Coates dug his heels in and managed to urge his horse forward until he was riding alongside his young charge. 'I don't know what your father would say if he knew we'd come all the way out here,' he complained in his strong Yorkshire accent. 'You made it sound as though it was just down the road, but we've been riding for hours.'
Alec sighed. He was well aware that he had tricked Coates into making this trip, but the truth was he had been bored out of his mind sitting around his father's hacienda in Veracruz, and when Pablo had mentioned that an amazing antiquity was to be seen just a few hours to the south, he was determined to see it.
Alec's father had been transferred from the Egyptian embassy in Cairo the previous autumn, and he, Alec and Coates had spent several months in the hustle and bustle of Mexico City. But then, in the New Year, his father had been sent to Veracruz, away to the south, and the three of them had found themselves in a completely different environment. Here the wide dusty plains gave way to lush equatorial rainforest. In the absence of a suitable school, a home tutor was found for Alec – Señor Vargas, who spoke excellent English but managed to make every subject seem as dull as ditchwater.
At first Alec had pined for his beloved Egypt; but he had quickly realized that Mexico had its own incredible history, complete with priceless relics, pyramids and ancient sites. And so it was that he began to immerse himself in books about the Aztec, Mayan and Olmec civilizations. And when, a few days earlier, his father had been temporarily recalled to Mexico City, Alec had spotted an opportunity to do more than read about it in textbooks.
Now here he was, riding through dense woodland, close to his objective, and feeling the old excitement flooding back.
Coates, meanwhile, was far from happy. 'If you'd only been content to wait a few more days, Master Alec, perhaps Mr Wade would have been here,' he said.
Alec raised his eyebrows. 'I'm amazed to hear you say that,' he replied. 'I understood that you didn't like Ethan Wade.'
'I'd be the first to admit that he's not my favourite person. But at the same time, he's a useful man to have around in a sticky situation.'
They rode on in silence for a while. Alec had first met the tall American at his Uncle Will's archaeological dig in the Valley of the Kings near Luxor. After Uncle Will's sudden illness and the mysterious disappearance of his young assistant, Ethan had been obliged to oversee the dig, even though he would have been the first to admit that he was not really qualified for the job. He and Alec had immediately struck up a close friendship, but Coates had made no secret of the fact that he found Ethan reckless and overbearing, an impression that was not diminished by the terrifying adventure that had followed.
So he hadn't been pleased when, a few weeks back, Alec's father had announced that he had decided to engage Ethan's services as a family bodyguard. Mexico was still a lawless place, he had pointed out, and Ethan's experiences as a hired gun in Montana would prove useful. Alec had been delighted at this news, and when a telegram had alerted them to his imminent arrival, he had been over the moon. But a week had passed and still there was no sign of him. Alec had been simply too impatient to wait any longer.
'I think we should head back,' said Coates anxiously. 'I really do.'
Alec kept his horse moving briskly through the trees. 'I don't know what you're so worried about,' he said. 'The revolution's officially over. President Obregón is in control now.'
'Hmm. I wonder if anybody has bothered to tell the Mexican people that?' muttered Coates grimly. 'You know what it can be like in these parts. Bandits round every corner. Obregón only came to power by overthrowing the last president and he still has plenty of enemies. Why do you suppose your father decided to engage the services of Mr Wade in the first place?'
It was a good question and one for which Alec had no ready answer. His horse emerged from the cover of the trees onto a stretch of hilly grassland. He reined in and stared at what was waiting for them up ahead. Coates, head down as he struggled with the reins, continued to complain.
'And has it occurred to you, Master Alec, that Pablo is not the most reliable of people? I mean, for goodness' sake, he's only a humble gardener. I've no idea why you would choose to put your faith in— Oh.'
Coates reined his horse in too and they sat looking at what lay ahead of them on the grass. It was a huge grey stone head, some eight or nine feet high, depicting a man wearing a close-fitting helmet. He had distinctive features – a wide splayed nose and thick, shapely lips. His earlobes were pierced, as though awaiting the delivery of some giant stone earrings. There was nothing below the chin – no indication of neck or shoulders. The head sat on the grass as though it had dropped from heaven.
