'Let's go. They've got problems up there, but pretty soon someone's going to wonder where my executioner is. Hurry up!'
They smashed the amber lamps up to a ridge that preceded the level ground of the huge manor house—great house, thought Evan, thinking of the tropic zone and the great houses of the Caribbean. The Mexican suddenly grabbed Kendrick's arm and pulled him through the bordering foliage of the path, then pushed his shoulder down, gripping the flesh; the message was clear: Crouch and be still. A guard, his rifle strapped over his shoulder, passed them on the path going in the opposite direction. 'Now quickly, senor! There is no one until the back galena where they drink wine and smoke fish!'
A large patio with a barbecue pit, thought Evan, following Emilio through the thick greenery, wishing he had a machete to cut through the vines but grateful for the strangely ever present sound of the wind and the crashing waves. They circled down and around the house, another sound intruding. It was the massive generator, its hum constant, bass-toned, awesome. The engineer in Kendrick tried to calculate the power it produced and the fuel it consumed and the auxiliary input of the necessary field of photovoltaic cells—it was mind-blowing. He had installed generators from Bahrain to the western deserts of Saudi Arabia but they were temporary, to be used only until electricity could be cabled in; nothing like this.
Again the Mexican gripped Evan's shoulder, now more fiercely, his hand trembling, and again they crouched in the undergrowth behind the long clipped wall of shrubbery. Kendrick looked up and with sudden fear understood. Ahead, to the left, above the hedgelike border of the path, a guard had heard something or seen something. His upper body was clearly visible in the glow of the amber lights; he moved forward rapidly, snapping the rifle off his shoulder and levelling it in front of him. He walked directly towards them, then only feet away, he poked the barrel of the weapon into the brush.
'?Quien es?' shouted the patrol.
Suddenly, lashing out and pouncing like an angry cat, Emilio shot up, grabbing the rifle and pulling the guard through the foliage. There was an abrupt expunging of air that cut off the start of a scream; the man fell into the greenery, the base of his throat a mass of blood. The knife was in Emilio's right hand.
'Good God!' whispered Evan as he and the Mexican dragged the body farther into the brush.
'I had no problem with this perrol' said Emilio. 'This dog smashed the head of a boy, a young gardener who would not accommodate him, if you understand, senor.'
'I understand, and I also understand that you just saved our lives… Wait a minute! The rifle, his cap. We can save time! There are no uniforms here, just work clothes—the weapon is the uniform. Put on the cap and strap the rifle over your shoulder. Then walk out there and I'll stay as close to you as I can over here. If it's quicker for me to go on the path myself, you can make sure it's clear!'
'Bueno,' said the Mexican, reaching for the cap and the weapon. 'If I am stopped I will say that this perro forced me to replace him for an hour or so. They will laugh but no one will doubt it… I go. Stay close and when I tell you, come through the bushes and walk at my side. Not in front and not in back, but at my side. Do you speak Spanish?'
'Not well enough to talk to anyone.'
'Then say nothing. Stay close!' Emilio broke through the bordering hedge, the rifle over his shoulder, and started down the path. Thrashing against the dark tangled greenery, Kendrick did his best to keep pace, every now and then whispering to the Mexican to slow down. Once at a particularly thick area, Evan removed the meat cleaver from his belt and hacked at a webbed mass of tropical vines, only to hear Emilio cry out under his breath. '!Silencio!'… Then he heard another command: 'Now, senor! Come out and walk with me. Quickly!'
Kendrick did so, forcing his way through the bushes and joined the Mexican, who suddenly, emphatically, began accelerating his strides down the sloping path. 'Is going this fast such a good idea?' asked Evan breathlessly. 'If we're seen, someone might think we were running while on duty.'
'We have come to the back of the main house,' answered Emilio, rushing forward. 'There is no one here at this hour but two guards on different paths who meet at the stone galena then go back over the hill and down to the beaches. It takes them many minutes and they have just left. We can run across the galena and up the far path, then through the woods to the mantenimiento— the tools, senor.'
They reached a sunken brick patio, the same patio Kendrick had studied from the small balcony of the guest room above. He remembered the two guards signalling each other from the bases of
