A Game of Authors (10 page)

Anita Luac put down her fork, got to her feet. “I would like to show you something.”

Garson stood up, looked down at her. “What?”

She held out her hand, took Garson’s. “Come.”

They went out the front, around the house and along a sanded trail that sloped up to a low ridge looking down on the swamp and lake. Garson paused on the ridge, listening. He heard a truck motor laboring, looked down the lake to the mysterious building. It reminded him that he still did not know the basic secret of the hacienda: The role of Luac’s occupation.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the lake, and the shadows hid the edges of the mysterious building.

What do they do there?

“This way,” said Anita Luac. She tugged at Garson’s hand. Her palm felt warm and trusting against his.

They went down the opposite side of the ridge into a garden grove of eucalyptus trees. Two rock-bordered graves with stone crosses occupied the far side of the grove.

My day for visiting graves!

“I have a feeling I will never see this place again,” said Anita Luac. She stopped beside the graves. “My mother and my brother. He died when I was very small. Fever.” She disengaged her hand, sat down on the grass beside the grave, spread her skirt. “I used to play here when I was little. This was a separate pretend world all my own.”

Garson had a sudden mental picture of a doe-eyed girl—like an enchanted naiad—playing in the grove by the lake. The thought filled him with sadness.

Bats began swooping about them in the warm evening air.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asked.

She looked up at him, shrugged. “It was a whim.”

“You must have been a lonely child.”

She got to her feet, brushed her skirt. “Yes. But I didn’t realize it at the time.” She smiled. “I had the ghosts here. Do you believe in ghosts?”

“I don’t know what to believe about ghosts.”

“I’ve never made any big decision of my life without consulting these ghosts.”

“Did you come here this time to make a decision?”

Again she shrugged, kept her face averted.

Garson moved closer. She drew away. He followed, touched her shoulder. She turned, stared up at him, a look of total absorption in her large eyes, as though she drew into them everything that she saw.

With a fierce possessiveness, Garson pulled her to him, bent his mouth to hers. She seemed passive at first, then a fluttery response awakened her. The kiss became something explosive, demanding. He was totally aware of every place where their bodies touched. Her left hand went behind his neck. She moved her head softly from side to side, never breaking the kiss.

He dropped his right hand to her waist, bent her back. She yielded, then stiffened. Slowly, she pushed him away, stood before him, breathing rapidly, one hand at her throat.

Garson regained self-control as though it seeped upward from his toes. His breathing slowed, and he became conscious of the look in her eyes, the light of mockery.

“No man ever kissed me like that before,” she said.

He swallowed. “How did it make you feel?”

She drew in a deep breath, shook her head without removing her attention from his face. “It filled me with . . . with a sense of power!”

She’s making a fool of me!
he thought.
They’re using me! And she’s the bait!

“Power over me?”

“No. Power over life.”

God help me! I don’t care if I’m being used!

He reached for her, but she pulled away.

And he thought:
How would a man like Luac train his daughter? To take and never to give!

Swift tropic darkness settled across the grove.

“Shall we be getting back?” she asked.

The moon sent a faint, ghostly light through the trees. Garson tried to see her face by the glowing, failed. She was a shadow against shadows.

“We should have thought of that earlier,” he said.

“Sorry you came?” She sounded lightly unconcerned.

“Always glad to further my education,” he said.

Garson left her at the rear door of the house, sat down on the rough wood bench beside the door. His leg and thigh muscles were beginning to complain after the day on horseback. There was a dull ache behind his eyes that the soggy warmth of the night did nothing to ease.

For the first time, he began to review the day. It left him with a sense of shaking horror. And the mysterious Olaf loomed over it all like the sinister embodiment of everything evil that could be seen in Raul Separdo.

What are Luac and Medina planning? Why don’t they draw me into their conference?

My God! Why did I have to let myself fall for that woman?

The door beside him opened, closed. Choco Medina joined him on the bench.

“Why is the
Señorita
crying?” he asked.

Crying?

