Unholy Crusade

CHAPTER 4

A Girl with a Gun

WHEN Adam came to, he realised vaguely that he was leaning over sideways, embraced by the soft arms of a woman and with his aching head pillowed on her breast. His dream had been so vivid that he thought himself still in the past; that somehow he had been knocked out and brought back to the terrace of the Palace, and that it was the beautiful Mirolitlit who was cradling him in her arms.

A moment later he opened his eyes, saw trees and traffic through a window and realised that he was in the back of a large car; yet the idea that he was being supported by Mirolitlit's arms still persisted.

Turning his head, he looked up at his companion and, to his surprise, saw that she was not Mirolitlit. The only resemblance between the two was that both had black hair and copper coloured skin. This girl had blue eyes and an aquiline nose set between high cheekbones in a narrow face. Her mouth was well shaped, but on the thin side, and her chin showed great determination.

As he moved, she smiled. In repose her features had conveyed the impression that she was an autocrat: beautiful, but self willed and dictatorial. The smile was one of warm friendliness. Her mouth opened, as though from constant habit, to display two gleaming rows of even teeth; her eyes radiated tenderness and concern. It was as though the sculptured head of an imperious Indian Princess had magically become alive, revealing a generous mind, responsive nerves and a flow of rich blood from the heart.

She said in Spanish, `We knocked you down and are taking you to a hospital. I'm terribly sorry. I do hope that you are not badly hurt.'

Perhaps it was her voice, coupled with the entrancing smile; but Adam again thought of Mirolitlit. In spite of the difference in their appearance, the two women seemed to bear an indefinable resemblance to each other. It was something intangible: not of the body, but in the nature of an invisible aura or spiritual essence.

`Machos gracias, senyorita,' he muttered, endeavouring to sit up. But his head was aching atrociously and felt like a millstone. It rolled on his shoulders and he fell back. Then he managed to gasp, `It was my fault. Sorry… sorry to be a bother.'

`Lie quietly now,' she said. `We'll be there in a minute.' And shortly afterwards the car pulled up. Ambulance men appeared with a stretcher and Adam was carried into the hospital.

In a ground floor room a doctor examined him. Meanwhile the man who had been driving the car stood nearby, looking on anxiously. His hair was thick but snow white above a square, forceful face, his brown eyes quick and intelligent, his clothes expensive and his air, as he questioned the doctor that of a man used to being obeyed.

The doctor reported that Adam had sustained no injury except to his head, and that was, not serious; but he would probably suffer from slight concussion, so it was advisable that he remain in the hospital, anyway for that night.

By then Adam had recovered sufficiently to give particulars about himself, upon which the other man said, `Senor Gordon is to be put in a private ward and given every attention. I will be responsible for all expenses.' Then, turning to Adam, he added in halting English, `Accept, please, my deepest regrets, wishes for your speedy recovery. As you are visitor here I hope you allow me to make reparation for the knocking down of you. Permit that I be of service to you during stay in Mexico City. I am named Bernadino Enriquez.'

Adam was then wheeled to a lift, put to bed in a pleasant room upstairs and given a sedative which soon sent him off to sleep. During the night he dreamed again and the lovely Mirolitlit was the central figure in the dream, but it had no continuity and at times Mirolitlit turned into the girl in the car so that their personalities became inextricably mixed.

In the morning his head still pained him and he had a slight temperature, so, although otherwise he felt fairly well, it was decided that he should spend another night in the hospital. Soon after the doctor had left him, his day nurse brought in a huge Bouquet of flowers and a basket of exotic fruit. There was a card with them inscribed, 'Bernadino Enriquez, Avenida Presidente,Masarik 85', and an invitation to dinner two nights hence, the 7th January. Hoping that the intriguing lady of the car would be there, Adam: promptly decided to accept, then asked his nurse if he knew anything about Bernadino Enriquez.

With a laugh she replied, `But of course. He is the plastics king; and one of the richest men in Mexico.'

At that the lady apart Adam felt that his luck was in again; or it was well worth having been knocked down to have gained

the acquaintance of a man who was in a position to give him considerable help in securing valuable data for the background of his book.