'Good Lord,' said Coates quietly. 'When you said we were going to look for a head, I had no idea you meant . . . It's huge!'
Alec nodded. He clicked his tongue and urged his horse forward. Coates followed. It wasn't until they drew closer that they could appreciate the sheer size of the thing. Alec dismounted, hitched the horse's reins to a stunted tree and went forward to touch the sculpture. Even standing on tiptoe he could reach no higher than the warrior's forehead. He turned and smiled at Coates. 'Now tell me you think Pablo's map is inaccurate,' he said.
'All right, point taken. Nobody likes hearing "I told you so.'"
Alec grinned. He went back to his horse, and reaching into a saddlebag, took out a folding seat, his sketchbook and some pencils. He walked around the head for a while, choosing the best angle, then sat down and with swift, deft movements began to sketch out the shape of it.
Coates dismounted clumsily, tethered his mare and began to remove items from his own saddlebags. He unfolded a plaid blanket, which he laid out on the grass, then unhooked a wicker picnic hamper from the back of his saddle. He set this carefully on the blanket and began to unpack the contents.
Alec glanced up from his work and gave a snort of disbelief. 'A picnic?' he asked incredulously.
'Of course, Master Alec. Just because we're out in the wilds, it doesn't mean we have to go hungry.' Coates paused for a moment and studied the stone head. 'So that would be . . . Aztec?' he enquired.
'Olmec,' Alec corrected him. 'Much older. The Aztec empire flourished around twelve to thirteen hundred AD . . . only around six hundred years ago. This head dates from between twelve hundred and four hundred BC. The Olmecs were the first of the great Mexican civilizations. The truth is, we don't really know very much about them.'
Coates smiled and went back to arranging the picnic things. 'I must say, Master Alec, coming out with you is a regular education. You've obviously been doing your homework.' Alec shrugged. He was sketching in the eyes and nose now, trying to capture the essence of those distinctive carved features. 'Well, since we can't be in Egypt, I decided to investigate what's right on our doorstep.'
Coates frowned. 'Let's hope we don't uncover anything like the horrors we found in the Valley of the Kings,' he said. 'You know, we never really gave your father the full story of what happened out there.'
'That's probably just as well. He'd be likely to have us both committed to an institution.'
Alec thought back for a moment. It all seemed so long ago. Now he was a year older and a year closer to his goal of being a full-time archaeologist. In the meantime, there was Señor Vargas and his interminable lessons: annoyingly, whenever Alec asked him questions about the history of his own country, his answers were vague. It seemed ridiculous that the man had a good working knowledge of the French Revolution and the American War of Independence, but knew next to nothing about his own ancestors.
'Would you care to have a break for a mug of tea and a salmon and cucumber sandwich?' asked Coates. And then, when Alec burst out laughing, he added, 'I fail to see the humour in the situation.'
'Only you, Coates,' spluttered Alec. 'In the middle of this wilderness, with a thumping great Olmec head in front of us, only you would be carrying salmon and cucumber sandwiches!'
Coates frowned. 'Well, at least I was thinking ahead, Ma
ster Alec. If it had been left to you, we'd be out here without even a canteen of water. Sometimes I fear you are far too impetuous for your own good.'
Alec chuckled. 'Lucky I've got you, eh, Coates? And by the way . . .'
'Yes?'
'I know I've asked you this before, but now I've turned sixteen, do you think we could skip the "Master Alec" routine?'
Coates smiled enigmatically and held out a plate of sandwiches.
Alec sighed and laid down his sketchbook. 'I suppose I am a bit peckish,' he admitted. He got up and took one of the dainty sandwiches, then crammed the whole thing into his mouth.
'Chew every mouthful thirty-two times,' Coates advised him. 'I've always observed that motto and I have perfect digestion.' He poured tea from his Thermos flask into two enamel mugs and added milk from a small bottle. He passed one up to Alec, then grimaced as he sipped his own. 'Doesn't taste the same when it's not served in bone china,' he observed. 'But cups and saucers would have got broken in those saddlebags.'
