The Avenue of the Dead (33 page)

And that night, there would be human sacrifice again. A fitting sacrifice on the altar of the oppressed, enslaved Indian people's forbidden gods.

The woman on the bed had opened her mouth but no scream came. The beautiful face was blotched and haggard with great dark rings under the eyes, and the blonde hair hung down in an untidy mass. When she did speak it was in a cracked whisper and the words were vile obscenities.

‘I was afraid I'd be too late to save you,' said Davina quietly.

‘Save me?' Elizabeth had got up, throwing the magazine aside. Her voice found its normal level and began to rise. ‘I don't know what you're talking about – I don't know what you're trying to pull but it won't work. You got in here, Miss Smart-ass, but you'll never get out!' She made a sudden quick movement and Davina guessed there was a bell that would summon help.

‘They're going to kill you!' she blurted out. ‘Don't be a fool, Liz! I'm your only hope. Listen to me first.'

The woman hesitated then, and the fear that had coiled inside her woke and stirred. Davina took her hand out of her pocket, without the stone.

‘Why should they kill me?' she demanded. ‘I work for them, I'm one of them. I'm going to get a new face and a new life!'

‘Do you really believe that, Elizabeth? Do you think they'll let the only witness get out of here alive? After what happened to the real Elizabeth, you'd trust them?'

It was a gamble, and Davina took it. She saw by the expression on the other woman's face that the gamble had paid off. ‘Nothing happened to her! She's cosied up in a nursing home pumped full of dope – what's so bad about that? I know people who'd pay to live that way.'

‘She's dead,' said Davina. ‘They took her to Washington and strangled her, and hid her body in the boot of Fleming's car. That was the whole purpose of creating you, so they could set him up on a treason charge and bring it out as the motive for murdering his wife.'

The woman had sunk back on the bed. The face moulded by O'Farrell crumpled up and the mouth went slack. ‘Oh Jesus God,' she muttered. ‘I didn't know – I swear I didn't know – I wouldn't have done it, if I'd known …'

‘Maybe you can see now what's going to happen to you. I don't know why they've waited this long.'

‘He talked about tomorrow,' Elizabeth jerked up in alarm. ‘He said they'd operate tomorrow. They dried me out, sedated me – why, if they weren't going to operate?'

‘To keep you quiet,' Davina answered. ‘To keep you in readiness in case you were needed again. Her body wasn't discovered until Thursday. They don't need you any more. If you don't come away with me, you'll be as dead as the real Elizabeth Carlton by tomorrow!' She held out her hand. ‘Come on, Lomax is outside. We've got a car and we can be in Mexico City in an hour.'

There was nobody in the corridor when Felipe came to the top of it. He walked on rubber-soled shoes and they made no sound on the tiled floors. He passed the room where the patient was recuperating; its light was out. She would be sleeping, he thought, and went on, past the operating theatre and the two vacant bedrooms that adjoined the studio. He paused at the door, took the key out of his pocket and slipped it into the lock. It didn't click open and he froze. He listened and he could hear women's voices. He took the gun out of his pocket, slipped the safety catch and reached for the door handle with his left hand.

Lomax had seen him through the crack in the door to the empty bedroom where he was hiding. He heard nothing, he saw the figure in white pass, and instantly he slipped out behind him. There was a distance of ten feet to cover; he didn't rush because the movement itself would have betrayed him. He waited until Felipe had tried the door and taken out his gun. Then he sprang forward. The blow caught the Mexican in the back of the neck; it snapped the spine and he died instantly, even before his body had subsided to the ground. Lomax picked up the gun, put on the safety catch, and pushed it into his waistband, while his own gun was in his hand as he came through the door and Elizabeth gasped out in terror.

‘Out,' he barked at Davina. ‘Quick. Run for it!'

Davina grabbed Liz by the hand – she was whimpering with fear, and when she stumbled over Felipe's body she screamed and faltered.

‘Shut up! Come
on
!'

They ran as fast as her pace would allow; she was unco-ordinated and feeble, dragging on Davina. Davina didn't look behind but she knew Lomax was covering them till they reached the rear door. She rushed at it, grabbing for the handle. It was locked. She had hold of Elizabeth, who was panting and whimpering. Lomax was right behind them as she shouted to him, ‘We can't get out this way, it's locked!'

