was,’ said O’Hara, thinking of Grivas’s exultation even in death. ‘And he was pretty slipshod too.’
Aguillar spread his hands, certain he had made his point. But he drove it home. ‘Grivas would be happy to be given such work; it would appeal to his sense of drama – and my people have a great sense of drama. As for being – er – slipshod, Grivas bungled the first part of the operation by stupidly killing himself, and the others have bungled the rest of it by not being here to meet us.’
O’Hara rubbed his chin. As Aguillar drew the picture it made a weird kind of sense.
Aguillar said, ‘Now, my friends, we come to the next point. Supposing, on the way down this mountain, we meet these men – these communists? What happens then?’ He regarded O’Hara and Forester with bright eyes. ‘It is not your fight – you are not Cordillerans – and I am interested to know what you would do. Would you give this dago politician into the hands of his enemies or …’
‘Would we fight?’ finished Forester.
‘It is my fight,’ said O’Hara bluntly. ‘I’m not a Cordilleran, but Grivas pulled a gun on me and made me crash my plane. I didn’t like that, and I didn’t like the sight of the Coughlins. Anyway, I don’t like the sight of communists, and I think that, all in all, this is my fight.’
‘I concur,’ said Forester.
Aguillar raised his hand. ‘But it is not as easy as that, is it? There are others to take into account. Would it be fair on Miss – er – Ponsky, for instance? Now what I propose is this. Miguel, my niece and I will withdraw into another cabin while you talk it over – and I will abide by your joint decision.’
Forester looked speculatively at Peabody, who was just leaving the hut. He glanced at O’Hara, then said, ‘I think we should leave the question of fighting until there’s something to fight. It’s possible that we might just walk out of here.’
Aguillar had seen Forester’s look at Peabody. He smiled sardonically. ‘I see that you are a politician yourself, Señor Forester.’ He made a gesture of resignation. ‘Very well, we will leave the problem for the moment – but I think we will have to return to it.’
‘It’s a pity we had to come down the mountain,’ said Forester. ‘There’s sure to be an air search, and it might have been better to stay by the Dakota.’
‘We could not have lived up there,’ said Rohde.
‘I know, but it’s a pity all the same.’
‘I don’t think it makes much difference,’ said O’Hara. ‘The wreck will be difficult to spot from the air – it’s right at the foot of a cliff.’ He hesitated. ‘And I don’t know about an air search – not yet, anyway.’
Forester jerked his head. ‘What the hell do you mean by that?’
‘Andes Airlift isn’t noted for its efficiency and Filson, my boss, isn’t good at paperwork. This flight didn’t even have a number – I remember wondering about it just before we took off. It’s on the cards that San Croce control haven’t bothered to notify Santillana to expect us.’ As he saw Forester’s expression he added, The whole set-up is shoestring and sealing-wax – it’s only a small field.’
‘But surely your boss will get worried when he doesn’t hear from you?’
‘He’ll worry,’ agreed O’Hara. ‘He told me to phone him from Santillana – but he won’t worry too much at first. There have been times when I haven’t phoned through on his say-so and had a rocket for losing cargo. But I don’t think he’ll worry about losing the plane for a couple of days at least.’
Forester blew out his cheeks. ‘Wow – what a Rube Goldberg organization. Now I really feel lost.’
Rohde said, ‘We must depend on our own efforts. I think we can be sure of that.’
‘We flew off course too,’ said O’Hara. ‘They’ll start the search north of here – when they start.’
Rohde looked at Aguillar whose eyes were closed. ‘There is nothing we can do now,’ he said. ‘But we must sleep. It will be a hard day tomorrow.’
III
Again O’Hara did not sleep very well, but at least he was resting on a mattress instead of a hard floor, with a full belly. Peabody was on watch and O’Hara was due to relieve him at two o’clock; he was glad when the time came.
He donned his leather jacket and took the vicuna coat that Forester had given him. He suspected that he would be glad of it during the next two hours. Forester was awake and waved lazily as he went out, although he did not speak.
The night air was thin and cold and O’Hara shivered as he set off down the road. As Rohde had said, the conditions for survival were better here than up by the airstrip, but it was still pretty dicey. He was aware that his heart was thumping and that his respiration rate was up. It would be much better when they got down to the quebrada, as Rohde called the lateral valley to which they were heading.
He reached the corner where he had to leave the road and headed towards the looming outcrop of rock which Rohde had picked as a vantage point. Peabody should have been perched on top of the rock and should have heard him coming, but there was no sign of his presence.
O’Hara called softly, ‘Peabody!’
There was silence.
Cautiously he circled the outcrop to get it silhouetted against the night sky. There was a lump on top of the rock which he could not quite make out. He began to climb the rock and as he reached the top he heard a muffled snore. He shook Peabody and his foot clinked on a bottle – Peabody was drunk.
‘You bloody fool,’ he said and started to slap Peabody’s face, but without appreciable result. Peabody muttered in his drunken stupor but did not recover consciousness. ‘I ought to let you die of exposure,’ whispered O’Hara viciously, but he knew he could not do that. He also knew that he could not hope to carry Peabody back to the camp by himself. He would have to get help.
He stared down the mountainside but all was quiet, so he climbed down the rock and headed back up the road. Forester was still awake and looked up inquiringly as O’Hara entered the hut. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, suddenly alert.
‘Peabody’s passed out,’ said O’Hara. ‘I’ll need help to bring him up.’
‘Damn this altitude,’ said Forester, putting on his shoes.
‘It wasn’t the altitude,’ O’Hara said coldly. ‘The bastard’s dead drunk.’
Forester muffled an imprecation. ‘Where did he get the stuff?’
‘I suppose he found it in one of the huts,’ said O’Hara. ‘I’ve still got my flask – I was saving it for Aguillar.’
‘All right,’ said Forester. ‘Let’s lug the damn fool up here.’
It wasn’t an easy thing to do. Peabody was a big, flabby man and his body lolled uncooperatively, but they managed it at last and dumped him unceremoniously
