and then, looking anxiously at me.
After a while, I said, 'That creep gets me. I'm okay. Don't flip your lid. When they arrive, bring him and Lopez up here. When Lopez has had a look around, take him down to the verandah. Tell Timoteo to alert me when Lopez has gone. I can't see the roof from where I'll be. Try to make him look like a killer. The way he looks now, Lopez won't believe he could kill a fly.'
'Yeah. Are you sure you're all right?'
I stared at him.
'I'll kill him if that's what's on your mind.'
We looked at each other for a long moment, then he nodded.
'I'm sorry you walked into this, soldier,' he said. 'It doesn't do a damn hit of good, but I want you to know.'
'That's right. It doesn't do a damn bit of good.'
We sat there in silence for around twenty minutes, looking towards the road. Then Raimundo said sharply, 'They're coming.'
I had already heard the approaching car.
'Just get him to look like a killer,' I said, and climbing on to the parapet. I swung myself up into the tree. I climbed to the branch where I had sat before and sat astride it.
'Okay?' I called down.
'Yes.' There was a pause, then he said, 'Good luck, soldier.'
I sat there. I couldn't see what was going on below : the foliage was too dense. I heard voices and car doors slam. I recognised Savanto's voice, but I didn't understand what he was saying. He was speaking in Spanish. A harsh voice I hadn't heard before answered him. I guessed this would be Lopez, the witness.
After some minutes, I heard movements on the roof. The conversation was all in Spanish. I listened for Timoteo's voice, but didn't hear it. He was still doing his zombie act. Then after more talk, I. heard the scrape of feet on the wooden ladder. I guessed they were going down, leaving Timoteo alone. I looked at my strap watch. The time was now 14.45. In another quarter of an hour Diaz would come out on to the bay . . . providing he was coming. Sweat was running down my face. I thought of the shot. I thought of lining this man's head up in the cross wires of the sight. I thought of the flattened sound from the silencer as I squeezed the trigger. I thought of seeing him drop into the sea with a hole in his head.
I sat motionless, listening. I heard nothing. Was someone still up on the roof with Timoteo? I didn't dare move until I was sure he was alone.
Then I heard his voice, pitched low. It just reached me. 'Mr. Benson . . .'
A child bleating for its mother, I thought savagely, then just as I was about to start my climb down, I froze.
Coiled up on the branch immediately below me was a diamondback rattler snake, its forked tongue flickering at my foot that was within twelve inches of it.
A diamondback rattler, one of the few deadly snakes in Florida, and it looked ready to strike!
* * *
'Mr. Benson . . .?'
Timoteo's whisper floated up to me.
I couldn't he sure if the sound of my voice would make the snake strike. I held my leg rigid, feeling the sweat of fear start out on me. I have always had a horror of snakes: even harmless snakes make my flesh creep. I looked down at this coiled horror. The shot, Diaz, Timoteo and even Lucy were washed out of my mind. I just sat astride the branch, motionless and cringing. My guts had gone away like a fist becoming a hand.
'Mr. Benson . . .'
A little louder . . . more urgent.
'There's a snake up here.'
There was no power in my voice : it was a croaking whisper. He couldn't possibly have heard me, but the snake lifted its spade-shaped head. Its warning rattle, like dried beans shaken in a bag, made me flinch.
I sat there. I could hear voices talking in excited Spanish. I could hear the wind rustling in the palm trees. I stared down at the snake. Cramp was setting in in my legs.
'Mr. Benson . . .'
I knew the speed of a rattler strike. I hadn't a chance if I tried to get my legs up on to the branch. Besides, if I made such a wild movement, I could easily overbalance and crash down on the roof of the house.
'Snake,' I said, lifting my voice.
Again came the warning rattle.
Had Timoteo heard? If he had what would he do?
Minutes like hours dragged by. Then another sound came to me : the sound of a motorboat starting up. Even in my panic, half my mind switched to Lucy. My target was coming out on to the bay and here I was, treed by a snake!
Then I saw Timoteo. He was climbing awkwardly and very cautiously. He still had on his sun goggles and still wore the big black hat.
'Watch it !' I whispered. 'It's by my foot.'
Again the warning rattle: a sound that made my heart skip a beat.
About six feet below me, Timoteo paused. He peered up. I could see myself reflected in his sun goggles : a frightened, sweating man, cut down to size by a coiled reptile.