He didn't hesistate, but seized Davina by the arm. ‘Follow behind me – if anything breaks drop to the ground. We'll be all right once we're out of here.' He sprinted along the corridor, glancing behind to make sure the two women were keeping up. The narrow passageway with only one exit was a death-trap, and he knew it. He had to get them out into the open where they could take cover and try to get to the car.

O'Farrell had checked the two bedrooms, and Rose had looked into the common room; only two residents were there, playing cards. They met in the reception hall. ‘Nothing?' he demanded.

‘Nothing,' she replied. ‘We'd better go to Felipe.'

‘Wait,' O'Farrell commanded. ‘You go to the car park. Stay there and watch. If they come, and
she
is with them, you'll know Felipe and I have failed.'

‘Don't worry,' Rose said. ‘She won't get past me.' She was a big woman with powerful shoulders and thick wrists. She was the resident masseuse and she could maim or kill with a blow. She hurried out of the clinic and disappeared into the darkness. O'Farrell slipped through the connecting door that led from the main building to the small reception hall of the surgical unit. The lights were out there, but they blazed overhead in the corridor and he heard the sound of someone running before he turned the corner and come into view.

He was a big man but he moved with the stealth of his hunting ancestors. He drew the Walther XPK out of his right-hand pocket and slipped off the safety catch. Like Felipe's, his shoes were rubber-soled, and it was the brief glimmer of his white coat through the screen of the indoor plants that sent Lomax spinning back against the projecting wall. He shouted one word behind him. ‘Drop!' Davina literally threw Elizabeth to the ground and lay on top of her. For a moment the body threshed and struggled and then subsided into total stillness. If Davina had not heard the rapid breaths of terror, she would have thought she'd fainted.

O'Farrell made a cautious movement behind the shelter of the giant Fenula Glauca that stretched its green branches and feathery leaves to the ceiling. He saw the two figures on the floor, and he knew that the man was very near although he couldn't see him. The woman calling herself Maxwell was acting as a human shield for the other one. A faint smile touched O'Farrell's broad lips. His special bullets would rip through both of them. But his orders were to take the agents alive, and he would try to obey if he could. He knew his subject well – he knew exactly how to appeal to the mixture of cowardice and self-love in the worthless woman he had created in the image of another worthless woman. He was glad she had been sentenced to death.

‘Quetzalcoatl!' His voice echoed from the walls. ‘Listen to me. They are going to kill you! Fight for your life – I will protect you. Come to me now! Push her off and come to me!'

They will kill her for me, he thought with ancient cunning. When she tries to run the man who is hiding will shoot her. In that way, the orders will be obeyed …

‘Stay flat!' Davina hissed at her. ‘It's a trick.'

From behind the camouflage of the plant, O'Farrell took another step, and saw the huddled body at the far end, outside the door of the studio. A hot rage surged up in him. Felipe was dead. Felipe, his pupil, dearer to him than a son. Lomax saw the gleam of white move among the green fronds of the plant. O'Farrell raised his Walther XPK armed with the lethal exploding bullets, and at the same moment Lomax swung away from the wall in a low crouch and his gun spat through the silencer. O'Farrell's reaction was equally fast, his body swivelled and his finger pumped a deadly stream of fire. There was continuous sound for several seconds like a starting motor-cycle from the silenced weapons, and twice there was a whine and a crack as bullets ricochetted off the walls. One dug itself into the tiled floor and exploded, showering Davina with tiny fragments. Elizabeth began to scream in thin little shrieks. Then suddenly it was quiet, and Lomax called out, ‘It's all right now. Get up and run for it, for Christ's sake!'

She knew when he spoke that he was hit. She scrambled up and ran to him. The body of Jaime Luis O'Farrell barred her way. It lay on its back with the arms outspread, and a pool of blood was seeping over the floor. Like the blood of the sacrifices made to the moon goddess, it ran away into the darkness like black water.

Lomax was kneeling on the ground; there was no blood but his body was hunched as if he had just been given a heavy blow. ‘Colin,' she cried out. ‘Oh God, he got you!' He managed a crooked grin which was tinged with pain.

‘I got him better,' he said. ‘Now be a good girl and get her to the car. I'll follow you in a minute.'

Davina knelt beside him. She felt herself begin to shake. ‘Where are you hurt?' she asked. ‘It's bad, isn't it?'

