A Dangerous Game (4 page)

interested in marriage although she knew he was and that her decision

to leave England would prevent them from reaching the inevitable

painful break-up.
 
Hopefully he would remember her with affection and

not bitterness.
 
She left out details of her new address.

When she arrived at Techtatuan there was a modern car waiting for her

at the tiny airport.
 
The driver looked as if he would have been too

young to hold a licence in England.

"Dr.
 
Muldaire?
 
I am called Paulo.
 
I have been instructed to take you

to the hospital."
 
His smile was friendly and his darkly tanned face

looked as if it had been carved from smoothly polished wood.
 
It was an

unusual face, she thought, and rather beautiful.
 
His Spanish had a

distinct accent that she realised must be typical of the indigenous

population.

"Don't worry," he added solemnly, as he helped her load her bags into

the boot.

"I am a very safe driver."

She discovered that this was true, although there was very little

competition on the roads.
 
Most of the other mechanised vehicles were

old, rickety-looking trade vans.
 
She was surprised by how bright and

clean the town looked.
 
The buildings were white walled, with vibrant

splashes of colour coming from window boxes and gardens.
 
Paulo turned

to her and started to make conversation.

"This is a pleasant town.

You'll be happy here."

"Were you born here?"
 
Jacey asked.

"No, I was born in the village of Mata.
 
My family has lived there for

generations."
 
He paused.

"Long before the Spanish came."

"So why did you leave?"
 
she asked, guessing the answer.

"There's no work in Mata," he said.

"The villages are dying."

"Doesn't the government help?"
 
she asked.

"The government does not help Indians."
 
She noted the bitterness in

his voice.

"I came to Techtatuan to earn money for my family."

"And you've been successful?"
 
she guessed.

He shrugged.

"I have adapted.
 
I lea mt to read and write, and to drive a car.
 
I

don't mind speaking Spanish, or using a Spanish name."
 
She heard his

voice change.

"But I have not forgotten my heritage.
 
I will never do that."

The car cruised down an avenue of trees and Jacey noticed large posters

pinned to some of the trunks, all depicting the same crudely drawn

portrait: a man with bulging, fanatic's eyes glaring from a gaunt,

bearded face.
 
His tangled hair was topped by a military-style fatigue

cap.
 
One word stood out in large print, a word she did not

understand:

LOHAQUIN.

She tapped Paulo on the shoulder.

"Who's the man on the posters?
 
And what does Lohaquin mean?"

There was a brief pause before Paulo answered.

"You want to make a lot of money?
 
Find that man and hand him over to

the police."

"He's a criminal?"
 
Jacey guessed.

Paulo laughed shortly.

"Many would say so.
 
Lohaquin lives in the rain forest.
 
It protects

him.
 
He wants to change things here in Guachtal."

"Lohaquin?"
 
Jacey repeated.

"That doesn't sound Spanish."

There was another pause.

"It's the old language," Paulo said.

"My language.
 
Lohaquin means a sort of ghost, but not the ghost of a

dead person.
 
More like a spirit, a spirit who lives between two

worlds, our world and the invisible world.
 
It's difficult to

translate."

Interesting, Jacey thought.
 
A ghostly rebel, with a large reward on

his head?
 
Someone was obviously taking this 'spirit' very seriously

indeed.
 
Why didn't Major Fairhaven mention this mysterious character

to me, she wondered.
 
Clearly the situation out here isn't quite as

simple as he pretended.
 
She leant back in her seat again.

"Does this Lohaquin have much support?"

Paulo shrugged.

"Who can say?
 
If anyone supports him, they don't talk to strangers

about it."

Well, Jacey thought, that's put me in my place.
 
Don't ask the wrong

questions, Dr.
 
Muldaire, because I won't answer them.

"But no one's claimed the reward?"
 
she persisted.

"Obviously Lohaquin has friends who protect him."

"The rain forest protects him," the boy said.

"I don't know of anyone who claims to have seen him."

"Someone drew the picture," Jacey observed.

Paulo laughed.

"There are plenty of people with good imaginations.
 
I have heard that

Lohaquin has green skin like the trees, and that he is seven feet tall.

Also that he is quite small.
 
Women like to dream that he is very

handsome, and will come to them in the night and make love to them. Who

knows the truth?"

Someone must know, Jacey thought, making a mental note to find out more

about the elusive Loha quin.
 
The car drove along the side of a high,

white wall and stopped by a pair of ornate but solid-looking iron

gates.
 
Paulo hooted.
 
A man in uniform opened the gates, and closed

them as soon as the car had passed through.

"Rather heavy security for a hospital," Jacey commented lightly.

Paulo shrugged.

"There are some very important people here.
 
They need to be private

and peaceful when they're ill.
 
Even Generalissimo Hernandez comes

here."

"And Nicolas Schlemann?"
 
she asked.

"You know Senor Schlemann?"
 
Paulo's voice was suddenly wary.

"No," she said.

"I've heard of him, that's all.
 
He's as important as Hernandez, isn't

he?"

"He's very powerful," Paulo agreed after a moment.

He glanced at her.

"No doubt you will meet him in due course."

"Oh, I don't expect I will," Jacey said brightly.

"Why would he want to meet me?"

The car halted outside a large white building.

"Because Senor Schlemann likes beautiful women," Paulo said.

"I'm here as a doctor," Jacey said, 'not as entertainment for Nicolas

Schlemann."

"Senor Schlemann considers all beautiful women are for his

entertainment."
 
She was surprised at the sudden note of concern in

Paulo's voice.

"You should be careful not to offend him, Dr.
 
Muldaire.

Senor Schlemann is used to getting his own way."

"I won't offend him if he doesn't offend me," Jacey said curtly.

Nicolas Schlemann was someone she liked less and less.
 
A jumped-up

bully, she thought, who uses his position to tyranni se women and

anyone else too frightened to fight back.
 
Paulo still looked worried,

so she smiled brightly.

"Don't worry, Paulo," she reassured him.
 
On an impulse she kissed her

fingers and tapped the kiss lightly on his cheek.
 
His skin felt smooth

and warm.

"I can look after myself.

Believe me."

Later that night Jacey lay in bed, recapping on the events of the day,

her mind too active for sleep.
 
Her room was spacious, air-conditioned

and cool, pleasantly different to what she had been expecting.
 
The

staff quarters were set apart from the main hospital building and

looked like an expensive apartment block.
 
She had a living room,

bedroom, bathroom and a small kitchen, plus a balcony crowded with

brightly flowering plants.
 
A smiling young nurse had previously shown

her the staff canteen (as luxurious as a first-class restaurant), the

gym, a sports hall and a swimming pool.

The hospital's senior doctor, Garcia Sanchez, had officially welcomed

her.
 
A charming, elderly Spaniard he complimented her on her Spanish.

He told her he was not born in Guachtal, but had lived there for fifty

years.

"It's a fine country with nice people.
 
You'll enjoy working here, Dr.

Muldaire."

"I'm looking forward to it," she said.

"Perhaps tomorrow someone can explain what my duties are?
 
I'm anxious

to start work."

Dr.
 
Sanchez laughed.

"There's no rush.
 
We have emergencies, of course, but most of our

patients come in for routine check-ups and minor problems.
 
All we ask

is that you wear your pager when you're in the hospital and carry your

mobile phone when you go out.
 
I'll get Dr.
 
Draven to explain how we

do things here.
 
You'll like him; he's English too.
 
Until then you

must relax.
 
Recover from your journey."

What kind of hospital is this, she wondered, as she lay in the