Flame of Diablo (25 page)

haggard face staring up at her, the eyes

widening in utter incredulity, muffled

sounds coming from behind the dirty gag

which had been stuffed into his mouth.

It was Mark.

She gave a little gasp and fell on her

knees beside the bed, tearing at the gag

to free it.

'Rachie,' he choked, 'it's you! I thought I

was seeing things! What are you doing

here? How did you know where I was?'

'It's a long story.' She saw with horror

how thin he was and that there was a

feverish spot on each of his cheeks.-He

looked ill and hungry. 'But what

happened? How did you get like this?'

He moved impatiently. 'There's no time

to talk. You've got to get out of here—

get help.'

'I'm going nowhere without you,' she

said. I'll help you up.'

He threw back the blanket. 'I can't get

up.'

She looked down and saw that his right

leg was chained to the bed, the chain

fastened by a hefty padlock.

'Who did this?' she demanded hoarsely.

'I don't know.' He closed his eyes

wearily. 'They arrived about a fortnight

ago. I'd been poking around in some of

the old mine-workings, but I hadn't found

anything. They were bloody dangerous

as well. I felt if I took too deep a ,breath

the whole damned lot would cave in on

me. I was just going to give it up as a

bad job and go back to Bogota when—

they came. When I came back here and

found them, I didn't worry too much at

first. I'd been camping out here and there

was plenty of room for all of us—or

that's what I thought. Then they started

asking questions about what I'd been

doing I didn't see why I had to reply. I

mean—I knew damned well that what I'd

been doing wasn't within the strict letter

of the law; the Colombian government

doesn't exactly approve of people

wandering about helping themselves to

their emeralds. But they seemed to think

I knew something that they wanted to

know. They went through my stuff and

when I argued, one of them hit me. I

woke up in here—like this.'

'Oh, my God!' Rachel gasped numbly.

The hoarse voice went on. 'They said at

first that I wouldn't eat again until I told

them what they wanted to know, but after

a couple of days it seemed to dawn on

them that I didn't know anything. I gather

they'd been poking around in the old

workings themselves and seen how poor

the pickings were. Then the man who

seemed to he the leader came to see me.

He said they were going to let me go. I

was so relieved, I nearly burst into tears.

But he said I had to write a letter first. I

thought it was going to be a kind of

statement exonerating them in case I

decided to complain to the authorities

when I got away from this accursed

place. But it wasn't, of course. The letter

was to Grandfather and it was a ransom

note.'

'Ransom?' She stared at him in horror.

'Mark, you haven't! That's why I'm here.

Grandfather has been very ill—it's his

heart. He was really afraid this time—

that's why he asked me to come and find

you.'

'But how did he know where I was?'

Mark passed the arm of a filthy shirt

wearily across his eyes.

'A friend saw you dining out in Bogota.

You were with the Arviles family.'

'Oh, yes.' He produced a parody of his

usual smile. 'It was Isabel's birthday.

God, it seems a lifetime ago—a different

world. Rachel.' His other hand groped

for hers and held it. His fingers were

cold and clammy. 'I—I didn't know that

things like this happened—for real.'

She gave a little shudder, remembering

the photographs in Maria's box—the

proud father, and the laughing boy with

his dark, sparkling eyes ...

'You don't know the half of it,' she said.

'Did—did you write that note?'

He shook his head.

'Thank God!' She squeezed his hand. 'It

would kill Grandfather.'

'If I don't write it, it's going to kill me.'

His voice was almost unemotional.

'They've given me until tomorrow to do

as they want. That's why you've got to

get out, go and find someone. Even in

this forgotten corner, there's got to be

some

form

of

law

and

order

somewhere.'

His voice rose almost desperately.

Rachel said, 'It's all right. There's the

man who brought me here. He'll know

what to do.'

'Where is he?' He peered past her.

A fair point. Her heart sank within her as

she said, 'Well, I'm not too sure, right

now, but...'

'How do you know he isn't one of them?'

he said, and the hopeless note in his

voice chilled her.

The simple answer was, 'Because I love

him, and I couldn't love anyone capable

of doing this to another human being.'

But she didn't attempt to give it. Instead

she bent and brushed her lips across his

hot forehead.

'I'll go now,' she said. 'Stall them.

Promise anything you have to ...' She

stopped, because Mark's face was

changing. He looked very young and

very -pinched, and he was staring over

her shoulder.

The man filling the narrow doorway

said, 'Another little bird in my net. This

time a pretty hen.'

There was something about the way he

said it that made her shrivel inside. She

went on holding Mark's hand and

looking at the newcomer. He could have

been any age, thick-set with grizzled hair

and a heavy moustache.

He was carrying a crude lamp in his

hand and he set it down on a broken

chair before he walked over to Rachel,

taking her chin in his hand, and studying

her face from various angles.

'A very pretty hen. And from the same

brood as our young cockerel here.' He

chuckled suddenly. 'Now why, I ask

myself? How did you get here,
chiquita,

and what do you want?'

'I came here alone,' she said. 'And I

came to fetch my brother.'

