Bagley, Desmond - The Vivero Letter Page 16

  'Weren't you afraid of meeting Chac?'

  'Does he live down there?'

  'He has a palace at the bottom of every cenote. They used to throw maidens in, and they'd sink down to meet him. Some of them would come back with wonderful stories,'

  'What about those who didn't come back?' 'Chac kept them for his own. Sometimes he'd keep them all and the people would become frightened and punish the cenote. They'd throw stones into it and flog it with branches. But none of the maidens would ever come back because of that.'

  'You'd better be careful, then,' I said.

  She splashed water at me. 'I'm not exactly a maiden.'

  I swam over to the steps. The chopper should be coming back soon. Another batch of film to be processed.' I climbed halfway up and stopped to give her a hand.

  At the top she offered me a towel but I shook my head. 'I'll dry off quickly enough in the sun,'

  'Suit yourself,' she said. 'But it's not good for your hair.' She spread the towel on the ground, sat on it, and started to rub her hair with another towel.

  I sat down beside her and started to flip pebbles into the cenote. 'What are you really doing here, Jemmy?' she asked.

  'I'm damned if I know,' I admitted. 'It just seemed a good idea at the time.'

  She smiled. 'It's a change from your Devon, isn't it? Don't you wish you were back on your farm—on Hay Tree Farm? Incidentally, do you always make hay from trees in Devon?' 'It doesn't mean what you think. It's a dialect word meaning a hedge or enclosure.' I flicked another pebble into the pool. 'Do you think that annoys Chac?'

  'It might, so I wouldn't do it too often—not if you have to dive into a cenote. Damn! I don't have any cigarettes.'

  I got up and retrieved mine from where I had left them and we sat and smoked in silence for a while. She said, 'I haven't played about like that in the water for years.' 'Not since the carefree days of the Bahamas?' I asked. 'Not since then.' 'Is that where you met Paul?'

  There was the briefest pause before she said, 'No. I met Paul in New York.' She smiled slightly. 'He isn't the type you find on the beach in the Bahamas.'

  I silently agreed; it was impossible to equate him with one of those Travel Association carefree holiday advertisements— all teeth, sun glasses and suntan. I probed deeper, but went about it circuitously. 'What were you doing before you met him?'

  She blew out a plume of smoke. 'Nothing much; I worked at a small college in Virginia.' 'A school teacher!' I said in surprise. She laughed. 'No—just a secretary. My father teaches at the same college.'

  'I thought you didn't look like a schoolmarm. What does your father teach? Archeology?'

  'He teaches history. Don't imagine I spent all my time in me Bahamas. It was a very short episode—you can't afford more on a secretary's salary. I saved up for that vacation for a long time.'

  I said, 'When you met Paul—was that before or after he'd started on this Vivero research?'

  'It was before—I was with turn when he round the Vivero letter.'

  'You were married then?'

  'We were on our honeymoon,' she said lightly. 'It was a working honeymoon for Paul, though.'

  'Has he taught you much about archeology?'

  She shrugged. 'He's not a very good teacher, but I've picked up quite a lot. I've tried to help him in his work—I think a wife should help her husband.'

  'What do you think of this Vivero thing—the whole caper?'

  She was silent for a time, then said frankly, 'I don't like it, Jemmy, I don't, like anything about it. It's become an obsession with Paul—and not only him. Look at Fallon. My God, take a good look at yourself!'

  'What about me?'

  She threw her cigarette away half-smoked. 'Don't you think it's ridiculous that you should have been jerked out of a peaceful life in England and dumped in this wilderness just because of what a Spaniard wrote four hundred years ago? Too many lives are being twisted. Jemmy.'

  I said carefully, 'I wouldn't say I'm obsessional.about it. I don't give a damn about Vivero or Uaxuanoc. My motives are different. But you say that Paul is obsessed by it. How does his obsession take him?'

