Plunder of the Sun Read online

  She slammed out of the room.

  I didn’t go to sleep. I still had to figure the best way to stop Jeff. But I couldn’t concentrate on Jeff and the treasure with Julie on my mind. I was sorry for her. She was a featherbrain, sure. But she wasn’t as vicious as she was dumb, and she was just at the point where she could either go to the devil or turn into something, depending on how she was steered. Maybe Raul would be good for her. He wasn’t any bargain, of course. Ana Luz was a million times too good for him. Ana Luz was the best one of the whole crew. But with don Ubaldo holding the reins…

  My mind skipped around like that: gold, Jeff, Julie, Raul, Ana Luz, until I got an idea.

  I suppose everyone likes to play at being God, one time or another. I played it that afternoon in Cuzco, the smell of sweat and medicine and mimosa in my nose, shuffling the lives of half a dozen people around the way you would shuffle a deck of cards, as helpless as a baby in my cast and at the same time as powerful as the grandest Inca that ever sat on a throne. Because I had the key to the Incas’ gold, and you can buy a lot with gold, if you have enough of it—even new lives.

  When I had it all figured out, I looked around for a bell.

  There was a button in the wall near the head of the bed. I stretched for it with my good hand, knowing how a surgeon feels when he reaches for the knife. Only there wasn’t any anesthetic for the job I intended to do.

  15

  Ana Luz came into the room. She was wearing the white dress and the white hair ribbon I had first seen her in. She stood silently in the doorway, like a good servant waiting for her orders.

  I said, “I didn’t expect you, but I’m glad you came. Will you sit down?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Five minutes of your time. Sit down.”

  She took the chair that was across the room, near the window where the mimosa bloomed. I said, “No, over here near me. I won’t bite. I don’t want to have to shout.”

  She brought the chair over to the bed and sat down, her hands folded in her lap.

  I reached out and turned her left forearm over. There was a patch of bandage below the elbow joint.

  I said, “You told me once that you were sorry we were enemies. I think we have stopped being enemies.”

  “The blood was nothing. We all gave some, except don Ubaldo, and he would have done it but for the doctor’s refusal.”

  “Did you give me blood for the same reason that don Ubaldo would have given it—to keep alive the information that might be in my head?”

  “I gave it because you were a dying man, and the blood was necessary.”

  “As you gave me water from a glass tube because I was feverish, and water was necessary?”

  She nodded.

  I said, “For that, I am going to give you what you want most.”

  A spark flashed into her eyes. It burned out quickly. She said, “It is not yours to give.”

  “I can buy it. First I want you to tell me how you came to be Alfredo Berrien’s nurse.”

  She didn’t answer. I said, “You begged me for the price of your freedom, once. You said you would do anything I asked. All I want is to know what you were to Berrien.”

  “A spy.”

  “For don Ubaldo.”

  “Yes.”

  “How did he get you the position?”

  “Through an agency. He bribed them to put me at the head of the list when don Alfredo’s former nurse left him. I had studied nursing in school.”

  “You reported to don Ubaldo what Berrien was doing, so don Ubaldo could rob him?”

  “So that don Ubaldo could acquire things which don Alfredo would otherwise have acquired.”

  “Robbery is robbery, by any name.”

  She said wearily, “Call it what you like. If you are trying to shame me, it is useless. May I go now?”

  “No. Why did you send a radio message from the Talca to don Ubaldo, with my name in it?”

  “Don Ubaldo wanted me to steal the manuscript which don Alfredo bought in Chile, and bring it to him. But I could not leave don Alfredo alone and helpless in Chile, and after he gave the manuscript to you there was nothing I could do. I sent the message to bring Raul to help me get it from you. He was angry that I had not stolen it when I had the chance—you saw us that night…”

  “I remember. Does don Ubaldo know that his son slaps you?”

  She shrugged indifferently.

  “He expects you to marry Raul?”

