hammer.
Fallon didn't seem to notice the heat at all. Years of puttering about in this part of the world had already dried the juices from him and he had been thoroughly conditioned. He set off at a brisk walk along the strip, followed by Halstead, who also didn't seem to mind. Katherine and I followed along more slowly and, by the time we got to the hut into which Fallon had disappeared she was looking definitely wilted and I felt a bit brown around the edges myself.
'My God!' I said. 'Is it always like this?'
Halstead turned and gave me a smile which had all the elements of a sneer. 'You've been spoiled by Mexico City,' he said. The altitude up there takes the edge off. It's not really hot here on the coast. Wait until we get to Camp Two.' His tone implied that I'd feel bloody sorry for myself.
It was cooler in the hut and there was the persistent throb of an air-conditioning unit. Fallon introduced us to a big, burly man. 'This is Joe Rudetsky; he's the boss of Camp One.'
Rudetsky stuck out a meaty hand. 'Glad to meet you, Mr. Wheale,' he boomed.
I later found out how Fallon had managed to organize the whole operation so quickly. He had merely appropriated the logistics unit from one of his oil exploration teams. Those boys were used to operating in rough country and under tropical conditions, and this job was very little different from a score of others they had done in North Africa, Saudi Arabia and Venezuela. When I explored the camp I admired the sheer efficiency of it all. They certainly knew how to make themselves comfortable -- even to ice-cold Coca-Cola.
We stayed in Camp One all that day and slept there the night. Fallon and Halstead checked the mountain of equipment they evidently thought they needed, so Katherine and I did the same with the scuba gear. We weren't going to take it to Camp Two because that would be pointless; Camp Two was a mere centre of exploration and if and when we discovered Uaxuanoc it would be abandoned and Camp Three would be set up on the city site.
We worked until lunchtime and then stopped for something to eat. I wasn't very hungry -- the heat affected my appetite -- but I relished the bottle of cold lager that Rudetsky thrust into my hand. I'd swear it hissed going down.
Katherine and I had completed our inspection and found everything present and in working order, but Fallon and Halstead still had quite a way to go. I offered to give them a hand, but Fallon shook his head. 'It's mostly instrument checking now,' he said. 'You wouldn't know how to do that.' His gaze wandered over my shoulder. If you turn round you'll see your first Maya.'
I twisted in my chair and looked across the strip. On the other side of the flattened ground and standing within easy running distance of the trees were two men. They were dressed in rather baggy trousers and white shirts and stood quite still. They were rather too far away for me to distinguish their features.
Fallon said, They don't know what to make of us, you know. This is an unprecedented invasion.' He looked across at Rudetsky. 'Have they given you any trouble, Joe?'
The natives? No trouble at all, Mr. Fallon. Those guys are from up the coast; they have a two-bit coconut plantation.'
'A cocal,' said Fallon. 'These people live entirely isolated lives, cut off from everything. The sea on one side -- the forest on the other. There'll be just the one family -- the cocal won't support two -- and they're dependent entirely on their own resources.'
That seemed a grim life. 'What do they live on?' I asked.
Fallon shrugged. 'Fish, turtles, turtle eggs. Sometimes they're lucky enough to shoot a wild pig. Then twice a year they'll HO sell their copra and that gives them a little ready money to buy clothing and needles and a few cartridges.'
'Are those the indies sublevados you talked about?'
Fallon laughed. 'These boys aren't rebels -- they wouldn't know how to start. We'll meet the indios sublevados in the interior, and the chicleros, too.' He switched to Rudetsky. 'Have you had any chicleros round here?'
Rudetsky nodded grimly. 'We ran the bastards off. They were stealing us blind,' He looked across at Katherine who was talking to Halstead, and lowered his voice. 'They murdered a native last week; we found his body on the beach.'
Fallon didn't seem perturbed. He merely picked up his pipe and said, 'You'd better keep a good watch, and don't let them in the camp on any account. And you'd better have the men stay in the camp and not go wandering around.'
Rudetsky grinned. 'Where is there to go?' he asked.
I began to wonder what kind of a country I was in where a murder could be taken so casually. Hesitantly, I said, 'Who or what are chicleros?'
Fallon pulled a sour face. 'The result of an odd penal system they have here. There's a tree which grows in the forest, the zapote; it grows only here, in Guatemala and in British Honduras. The tree is tapped for its sap and that's called chicle -- it's the basic material of chewing gum. Now, no man in his right mind will go into the forest to gather chicle: the Maya certainly won't because he's too intelligent to risk his skin. So the government dumps its convicts in here to do the job. It's a six months' season but a lot of the chicleros stay all the year round. They're a local scourge. Mostly they kill each other off, but occasionally they'll knock off an outsider or an Indian.' He drew on his pipe. 'Human life isn't worth much in Quintana Roo.'
I thought that over. If I heard Fallon aright then this forest was deadly. If the Mayas whose native land it was wouldn't work in the forest then it must be positively lethal. I said, 'Why the devil don't they grow the trees in plantations?'
His face twisted into a wry grin. 'Because of the same argument that's been used for slavery ever since one man put a yoke on another. It's cheaper to continue using convicts than to start plantations. If the people who chew gum knew how it was produced, every stick would make them sick to their stomachs.' He pointed the stem of his pipe at me. 'If you ever meet any chicleros. don't do a damn tiling. Keen your hands I'll to your sides, don't make any sudden moves and like as not they'll just pass you by. But don't bet on it.'
I began to wonder if I was still in the twentieth century. 'And where do the indies sublevados come into all this?'