  She plucked nervously at the towel in her lap. 'You've seen him. He can think or talk of nothing else. It's changed him: he's not the man I knew when we were married. And he's not only fighting Quintana Roo—he's fighting Fallon.'

  I said shortly, 'If it weren't for Fallon he wouldn't be here now.'

  'And that's a part of what he's fighting,' she said passionately. 'How can he compete with Fallen's reputation, with Fallen's money and resources? It's driving him crazy.'

  'I wasn't aware that this was any kind of competition. DC you think Fallon will deny him any credit that's due to him?'

  'He did before—why shouldn't he do it again? It's really Fallon's fault that Paul is in such a bad state.'

  I sighed. Pat Harris was dead right. Katherine didn't know about Halstead's bad reputation in the trade. The advertising boys had got it down pat— even her best friend wouldn't tell her! I debated for a moment whether or not to tell her all about Pat Harris's investigations, but to tell a woman that her husband was a liar and a faker was certainly not the best way of making friends and influencing people. She would be come more than annoyed and would probably tell Halstead— and what Halstead would do in his present frame of mind might be highly dangerous.

  I said. 'Now, look, Katherine: if Paul has an obsession it has nothing to do with Fallon. I think Fallon is eminently fair, and will give Paul all the credit that's, coming to him That's just my own personal opinion, mind you.'

  'You don't know what that man has done to Paul,' she said sombrely.

  'Maybe he had it coming to him,' I said brutally. 'He doesn't make it easy for anyone working with him. I'm not too happy about his attitude to me, and if he keeps it up he's going to get a thick ear.'

  That's an unfair thing to say,' she burst out.

  'What the hell's unfair about it? You asked to come on this jaunt on the grounds that you could control him. Well, you just do that, or I'll do a bit of controlling in my own way.'

  She scrambled to her feet. 'You're against him, too. You're siding with Fallon.'

  'I'm not siding with anyone,' I said tiredly. 'I'm just sick to death of seeing a piece of scientific research being treated as though it were a competitive sporting event—or a war. And I might tell you that that attitude is one sided—it doesn't come from Fallon.'

  'It doesn't have to,' she said viciously. 'He's on top.'

  'On top of what, for God's sake? Both Fallon and Paul arc here doing a job of work, and why Paul doesn't get on with it and await the outcome is beyond me.'

  'Because Fallon will . . .' She stopped. 'Oh, what's the use of talking? You wouldn't understand.'

  'That's right,' I said sarcastically. 'I'm so dumb and stupid I can't put two and two together. Don't be so bloody patronizing.'

  It's said that some women appear more beautiful when angry, but for my money it's a myth probably bruited about by constitutionally angry women. Katherine was in a rage and she looked ugly. With one quick movement she brought up her hand and slapped me—hard. She must have played a lot of tennis in her time because that forehand swing of hers really jolted me.

  I just looked at her. 'Of course that solves a lot of prob lems.' I said quietly, 'Katherine, I admire loyalty in a wife, but you're not just loyal—you've been brainwashed.'

  There was a sudden throb in the air and then a roar as the helicopter appeared over the trees and passed overhead. I looked up and saw Paul Halstead's head twist around to watch us.

  Seven

  Every three days a big Helicopter came in from Camp One bringing drums of fuel for the diesel generators and cylinders of gas for the camp kitchen as and when necessary. It also brought in the mail which had been flown from Mexico City by Fallen's jet, so I could keep in touch with England. Mount wrote to me telling me that probate was going through without much difficulty, and Jack Edgecombe had taken fire at last
and was enthusiastic about the new plan for the farm. He was going ahead in spite of acid comments from the locals and was sure we were on to a good thing.

  Reading those letters from Devon while in that stinking hot clearing in the middle of Quintana Roo made me homesick and I debated once again whether or not to quit. This business had got nothing to do with me and I was feeling more on the outside than ever because there was a distinct coolness now between Katherine and myself.