Next day, a Sunday, feeling none the worse for his accident, he returned to his hotel. There, to his surprise and indignation, he learned that, not knowing what had become of him, the manager had had his things packed up and his room let to someone else. Moreover, there was no other room free which he could be given. As he had booked accommodation there for this fortnight as far back as November, he was justifiably furious, lost his temper and proceeded to tell the management what he thought of their hotel in a mixture of Spanish and English through which came distinct traces of the Scottish accent he had had in his youth. An under manager, who had been brought on the scene, only shrugged, said that they could let their rooms many times over, and that once a room had remained unoccupied for more than one night the booking for the whole period was regarded by them as cancelled. However, to pacify the outraged guest, other hotels were telephoned and, by luck, the El Presidente had just had a cancellation; so Adam's baggage was brought up and, vowing never again to enter the Del Paseo, he drove off in a taxi.

The El Presidente was only a few blocks away in the Hamburgo the Bond Street of Mexico City. The greater part of the ground floor consisted of a lofty grotto, ending in a wall of rock down which water was splashing through growing ferns and creepers. Below it was an irregular shaped swimming pool and, on the far side of that, tables, chairs and a small bar to enable people to enjoy their drinks while watching the bathers.

For a moment Adam was in no mood to enjoy this pleasant scene and went straight up to his room. He found it to be somewhat better equipped than the one he had had at the Del Paseo and, in addition, it had a balcony looking out over the roof tops towards Popocatepetl; so, in spite of the bother he had been put to, he felt that he had benefited by the scurvy treatment the Del Paseo had meted out to him.

The remainder of Sunday and most of Monday he spent quietly; then, at nine o'clock that evening, dressed in his new Savile Row dinner jacket, he took a taxi out to the Avenida Presidente Masarik.

It lay north of the Park, in the best residential district, and No. 85 proved to be a block of flats, the penthouse on top of which was occupied by Enriquez. Adam was whisked up there in a lift and found it to be the finest private apartment that, in his limited experience, he had ever seen.

A white jacketed houseman led him through a wide hall, where there were massed banks of flowers and orchids sufficient to stock a florist's shop, into a drawing room half as large as a tennis court. Three of the walls were of glass, beyond which lay broad stretches of roof shaded by awnings. Beneath them were swing hammocks, a dozen lounge chairs, a fountain and flowering shrubs in big pots. But neither in the big room nor out on the roof gardens was a soul to be seen. Adam had made the mistake common to visitors to Mexico. He had arrived at the time for which he had been invited, instead of half an hour or an hour later.

Against the one solid wall, which was panelled in natural wood, there stood a big bookcase and, after the houseman had bowed himself away, Adam spent a few minutes examining its contents. His attention was then caught by a painting further along the wall. It was a portrait of the girl in the car.

That made it probable, he thought, that she was Enriquez's daughter, or a relative, although they were not in the least like one another. As he looked at it he saw now that she must be tall and had splendid shoulders, which again recalled his memory of Mirolitlit, and he was more than ever intrigued by the subtle, if vague, resemblance.

Although the only words he had exchanged with the Indian girl were when asking her name, she had left an indelible impression on him; and he felt convinced that, given half an hour in her company, he would have fallen desperately in love with her. Uneasily he wondered if the girl in the portrait would have the same effect on him. She was equally beautiful, although hers was a different and much stronger face. Even so, the same indefinable personality seemed to radiate from it.

Ten minutes later, Bernadino Enriquez came bustling in, with profuse apologies for not having been there to receive his guest. Enriquez at first spoke in halting English, but Adam had brushed up his Spanish recently and found that, having spent so much of his time learning the language during his trip to Brazil, he could converse in it quite happily; so he set his host at his ease by replying in Spanish. He left the choice of drinks to him and was furnished with a delightful concoction of well iced rum, lime and pineapple juice. Gesturing towards the portrait, he asked who the lovely lady was, and Bernadino replied promptly:

`My daughter, Chela. You have met her. She was with me in my car when I ran you down. Presently she will join us. But you know what women are. One hair out of place and they must spend another quarter of an hour at their toilette.'

The quarter of an hour went by while they talked amicably of

Mexico, and Adam spoke enthusiastically of the wonders of the capital that he had so far seen; then, instead of Chela, the first guest arrived a Canadian who, like his host, had big interests in plastics. He was followed by others until the room was half full of chatting people. Among them was a tall, pale faced Englishman with a slight stoop. His fair hair was thin, but he had a luxuriant moustache and was introduced to Adam as Wing Commander Hunterscombe.

