Flame of Diablo (28 page)

died for in order to save us?'

'He hasn't saved us yet.' Mark's tone was

still sullen, but she could hear the fear

behind it, and forgave him in a flood of

protective feeling. He was spoiled, and

she had always known that, because he

had been the wanted boy. No one had

ever denied him anything and in her way

she had been his devoted slave almost as

much as their grandfather. Now,

suddenly, he was way out of his depth,

ill and frightened and striking out at

everyone around him.

'But he will,' she said gently. She meant

it to be a reassurance, but even as she

spoke, the thought came to her that even

so, Vitas might not be able to save

himself, and her eyes were filled with

the brilliance of tears.

Mark muttered furiously, 'My God!' Then

he threw the remains of his coffee away

on the charred debris of the fire and

stalked away.

'In

there?'

Rodriguez

demanded

incredulously.

He

was

sweating

profusely in the intense heat, and Rachel,

standing just to one side of him could

see that dangerous little muscle leaping

in his face. 'You think to make a fool of

me —Rodriguez?' He gestured towards

the dark creeper-clad opening. 'We have

searched in there. It is empty, except for

bats and snakes.'

'You doubt my word?' There was an

unmistakable challenge in Vitas' voice.

'We made a bargain. The Flame of

Diablo burns in that cave. Reach out,

little man, and take it.'

He

was

mocking,

deliberately

provocative, and Rachel's heart thumped

in. alarm. She could sense Mark's

unease. His arm was trembling against

hers, just above the cord which bound

their wrists together.

Rachel' felt a drop of sweat running

down her forehead, she lifted her free

hand and wiped it away. 'Everything

seemed to be going wrong. Rodriguez

had refused point blank to let Mark and

herself go. They were his hostages, he

said, and they would not be released

until he held the Flame in his hand. She

had half expected Vitas to protest, but he

had shrugged, and walked over to where

she stood, her wrist already roped to

Mark's.

'It is time to say
adios, querida?
He

sounded casual to the point of insolence.

'Remember me.' Without haste he bent

and kissed her on the mouth, a long and

sensuous kiss which left her trembling

and weak. As he released her,

'Remember,' he repeated, then walked

away.

Beside her, she heard Mark mutter

'Bastard!' but she knew, as he could not

that Vitas was not asking her to

remember him as a lover, but to recall to

mind the orders he had given her and act

on them. She wished she could explain,

but with Rodriguez' men all round them

it was impossible.

She had walked tensely at Mark's side as

they made their way out of the old

mission and down the valley.

Even before Rodriguez' outburst, she had

heard Mark draw a sharp breath and

whisper, 'What the hell's he playing at?

There's nothing here, Rachie. I've

combed every inch of those tunnels.'

For the first time Rodriguez looked

indecisive, less than in full control of the

situation. Behind her, Rachel could hear

his men growing restive, murmuring

among themselves.

'What is the matter, Rodriguez?' Vitas

taunted again. 'Are you afraid that the

Flame may scorch, after all?'

'Don't talk to me of fear,' Rodriguez

muttered hoarsely. 'When I have finished

with you, you will know it well. You

will crawl to me begging for death.'

Rachel felt a quiver of fear and

revulsion run through her body at the

gloating words, but Vitas seemed

entirely unmoved, even faintly amused.

'And now the other part of the bargain,'

he said softly. 'The girl and her brother.

Let them go.'

Again she could sense the hesitation in

Rodriguez. There was something animal

in his eyes as he turned and looked at

Rachel and Mark, before swinging back

to Vitas, who stood waiting, his hands

on his hips, his whole attitude one of

cool indifference.

'No,' he said menacingly. 'Not now. Not

yet. I don't trust you, my fine
senor.
They

will go with us into the tunnel to answer

for your good faith—and your good

behaviour. One false move from you and

I shoot your woman in the stomach.'

'Then at least untie them. The tunnel is

narrow in places, and low in others.

They will never manage it roped

together —unless you wish to wait while

they crawl after us on their knees,' he

added with a faint shrug.

For a moment Rodriguez glared at him

suspiciously, but he gave the necessary

order, and Rachel winced as the cord

fell away and the blood began to flow

back into her numbed hand. She rubbed

the chafed flesh with her fingers and as

she did so was suddenly aware that

Vitas was looking at her. He turned

away at once, but in that brief second

she had seen in his face such a deadly

murderous rage that the breath caught in

her throat.

She glanced at Mark to see if he had

noticed anything, but he was attending to

his own aches and pains. He looked very

young and very pale. She touched his

arm, aware that Rodriguez and Vitas

were approaching the mouth of the tunnel

and that the other men were watching

them.

'Do exactly as you're told,' she

whispered. 'Whatever Vitas says and as

soon as he says it.'

He gave her a furious look. 'I'm not his

damned puppet!'

She couldn't argue with him because they

too were being urged forward towards

the tunnel entrance. She bent her head to

enter, feeling the creepers brush against

her skin like cold green fingers.

