For the first time since, when a crime reporter in Southampton, Adam had been attacked, he used his great strength to the full. Lashing out right and left with his big fists, he felled two of his attackers, then seized a third round the waist, lifted him high in the air and flung him into the crowd. His whirling body knocked down three more; but the crowd seemed as though possessed by a demon. Screaming with hate, their dark faces transformed into hideous masks, they trampled over their fallen comrades and came at him again.
His arms shooting out like piston rods, he met the attack. Nearly all of them were small, short men, so his height gave him a big advantage and blows from his fists sent one after another reeling. Yet their fanatic urge to pull him down was so strong that, as each of his victims gasped or moaned and toppled over, others took his place.
Breathing hard now and sweating from his exertions, he knew that, unless he could succeed in getting away, his death was certain. They would tear him limb from limb or, perhaps, lug him up to the top of the pyramid and sacrifice him to their evil god, as they had the pigs. But if he ceased to face them, even for a second, and turned to run, they would leap upon his back and hurl him to the ground. So far the fight had lasted barely a minute, but several of them beyond the reach of his punches had run round behind him. At any moment he expected to receive savage blows from them or, worse, the sharp stab of a knife as it was thrust into his back.
In desperation he sprang forward, seized one of them by his long hair, pulled him off his feet and swung him breast high in a scythe-like sweep. The man’s heavy boots tore great gashes in the faces of the two nearest men. Yelling with pain they went over backwards. For the moment Adam’s front was clear. Lifting the man again, he repeated the movement, at the same time swivelling on his heels. He was only just in time. The man’s legs smashed into the body of another actually in the act of jumping. Struck in mid-air, he curved over sideways and hit the earth with a heavy thump. Behind him were four or five others. Letting go of the screaming man he had used as a weapon, Adam charged them. One got a fist full in the face, another a blow on his Adam’s apple, which made his eyes start from his head. He lurched away, vomiting. The others, momentarily cowed as the golden-haired giant rushed upon them, panicked and sprang aside. Suddenly Adam realised that he had fought his way free and, with overwhelming relief, raced off down the road as fast as his long legs could carry him.
Howling with execration, the murderous mob streamed in pursuit of him. He had a lead of only a dozen yards, was gasping for breath and aching from a score of blows that had landed on his body; but his stride being so much longer than that of the Indians, he had good hopes of increasing his lead until they tired and he could get clean away.
His heart hammering in his chest, he pounded on, fear lending him new strength. The trampling of a hundred feet behind him made a continuous roar, broken every few seconds by shouts and curses. After two minutes they sounded a little fainter. But he was now streaming with sweat and his lungs seemed near to bursting. Grimly he realised that he could not keep up that pace and that many of his pursuers who had not participated in the fight were fresher than he was. If they continued the chase they must wear him down.
Almost blinded by the sweat that was running down into his eyes, he was following the road and had not even given a glance at the terrain on either side. A swift turn of his head to find out how far ahead of the mob he was showed him that he had entered an area of bushes and small trees. Suddenly it came to him that by diving in among them he could elude the howling human pack. Swerving, he jumped the roadside ditch and dashed into the undergrowth. Next moment his foot caught in a root, he pitched forward and his head hit a rotting tree stump.
Half stunned, he lay where he had fallen. A good half-minute had gone before he was sufficiently recovered to stagger to his feet. Once more, in desperate fear for his life, he began to thrust his way through the bushes. But the fall seemed to have driven the last strength from his body. He had not stumbled ten yards before he heard the cracking of small branches in his rear. His brain was in a whirl. It was much darker there than out on the open road. He could no longer see his way and felt utterly exhausted. Brought up short by a small tree, he staggered and fell again. In a matter of seconds, with exultant shouts, the mob was upon him.
A dozen hands grabbed at his clothes, his arms, his hair. With kicks and curses they dragged him to his feet, then pushed and pulled him back towards the pyramid; but their progress was slow because they were as breathless as he was. Dimly he realised this and for the next few minutes the thought that it might give him another chance germinated in his mind. To recruit his strength, he began to take long, deep breaths.
They had nearly reached the place where he had been attacked when he made his effort. Two men were holding each of his arms, but, compared with him, they were puny creatures. Suddenly coming to a halt, he tensed his muscles, threw his weight backwards and wrenched himself free. Seizing the two nearest Indians by the neck, he banged their heads together, then began to strike out, first to one side then to the other.
His blows no longer had their former strength, but several of his captors staggered back from them. Others cannoned into one another in the wild scramble to seize him again. The greater part of the crowd had been shuffling along in his rear and his sudden attack now gave him the chance he had prayed for. To his right front no-one barred his path. Drawing a deep breath, he launched himself forward.