“I don’t know, Choco. Maybe she’s afraid. The Lord knows I certainly am.”

“Where did you go on your walk?”

“A grove of trees over there. The graves of her mother and brother.”

“Ahh. Perhaps that is it.” Medina nodded. “I came out to tell you how the situation stands.”

“Black?”

“Very black, but perhaps not hopeless.”

“I knew it when Separdo rode up on us that way.”

“There are some things in our favor. For one, Olaf is in Guatemala. He will not return for several days. For another, Raul sent word to Maria Gomez that she should dope our food tonight to make us sleep.”

“What’s he planning?”

“I think he is planning to come across the lake by night and take over control of the hacienda with his men, but thanks to you we are warned.”

“Thanks to me?”

“Maria came to us as soon as she received the message. She wants revenge on Raul.”

“I don’t understand that, Choco. All I had to do was tell her it was Raul who killed her son—and she believed me.”

“She has been with the Luacs for sixteen years, my friend. She needed only to have someone tell her what her instincts already knew.”

“Why didn’t he just take us today, Choco?”

“Raul? I’ve been trying to answer that question. I think it was because the
Señorita
had the rifle. He knew he’d have to kill her to take it, and he does not want to do that.”

“He’s a fiend!”

“The truth. It is also in the nature of this fiend to toy with his victims. He likes to strike fear into the heart. And today he had poor Pánfil to demonstrate his power of life and death.”

“God! How’d Luac ever get into his power?”

“He had no choice. One day there was Raul—the new watchdog.”

“What’re we going to do tonight, Choco?”

“We have a dozen flares. The moon will give us light for many hours. After that we will use the flares. They cannot cross the lake while we have light to shoot.”

“The door has a lock on both sides, eh?”

Medina chuckled. “
Sí
, and the
caribe
in the middle.”

“You’d better give me a gun, Choco.”

“Or course. But please do not lose this one in the lake.”

Garson recalled hiding the other revolver under the log. He told Choco Medina about it.

“You are very wasteful of good firearms, my friend. That one will be useless with rust by this time. But I will go get it tonight.” He put a hand on Garson’s shoulder. “The
Señorita
likes you.”

“Oh?”

Medina squeezed Garson’s shoulder. “I would die for the
Señorita
, my friend.”

Garson felt a choking sensation in his throat. “God help me, so would I!” he whispered.

“I suspected that you had hidden the gun,” said Medina. “But now I know that you trust me. I want you to know that I have trust for you—and after today, a special trust in your gun hand.”

Should I tell him the truth about that?
wondered Garson.
That I was aiming to kill Separdo, and missed by the grace of God?

Medina got to his feet. “I must join Antone. We will be in the front room.”

He entered the house, closing the door softly.

Garson stared into the darkness.
How long can we hold out? Separdo has an army across the lake.

Something stirred the leaves in the garden. A twig broke under someone’s foot. Garson tensed.

Anita Luac came into the faint moonglow of the open area beside the door. “I listened to you and Choco,” she said.

“How long can we hold out?” he asked.

“This place is a fortress,” she said.

“What’s your theory on why Raul held off today?”

“He’s afraid you’re really from Olaf.”

“Given time, any fortress can be taken, Nita.”

She moved closer. “Is that your theory about women?” The faint mocking glint in her eyes was very clear to him.

Garson had the feeling of being outmaneuvered, trapped.
This is what the old man wants! He wants me to be her slave and thus his slave! Why? What can I do for them?

“What are you thinking?” she asked. “You look so withdrawn.”

“Maybe I was trying to retreat.”

“Are all of your defenses gone?” She slipped her arms around his neck, pressed herself against him, lifted her lips.

Garson stared down into the brown wells of her eyes. They seemed to draw him down . . . down . . . down until their lips met. He felt himself melting with desire.

She broke away with a violent push against his shoulders, stepped back.

Bitterness overwhelmed Garson. “Testing your power again?”

She drew in a shaky breath, spoke in a faint voice. “My willpower.”

