Now that the die was cast, Adam put the future out of his mind and Chela’s happiness was unalloyed. Time drifted by unnoticed as they talked, laughed and delighted in one another. It was not until they felt hungry that they looked at the time and found it to be half past eight. Rather than dress and go out or to the restaurant, they decided to dine there and studied the elaborate room menu together. Chela collected her clothes from the floor and took refuge in the bathroom, while Adam rang for the floor waiter and ordered double portions of everything; which, as he towered over the man by a head and shoulders, did not seem to surprise him.
When the meal had been wheeled in, Chela put on one of Adam’s pyjama jackets which, tall as she was, came down to her knees. Giggling, they shared the glass and Adam cut up the food, feeding her with the fork. Replete with champagne, a truffled omelette, lobster and strawberries, they went back to bed; but as they had decided to make a fairly early start the next morning and Chela had to pack, she dressed before midnight and, after many kisses, left him.
At nine o’clock the following morning, Adam rang up the Enriquezes’ penthouse and, using an assumed name, asked for Ramón. His intention was to report that he had accepted the role of Quetzalcoatl with the object of finding out the conspirators’ plans, but Ramón had already gone out.
At ten o’clock Chela arrived in her car and they set off on their two-hundred-and-sixty-mile drive. The way out of the city lay through a seemingly endless suburb, towards the end of which Adam noticed that at the roadside the small houses and shops had numbers over five thousand. But, at last, they were clear of the built-up area and out on the fine motorway to the south.
It was the road on which lay both Cuernavaca and Taxco, but by-passes took them round those cities. By that time they had come down several thousand feet, it was much hotter and the vegetation gave ample evidence of the difference in temperature. They had left behind the almost barren mountain slopes upon which little but occasional groups of firs and casuarinas grew. The hillsides were now more thickly wooded, there were many palms and, here and there, clusters of spiky euphorbias, some looking in the distance like irregular patches of straight poles from twelve to fifteen feet in height and others like giant hands with many prickly fingers.
For the whole of the way from Mexico City to Acapulco the road was fenced on both sides, to prevent animals from straying on to it and becoming a danger to the traffic, and the surface was so good that, along straight stretches, they were able to travel at ninety miles an hour. Patches of cultivation were few and far between but, after Taxco, every half-mile or so beyond the wire fence there were groups of from twenty to forty square-topped, gaily-painted beehives, and the country became much more picturesque. The last forty-odd miles of their drive was alongside a wide, but almost dried-up, river bed. Wooded mountains rose on every side, the road curved sharply every few hundred yards to run up steep gradients, then plunge down again, and, beyond the heights in their immediate vicinity, there was always a vista of blue mountains in the distance.
It was four o’clock when they entered Acapulco, with its beautiful mountain-surrounded double bay. After all that Adam had read about Mexico, he expected to see some evidence of the ancient glories of this city which, in the seventeenth century, had been the largest port on the Pacific in all the Americas.
Spanish expeditions had sailed from it to establish new colonies as far south as Chile and as far north as San Francisco. It had also been the Spaniards’ base for trading with their settlements in the East Indies and Manila. Since their rivals, the Portuguese, had denied them a peaceful passage home by the western route via Ceylon, the Spaniards had sent all their rich cargoes of spices, silks and ivories from the East to Acapulco, had them carried by thousands of native porters overland to Vera Cruz, then shipped again across the Atlantic to Spain. The Philippines had, in fact, been ruled from Mexico, which is why today their culture has no resemblance to that of their Asiatic neighbours, but is entirely Spanish.
But, except for a double-domed cathedral facing the little square, not a building was left from the days when great fleets of unwieldy galleons, caravels and pinnaces had sailed from Acapulco harbour. In recent years it had become a holiday resort of the first rank, rivalling Juan les Pins or Miami Beach for luxury and high prices.
Chela turned left along the great sweep of the southernmost bay. Interspersed with lines of palm trees, there reared up huge, many-storeyed hotels of glass and concrete. On the inland side of the road were more modest buildings: restaurants, airline offices, cafés, motels, tourist agencies, night clubs and garages, eager to supply every facility for the enjoyment of this sunny playground. After some two miles they gave way to another two miles of private villas set in spacious gardens; then, when the car had reached the far end of the bay, facing the town, Chela turned off the coast road to take one that wound up a steep hill.