He had covered no more than ten feet when something hit him lightly on the head and slid down over his face. It was a rope. Suddenly it jerked tight round his neck. With an agonised gasp, he came to an abrupt halt. A muleteer in the crowd behind had lassoed him.
Half choked, he grabbed the noose with both hands to save himself from being throttled. He had barely succeeded in loosening it a little before he was again surrounded and seized. His last hope of escape was gone.
Jostling and shouting, his captors pushed him along the road, then across the coarse grassland towards the pyramid. It was now deserted, but they took him round behind it. There, as he had supposed from the bright glow he had seen, a big fire of brushwood was burning. Above it, spitted on long poles supported by trestles, the torn carcasses of the two pigs were being roasted. Beyond the fire stood a long, low barn and Adam was taken into it.
Evidently it was there that the priest had changed into his Indian robes and feathered head-dress. Still wearing them, he and several older men who had not joined in the chase were in the barn seated at a rough table drinking tequila from thick tumblers. As Adam was dragged in front of them they rose to their feet and glowered at him.
During the past few minutes he had again recovered his breath and, although his body was bruised all over, he had suffered no serious injury. Owing to his height none of the blows aimed at him had reached his face and, as he had hit the tree stump with the side of his head, his features remained unmarred. A loud grunt caused him to glance towards the corner of the barn from where it had come. Like himself, the pig had evidently been recaptured, as a man stood there holding it by a rope round its neck.
As he faced his captors, Adam felt sick with fear. There could be no disguising the fact that he had been a witness to the abominable rites that had been performed not much more than a quarter of an hour earlier. Although he was not a Catholic, the celebration of a Mass as a prelude to a pagan sacrifice had seemed to him a most appalling sacrilege. They must assume that even an accidental spectator of such a scene would report it, which must lead to the high authorities both of the Church and the police taking drastic action. Therefore, they could not possibly afford to let him go. For their own protection they must silence him, and the only certain way to do that was to kill him.
Their faces dark with anger, the priest and his companions stared at Adam from time to time while arguing in low voices. From the few words he caught, he realised that they were divided. Some of them were set upon his death; the others were fearful of killing him because he was not simply an uninitiated citizen of San Luis Caliente but obviously a foreigner and probably a tourist; so his disappearance was certain to result in an investigation which might prove their ruin.
At length they decided to take a vote, whether he should be killed there and then or made to swear the most awful oaths to keep their secret, with the threat that, should he afterwards betray them, he would never escape their vengeance. At that he took new heart, feeling fairly confident that they would not dare risk a police enquiry. But his relief was shortlived. Each of them had scribbled on a scrap of paper torn from a single sheet, then passed it to the priest. Having sorted them into two piles, he said in a hoarse voice, ‘Four for reprieve, seven for death.’ Then, addressing the men who were holding Adam by the arms, he added, ‘This is an opportunity to show the gods our complete faith in them. Take him up to the top of the pyramid.’
Adam went as white as a sheet. He had all he could do to prevent himself from trembling. But in that moment inspiration came to him. So far he had not spoken. Now, half-forgotten words of Nahuatl suddenly flowed into his mind. Drawing himself to his full height, he frowned and said:
‘What folly is this to which I have listened with patience? Kill me and your cause is lost. I came here only to assess the loyalty of my followers. Without warning I was attacked. Being now in the form of a human being I was forced to defend myself. Otherwise I would have been sent back prematurely to the place whence I come to lead again my people out of bondage. Do you not recognise me? I am Quetzalcoatl.’
Sitting back, they gasped and stared at him. With new perception they took in his height, his red-gold hair and beard. After a moment of tense silence the priest stammered:
‘It must be.… Only a week back I received word that the Man-God had returned to us … was here in Mexico.… Come again to give us joy and prosperity.’
Standing up, the priest came round from behind the table, followed by his companions. Kneeling, they prostrated themselves before Adam. The men who had been holding him had swiftly stepped away and were now also on their knees, banging their foreheads on the ground.
There followed an awkward silence. Adam was terribly tempted to say, ‘Now, for God’s sake, let me go. Get me a car if it’s possible or, failing that, I’ll walk back to San Luis.’ But he dared not. He could only await developments and hope to reap the best advantage from them.
At last the priest raised his head and said, ‘Mighty Lord, the third pig was caught. I beg that you will not refuse us the honour of sacrificing it in the presence of us, your slaves.’
A lump rose in Adam’s throat, but he saw no alternative to agreeing, and gave a silent nod.
