High Citadel. Desmond Bagley
us after that. He said that all he wanted was food to eat and a bed to sleep in, and he would help my uncle come back to Cordillera. And here we are.’
Yes, thought O’Hara; marooned up a bloody mountain with God knows what waiting at the bottom.
Presently Armstrong went out to relieve Rohde. Miss Ponsky came across to talk to O’Hara. ‘I’m sorry I behaved so stupidly in the airplane,’ she said crossly. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
O’Hara thought there was no need to apologize for being half frightened to death; he had been bloody scared himself. But he couldn’t say that – he couldn’t even mention the word fear to her. That would be unforgivable; no one likes to be reminded of a lapse of that nature – not even a maiden lady getting on in years. He smiled and said diplomatically, ‘Not everyone would have come through an experience like that as well as you have, Miss Ponsky.’
She was mollified and he knew that she had been in fear of a rebuff. She was the kind of person who would bite on a sore tooth, not letting it alone. She smiled and said, ‘Well now, Captain O’Hara – what do you think of all this talk about communists?’
‘I think they’re capable of anything,’ said O’Hara grimly.
‘I’m going to put in a report to the State Department when I get back,’ she said. ‘You ought to hear what Señor Aguillar has been telling me about General Lopez. I think the State Department should help Señor Aguillar against General Lopez and the communists.’
‘I’m inclined to agree with you,’ said O’Hara. ‘But perhaps your State Department doesn’t believe in interfering in Cordilleran affairs.’
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ said Miss Ponsky with acerbity. ‘We’re supposed to be fighting the communists, aren’t we? Besides, Señor Aguillar assures me that he’ll hold elections as soon as General Lopez is kicked out. He’s a real democrat just like you and me.’
O’Hara wondered what would happen if another South American state did go communist. Cuban agents were filtering all through Latin America like woodworms in a piece of furniture. He tried to think of the strategic importance of Cordillera – it was on the Pacific coast and it straddled the Andes, a gun pointing to the heart of the continent. He thought the Americans would be very upset if Cordillera went communist.
Rohde came back and talked for a few minutes with Aguillar, then he crossed to O’Hara and said in a low voice, ‘Señor Aguillar would like to speak to you.’ He gestured to Forester and the three of them went to where Aguillar was resting in a bunk.
He had brightened considerably and was looking quite spry. His eyes were lively and no longer filmed with weariness, and there was a strength and authority in his voice that O’Hara had not heard before. He realized that this was a strong man; maybe not too strong in the body because he was becoming old and his body was wearing out, but he had a strong mind. O’Hara suspected that if the old man had not had a strong will, the body would have crumpled under the strain it had undergone.
Aguillar said, ‘First I must thank you gentlemen for all you have done, and I am truly sorry that I have brought this calamity upon you.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘It is the innocent bystander who always suffers in the clash of our Latin politics. I am sorry that this should have happened and that you should see my country in this sad light.’
‘What else could we do?’ asked Forester. ‘We’re all in the same boat.’
‘I’m glad you see it that way,’ said Aguillar. ‘Because of what may come next. What happens if we meet up with the communists who should be here and are not?’
‘Before we come to that there’s something I’d like to query,’ said O’Hara. Aguillar raised his eyebrows and motioned him to continue, so O’Hara said deliberately, ‘How do we know they are communists? Señorita Aguillar tells me that Lopez has tried to liquidate you several times. How do you know he hasn’t got wind of your return and is having another crack at you?’
Aguillar shook his head. ‘Lopez has – in your English idiom – shot his bolt. I know. Do not forget that I am a practical politician and give me credit for knowing my own work. Lopez forgot about me several years ago and is only interested in how he can safely relinquish the reins of power and retire. As for the communists – for years I have watched them work in my country, undermining the government and wooing the people. They have not got far with the people, or they would have disposed of Lopez by now. I am their only danger and I am sure that our situation is their work.’
Forester said casually, ‘Grivas was trying to make a clenched fist salute when he died.’
‘All right,’ said O’Hara. ‘But why all this rigmarole of Grivas in the first place? Why not just put a time bomb in the Dakota – that would have done the job very easily.’
Aguillar smiled. ‘Señor O’Hara, in my life as a politician I have had four bombs thrown at me and every one was defective. Our politics out here are emotional and emotion does not make for careful workmanship, even of bombs. And I am sure that even communism cannot make any difference to the native characteristics of my people. They wanted to make very sure of me and so they chose the unfortunate Grivas as their instrument. Would you have called Grivas an emotional man?’
‘I should think he was,’ said O’Hara, thinking of Grivas’s exultation even in death. ‘And he was pretty slipshod too.’
Aguillar spread his hands, certain he had made his point. But he drove it home. ‘Grivas would be happy to be given such work; it would appeal to his sense of drama – and my people have a great sense of drama. As for being – er – slipshod, Grivas bungled the first part of the operation by stupidly killing himself, and the others have bungled the rest of it by not being here to meet us.’
O’Hara rubbed his chin. As Aguillar drew the picture it made a weird kind of sense.
Aguillar said, ‘Now, my friends, we come to the next point. Supposing, on the way down this mountain, we meet these men – these communists? What happens then?’ He regarded O’Hara and Forester with bright eyes. ‘It is not your fight – you are not Cordillerans – and I am interested to know what you would do. Would you give this dago politician into the hands of his enemies or …’
‘Would we fight?’ finished Forester.
‘It is my fight,’ said O’Hara bluntly. ‘I’m not a Cordilleran, but Grivas pulled a gun on me and made me crash my plane. I didn’t like that, and I didn’t like the sight of the Coughlins. Anyway, I don’t like the sight of communists, and I think that, all in all, this is my fight.’
‘I concur,’ said Forester.
Aguillar raised his hand. ‘But it is not as easy as that, is it? There are others to take into account. Would it be fair on Miss – er – Ponsky, for instance? Now what I propose is this. Miguel, my niece and I will withdraw into another cabin while you talk it over – and I will abide by your joint decision.’
Forester looked speculatively at Peabody, who was just leaving the hut. He glanced at O’Hara, then said, ‘I think we should leave the question of fighting until there’s something to fight. It’s possible that we might just walk out of here.’
Aguillar had seen Forester’s look at Peabody. He smiled sardonically. ‘I see that you are a politician yourself, Señor Forester.’ He made a gesture of resignation. ‘Very well, we will leave the problem for the moment – but I think we will have to return to it.’
‘It’s a pity we had to come down the mountain,’ said Forester. ‘There’s sure to be an air search, and it might have been better to stay by the Dakota.’
‘We could not have lived up there,’ said Rohde.
‘I know, but it’s a pity all the same.’
‘I don’t think it makes much difference,’ said O’Hara. ‘The