Adam asked if he was still in the R.A.F., and he replied, `No; got out years ago, soon after the war. Went into the Foreign Service. I'm at the Embassy here. Not as a real diplomat, of course; just Cultural Attachés. That's how I came to know your books.' He gave a rather vapid laugh. `Got to, you know, part of the job.'

In response to this somewhat back handed compliment, Adam

said, a shade acidly, `I hope you didn't find them too boring.' `Good Lord, no. Grand stuff. Have you signed the Book yet?' `Book?' replied Adam with a puzzled frown. `What book do

you mean?'

`Why, the one at the Embassy, of course.'

`I didn't know that I was supposed to.'

`Oh, come. You're fooling. All British visitors are expected to.' `What's the idea?'

`Well, should any trouble blow up. Not that that's likely here. But say it did, you'd be on the list of British visitors. Then we'd get you on the blower and tip you off to scram before things got worse. Besides, as you are a V.I.P., you'll probably be asked along to the Residence for a drink. Or, if H.E has read your books and would like to see more of you, he may ask you to lunch.'

Adam had not been a literary V.I.P. long enough to become blast with the treatment and he had never been inside an Embassy; so he told the languid, willowy Hunterscombe that he would sign the Book the following morning.

It was just then that Chela Enriquez made her entrance and, at the sight of her, a momentary hush fell on the room. She was wearing a long, full skirted gown of pale blue satin with a rucked `V' neck, the point of which came down low between her small but pouting breasts. The colour set off the golden skin of her slender arms and splendid neck to perfection. Her height made her an impressive figure, but there was nothing of the female Grenadier about her. The breadth of her shoulders emphasized the smallness of her waist, her well rounded hips and long legs. She carried herself superbly, her smile was dazzling and her movements a poem of grace as she acknowledged the greetings of those nearest her and walked straight over to Adam.

When he had assured her that he had fully recovered, she asked him how long he had been in Mexico, how long he meant to stay, whom he knew in the city and what he had so far seen in it.

He told her that he had come without introductions, meant to remain in the country, for several weeks anyhow, then enthused about he Christmas decorations and the new Museum of Anthropology.

She said that, as he had no friends in Mexico, they must look after him. Then, seeing that his glass was empty, she took it her, self to the drinks table, brought it back refilled and said with a smile, `You must excuse me now. I have to look after our other guests; but we will talk together again later.'

As she moved away, a short, tubby, bald man came up to Adam and asked what he thought of Mexico City. Again Adam enthused about the fine streets and buildings and the wonderful illuminations.

His companion made a wry grimace. `Those lights cost us taxpayers a pretty penny; electricity is terribly expensive here.'

Adam raised his eyebrows. 'You surprise me. From such vast quantities of it being used, I thought it must be quite cheap. Why does your government go in for such extravagance?'

`To please the masses. It is their policy to keep the people happy with bread and games.'

`Is there no control over that sort of thing then??

'None. Here we live under a dictatorship. Since 1920 we have had a one party government. It is now called the P.R.I. Partido Reaolucionario Institucional. They decree everything and, short of another revolution, we'll never get them out.'

`The last revolution was a Communist one, wasn't it?' Adam asked. Then, gesturing round the big room, he added with a smile, `Although from this, one would never think it.'

With a shrug the bald man replied, `It was thought in Europe to be Communist because Alvaro Obregbn, who led it, made use of the grievances of the masses. Mexico has never been truly communist; only, if you like, very much to the Left. For example, our government was intensely anti Franco during the Spanish civil War. But we benefited from that. When Franco won, his opponents of all kinds were encouraged to emigrate and settle here. That brought us many thousands of valuable citizens of the type we badly needed as a nation whose general standard of education was very low doctors, lawyers, scientists, writers, publishers, artists, mechanics and technicians of all kinds. It is largely owing to them that Mexico has made such astonishing progress in the past twenty five years.'

`Then, judging by results, it doesn't seem that you have much to complain of about your government.'