  On the day of the quarrel there had been raised voices from the Halsteads' hut quite late into the night and, when Katherine .appeared next morning, she wore a shirt with a high collar. It wasn't quite high enough to hide the bruise on the side of her throat and I felt an odd tension in the pit of my stomach. But how a man and his wife conducted their marriage had nothing to do with me, so I left it at that. Katherine, for her part, pointedly ignored me, but Halstead didn't change at all —he just went on his usual bastardly way.

  I was just on the point of quitting when Fallon showed me a letter from Pat Harris who had news of Gatt. 'Jack is making the rounds of Yucatan,' he wrote. He has been to Merida, Valladolid and Vigio Chico, and is now in Felipe Carillo Puerto. He seems to be looking for something or someone — my guess is someone, because he's talking to some of the weirdest characters. Since Jack prefers to spend his vacations in Miami and Las Vegas I think this is a business trip — but it sure is funny business. It's not like him to sweat when there is no need, so whatever he is doing must be important.' 'Felipe Carillo Puerto used to be called Chan Santa Cruz,' said Fallon. 'It was the heart of the Mayan revolt,, the capital of the indios sublevados. The Mexicans changed the name of the town when they got on top of the rebels in 1935. It's not very far from here—less than fifty miles.'

  'It's obvious that Gatt's up to something,' I said.

  'Yes,' agreed Fallon pensively. 'But what? I can't understand the man's motives.'

  'I can,' I said, and laid it all out for Fallen's inspection— gold, gold, and again gold. 'Whether or not there is any gold doesn't matter as long as Gatt thinks there is.' I had another thought, 'You once showed me a plate of Mayan manufacture. How much would the gold in that be worth?'

  'Not much,' he said derisively. 'Maybe fifty or sixty dollars.'

  'How much would the plate be worth at auction?'

  'That's hard to say. Most of those things are in museums and don't come on the open market. Besides, the Mexican Government is very strict on the export of Mayan antiquities.'

  'Make a guess?' I urged.

  He looked irritated, and said, 'These things are priceless— no one has ever tried to put a- price on them. Any unique work of art is worth what someone is willing to pay.'

  'How much did you pay for that plate?'

  'Nothing—I found it.'

  'How much would you sell it for-?'

  'I wouldn't,' he said definitely.

  It was my turn to get exasperated, 'For God's sake! How much would you be willing to pay for that plate if you didn't have it already? You're a rich man and a collector.'

  He shrugged. 'Maybe I'd go up to $20,000—maybe more, if pushed.'

  That's good enough for Gatt, even if he is clued up on the gold fallacy—which I don't think he is. Would you expect to find any similar objects in Uaxuanoc?'

  'It's likely,' said Fallon. He frowned. 'I think I'd better have a word with Joe Rudetsky about this.'

  'How are things coming along?' I asked.

  'We can't get anything more out of the air survey,' he said.

  'Now we've got to get down on the ground.' He pointed to the photo-mosaic. 'We've cut down the probables to four.' He looked up. 'Ah, here's Paul.'

  Halstead came into the hut, the usual glower on his face He dumped two belts on the table, complete with scab barded machetes. 'These are what we'll need now,' he said His tone implied— I told you so! 'I was just talking about that,' said Fallon. 'Will you ask Rider to come in?'

  'Am I a messenger boy now?' asked Halstead sourly.

  Fallon's eyes narrowed. I said quickly, 'I'll get him.' It wasn't to anyone's advantage to bring things to a boil, and I was quite willing to be a messenger boy—there are less dignified professions.

  I found Rider doing a polishing job on his beloved chopper. 'Fallon's calling a conference,' I said. 'You're wanted.'

  He gave a final swipe with a polishing rag. 'Right away.' As he walked with me to the hut, he asked, 'What's with that guy, Halstead?'

  'What do you mean?'

  'He's been trying to order me around; so I told him I work for Mr. Fallon. He got quite sassy about it.'

  'He's just like that.' I said. 'I wouldn't worry about it.'

  'I'm not worried about it,' said Rider with elaborate unconcern. 'But he'd better worry. He's liable to get a busted jaw.'