‘This,’ she told Adam, ‘is the Las Brisas estate. It is mainly occupied by an hotel which is unique. I don’t think there is another quite like it in the world.’
Craning his neck, Adam looked up the wooded eight-hundred-foot-high hillside they were climbing. Between the trees, and what looked like croton hedges, he could see scattered about quite a number of small, flat-roofed villas, but no building of any size, and he asked:
‘Where is the hotel? All I can see is scores of little bungalows.’
She laughed. ‘They are the hotel. Each consists of a big double bedroom and bathroom. In each there is a fridge containing soft drinks and a big dish of fruit, and above it there is a bar carrying a selection of a dozen wines, spirits and liqueurs. Outside is a terrace with a private swimming pool, chairs, tables and lilos, which cannot be overlooked from any of the other little villas. Every morning one of the hotel boys comes up, cleans the pool and scatters a hundred or so hibiscus blossoms on it, while another leaves a set of thermos containers outside the door, so that you have only to take it in and have a hot breakfast at any hour you wish. The hotel owns over a hundred jeeps. Look, there is one with its red and white striped awning. If you wish to go to the restaurant, halfway down the slope, you have only to ring up for one. Or they will take you right down to the shore, where there are several big enclosures for swimming, protected from sharks, speedboats for water ski-ing, barbecues and bars. So you can take your choice: either join the merry throng along the beach, or telephone down for your meals to be sent up to you and live like sybaritic hermits in your private heaven.’
Adam turned to smile at her. ‘How absolutely marvellous. But you told me you had your own villa, so I take it we will have to fend for ourselves.’
She shook her head. ‘No, darling. There are quite a number of villas on the far side of the estate that are privately owned but enjoy the service of the hotel. I have one of them and we’ll soon be there.’
Ten minutes later they arrived. Chela had telephoned in advance, so they found everything ready for their reception: the bar re-stocked, blossoms floating on the surface of the oval swimming pool, big bath towels laid out on the lilos, and flowers on the altar of Chela’s little chapel.
As Adam entered the spacious, air-conditioned bedroom, he had not failed to notice that, instead of twin beds, it contained the largest double bed he had ever seen. Chela had made no secret of it that she had used this luxury hideout before for quite other purposes than periods of solitary religious contemplation and, as she went into her oratory to say a short prayer of thanksgiving for their safe arrival, he marvelled again at the complexity of her nature.
The villa was four hundred feet up the hillside and from the terrace there was a magnificent vista across the great bay, but it was extremely hot. As soon as they had got their suitcases from the car, they stripped and swam naked in the pool. Afterwards, wrapping Chela in one of the big bath sheets, Adam carried her into the bedroom, then, laughing with joy, they made love on the huge bed.
The eight days that followed were undiluted bliss for them. There were no telephone calls or post to distract them. On most days they never left the villa, but on one occasion they drove in to have a look round the town and lunched in the garden of the Hilton, after having drinks at the great, circular, thatched bar which stands in the middle of the huge swimming pool. On another day they had cocktails on the seaside terrace of the El Presidente, with its tropical trees and the rocks below them lit with red floodlights. Afterwards they dined at La Perla, on the north side of the peninsula that separates the two bays. The restaurant there is built out in a series of semi-circular terraces, suspended one hundred and thirty feet above a cove only fifteen feet wide, bordered by treacherous rocks. For the entertainment of visitors, courageous young Mexicans dive from one side of the chasm, nearly one hundred and fifty feet into the wildly-foaming sea below.
While Adam was applauding this audacious feat, Chela stubbed out her cigar and said angrily, ‘Just think of it! Those young men risk their lives every night for a mere pittance, when they should have land enough to live out their lives in prosperity and safety.’
Her bitter comment brought Adam sharply back from the halcyon existence he was enjoying, to the fact that he had pledged himself to play a leading role in a most dangerous undertaking, and that in a few days’ time he might have to face the awful situation that, greatly as he loved Chela, it was his duty to betray her.