Taking off his rich garments, the priest humbly offered them and Adam put them on. Messengers were sent out to reassemble the congregation and the pig was led away. During the quarter of an hour that followed, those who remained in the barn stole covert glances in Adam’s direction and were evidently too filled with awe to dare address him. He maintained an aloof of silence, his stomach rising at the thought of having to slaughter the pig; but he feared that if he failed to go through with it they might decide that he was an impostor, which could yet cost him his life. His limbs were aching, he felt very tired and would have given a lot to sit down. But he decided that, as he was supoosed to be a god, he must show no sign of weakness.
At last the men who had left the barn returned. The priest, now again in his clerical garb, made a deep obeisance and said, ‘Exalted One, I pray you to precede me.’
Leaving the bar, Adam led the way up the grass-covered rear slope of the pyramid. As he appeared on the top, there came a low murmur from the congregation down below, then a hushed silence. The priest addressed the people, but spoke only a few sentences, his harsh voice now betraying his agitation. Again there came the murmur as the people went down on their knees, then lowered their faces to the ground.
From their midst emerged four men who had remained upright. Each holding a leg of the pig, they lugged it up the steps of the pyramid, lifted it on to the altar table and held it there on its back. With a bow, the priest handed Adam the sacrificial knife.
He was already feeling nausea from the smell of the blood of the pigs that had been slaughtered there half an hour earlier. For a moment he shut his eyes and swallowed hard. With a great effort he pulled himself together and stepped forward.
As he raised the knife he was terribly tempted to plunge it hard-into the breast of the pig, so as to put it swiftly out of its agony; but he knew that to be the one thing he must not do. Exerting all his will to make his arm obey him, he stuck the knife into the pig’s belly, and drew it upward. The blade was as sharp as a razor, so the skin and flesh parted easily.
The minutes that followed exceeded the horror of any nightmare he had ever experienced. The animal squealed and squealed, on a high-pitched note that resembled the screams of a human in the utmost agony. Somehow, Adam forced himself to thrust his hands into the cavity he had made and, as the blood spurted out up to his elbows, fish around until he found the heart. Now obsessed with the thought of getting the awful business over as swiftly as possible, he tore at it frantically, lugged it out and held it aloft.
His gesture was followed by a thunderous roar of applause from the congregation. Crazy with excitement, they shouted themselves hoarse and were still doing so as Adam was solemnly escorted down the far side of the pyramid. Then he was led back to the barn and bowed to a seat at the head of the table. His urge to get away from the evil men who surrounded him was almost uncontrollable. But he fought it down because he felt sure that the diabolical ceremony would not be completed until they had feasted on the sacrificed pigs and that, to play out his role, he must participate.
By then the two first pigs had been roasted and the man with the long moustache came into the barn carrying an earthen platter with a portion of the cooked meat on it. The priest took the platter from him and, kneeling, presented it to Adam.
With renewed disgust he saw that he was expected to eat the pigs’ testicles. His stomach almost revolted, but he fought down his nausea. Then, with sudden inspiration, he leaned over, took the knife from the priest’s sash, cut off only a small portion of the meat and put it in his mouth. To his surprise, the taste was very pleasant. Having swallowed the piece of flesh, he stood up and said:
‘It is enough. I have many other places to visit, so I go now, and I desire no escort to accompany me back to the town.’
No-one attempted to stay him. They all went down on their knees. Swiftly he discarded the Indian robes which he had put on over his own clothes, and threw them on the table. Then, with a dignified step, he walked unhurriedly out of the barn.
The scene outside was like a witches’ sabbath, except that all the participants were male. They were crowded round the big bonfire over which the pig he had slain was still roasting. The other two pigs had been torn in pieces. Groups of men held lumps of the hot flesh in their bare hands as they gorged themselves on it, and gulped down from raised bottles draughts of tequila or the raw, local wine.
Within two minutes of leaving the barn Adam was back on the road. His relief at having regained his freedom had caused his tiredness to drop from him. His mind still filled with the revolting scenes he had witnessed, he hurried towards the town.
In less than twenty minutes he arrived there. He felt as though many hours must have passed since he had left it, so he was surprised to find a number of people still sitting about in the square; but it was only a little after midnight and, as his hands were dyed red with blood, he was thankful not to have to knock up someone to let him into his hotel.
Putting his hands into his trouser pockets, he went straight up to his room and scrubbed them again and again until he had got the last trace of dried blood from under his fingernails. By then reaction had set in and he again felt so exhausted that he could not raise the energy even to ring for a drink or have a bath. Pulling off his clothes, he flopped into bed and, five minutes later, was sound asleep.
When he awoke he could hardly believe that he had not had a ghastly nightmare; but there were bloodstains on the shoes beside his bed and, as the ceremonial robe had been much too short for him, also on the lower part of the legs of his trousers. Realising that he really had been through that seemingly incredible experience, he fervently thanked God that he was still alive.