'Don't worry,' Alec assured him. 'I shan't tell anyone you drank from a tin mug. Your secret is safe with me.' He turned and gazed back at the stone head. 'Imagine,' he said. 'Carving that with nothing but primitive chisels. How long must it have taken them? And of course, the other question: how did they get a piece of basalt that weighs more than twenty tons way out here?' He gestured around at the rolling hills. 'The nearest source is fifty miles away.'
'It's certainly a mystery,' admitted Coates. He looked around. 'Perhaps they could have—'
He broke off suddenly and Alec glanced at him.
'What's wrong?' he asked.
Coates was gazing back the way they had come. Two horsemen were riding slowly over the ridge towards them. They descended the hill and disappeared into the trees.
CHAPTER TWO
Trouble with a Capital T
When they emerged from the wood, it became evident that the two riders were Mexicans. One man wore a sombrero, the other a serape, a colourful fringed shawl; and as they drew closer, Alec could see that they both had guns and holsters slung around their waists. The man in the sombrero carried a leather bandolier studded with bullets. They glinted in the sunlight as he approached.
'I don't like the look of these two,' murmured Coates uneasily. 'They look like trouble with a capital T.'
'You shouldn't judge a book by its cover,' said Alec; but he had to admit that there was a certain degree of menace in the way the men rode, their shoulders hunched, their grubby faces expressionless.
They reined in their horses a short distance away and sat there, studying Alec and Coates in silence for a few moments. Then the man wearing the bandolier grinned, displaying large white teeth, his gold fillings glinting below his moustache. Alec distrusted him immediately: the grin had no warmth to it; he was just baring his teeth. The man was tall and wiry; his partner in the serape was thicker set and had dark stubble on his chin.
'Buenos días, amigos,' said Bandolier. 'It's a fine day but you are a long way from home, I think.'
'Not so very far,' said Coates quietly. 'Actually, we're with a much bigger party, some twenty men or so. They're following us. Should be here any moment.'
Bandolier grinned. 'Isn't that strange?' he said. 'We too are with a big crowd. They are back up the trail a little way. They send us ahead to scout out the land. Hey, you know what? Maybe our friends will run into your friends.' He turned and said something to his companion in rapid Spanish. Serape gave a harsh laugh and a brief reply.
'He says it will be quite a party,' said Bandolier. His mocking gaze moved to examine the picnic rug and the hamper. 'Oh, but forgive me – it looks like you were having your dinner.'
'That's all right,' said Alec. He picked up a plate of sandwiches, smiling in what he hoped was a friendly manner. He knew that in such circumstance it was important not to appear afraid. 'Perhaps we could offer you a sandwich,' he said.
Bandolier looked at the plate, his eyes narrowed as though he suspected Alec were trying to poison him. Then he reached out a filthy hand and picked up one of the sandwiches between thumb and nicotine-stained forefinger. He lifted the sandwich and sniffed at it dubiously. 'What is this?' he asked.
'Salmon and cucumber,' Coates assured him. 'Made them this morning. Absolutely delicious, though I say so myself.'
Alec moved round to the other horse and held out the plate but Serape just grunted and shook his head. Bandolier took a bite of his sandwich, chewed for a moment and then spat it out.
'Gringo food,' he said. 'Tastes like dog.' He flung the remains of the sandwich aside.
'How kind of you to say,' muttered Coates. 'And such charming manners.' He glanced at Alec, his eyes warning him to step away from the men.
Alec did just that, returning to the blanket and setting the plate down. He looked across at the tethered horses, remembering that Coates carried a pistol in one of the saddlebags and wondering if he could get to it before Bandolier noticed. He took a step forward but the Mexican's voice stopped him in his tracks.
'Hey, kid, where you going?'
Alec turned back, still trying to keep the smile on his face. 'I, er . . . have something in my saddlebags I . . . wanted to give you,' he said. 'A present.' He thought for a moment, trying to imagine something the Mexican might want. 'A . . . bottle of whisky?'
Bandolier looked at him in disgust. 'You gringos,' he said. 'You think we Mexicans will roll over and beg if you offer us a drink. I am not stupid, you know.'
'I never said you were,' said Alec. He was trying to remain calm but he was horribly aware of a trickle of sweat running slowly down his spine. 'And for your information, we're not gringos. We are English.'