`On the face of it, no. They are shrewd enough to let us capitalists alone, because we are the geese that lay the golden eggs, and security of capital encourages foreign investment, which we badly need. But living under a totalitarian government has its drawbacks. Anyone can be arrested here and held incommunicado for seventy two hours. And, of course, there is no security of tenure of property. If it is decided to make a new road which cuts off half your garden, workmen arrive and get on with the job overnight.'

`In that way things aren't much better in England now; although the owner is notified first and can appeal, and is paid compensation.'

The fat man laughed. `Oh, he is paid compensation here, then charged three times as much for the benefit he is supposed to derive from the new road. Talking of roads, recently Mexico started to manufacture cars. They are by no means bad but very far from being either the best or the most economical to run; yet a law has been passed prohibiting the import of all foreign cars, and we are having to give up our Rolls and Mercedes. That is part of the price we have to pay for the security we enjoy under our present government.'

It was half past ten before a move was made. Then the whole party descended in the lifts and piled into a fleet of cars, which carried them along to the centre of the Park, where they alighted at a new restaurant called El Lago.

The place was another revelation to Adam of the wealth and luxury of Mexico City. It resembled a theatre and along its wide curve there was tier upon tier of balconies upon which the tables were set. All of them looked out upon a lake from which rose a wondrous fountain, at times jetting its water a hundred feet in the air, at others spreading it out like a huge fan. Coloured lights played on the water, turning it to rainbow hues, and its movements were timed to coincide with the tempo of the band.

They sat down sixteen to dinner and, to Adam's delight, he found himself placed next to Chela. During the meal she asked him innumerable questions about himself that were probing and intelligent, listening to his replies with absorbed interest.

When they reached the dessert, a fantastic creation of ice cream, candied fruits and meringue decorated with orchids, she said

`As you have no friends here, my father wishes me to be your guide and take you to all the interesting places in the city that a professional guide might not show you.'

`I can think of nothing more delightful,' he smiled, `but isn't that a bit hard on you? I mean, you must have dozens of friends and be booked up with any number of engagements. I wouldn't like to be a nuisance and interfere with your usual activities.' She shrugged and returned his smile. `I can see my friends at any time. And Jeremy Hunterscombe tells me that you are a famous author. I love books, and must read all yours. We shall find lots to talk about and I shall look upon showing you the city as an honour.'

When coffee was served she lit a small cigar then, after she had smoked for a while, smiled at him and said, `Aren't you going to ask me to dance?'

`I should love to,' he gave her an uneasy glance, `but I'm afraid I’m not a very good dancer.'

`I wonder. Have you ever danced with a girl as tall as I am?'

`No, I don't think I have; not that I can remember.'

`Then that may be the answer. Come on; let's try.'

Chela proved right. Adam was so tall that almost invariably when he was talking to his dancing partners he had to stoop awkwardly over them, which made it difficult for him to steer. but he could hold Chela firmly while still remaining upright and, is they went smoothly round without bumping into people, he

really enjoyed a dance for the first time in his life.

Afterwards, out of politeness, he danced with several of the other women in the party; but with them, as usual, his height proved a handicap and both he and his partners were relieved when he could take them back to the table.

Later, he danced with Chela again and when the band stopped she said, `It's a lovely night. Let's go out for a stroll in the park and look at the stars.'

With a happy laugh he agreed then, after a moment, said a trifle hesitantly, `But would it be safe? I mean, in London I wouldn't take a girl for a walk in Hyde Park after dark. Too many hoodlums about who might cause trouble.'

She smiled at him. `With anyone else I would think twice about it. But gangsters keep to their own quarters of the city. At worst, we might come upon some poor wretch made desperate by hunger, and he would not dare attack a big man like you. Wait for me at the entrance while I go to the cloakroom and fetch something to put round my shoulders.'

When she rejoined him he had expected that she would be wearing the beautiful chinchilla coat in which she had arrived at the restaurant. Instead, she had draped round her a voluminous wrap of fine muslin spangled with gold signs of the Zodiac.

`What a lovely thing,' he remarked.

`Yes, isn't it?' she laughed. `It's not mine, though. It belongs to one of my friends. I borrowed it because I thought my coat would be too heavy.'