As he sat up in bed, he gave an ‘ouch’ of pain and his body began to ache all over. That made him wish that he could stay in bed all day to recover from his beating up, but he had already decided to get away from San Luis Caliente as soon as he possibly could, in case the evil priest came round and sought to involve him in further horrors.
The mirror in the bathroom down the passage showed his body to be black and blue, and one of his ribs pained him badly, but, in view of the ferocity of the attack on him, he considered that he had got off lightly. Bathed, shaved, dressed in clean clothes and after a hurried breakfast, he felt somewhat better. By nine o’clock he was on his way down to Taxco.
It was again a Sunday and, on arriving at the famous silver town, he found the shops that sell beautiful silver-work shut. He was not sorry about that, as he felt like anything but going sightseeing. On the contrary, he was a little concerned about his rib; so, after he had lunched, he went to bed and sent for a doctor. The doctor told him that his rib was only strained or, at the worst, slightly cracked, so it was nothing to worry about, and advised him to spend the rest of the day in bed. He charged the equivalent of three pounds for his visit, which Adam thought excessive, but he gladly took the advice.
During his trip Adam had spent most of his waking hours talking to scores of different people. That had helped to keep his mind off Chela, but it could not prevent him from thinking about her during his drives in the car from town to town, when he woke each morning and before he went to sleep every night.
Those two nights they had spent together at Oaxaca had been a truly wonderful experience for him. In his mind’s eye he could still visualise her lovely, laughing face and faultless body. Without effort he could recapture the rich tones of her voice and the satin texture of her skin. Added to all this, there had been the perfect ease with which they could communicate their inmost thoughts to each other, or just remain silent side by side in absolute contentment. He felt certain that in this life he would never meet another woman to compare with her. Yet she seemed horrifyingly unpredictable and, after one lightly-spoken sentence deliberately calculated to deceive him, had left him flat.
As he lay in bed, turning over from time to time to ease his bruised body, he wondered what to do about her. He had long since given up puzzling over her reason for having abandoned him, bitterly accepting that the only possible explanation was his refusal to help her in her crusade. And now, with ample cause, he was more opposed than ever to doing so, The ten days she had told her family she would be away had expired on Saturday. As they spent every week-end at Cuernavaca, the odds were that she would now be there and back in Mexico City on the following day, Monday.
Unhappily, he faced the possibility that, having made her attempt to secure his help and failed, she might refuse to have any more private meetings with him. But, in view of their powerful attraction for each other and, even more, the strength of the past link between them, he thought that unlikely. It would be against any passionate woman’s instincts to allow a political difference of opinion entirely to override her physical desire; and there could be no doubt about Chela being a passionate woman. It therefore seemed well on the cards that he could win her back, and even possible that, after their separation of ten days, she was looking forward eagerly to resuming their affaire immediately she got back to Mexico City.
His intention had been to return there himself the following morning after a quick look round Taxco. But it now occurred to him that, if she was expecting him to be waiting on the mat for her, it might be no bad thing to disappoint her, leave her kicking her heels for a couple of days wondering what had become of him, then reappear and tell her that he had not hurried back because he regarded their brief affaire as finished.
The inference that he had already got her out of his system might make her more eager; on the other hand, she might resent it so strongly that he would lose her for good. As that was the last thing he wanted, he decided not to risk it, but to stay in Taxco only over Monday then, when he did get back, leave it to her to make the first move. Or, anyhow, wait until he could bear no longer the suspense of not knowing how she felt towards him.
He spent the next morning making the rounds of the silversmiths, admiring their beautiful work. Somehow, he got through the rest of the day and returned to Mexico City on the Tuesday. He had left the bulk of his luggage at the El Presidente and was considerably relieved to learn that the rooms he had reserved there for his return had not been let to someone else.
No massage from Chela awaited him at the desk, but there were two letters sent round from the Del Paseo.
One was from his Aunt Flora. It was to thank him for his Christmas present to her, although in somewhat austere terms. Having been busy with preparations for his trip to Mexico, he had jibbed at racking his brains for a present that would please her, so had sent her a cheque for fifty pounds.
In her letter she remarked that, while money was always acceptable, the greatest pleasure lay in receiving a gift in the selection of which the giver had expended thought. She added that the size of the sum gave her reason to fear that Adam’s good fortune had led to his becoming reckless about money. This she urged him to guard against seriously, as she found it hard to believe that anyone could continue to live as he was doing simply by writing novels. She had, therefore, spent only five pounds on some new linen and had put the remainder aside against a day when he might need it. There followed news about a few of her neighbours and a report that a Jewish gentleman from the Midlands—said to have big interests in television—was negotiating to lease the Castle.