He took her hands, felt them tremble. “Why were you crying?”

“Perhaps you reminded me of how lonely I’ve been.”

“Nita, do you care for me at all?” The question came out as though torn from him.

She jerked her hands free, whirled away. “Why should I care for you? Because you’ve kissed me?”

He started to put his hands on her shoulders, drew them back.
A slave! Begging for favors! Luac knows his man. Here’s the price I can’t refuse.

The bitterness filled his voice. “Maybe you should care for me because that’s what your father has instructed you to do!”

She whirled, slapped his face. He staggered backward.

“You’re a beast!” she hissed.

“That’s right! A beast in love with you!” He grabbed her arms, pinioned them, crushed her mouth beneath his. She bit his lip, kicked at him in blind fury, then relaxed against him, sobbing.

He stroked her hair. “I’m sorry, Nita.”

“No. You have every right to hate me. Please hate me!” She pushed away, ran from him. He heard a door slam.

That ties it!

Garson stormed into the house, down the hall to the front room. Luac and Medina stood by the windows, staring at the moonglow on the lake.

“All right, Luac!” barked Garson. “I want answers!”

Luac turned slowly. “Ahhh. Young Lochinvar!”

“You’re asking me to get myself killed!” said Garson. “For what?”

“Steady,” murmured Medina.

“For what?” demanded Garson.

“Perhaps for the story you were so anxious to get.”

“You’ve never had any intention of letting me do that story!”

“Now there you’re wrong.”

Garson was startled into silence. There had been something flatly convincing about Luac’s quiet reply.

“Why else would I want you to escape?” asked Luac.

“I have only your word for it that you wanted me to escape! The whole thing could’ve been a put up job!”

“Including Raul Separdo?”

Again Garson fell silent.
I’m caught in the oldest trap in the world: a prison of my own building! Some of the things that’ve happened I know are real—not make believe.

He studied Luac in the moonlight: dignity and a kind of cynical amusement. The old man began humming, stopped. “Do you know that song, Mr. Garson?”

“Why should I?” His voice revealed his resentment and frustration.

“Because that song is Mexico.
Cuatro Caminos!
Four roads. There are four roads in a man’s life. Which of the four is best?”

“You’re talking nonsense!”

“Oh, no! For each road there is a different price.”

“Have you offered me the price I can’t refuse? What’s down that road?”

“That is the big joke, my friend. There is only one thing down all of the roads: death! You merely arrive at it by different routes.”

“You haven’t answered my question, Luac.”

“About price? Your question was not clear.”

“Are you offering your daughter?”

“You are a fool!”

“Oh, am I?”

“My daughter makes her own offers.”

“And decisions?”

“Naturally!”

“Can she make the decision to leave here with me tonight?”

A bitter laugh shook the old man. “And how do you propose leaving? By flying out on the wings of love?”

“Maybe I’ll just go over and get Raul Separdo’s permission!”

“Hah!”

“Fighting among ourselves will not help us now,” murmured Medina.

“What about the swamp?” asked Garson.

Medina shook his head. “There’s no escape that way.”

Garson stared at him in the gloom. “Choco! What about El Grillo?”

“What about him?” asked Luac.

“How do you signal him to come for you?”

“Don’t be an utter ass! He thinks I killed Eduardo!”

“All right, Luac! What’s
your
plan?”

“Choco will try to get out tonight by working along the edge of the lake in the swamp.”

“I think it can be done,” said Medina.

“And what if he does get away?”

“Although it is a very poor solution and will create a situation that will be very bad for me, he will bring the
Guardia Civil
,” said Luac.

“Why will it be bad for you, Luac?”

“I choose not to answer. If he succeeds, you will learn the answer. If he fails, it will make no difference.”

“I think you’re both being damned stupid,” said Garson. “A whole armada of canoes could work along the shore on both sides of the peninsula and take us by force.”

“That is what they will try,” said Luac. “But they reckon without this.” He motioned to something on the shadowy floor beside him.

Garson moved closer, peering at it.