He chuckled again.
'Bravo,
I like your

spirit, little one. Perhaps you should

have been the man. Yet you must not lie

to me. Who came here with you?' His

fingers tightened until she thought that he

meant to break her jaw. She wanted to

cry out against the pain, and she sank her

teeth into her lip trying to fight one agony

with another.

Another voice said, 'I know how she

came here,
senor.
I can tell you

everything.'

It was a voice Rachel recognised, and

she could understand the note of

malicious triumph it held as well.

Her tormentor released her. He said

gently, 'Speak then, Arnaldez, little

worm.'

Carlos' eyes sparked dislike at her from

the doorway. He said, 'This is the

Inglesa
I told you of, Senor Rodriguez.

She is the woman of Vitas de Mendoza.'

Rodriguez.
Rachel felt herself sway

slightly on her feet.

She heard him laugh. He said almost

amiably, 'Sit down,
chiquita.
We must

take special care of Mendoza's woman.

And how is the young lord of the

Llanos? He has been a nuisance to me

lately with this crazy thirst for revenge

of his. He seems to blame me for some

misfortunes his family suffered years

ago, and the army have been making my

life difficult ever since. I have been

wanting to talk to him about it, and now

my chance has come. Where is he, little

one?'

Rachel said, white-lipped, 'He's not

here. We—we quarrelled. He left me.'

Rodriguez looked at her for a long time

without speaking. Then he sighed deeply

and shook his head.

'You do not tell me the truth,
senorita,

and I do not like that. If I were an ill-

tempered man, I would punish you, as I

punished your handsome lover all those

years ago.' He saw her flinch, and

smiled. 'But we will not speak of such

things. And you must not hate me for

spoiling his good looks,
chiquita.
At

least I did not spoil him in the way that

matters most to a woman.'

He saw the colour storm into her face

and a silent chuckle shook him. Beside

her she felt Mark stir restlessly. Carlos,

she was thankful to see, had vanished.

Rodriguez went on, 'Presently we will

all go out into the courtyard and we will

build a fire and bring lights, and we will

invite your lover to join us.'

Rachel said numbly, 'You're wasting

your time. He won't come.'

He ran an almost caressing finger down

one of her loosened strands of blonde

hair.

'I think he will, little one. I think he will.

In his place, I would come running.'

He went out, dragging the door closed

behind him, and Rachel sank down on

the edge of the bed again.

Mark demanded, 'And what was that all

about? Who is this Vitas de Mendoza?'

She did not look at him. 'The man who

brought me here. The one I was telling

you about.'

He gave an angry laugh. 'You forgot to

tell me you were his mistress.'

Rachel said wearily, 'I didn't forget—

and I'm not. And since when have you

been the arbiter of my morals anyway?'

'I'm sorry,' he said stiffly.

'Don't be.' She stared at one dusty boot.

'At one time I was counting on your

protection from him.' She smiled

bitterly. 'That also seems a lifetime ago.'

'If you ask me all these Latins are the

same,' he said broodingly. 'They're

hardly allowed to touch their own girls

before the marriage ceremony. Miguel

was telling me that someone was

receiving a prize from a beauty queen

once and he kissed her on the cheek, and

her outraged father nearly lynched him.

It's no wonder they think tourists fair

game.'

'This,' she said grittily, 'is hardly the

conversation we need to be having at

this moment.'

'No,' he said soberly. He shot her a look.

'This Mendoza —will he help us?'

'I don't know.' She spread her hands

helplessly. 'For one thing, he doesn't

know where I am. He told me to stay

where I was and wait for him.'

'It's a pity you didn't,' he said morosely.

'Oh, I'm sorry, Rachie. But you can't

escape the fact we're in one hell of a

mess. And part of it could have been

avoided if you'd done as you were told.'

'Yes,' she said almost inaudibly. 'Yes—I

know that.' She bowed her head and

began to cry, great gulping sobs that tore

at her chest and throat.

'Rachel, love!' Mark pulled himself into

an awkward sitting position and put his

arms round her. 'Oh, God I didn't mean

it. What did I say?'

'Nothing,' she said desolately. 'It's all

right. Just leave me alone.'

He said helplessly, 'Oh, lord! It's this

man, isn't it? This Mendoza. How long

have you known him?'

'I don't know.' She blew her nose

fiercely on a bedraggled handkerchief.

'But you may as well know you can

count it in hours as well as days.'

He said nothing, but she could sense his

dismay, and, in a way, understand it. It

was so out of character. Mark knew she

had always played it cool in her

relationships with men.

He said at last, 'He must be quite

something. I'm looking forward to

meeting him.'

She said fiercely, 'I hope you don't. I

hope he rides away from this place and

keeps going. You heard Rodriguez. He

can't wait to get his hands on him again

—because years ago he killed his father

and disfigured Vitas for life, and now he

wants to complete what he started, with

some additional refinements, no doubt.'

'And what about us?' Mark sounded

almost sullen. 'The outlook is none too

healthy for us, quite apart from your