  I put my hand on Rider's arm. 'Not so fast—you wait your turn.'

  He grinned. 'So it's like that? Okay, Mr. Wheale; I'll fall in line right behind you. But don't wait too long.' When Rider and I walked into the hut there seemed to be some tension between Fallon and Halstead. I thought that maybe Fallon had been tearing into Halstead for his uncooperative attitude—he wasn't the man to mince his words— and Halstead looked even more bloody-minded than ever. But he kept his mouth shut as Fallon said shortly, 'Let's get to the next step,'

  I leaned against the table. 'Which do you tackle first?'

  'That's obvious,' said Fallon. 'We have four possibles, but there's only one at which we can put down the helicopter That's the one we explore first.'

  'How do you get to the others?'

  'We winch a man down.' said Fallon. 'I've done it before.'

  So he might have. but he wasn't getting any younger, 'I'll give that a go,' I offered.

  Halstead snorted. 'With what object in mind?' he demanded What do you think you could do when you got on the ground? This needs a man with eyes in his head.'

  Regardless of the unpleasant way in which he phrased it, Halstead was probably right. I had already seen how difficult it was to spot a Mayan ruin which Fallon had seen casually, and I could certainly miss something which might prove of the utmost importance.

  Fallon made a quick gesture with his hand. 'I'll go down— or Paul will. Probably both of us.'

  Rider said hesitantly, 'What about Number Two—that one's real tricky.'

  'We'll consider that if and when it's necessary,' said Fallon We'll save it until the last. When will you, be ready to leave?' 'I'm ready now, Mr. Fallon.' 'Let's go, then. Come on, Paul.'

  Fallon and Rider walked out and I was about to follow when Halstead said. 'Just a minute, Wheale; I want to talk to you.'

  I turned. There was something in his voice that made my short hairs prickly. He was buckling a belt around his middle and adjusting the machete at his side. 'What is it?'

  'Just this,' he said in a strained voice. 'Stay away from my wife.'

  'What the hell do you mean by that?' 'Exactly what I said. You've been hanging around her like a dog around a bitch in heat. Don't think I haven't seen you.' His deeply sunken eyes looked manic and his hands were trembling 'lightly.

  I said. 'The choice of phrase was yours—you called her a bitch, not me.' His hand clutched convulsively at the hilt of the machete, and I said sharply, 'Now just listen to me. I haven't touched Katherine, nor do I intend to—nor would she let me if I tried. All that's gone on between us is all that goes on between reasonable people in our position, and that's conversation of varying degrees of friendliness. And I must say we're not too friendly right at this minute.'

  'Don't try to pull that on me.' he said savagely. 'What were you doing with her down at the pool three days ago?' 'If you want to know, we were having a flaming row,' I said 'But why don't you ask her?' He was silent at that, and looked at me hard. 'But, of course, you did ask her, didn't you? You asked her with your fist. Why don't you try asking me that way, Halstead? With your fists or with that oversized carving knife you have there? But watch it—you can get hurt.'

 
; For a moment I thought he was going to pull the machete and cleave my skull, and my fingers closed around one of the stones that Fallon used to weigh the maps on the table. At last he expelled his breath in a whistling sound and he thrust home the machete into its sheath the half inch he had withdrawn it. 'Just stay away from her,' he said hoarsely. 'That's all.'

  He shouldered past me and left the hut to disappear into the blinding sunlight outside. Then came the sudden rhythmical roar from the chopper and it took off, and the sound faded quickly as it went over the trees, just as it always did.

  I leaned against the table and felt the sweat break out on my forehead and at the back of my neck. I looked at my hands. They were trembling uncontrollably, and when I turned them over I saw the palms were wet. What the flaming hell was I doing in a set-up like this? And what had possessed me to push at Halstead so hard? The man was obviously a little loose in the brainbox and he could very well have cut me down with that damned machete. I had a sudden feeling that this whole operation was sending me as crazy as he obviously was.