Bandolier shrugged as though this was of no concern to him. 'You are all the same to me,' he said. 'You come to this country and think you own it. I got news for you, kid, you don' own nothing. You hear me? Nothing.' Now he was studying the Olmec head as though he had only just noticed it. 'What are you doing here?' he asked. 'Don' you know this is dangerous territory to be out alone?'
'I was drawing the head,' said Alec, pointing. 'I'm interested in archaeology, you see. It's Olmec – it's thousands of years old.' He moved across and picked up his sketchbook. 'See? I'm making a drawing of it.'
'So I see,' said Bandolier, but it was evident he wasn't interested. He seemed to be deliberating.
'You . . . you speak very good English,' said Alec, trying to fight down the tight knot of fear that was coiling in his stomach. 'Where did you learn it?'
Bandolier rolled his eyes. 'I was vaquero for a gringo rancher for many years,' he said. 'I guess I picked it up, mostly from listening to him give orders. He liked to give the orders, you understand? Always he picked me for the worst jobs. I worked for him longer than anyone, but he didn't cut me no favours. In the end I got tired of being pushed around. Figured I'd make my own way. But before I rode out, I left him something to remember me by.' He laughed unpleasantly.
Alec wasn't sure what that something might have been but was fairly sure it wouldn't have been a nice bunch of flowers.
Bandolier looked contemptuously at the sketchbook for a moment. 'An artist, huh?' he asked at last. 'Where you from, kid?'
'Veracruz,' said Alec.
'You got people there?'
'My father. He . . . he works with the British embassy.'
Alec was aware of Coates directing a fierce glare in his direction, as though warning him not to mention his father. But it was too late now.
'Yeah?' Bandolier seemed to brighten at this news. Again he turned and said something to Serape. The second man considered for a moment and then nodded. Bandolier turned back to Alec. 'He's a big man in Veracruz, eh? I bet he's worth a lot of pesos. And I bet he's real proud of his boy. Hey, you know what I'm thinking?'
There was a silence.
'I can't imagine,' said Alec at last.
'I think maybe this man would pay much money to have his son back again in one piece.'
It was obvi
ous where this was leading. Alec felt a growing sense of panic but stubbornly refused to let it show. 'My father is poor,' he said. 'They don't pay him very much.'
Bandolier laughed derisively. 'Yeah, sure, kid. And I'm Pancho Villa!'
'Listen,' said Coates, and Alec heard an unfamiliar note of desperation in his valet's voice. 'It's been very nice chatting with you, señor, but I would advise you and your friend to ride on. Master Alec's father is a close friend of President Obregón. If anything should happen to us, I wouldn't want to be in your boots.'
Bandolier turned his head to one side and spat dismissively. 'Obregón? You think I care about him? He's just another jumped-up norteño with big ideas. Me and my compadres, we don' look out for nobody but us. We see something we want, we take it. I think maybe you two ride along with us. Maybe we send a message to the boy's father in Veracruz.' He thought for a moment. 'Maybe we take a knife and cut off one of his ears, send that to him and ask him for one hundred thousand pesos.'
'Now look here—' said Coates.
'No, you look at me, Señor Englishman. You look in my eyes and know that I am not kidding around here. You are coming with us.'
'We're going nowhere,' Coates insisted. 'I'm warning you—'
'You're warning me?' Bandolier laughed again. 'Excuse me, but you are the one standing there with no gun. Don't you tell me what is happening. It could be I decide just to take the boy and leave you here for the buzzards to pick at. What d'you think of that, Señor Englishman?'
Coates was about to step forward but Alec's voice stilled him: 'Don't be silly, Coates. He wouldn't hesitate to shoot you.'
Coates turned and glared at Alec. 'Didn't I warn you this was a lawless country?' he said. 'Now look at the mess you've got us into. Perhaps in future you'll think before you act.'
Alec felt bad. It was true, he had risked so much coming out here, and now it had all gone disastrously wrong. 'I'm sorry, Coates,' he said. 'I really didn't think it was that dangerous. I just so wanted to see the head, I—'
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