Outside, the night was dark but the sky clear and the stars brilliant. For a while they walked almost in silence, exchanging only an occasional remark. They had taken a side path that wound its way among trees and bushes. Adam could feel his heart hammering. Chela's hand lay lightly on his arm, he was breathing in the heady scent she was wearing and was intoxicated by her nearness. They had met no one and the place was so deserted that they might have been alone in another world. He felt an almost irresistible desire to take her in his arms and kiss her. That she had suggested the walk could possibly be taken as an invitation to do so. But until that night they had hardly known each other. Mexicans' ideas about behaviour might be different from those current in England. Perhaps she looked on him only as a new friend who could be trusted. If he took advantage of their being alone together she might resent it intensely. Then there would be a premature end to this wonderful companionship. He dared not risk that. Yet if he did not seize this chance she might think him only half a man, lose interest in him and never give him another opportunity.

He was still wrestling with the question when he heard a rustle in the bushes behind him. He had only half turned when a ragged figure sprang out with a knife raised high to stab him in the back.

Chela had turned at the same moment. In one swift movement she pulled the muslin wrap from her shoulders and swept it forward so that it entangled the knife and the arm of the man who had been about to stab Adam. Leaping back a pace, Adam raised his fist, lunged forward and hit the man hard in the face. With a loud moan he went over backwards, dropped his knife, rolled sideways, scrambled to his feet and made off into the bushes.

Adam took a stride to go after him, but Chela grabbed his arm and pulled him back, 'No she exclaimed. `Let the poor devil go. If I had been with any other man he would only have demanded money from us. It was because you are so big that he hadn't the courage to face up to you.'

A little reluctantly Adam said, `All right then. But he might have given me a nasty wound. I owe it to your presence of mind that he didn't, and I'm very grateful. But for that I might now be lying here a bloody mess while you were being raped by that desperado.'

She gave a low laugh. `I don't think so. You see, I was rather

hoping that something like this might happen, just to find out how you would behave. And as I had decided before we left the apartment to take you out for a walk, I came prepared for trouble.' as she spoke she lifted one side of her long, full, satin gown, displaying a lovely, long leg up to the thigh. Strapped to the outside of it was a blue velvet holster containing a small, flat automatic. `Good Lord alive!' Adam exclaimed. 'Do Mexican girls usually tote guns?'

`'They do when they expect to find themselves faced with unpredictable situations.'

He grinned. `I've come across ladies who carry guns only in thrillers, and they always keep them in their handbags. I'd have thought they were easier to get at quickly than under a skirt.' `On the contrary.' She had let her skirt fall. Now she slid her hand through a placket hole in its folds above her hip. In a second she had whipped out the small pistol and had him covered with it. Giving him an amused smile, she said, `You see. That's much quicker than having to open a bag.'

He willingly conceded the point, at the same time thinking, What a wicked piece of loveliness. She could have done that before, but she wanted to show me that glorious leg.'

Slipping the pistol back, she went on, `Our men nearly always keep a pistol in their cars. Tempers here are quick and there have been occasions when a dispute about the right of the road has been settled by an exchange of bullets.'

With a smile he said, `I see I've a lot to learn about Mexico.' She made a graceful curtsey. `It will be my pleasure, sir, to be your instructress. And now, I think, we will go back to the restaurant.'

Retrieving the long muslin wrap, Adam disentangled the knife from it and put it in his pocket as a souvenir. Then, as he draped the wrap about her, he planted a light kiss on one of her splendid shoulders. She took no exception to that, but at once set off at a walk and began to talk about places she meant to take him to. A quarter of an hour later they rejoined her father's party.

I t was nearly four o'clock in the morning before Adam got to bed. Snuggling down, he sighed with contentment. It had been a marvelous evening, and what a girl Chela was. He had not meant to let himself become entangled again with a woman, but he knew he had fallen for her, hook, line and sinker. Recently he had thought a lot, with nostalgic longing, about Mirolitlit. But she had been dead for close on a thousand years, whereas Chela was here in Mexico City, alive, warm flesh and blood, and had not disguised her desire to see a lot more of him.

But there was more to it than that. He knew now that, although the physical appearance of the two girls was so different, the indefinable likeness he had sensed between their personalities was not a coincidence. The gesture that Chela had made with her wrap to save him from being knifed was precisely the same as that Mirolitlit had made when saving him from the knife of the Chichimec bearer. Now he had not the least doubt that Chela was a reincarnation of Mirolitlit.