Aunt Flora’s letter carried Adam back to a different world—a sane and real world inbred in his very being; so that for a moment it seemed that all that had befallen him in Mexico—his affaire with the lovely but strange and unpredictable Chela and his terrible experience at San Luis Caliente—could not really have taken place. Yet the slight pain that he still felt in his bruised rib was ample evidence that they had been no dream.
On opening the second letter he found to his consternation that it was from Jeremy Hunterscombe, giving particulars of the meeting of the Anglo-Mexican Society that evening. Adam had entirely forgotten about it, and it was already four o’clock. With a groan, he forwent a belated lie-down and set about composing his speech.
He had been working on it for about half an hour when the telephone rang. As he picked up the receiver, his heart gave a violent lurch. It was Chela calling him.
‘So you’re back,’ she said. ‘Mamón told me that you had gone off on a tour, and when I called up this morning I was told that you had not yet returned. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past three days. Come round here for drinks this evening, then we’ll go out to dinner.’
Her opening to renew their affaire warmed him, but strengthened his resolution to play hard-to-get; so, tempted as he was to start saying endearing things to her, he steeled himself to reply in a rather off-hand manner, ‘I’d love to, but I can’t. I have to give a talk to the Anglo-Mexican Society this evening.’
‘Oh!’ She hesitated. ‘But that will be over by about half past ten. You could take me out afterwards.’
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘That’s not on, either. Jerry Hunterscombe is running this show and he is expecting me to dine with him afterwards,’ which was the truth.
‘Oh, damn Jeremy!’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘Tell him you can’t. Put him off.’
Her eagerness to see him further strengthened Adam’s feeling that he was taking a sound line, so he replied, ‘Sorry; I wouldn’t like to do that but …’ He had been going to suggest their making a date for the next day, but got no further because she had hung up on him.
Afterwards he wondered whether he had gone too far, and had half a mind to ring her back. But he resisted the impulse and returned to writing his speech; although, with visions of Chela now occupying the greater part of his mind, he found it extraordinarily hard to concentrate on it.
At half past seven he went over to the hall in which the Society held its meetings. In a private room Jeremy and other members of the committee fortified him with drinks, then escorted him downstairs. As usual, on such occasions, he felt rather nervous; but the audience was large and gave him an encouraging reception. Hunterscombe introduced him in a brief, flattering and well-thought-out speech. Then Adam said his piece.
As had always proved the case with him, ‘everything was all right on the night’, and when he ended he received enthusiastic applause. There was then a half-hour of questions, a sequel to which he rather looked forward, as they often gave him a lead to air his views on a variety of subjects. Then followed a vote of thanks, a few words with friendly people in the audience, after which Hunterscombe carried him off in a car.
They dined at a small restaurant which had a French cuisine and a French chef to see to it that the dishes were truly à la française, so the food was excellent. Halfway through the meal, Hunterscombe said:
‘You were telling me that you’ve been on a trip. During it did you think any more about the subject we talked of when we lunched together? You know, old boy. I mean the off-the-record stuff.’
Adam nodded. ‘Yes, I did. And I have no doubt now that you were right. There is plenty of trouble brewing. The Indians really are still primitives, and in some places the priests are playing on their superstitions to encourage them to revolt.’
‘Can you give me any particulars?’
Before going to the meeting Adam had carefully considered how much he should say if Hunterscombe raised the subject again; and he had decided to say very little because the Wing Commander suspected Chela, so the less he was told about what was going on the better, just in case some item of information enabled him to confirm his suspicions definitely.
‘No,’ Adam lied glibly. ‘But I can tell you one thing. You were wrong in believing that the Enriquezes are involved. Bernadino and his capitalist friends have no tie-up with the Church, and they are all against anything which might upset the status quo. I learned that from Ramón, and I’m certain he wasn’t fooling me.’
The Wing Commander brushed up his fair moustache. ‘But how about Chela?’
‘Oh, Chela!’ Adam shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen her since I last saw you. Undoubtedly she is an idealist and Alberuque’s pet, or he hers. But that doesn’t add up to much, now we know that she is not acting as liaison between the Monsignor and her father.’
‘Could be you’re right, chum,’ Hunterscombe admitted. ‘If she is a dead end, there is no point in wasting further time on her.’
Adam felt that he had handled the situation as well as possible, but he was not fully convinced that the Wing Commander believed him. There was a quality about him that was difficult to assess. On the face of it, he was almost a Wodehouse character and Adam would not have been at all surprised to be addressed by him as ‘old egg’ or ‘old bean’, or to hear him speak of ‘cads’ and ‘rotters’. But there seemed to be an underlying shrewdness about him, and Adam had heard it said more than once that apparently ‘silly-idiot’ British agents were the cleverest in the world.
To his relief Hunterscombe made no further reference to the subject during the latter part of their pleasant dinner, nor while taking him back to his hotel.
