them all that you have learned about me. I am counting on you to say nothing about your cutting my hair before I leave or the clothes you are going to get for me. Say only that I arrived here in the middle of last night, went up the mountain today to search for my friend, and left during darkness tonight, while you were all asleep. Is that clear?’
Unholy Crusade Page 37