  “Yes.”

  “You will do as he expects?”

  “He is my patrón.”

  “Does he know that Raul prefers the gringa?”

  “Who can say?”

  “You know it. You know that he would have her, or someone like her, for his querida after you were married. Yet you would still marry him, knowing this, because don Ubaldo wishes it?”

  “He is my patrón.”

  That was her answer to everything. Don Ubaldo was her patrón. All her life it had been drilled into her. She was his criatura, to pass on, if he liked, to his son, like any other piece of property.

  I said, “Did don Ubaldo promise you your freedom if you got the manuscript from Berrien?”

  “I promised myself. It was something he wanted more than anything in the world. I felt that by making myself into a thief and a liar—perhaps even the cause of don Alfredo’s death…”

  “You were not the cause. Jeff frightened him to death.”

  “I am glad it was not the sleeping pills. But if I had got the manuscript for don Ubaldo, I would never have gone back.” She smiled sadly. “You were more cruel than you knew, that afternoon in Lima.”

  “So because Raul, and not you, finally got it from me, you are not free?”

  She nodded. It was very simple. She thought I was stupid not to see it.

  “Bring don Ubaldo,” I said.

  She left the room obediently.

  I looked at the ceiling until they came back. Ana Luz turned to go, but I stopped her.

  “Wait. I want you to hear this. Don Ubaldo, how badly do you want to recover the treasure?”

  “More than I want anything else.”

  “You hope to earn the discovery reward?”

  “I hope to see the treasure in the museum in Lima, where it belongs. The reward means nothing to me. The treasure, yes. I would have given my soul to have made the discovery. Peru must have it—if it is not already too late.”

  “I think it is not too late. I think I know how to catch Jefferson. If I tell you, I want two things—the discovery reward and Ana Luz’s freedom.”

  Naharro said coldly, “The discovery reward is paid by the government. And I do not know what you mean by her freedom. She is already free.”

  “She is not free. She is your criatura.”

  “I do not like that word, señor. I have always looked on her as my daughter. She owes me no legal obedience since she became of age. But I do not see that our family affairs…”

  I cut him off.

  “I am entering into your family affairs. You expect her to marry your son. She does not want to, but she feels that she owes you something she has not been able to repay. She wants freedom, not the son of her patrón for a master. I will buy her freedom by recovering the treasure for you. Ana Luz, if he tells you that you are your own mistress, will it be enough?”

  I thought she hadn’t heard me, at first. Finally she nodded, her eyes on the floor.

  Don Ubaldo said bitterly, “Are my home and my son so hateful to you then, hija?”

  “Not hateful, believe me.” She lifted her head. Her eyes glistened wetly. “I am grateful to you, don Ubaldo. More than I can say. But I do not want to marry Raul. I do not want to marry anyone. I want only to be as other people are, free to make my own life. Is it so much to ask?”

  “I made you what you are,” don Ubaldo said. “You were a starving beggar’s child when I took you in. I raised you to be a lady, in the same way that I raised my own son to be a gentleman. Alwa
ys I have planned that you two should marry, some day. For that day, you went to school, when you might have been tending sheep in the hills. You ate, when you might have been starving. You were sheltered and protected, and loved…”

  “Like one of your son’s horses!” There was fire in Ana Luz’s voice now. “You made me into a gift for Raul, not a woman! You were kind to me, educated me, clothed and fed me—for Raul!”

  “Never!”

  “It’s true! What kind of love do you speak of, who made me into a spy and a cheat for gold? What kind of love do you expect from me in return, for you or your son who looks on me as a servant to come when he claps his hands? Obedience—yes. I recognize the debt that I owe, and I will pay it as you like. I will marry Raul whenever you say. But I do not love him, or you, or what you have made of me. I would have been more grateful to you if you had let me starve!”

  She dropped her head.

  Don Ubaldo stood like a statue, his lips pressed tightly together. He had not looked at Ana Luz once.