Next morning he rang up Chela, with the intention of putting matters right with her, but she had already gone out and it was not known when she would be back. He then asked for Ramón and, when he came on the line, asked him to lunch. Ramón would not hear of it. In Mexico the term ‘visitor’ is synonymous with ‘guest’. He had an engagement but that could be put off: He was anxious to see Adam and would expect him at two o’clock at the Bankers’ Club.
Adam again made his way downtown, but this time not too early for his appointment. Ramón received him cordially and at once asked how he had enjoyed his trip.
‘I had a most interesting time,’ Adam grinned, ‘and damn’ nearly got my throat cut.’
Ramón raised his dark eyebrows. ‘The devil you did! I can’t wait to hear about it.’
Over lunch Adam gave a full account of his week’s tour, ending up with a graphic description of his shattering experience at San Luis Caliente.
‘That is the sort of Saturday-night gathering we have had reason to believe is taking place,’ Ramón said. ‘But this is the first actual description we have had of one, and I’m extremely grateful to you for having obtained it for us. I give you full marks, too, for pulling that bluff on them that you were Quetzalcoatl. What gave you the idea?’
‘Chela,’ Adam replied promptly. ‘She told me that I look exactly like the description of him in the legends.’
‘That was lucky for you. She is a born romantic, which accounts for her having always championed the Indians. In view of what is going on at the moment, it is unfortunate that her feelings for them are so strong. Just between us, since you have been away we have found out that she is taking an active part in fermenting this rebellion.’
Adam’s face showed quick concern, although Ramón did not realise the shock that their discovery that Chela was involved had given him; and went on quietly, ‘She has been acting for Don Alberuque, as his go-between in the towns to which she has gone recently to inspect schools.’
Striving to hide his acute alarm, Adam asked, ‘Is … is it likely that they will arrest her?’
‘Oh, no. We shan’t arrest that priest at San Luis Caliente either; nor any of the others we have a line on—yet. It is much sounder to let them have plenty of rope, then there is a good chance that they’ll lead us to the big-shots who are directing this damnable affair. We can afford to wait for a week or two before we pounce.’
‘But then? What then? If Chela is proved to have been one of the ringleaders, she … they’ll put her in prison.’
‘I don’t think for a moment that she is, or that she realises the full implications of what she is doing. In her devotion to the poor she is almost a saint, and I am sure she would swallow any line that smarmy devil Alberuque cared to sell her.’
‘But she could be in deeper than you suppose,’ Adam persisted.
Ramón gave him a friendly smile. ‘I hadn’t realised that you were one of the many who have fallen for Chela.’
‘Well, er—I certainly find her very attractive and she’s been extremely kind in taking me about to places; so it’s natural that I should feel anxious about her. I should have thought you would be, too.’
‘I’m not,’ Ramón shook his dark head. ‘And you needn’t be either. Even if they worked on her to the extent of persuading her to throw a bomb at the President, we’d get her off. Money counts in Mexico. It might cost my father a million pesos, but he’d see to it that at worst she would have to spend a few months in a nice comfy home for neurotics.’
Immensely relieved, Adam was able to enjoy the rest of his lunch. He then returned to the El Presidente and lay down on his bed with a book, as he had decided that it would be better not to ring Chela again until after the siesta. Half an hour later he had dropped off to sleep.
He was roused by a loud knocking on his door. As he had hung up the ‘Do not Disturb’ notice outside it, he called out ‘Entrada’ in a far from pleasant frame of mind. But the knocking continued and he then remembered that he had turned the key in the lock. With a scowl on his face he slid off the bed, walked over and opened the door. Chela, dressed in a gay, flowered spring frock, and looking radiant, was standing there.
‘Well!’ he exclaimed with an angry expression, still half asleep and caught off his guard. ‘It seems you mean to make a habit of invading my bedroom.’
Pushing past him, she shut the door behind her, then turned and gave him a puzzled look. ‘What’s the matter with you, darling? I simply thought that as the mountain wouldn’t come to Mohammet, I’d … But you don’t seem at all pleased to see me.’
Recovering himself, and now elated that his stratagem of playing hard-to-get had worked, he said quickly, ‘Yes, I am. I really couldn’t back out of my talk and dinner last night. But I phoned you this morning and was going to again in an hour or so’s time.’
At that she gave her dazzling smile and held out her arms. Seizing her in his, he crushed her to him and gave her a long, rich kiss. As their mouths parted, she murmured, ‘Oh, my brave, foolish one. How I adore you; and how proud I am of you.’
‘Eh?’ Releasing his hold on her, he looked down in surprise into her big, limpid dark eyes and said, ‘I’m afraid I don’t get you. What have I done that you should regard me as a hero?’