Those last few days sped by more swiftly than a few hours spent on uncongenial tasks and, all too soon, their glorious honeymoon was over. On the evening of the second Friday after their arrival, Chela broke it to Adam that they must leave on the following morning to go down to Yucatán; but beyond that she could tell him nothing, as not until they got there would she receive further instructions. After a last hectic night in the little villa they reluctantly drove back to Mexico City. On the way they stopped for an hour to look round Textla, then lunched at Taxco, so it was not until half past five that Chela put Adam down at the El Presidente. As she did so, she said:
‘You won’t have any too long to rearrange your packing, because I put off leaving Acapulco until the last possible moment, and we have to fly down to Mérida on the seven-thirty plane. Take only your lightest things, darling, because it will be very hot down there. I’ll call for you in a taxi in an hour.’
While down at Acapulco, Adam had had no possible opportunity to get in touch with Ramón; so the first thing he did on entering the hotel was to ring up the penthouse, but it was Saturday and Ramón was spending the week-end at Cuernavaca. As Adam had stayed at the El Presidente and intended to return, the management courteously placed at his disposal a room to change in and promised to have the luggage he had left there sent up. As soon as he reached the room he put through a call to Cuernavaca, only to learn that Ramón had gone out.
To write him a letter seemed too dangerous, for Adam had heard it said that security officers carried out spot checks on Mexican mail. That might not be true; but if the letter did fall into wrong hands, some officious person might make a lot of trouble for Chela and himself before Bernadino or Ramón could interevene on their behalf. Moreover, Ramón had particularly stressed the importance of no action being taken against the conspirators until the leaders were in the net, so to commit anything about it to paper was obviously most undesirable. While he was re-packing he decided that there was, after all, no real urgency about the matter since, as yet, he had no definite information about the conspirators’ plans that he could report.
It was only twenty minutes’ drive to the airport, so they were in plenty of time to catch their plane. The aircraft was comfortable and their flight of one and three-quarter hours uneventful. When they arrived at Mérida they were met by a porter from the Pan Americana Hotel and taken there in the hotel bus.
As Mérida was a provincial city, Adam had not expected the accommodation there to be superior to that of the Victoria at Oaxaca, so on entering the Pan Americana he got quite a surprise. It had a spacious entrance hall, where a dozen lofty columns surrounded a pond out of which grew tall tropical trees and flowering shrubs. Beyond it was an even larger courtyard open to the sky, on the far side of that a cocktail lounge in which a dance could have been given for two hundred people and, above it, a restaurant that looked out on to a big swimming pool.
He was delighted to learn that Chela had booked adjacent rooms for them by telephone from Mexico City and, as there were no instructions awaiting her they would, at least for a day or two, be able to continue their ‘honeymoon’. The bedrooms and bathrooms were spacious, with air-conditioning and every comfort; but they were very tired after their long day so, for the first time since they had been together, they slept apart.
Next morning they hired a car to take them to Chichén Itzá, where there is the greatest area of Maya ruins in Yucatán. By daylight Adam saw that, although Mérida had two hundred thousand inhabitants, it showed no signs of modernisation or prosperity, as was the case with the capital. The buildings were old and low; the streets narrow and dirty. As a precaution against motorists speeding and endangering the lives of the townsfolk, every few hundred yards there were rows of studs the size of half-footballs, that drivers either had to slow down to avoid or risk their cars being thrown out of control by a violent bump.
On their way out of the city, Chela pointed out to him a large, plaster elephant, a jaguar and other animals on the roofs at street corners and told him that they had been put there to identify the streets for people who could not read, just as painted swinging signs had been used in mediaeval London and Paris. She also pointed out to him a large but decayed-looking palace. It was the ‘Town House’, to which Indians coming in from the country with their produce could bring their hammocks and sleep free for the night.
The road led dead straight through the flattest country imaginable. For miles on end at either side of it were fields of sisal—a spiky cactus from which rope is made—almost Yucatán’s sole industry. Here and there cut bundles of the leaves lay waiting to be collected. Very occasionally there were patches of maize and dumps of charcoal, the making of which further impoverishes the fertility of the country by reducing its wooded areas, but which is the only fuel available to the Indians.