  I said, “Raul does not want to marry her, either. He loves the gringa.”

  “The gringa!” He spat it out.

  “Maybe Raul would like to be free, too. To some people, freedom is more important than all the treasure in the world, don Ubaldo. Your son means nothing to me. I think the gringa is too good for him. I know Ana Luz is too good for him. If you want the treasure recovered, tell her she is free.”

  Seconds ticked by. Don Ubaldo was like a stone. Beside him, Ana Luz began to tremble. Her hands knotted tightly.

  “What is your interest in her?” don Ubaldo said.

  “None. Perhaps I do this because she gave me her blood. Perhaps I am paying you for your dealings with me. Perhaps I do it only because I dislike you and your son. It is not important. If you feel as you tell me you feel about the treasure, you will do as I say.”

  His liverish face didn’t change. In a flat, dead voice, he said, “You are free to do as you wish, Ana Luz. You are your own mistress.”

  I said, “And the discovery reward. You are a member of the National Institute of Archaeology. I want a predated permit to dig, and your statement that I found the treasure first and was robbed of it.”

  In the same dead voice, Naharro said, “You will have the permit and my statement. Where will I find Jefferson?”

  “I’ll find him for you. Do you have a car here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get ready to leave in the morning for Puno. Let it be known that I am dead. It might be helpful if the news reached the woman of Tacho Peralta, an Indian who lives on the hill below the fortress. Tell the police to take the watch off the roads near Puno.”

  He turned away and left the room, his bald head erect, his back stiff.

  Ana Luz took two quick steps and dropped to her knees beside my bed. Her lips trembled. She was trying to say something, without having the words to say it. I wanted to tell her that there was nothing she had to say, but I couldn’t find the words myself. We looked at each other for a minute, both dumb, and then I felt her cool hands on my cheeks and her warm mouth on mine. Seconds later I was alone with the taste of her lips, feeling tired and triumphant and good.

  16

  We left for Puno in the morning.

  The doctor that don Ubaldo had brought up from Lima had already gone back, so I never got a chance to thank him for saving my life. Another doctor was on hand to forbid me to get out of bed. He went right on forbidding me all the time I was getting dressed.

  I was pretty shaky. Raul helped me with my clothes. He would rather have been fixing me up to look nice in my coffin, but he tied my shoes, buttoned my shirt and kept a tight lip, which was all right with me. I couldn’t wear a coat so he loaned me a sweater that was too small even after he had opened up the left shoulder with a pair of scissors and pinned it together over the cast. It hurt him to cut up a good sweater on my account.

  If don Ubaldo had told him anything about our conversation, he didn’t show it. He helped me out to the street, where don Ubaldo’s car waited. I was surprised to see that Julie was going along on the trip. She seemed puzzled herself. She could only be accompanying us on don Ubaldo’s invitation, and he liked her about as much as he liked me. I guessed that the old man was putting her on trial as a possible gift to his son, the way he would try out a new horse before he bought it for Raul’s birthday.

  Ana Luz went along, too, and an officer of the Guardia Civil. The comandante was a slick pretty boy who wore the same kind of shiny boots that the mousy cop had worn who investigated Berrien’s death aboard the Talca, but that was their only resemblance. The comandante’s prettiness didn’t hide the fact that he was as sharp as a tack. He shook my good hand, said he was honored to have my cooperation, and told me, during the first half hour of the drive, of the steps he had taken to bottle Jeff. From what he had to say, Jeff would have a tough time getting out of Peru, with or without the gold.

  I gave him what information I could—a description of Tacho, a description of the clothes they had worn, the markings of the burros, nothing much that he didn’t already know. And I said, “Has the news gone out that I am dead?”

  “Your sad death has been reported to all the newspapers.” He flashed his teeth. “Also to the wind, on which news travels faster. You hope that Jefferson will hear of it?”