‘It's OK,' he insisted. ‘I just need a breather and I'll be on my feet. Get going now. Come on, darling, don't hang about! I'll join you in the car.' His colour was changing – there was a grey pallor under the sun-tan.

Davina stood up. ‘I'm not leaving you,' she said. ‘I don't care about her or anything else. You come with us, or we don't go at all.' She turned and ran back to the woman huddled on the floor. She was crying and shivering. Davina reached down and heaved her up to her feet. She saw the mouth open and the eyes bulge with the onset of hysteria, and she swung her hand up and smacked her hard across the face.

‘You pull yourself together!' she spat at her. ‘You help me get Lomax out or I'll bloody well leave you here! Come on.'

It took the combined strength of the two women to get him on his feet. Blood had begun to seep from his chest and they slipped in the spreading pool on the floor as they struggled to support him. ‘Get his arm over your shoulder,' Davina urged. ‘That's it, hang on to his wrist, I've got the other one. Colin, darling, please, please try and take some weight. We can't hold you …' He didn't speak; his face was twisted with pain. He forced himself to stand and then to take step after step between them. Davina kept on talking to him, pleading, encouraging. ‘Try, come on, just a bit further. Please, Colin, don't give in, it's not far now.' On the other side of him Elizabeth made as much effort as she could; the blow had steadied her and she gasped out, ‘Don't worry, we'll get there.'

They had reached the grounds when Davina realized that he couldn't go any further. He sagged, nearly bringing them down with him. He was still conscious when she knelt beside him. ‘I've bought it, my darling,' he said. ‘I know I won't make it. You go now, and finish the job for me. Get her away, won't you?' He looked at her face in the clear moonlight, and whispered, ‘Don't cry, don't cry …'

‘He's dying,' Elizabeth mumbled to Davina. ‘For Christ's sake let's get out of here.' Davina didn't answer. She held on to both his hands. They felt cold.

‘Colin,' she said slowly and clearly, ‘Colin, listen to me. I'm going to get the car. Do you hear me? I'm going to get the car and I'm coming back for you. I'm not going to leave you, so you better be ready. Don't go to sleep. Listen to me – don't go to sleep!'

He didn't seem to understand, and for a moment she lost all hope as she looked at him and saw the signs of life draining away. Then he opened his eyes and said suddenly, ‘Watch out – there were three of them,' before he lost consciousness.

The nurse had hidden herself beside a big white Mercedes which was parked in the next bay to the car Davina and Lomax had rented. She seemed to have been waiting for longer than the half hour her watch showed. O'Farrell and Felipe must have settled it, she thought. I may as well go back and find out. She straightened up, easing the cramped muscles in her legs, and saw two figures running towards the car park. She drew in a sharp breath and swore in Spanish. ‘Quetzalcoatl …' She never knew the woman by any other name. She had massaged her body into shape and stood guard over her while she dried out; her powerful hands had held her down when she became violent, yelling for alcohol. They didn't give her a gun. O'Farrell said she was more lethal without one.

Davina could hear Elizabeth panting for breath as they ran. She didn't look back. She didn't know or care whether she kept up. She had to get to the car. If I can just get him to a doctor, just get some help, he might have a chance … Where had the bullets gone – how many times was he hit? He was bleeding but not profusely. She felt the tears running down her face. Ivan. Colin. Oh God, show a little mercy … And his words came back to her as she rounded the corner and came within yards of their car. ‘Watch out – there were three of them …'

O'Farrell and Felipe were dead. But the nurse, the woman who had searched the grounds with them … A hand caught Davina's arm, and the frightened, breathless voice said, ‘Why are you stopping – where's the car?'

‘The Opel, right in front of us,' Davina said. Elizabeth pushed past her, stumbling blindly towards safety. The figure came out from behind the Mercedes, and for a second she brushed so close to Davina that she saw her face. It was set and brutal with purpose. The target, Quetzalcoatl, was just in front of her, opening the car door. Rose had never realized how much she hated her until the few seconds before she struck at her to kill. Born ugly, built like a man, using her strength and her skill to keep other women beautiful, she had hated them all, and none more than the drunken woman who had screamed such personal insults at her. She shouted the Spanish word, ‘
Muerte!
' before she sprang, the right arm drawn back,' the hand rigid and perpendicular, lethal as an axe.