‘Why, darling, declaring yourself and performing the sacrifice at San Luis Caliente, of course,’ she laughed.
‘How did you come to hear about that?’
‘From Don Alberuque. He had it through our grapevine and was overjoyed. For persuading you to take the part of Quetzalcoatl, he has given me ten thousand years’ exemption from Purgatory. And, fool that I was, I thought that I had failed him.’
Adam frowned. ‘Then you did leave me in the lurch at Oaxaca because I said I wouldn’t play?’
‘Well, it wasn’t altogether that. I would have had to leave you the next morning anyhow. Three days was all I could possibly squeeze out of my commitments to inspect schools, and other things. I didn’t lie to you when I said that I had work to do. But I did decide to leave overnight because I believed that you truly loved me and would miss me so much that you would think things over and make up your mind to do as I asked. But, of course, even if you hadn’t, I couldn’t possibly have given you up. I’ve wanted you desperately ever since; I want you now, this moment. Let’s get our clothes off and hop into bed.’
Intoxicated by her presence, Adam gave her another long kiss, and cried, ‘My sweet, I’ll race you to it.’ Then, laughing like happy children, they began to fling their garments on the floor.
A quarter of an hour later they were sitting up in bed. He had his arm round her shoulders and she had just lit a cigarette. As she lit one for him, she said:
‘Tell me, darling. Why on earth didn’t you disclose yourself to Father Miguel when you saw him at the church, instead of going to the ceremony unaccompanied, and nearly getting yourself killed?’
Having had time to decide on the line he should take if she asked him that question, he replied with a smile, ‘I discovered only by chance late that evening that a ceremony was to take place, and I felt that I must see what form it took.’
She gave a happy sigh. ‘Now you know, and have accepted the role as Man-God, it will be very different next time. You will be escorted to the place of sacrifice in dignity and with every honour.’
‘I’m afraid there is not going to be a next time,’ he announced quietly.
‘What!’ she exclaimed, jerking her head round to stare at him with anxious, distended eyes. ‘You can’t mean that! You can’t possibly!’
He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. ‘I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you, beloved; but I do.’
‘But why? Why? Why?’
‘Because I thought the whole business pretty beastly. I hated having to slaughter that wretched pig and the sight of those men guzzling its flesh afterwards was revolting.’
‘One must follow the ancient ritual,’ she protested. ‘And what is wrong with those poor, half-starved Indians being given a meal of roast pork?’
‘Maybe; but that was not the only part of the ceremony that I took exception to. I’m not a Catholic, but holding a Mass before the pig-killing episode, and bringing the Host to such a party, struck me as the most appalling sacrilege.’
‘No, darling, no! There are many roads to Heaven, and I’ve told you before that the Indians are a mixed-up people. For centuries they have combined Christianity with their own religion. As long as they are believers in intercession through the saints and the mercy of our Lord, there is no real harm in their practising their ancient rituals.’
Suddenly she flung her arms round him and burst into tears. As he tried to comfort her, she sobbed out, ‘But, Adam, you must go on! You must! Surely you realise that the news of your appearance at San Luis has now spread all over the country? Thousands of poor people are looking to you as the Man-God, whose light and power will enable them to escape from their wretchedness to better, happier lives. You can’t let a whole people down like this. Even if you don’t really love me, you must think of them. But you do love me, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do, my sweet,’ he assured her.
‘Then do it for my sake, if not for theirs. And I’d planned things so beautifully. About a fortnight is still needed until everything is ready for the great day. My work is finished. There is no more I can do until I bring you, as I’ve promised I would, to the place of Recognition.’
After several loud sniffs, she sat up and went on, ‘I’ve told my family that in a few days’ time I have to make another round of school inspections. But I’ve a tiny villa down at Acapulco, which no-one knows anything about. It has a little oratory in it and I bought it so that I could go to live there while I was doing retreats, and wouldn’t have my mind disturbed. Although I’ll confess that I have used it for other purposes as well. The sun and the sea in that beautiful bay are heavenly, and I had planned that we should spend ten days there. Just the two of us on a sort of honeymoon before, before …’
Again she began, to cry. His heart aching, Adam let her go on until her sobbing eased, then he said gently, ‘Darling, I hate to put it to you so bluntly. But are you telling me that unless I agree to play the part of Quetzalcoatl there will be no honeymoon at Acapulco?’
Drying her eyes, she murmured, ‘I didn’t mean quite that. I love you so much that I’ll spend those ten days with you anyway. But they won’t be the same as I’d expected them to be. All the time I will be thinking of my failure to persuade you, and how everything may go wrong because of that.’