  “Yes. He told me once that he had smuggled things from Puno across the lake to Bolivia, where he had the connections he needed to dispose of them. If he thinks I am unable to interfere with him, he may try it again. We should catch him in Puno.”

  “If he has not already crossed the lake.”

  “I don’t see how he could have got there yet. He has to drive three burros over two hundred miles through the hills, if the roads are guarded as strongly as you say. He might try another way across the border, but…”

  “I doubt it. North of the lake there is nothing but high mountains, covered with snow at all times, and to pass the lake to the south would mean an extra hundred-mile journey. Besides, the borders are strongly guarded—except at Puno, as you suggested. Once he enters the town he is in a trap—so.” The comandante cupped his hands and brought them together. “Anyone can enter the town. There are two hundred men on hand to prevent him from leaving it.”

  “You really mean business, don’t you?”

  “Don Ubaldo is an important man in Peru. If he says the hunt is in the national interest, we do as he asks.”

  Naharro said nothing. He was sitting in the front seat of the car, between Raul, who drove, and the comandante. I think he had taken the front seat so he would not have to look at me and Ana Luz, or talk to us. I rode in back, on the left side, where I could prop my cast up in the corner. Ana Luz sat next to me, so she could grab me when the car hit a rough spot, and Julie sat on her right. I wore a steel corset which supported the cast and made me sit up a lot straighter than normally, but Ana Luz’s arms around me over the bumps helped a lot.

  We were stopped half a dozen times by guardias who snapped to attention when they saw the commandante. Each time he asked if they had any news to report. The answer was always no. At La Raya, a dingy, chilly town on the crest of the Andean divide where we took time out for lunch, the comandante disappeared for fifteen minutes and came back with the report that everything was going according to plan. Jeff could move freely as long as he kept going toward Puno.

  I had to translate the conversation for Julie. Raul didn’t talk to her, and nobody else could, although the comandante tried his shiny teeth and a few words of English on her a couple of times. He would have liked to flirt a little with the gringa to pass time during the long drive, but she was on her best behavior, anxious to please Raul and the old man. The comandante gave up.

  Raul didn’t talk to anybody, except to answer yes or no when he was spoken to. Something was going on that he didn’t know about, and he didn’t like it. If there hadn’t been any other tipoff, Ana Luz’s appearance alone would have been enough. I never saw such a chan
ge in a woman. Before, she had been pretty enough, but lifeless, indifferent, rarely smiling, never laughing, going about her business without an unnecessary word. Now she glowed with life. She was like a lamp. The change showed in her eyes, her movements, her quick smile, everything. She was alive, for the first time.

  During lunch, I caught don Ubaldo watching her with a strange, sad look. From her face, his eyes went to Raul’s, then to Julie’s. When he saw me looking at him, his swollen eyelids dropped. He went on eating.

  I pulled my hat down over my forehead, crouching as low as the steel corset and the cast would let me, when we drove into Puno late that afternoon. It was the comandante’s idea to keep me out of sight—probably an unnecessary caution, he said, but he liked to be careful. And I gave a false name at the Hotel Turismo. It had been five days since Jeff left Cuzco with the burros. A man with plenty of guts and no mercy for his animals might have covered the ground in that time. He wouldn’t show up at the Hotel Turismo in any event, but the comandante had the right idea. It paid to be careful with a man like Jeff.

  It was bitterly cold in Puno, even colder than it had been when we crossed the divide. We were at twelve thousand five hundred feet, on the lake shore, and the tremendous body of water that was Titicaca, the highest lake in the world, acted like a refrigerator. Even if the comandante hadn’t told me to stay inside the hotel, I wouldn’t have left the roaring fire in the sala once I settled there. The room was empty, except for me and the fire and a hot rum punch the barman brought me. The comandante had left to check his traps. Everybody else was warming up with a hot bath. I couldn’t bathe, so I settled for the rum punch and the comfort of the fireplace.