The land looked incredibly poor. There was little soil and everywhere rocks protruded from the surface. The villages were about fifteen miles apart. The dwellings in them were mostly one-room about fifteen feet by eight, oval in shape, the walls made of mud plastered on to a frame of cane and with openings both at the back and the front. In their dark interiors could be glimpsed native women with sagging breasts, naked children, goats and scrawny hens. About them grew a few mango, breadfruit and paw-paw trees, but there were no flowers or cultivated plants.
About halfway on their two-hour drive they passed out of the vast sisal area and jungle took its place at the roadside. But it was like no jungle that Adam had ever imagined. The soil was so poor and rocky that, but for an occasional palm, there were no trees over thirty feet in height. It was solid bush, low but dense, largely composed of mimosa, with, here and there, a kapok or bean tree. To a depth of about forty feet either side of the road it had been cut down, and they passed several groups of Indians at this work, dispiritedly wielding what appeared to be long swords. Adam had read that in the jungles of Yucatán there were to be seen many beautiful birds, but the only birds he saw were long lines of horrid-looking black buzzards, perched on the low stone walls.
By the time they reached Chichén Itzá, it had become very hot, but they decided that, instead of going into the hotel for a drink, they would do the ruins first, before it became still hotter. The ruins covered an area even larger than those at Monte Albán, the greater part of them being on the left of the road. It took them over two hours just to walk to each pyramid in turn and go up the largest one.
It had ninety-one steps on each side, approximating to the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year, and corners in thirteen stages to represent the fifty-two weeks. On the top was a low, flat-roofed temple; inside, at the back, was a three-foot-high stone platform upon which the Vestals had danced before one of them was chosen for sacrifice.
Behind the great pyramid was another called that of the ‘Warriors’. Alongside it was a vast, now roofless, hall, from the floor of which rose a thousand stone columns. In it stood an altar on which new fire had been created every fifty-two years. A lower pyramid had been named after Venus, because of the star upon it. Beside this was a path that had once been a fine, paved way. Following it through the jungle for half a mile, they came to a huge, natural well. It formed a crater some hundred yards in diameter and a hundred feet deep. The chosen Vestal Virgins had first been drugged and then thrown into it to drown and become brides of the Rain God.
Facing the great pyramid, but a quarter of a mile away across the flat surface of the ground, was a colonnade with a fresco of skulls. Behind it was the largest of the seven Ball Courts. There the Mayas had played some game of still unknown religious significance. It was two hundred feet long by forty wide. On either side it had raised walkways below high walls. Halfway along both walls, a large stone ring stood out through which the ball had had to pass to score a goal. It was said that in this sacred game there were seven men a side. They were not permitted to touch the ball with their hands or feet, only with their hips or elbows, and the captain of the losing team paid for defeat with his life. This appeared to be borne out by a carving in stone inserted into one of the low walkways under the tall walls.
They lunched at the hotel then, in the intense heat of the early afternoon, made a round of the ruins on the right side of the road. To reach them they had to walk half a mile along a twisting jungle path. In that area lay the Pyramid of the Brothers, the Nunnery, which was pure early Maya architecture, and a circular Maya observatory to which the Toltecs had later added a square top. Another early building consisted of a series of ‘corbelled’ arches, formed by each layer of stone on both sides protruding a little beyond that below it until the gap was closed and they met.
Looking at them, Adam remarked, ‘I’ve seen photographs of Minoan buildings with arches exactly like these, and they are said to be the earliest form of arch devised by man. Of course, it might be just coincidence, but it does support the possibility that the Cretans did cross the Atlantic and founded colonies here.’
Chela squeezed his arm and laughed. ‘Poor Christopher Columbus. How upset he would be if he knew that people are beginning to believe that the ancients beat him in his discovery of America by two thousand years.’
Adam found these vast remains of a long-dead civilisation fascinating. Although he had had no definite revelation, seeing the ruins of Chichén Itzá convinced him that he had succeeded in escaping from the Chichimecs and rejoined his own people there. He had a strong impression that they had found it already abandoned by the Mayas, restored it, added to it and made it their new capital.