Miserably Adam heard her out, then he said, ‘For your sake, sweet, I think I could face up to the primitive barbarity of these ceremonies, but there is another side to it. Whatever you may think, this is not going to be a walk-over for your people. The government is not going to throw in its hand without a fight. It will have the support of the wealthy and the new, well-to-do middle class, who are quite certain to meet force with force, rather than see themselves robbed of their possessions. Your Indians will be armed only with old-fashioned rifles, a few revolvers, knives and sabres. The other side will have tanks, machine-guns and tear gas. I know you put your faith in holy banners, and that sort of thing, but they are not going to prove of any value against fire-power. You may be right that, in the end, you will win owing to the fanaticism of the Indians, and sheer weight of numbers. But, believe me, if you do launch this crusade, thousands of people are going to die in agony before it ends. And I can’t bring myself to be a party to starting it.’
With a sigh, she said, ‘No; I understand. And I suppose you are right. There is bound to be opposition and it may not be easy to overcome. I have always believed that faith can work miracles; but several of our people have told me recently that we must be prepared to sacrifice many lives in order to win through. But we must go on; we must. It’s too late now to draw back. We must put our trust in God and with or without your help, somehow destroy the tyrants.’
For a time they lay silent, then she leaned on an elbow and looked straight into his eyes again. ‘Darling, let’s agree that you are right, and that there will be terrible fighting. I’m not quite so besotted about my people as to think them saints. They have a savage streak in them that will come out when they see their friends shot down. Many of them will go berserk, give no quarter and behave with terrible brutality.
‘If you were paramount among them you could prevent that. As the Man-God, whatever you decreed would be scrupulously obeyed. Not one of them would dare disobey your divine commands. If you decreed that there must be no burning, no looting, no killing of prisoners, you could save many lives and an infinity of misery. Had you thought of that?’
Adam had not. She had presented to him an entirely new aspect of the part he could play in the coming struggle; and she was obviously convinced that nothing could now stop it from taking place. Knowing that the authorities were on to it, he doubted that; but she might be right. Greatly as he sympathised with the wretched lot of the Indians, he still felt that it was up to him to do what he could to prevent a revolt, and to accept the role of Quetzalcoatl could only stimulate it.
On the other hand, as Quetzalcoatl he would learn the intentions of the conspirators. He would then be in a position to pass on such information to Ramón and so give the Ministry of Security a much better chance to prevent the rebellion, by arresting the leaders just before they intended to start it.
Mentally he squirmed at the thought of playing such a role. It would mean betraying in the basest manner the woman who had given him her love. He already realised that, behind her noble profile and high, narrow forehead, there lay the mind of a fanatic, and a confused mind at that. In some strange way she reconciled a fervid belief in the Roman Catholic Faith with a contemptuous disregard for its moral precepts—for she had made no secret of it to Adam that from the age of seventeen she had had a succession of lovers. Again, by some inexplicable mental gymnastic, she could see nothing contrary to the principles of Christianity in permitting the Indians to couple in their thoughts their pagan gods with Christian saints, and to perform blood sacrifices in immediate succession to the celebration of the Mass. Perhaps the strangest contrast of all was that for one half of her life she was an elegant, beautifully-gowned leader of Mexico’s wildly extravagant young socialites who drank and danced till dawn, and for the other half she was a teacher and conscientious Inspector of Schools, working for an agnostic government that she detested. Yet all this made it no less the fact that, should he do as she wished, and pass on to Ramón the knowledge of the conspiracy he gained thereby, he would be qualifying for a new nickname—‘Judas’ Gordon.
They were lying embraced. Suddenly he freed himself from her arms, sat up in bed and said, ‘Darling, I’ve got to think. Stay where you are. I won’t be long.’
Getting out of bed, he went into the bathroom. He much preferred baths to showers, but realised that now a shower would serve him better. To start with, he turned the water on lukewarm, then he increased the cold flow until it became icy and he was shivering. Turning off the water, he stepped through into the bathroom, dried himself, then sat down on the edge of the bath and once more grappled with his problem.
If he stood aside, it seemed unlikely that the Ministry of Security would secure enough information during the next ten days to prevent an outbreak of violence. If there was an outbreak, it was absolutely certain that many innocent people would die or suffer before it could be suppressed. If he took on the role of Quetzalcoatl, there was a good chance that he could enable the Ministry to prevent a rebellion from starting. If, even so, it did occur, and the Indian masses succeeded in overwhelming the forces of the government, as the Man-God his powers would be immense. He could prevent excesses during the conflict and, after it, become the protector of the defeated. His mind was no longer clouded with doubt. However heavy the burden on his own conscience of betraying Chela, his duty lay in endeavouring to save the thousands of innocent people from the blood-bath of a revolution.
Returning to the bedroom, he smiled at Chela and said, ‘You win, darling. I’ll do as you wish.’
He little knew what he was letting himself in for.