It was damp in the tunnel, a chill dank

smell, like the inside of a tomb. She

shivered, wishing the analogy had not

occurred to her.

'This is bloody dangerous,' Mark

muttered close to her ear, as if he had

picked up her thoughts. 'One wrong

move —one loud noise even and the

whole lot could come crashing in on us.

I hope that arrogant swine knows what

he's doing.'

As if to emphasise his words, some

stones and dust fell from the roof just

ahead of them and clattered to the floor.

Rachel's foot touched something solid

and she looked down startled to see the

broken, decaying remains of a pickaxe.

Simply discarded, she wondered, or

thrown down in terror as its user fled—

from what?

The darkness closed inexorably around

them as they penetrated more deeply into

the tunnel. Rodriguez was carrying a

powerful torch, as was one of the two

men accompanying them, and the beams

of light roamed endlessly over the

crumbling walls, searching for the tell-

tale green veins.

Rachel realised that it was becoming

more difficult to breathe. Was it merely

unsuspected

claustrophobia,

she

wondered, or was there no fresh air?

She put a hand apprehensively to her

throat.

'Where are the emeralds?' Rodriguez

snarled, the torch beam wavering crazily

as he turned on Vitas. 'Dog and son of a

dog, you have lied to me!'

'Keep your voice down,' Vitas said

quietly, 'or your next angry word could

be your last.'

'Faugh! There's no air in this hole.'

Rodriguez's hand tugged at the neck of

his shirt.

'Then why waste what there is in

discussing it?' Vitas was cool and

unruffled. 'Are you prepared to go on?'

'Go on where?' Rodriguez growled

suspiciously. 'The tunnel comes to a

dead end. I tell you I have combed every

inch of it.'

'Not every inch, or even every yard,'

Vitas returned. 'You're a creature of

earth, Rodriguez. A man must lift his

eyes if he wishes to find the gods.'

The torchlight swept upwards and

Rachel suppressed a gasp as she saw the

narrow black gap above their heads.

'Up

there?'

Rodriguez

sounded

incredulous, and Rachel could not blame

him. The opening in the rock looked

hardly wide enough to admit a child, let

alone a full-grown man.

'Up there,' Vitas agreed mockingly.

'Then you first. And after you the girl.'

Rachel stood watching disbelievingly as

Vitas reached up and caught at the edge

of the rock, levering himself up into the

gap. Rodriguez made an impatient

gesture with his gun and she stepped

forward. Mark lifted her and from the

darkness, Vitas bent to grip her wrists

and draw her up beside him.

There was no torchlight here, but the

darkness seemed full of a strange glow.

She blinked, turning her head, and Vitas'

hand came over her mouth stifling her

involuntary cry.

The golden skull sat on its dusty ledge as

it had done for centuries, the great

emeralds which filled the empty eye

sockets seeming to glare with a life of

their own at these intruders into its

sacred solitude.

The stones in the eyes had been cut and

polished, but there were other emeralds

in the cave still in their natural state, as

they had been cut from the earth, and

heaped in offering to the gods.

Vitas' arms went round her, lifting her

again. 'Up you go,
querida.
As fast as

you can.'

She was in another tunnel which seemed

to have been carved through the solid

rock, a tunnel where there was only

room to lie flat and wriggle forward,

clawing her way upwards using her nails

and her toes as leverage. But there was

air somewhere ahead of her. Its

freshness was in her nostrils, on her

tongue, and she gasped for it, lifting, her

face gratefully, stretching out her arms,

as if, absurdly, she could touch it.

She felt her wrists grabbed, and

someone was dragging her forwards,

hurting her as her slim body grazed itself

on the rock, but it didn't matter because

there was sun on her face after the

suffocating darkness.

She looked up dazedly into a bronzed

face, shaded by a smart uniform cap. A

handsome face with a small black

moustache.

'Senorita.
I regret that I had to be so

rough.' He helped her to her feet. 'I am

Captain

Lopez—Vitas

may

have

mentioned me.'

'No.' Her hands were bleeding a little

and her nails were ruined. She knew the

spectacle she must make, covered in

earth, a rip in her shirt and another in the

leg of her jeans. Captain Lopez, as if

sensing her discomfort, made a quick

signal and a soldier stepped forward

proffering a uniform jacket for her to put

round her shoulders. Someone else was

holding out a cigarette case, and now, as

she looked round, she could see that the

clifftop seemed to be alive with

uniformed men.

'What's

going

on?'

She

turned

desperately to Captain Lopez, but he

made a sharp gesture, bidding her to be

quiet. His whole attitude was tense and

listening, and instinctively Rachel tensed

too, straining her own ears.

The sound of the shot when it came was

unmistakable, muffled though it was, and

equally unmistakable was the rumble

which followed it, rising to a roar.

She heard Captain Lopez whisper a

blasphemy and saw him plunging away

from her. The muffled roar went on and

on as if tons of rocks and earth were

flooding the fragile passages beneath her

feet, and she fell down on to the earth,

her fingers tearing at the grass which