Tired out and dripping with perspiration, they had long drinks at the hotel, then returned to their car. As it had had the sun beating on its roof for several hours, the interior was like a furnace. When, with all the windows down, it moved off, they were incredibly grateful for the small breeze.
Fitfully, they dozed on the way back to Mérida, but, on arriving there, they had a dip in the pool and afterwards felt much refreshed. Chela then told Adam that she had found a letter awaiting her with orders that next day they should move on to Uxmal; so they telephoned for rooms at the Hacienda Hotel there. By dinner-time they had recovered from their fatigue and, this being the last night they might have together for some time, they made the most of it.
Next morning they were driven in their hired car the one and a quarter hours’ run to Uxmal. For the first hour the road was again dead flat, then the car ascended a slight rise. At the top they stopped the car to get out and look at the view. It was unlike any that Adam had ever seen. For as far as he could see the flat, brownish-green landscape continued in front and to either side, unbroken by a single low hill or building of any kind.
At Uxmal he again found the hotel much more attractive than he had expected. It did not compare with the Pan Americana at Mérida, but was a two-storey building, three sides of which enclosed a swimming pool, arching over which there were trees from which birds with colourful plumage flew to and fro, and beyond which there was a well-cared-for two-acre garden.
Again they had adjoining rooms, which were not air-conditioned, but had wire screens to keep out the mosquitoes and were pleasantly cool after the intense heat in the open. When their bags were brought along, the porter was accompanied by a waiter, bringing them tumblers of iced pineapple juice, with the compliments of the management. Although their journey had not been a long one, the car had been like an oven, so the iced drink went down like nectar.
Changing at once into bathing things, they went out to the pool, which was partly shaded by the trees on its far side, spent half an hour there then, in their wraps, drank Maya-land cocktails sitting outside the bar.
There were not many people in the hotel and most of them were elderly Americans. That had been the case in all the larger hotels at which Adam had stayed and, as he lounged in this perfect holiday setting, he thought how sad it was that so few young people had the money to travel to distant places and stay in such delightful surroundings.
About the three-sided Hacienda, with its interior surround of covered walkways outside the ground-floor bedrooms, the pool dappled by sunlight coming through the leaves of the trees, the stillness broken only by the cawing of the brightly-hued birds and the occasional movement of servants or visitors, there was such an air of peace and normality that Adam could hardly credit that he had involved himself in a dangerous conspiracy. But he was soon to have evidence of it.
As they went in to lunch, a short man in dark clothes, with a round, pink face, half rose from his table and bowed to Chela. She acknowledged his bow but did not stop to speak to him. The lunch proved excellent, the main course being duck, and they were given one apiece. They were quite small, but did not taste like wild duck, and Adam demolished his with gusto. Down here in the hot lands there was a greater variety of fruit than Adam had ever before seen. For dessert a big basket was placed before them, in which were heaped mangoes, figs, guavas, apricots, pomegranates, mammees, tiny red bananas and zapotes. The last were green, peach-shaped fruit with black flesh, and he found their flavour unique.
On leaving the dining room they found the short, round-faced man waiting for them and Chela introduced him in a low voice as Father Lopéz. He did not extend his hand to Adam, but made him a grave bow, then said:
‘I am honoured, señor. May I request a short conversation with you? It is a private matter, so perhaps it would be best if we took a walk round the garden.’
This request by a priest jolted Adam back to the unpleasant reality that his glorious, unofficial honeymoon was about to come to an end and that he would soon be called on to carry out his promise to Chela. As he assented, Father Lopéz murmured with a smile, ‘We have no secrets from the Señorita, and I should be happy for her to accompany us.’
For a few hundred yards the three of them walked in Indian file along a winding, concrete path bordered by banana palms, frangipane trees and clumps of flowers. The path led down a slope and when they came to an open, circular space at the bottom, where several paths met, the priest said:
‘We must not stay long under the blazing sun, so I will be as brief as possible. There will be two ceremonies at which the presence of the Man-God is required: one here, and a second in another place. The first will be that of Recognition. Participation in the sacrifice at San Luis Caliente was unheralded and the congregation there consisted almost entirely of people of little importance. It is, therefore, necessary that the Man-God should appear to the leaders of our sacred movement from all over the country. They will then be able to vouch to their followers that the return of Quetzalcoatl is no idle rumour, but that they have seen the Man-God with their own eyes. To that end they will assemble here.’
‘When?’ Adam asked.
Father Lopéz spread out his plump hands. ‘Many of them must come from distant places. The ceremony cannot take place until they have all arrived. But most of them are already in hiding in the neighbourhood and the rest should soon complete their journeys; so it will not be long.’
‘And the second ceremony?’
‘Again, I cannot say. Time must be given for the leaders to return to their districts, and further time for them to spread the word so that it reaches even the remotest villages.’
‘What is to happen then?’
‘The Man-God will appear again to a chosen congregation. That will be the signal for five million men to rise, proclaim their faith and launch the crusade that is to drive the wicked from the seats of power. But let us return to the immediate future.’ Drawing a sheet of paper from his pocket, Father Lopéz went on:
‘It is known that the Man-God can speak Nahuatl, but that, although understood by a greater number of our Indians than any other, is only one of scores of languages that are their only tongue in many parts of the country. Indeed, tens of thousands of them are still so backward that they can comprehend only their own dialect. In what language the Man-God should address the congregation that is to assemble here has, therefore, been a problem.’
‘So I am expected to speak,’ Adam said, a shade dubiously.
‘That is essential. And, as we are in Yucatán, where the Man-God was last seen in his earlier incarnation, it has been decided that he should speak in Maya.’
Adam frowned. ‘But that is impossible. I don’t know it.’
‘No matter.’ The priest handed him the sheet of paper. ‘Here is the speech. It is quite short, so can be learned by heart without difficulty. I speak Maya fluently, and my services as a coach in pronunciation will be available.’
Taking the paper, Adam quickly ran his eye down it. There were only some twenty lines of Maya typescript and beneath each was another, giving the phonetic pronunciation of the words above. As he stared at it, he suddenly realised that some of the expressions were familiar and that during his dreams he must at times have spoken Maya as well as Nahuatl.
‘Very well, Father,’ he said, pocketing the paper. ‘Perhaps we could try it over after dinner tonight.’
The priest bowed. ‘I should be honoured to be of assistance.’
There seemed no more to be said, so they walked back up the slope to the hotel and, perspiring from the heat, went to their rooms for their siesta.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Adam read through the speech more carefully. After reading it three times he could make out its sense. In effect it said:
‘In my person is reincarnated the Man-God Quetzalcoatl. A thousand years ago I left your ancestors to sail away to the east. But I promised that I would return and I now redeem that promise. In the past I brought you rain to ensure you good harvests every year. I gave you wise laws and kept the peace among you. In those days the fields and the fruits of the earth were yours. You have been wickedly dispossessed of a great part of them and I have grieved for you. Now I am come again to restore to you all that you have lost. The day is not far distant when I shall call upon you to rise in your might and destroy the evil-doers. Have no fear. Obey your priests, have faith in the Holy Virgin and our Lord Jesus Christ, whose representative I am, and you cannot fail to triumph.’
Again Adam’s mind turned to Ramón and that he ought to be informed of what was afoot. But to get in touch with him was not going to be easy. In Mexico long-distance calls often took an hour or more to get through and in no circumstances must Chela become aware that he was secretly selling out her friends to her half-brother. If she learned that he had put through a call to Mexico City she would want to know why. And what explanation could he give? But during the siesta he might get a call through without her knowledge.
Making up his mind to risk it, he put on his shirt again, with the intention of going along to the office. As he was doing so, the communicating door leading to Chela’s room opened and she came in. With a smile she said:
‘Hello, darling. I’m afraid it’s too hot for us to lie embraced, but as there is a double bed here I thought I’d come and lie down beside you.’
That, for the time being, put an end to any possibility of Adam’s telephoning Ramón. Before he was much older he was to have cause to rue it.