When Adam replied that he was, Ramon said, `Then come and Lunch with me at the Bankers' Club. It's on the top floor of the Bank of Mexico building. That is just past the Palace of Arts and the entrance to the Avenida de Mayo. I'll be expecting you at about two o'clock.'
Thankful that he would have something later in the day to distract his mind and, perhaps, learn something of Chela's movements, Adam mooned away the morning. He arrived at the Bank of Mexico absurdly early; so on seeing that there was a Sandborn's next door, to kill time he went in to buy himself a drink.
There were a number of Sandborn restaurants in the city and he had heard them likened to Lyons in London, although, in addition to being restaurants and selling food, Sandborn's did a big trade in picture postcards, patent medicines, beauty preparations and numerous utility lines. This downtown one was a fine, lofty old building, the interior walls of which were lined with colourful patterned tiles, and it had a minstrel’s gallery. The waitresses were mostly Indian girls; all of them were dressed in national costumes with big bows on their dark hair and long streamers down their backs. The place was packed with people, and Adam did not wonder after he had found a seat and had a look at the menu, for it offered a fine choice of dishes and the prices were most reasonable.
A quarter of an hour later he walked into the big, marble entrance hall of the bank and was whisked up to the top floor in a lift. From what he had already seen of the way rich Mexicans lived, he had expected the club to be luxuriously equipped, and he was not disappointed. Elegance and comfort could hardly save been better combined. Ramon was there and greeted him cheerfully, then they sat down to drinks.
Adam saw no reason why he should not disclose that Chela had
been down in Oaxaca at the same time as himself, but his hope of locating her through Ramon was disappointed. Apparently she went off on these trips frequently and on this occasion she had said she would be away for about ten days; usually she left a note
of her itinerary so that letters could be forwarded but, apparently, this time she had forgotten.
Adam guessed that to be because she had intended to spend several days with him at Oaxaca, but that was now no consolation. Their talk then turned to other matters and, half way through an excellent lunch, Ramon asked about his guest's future plans.
`I really haven't made any,' Adam admitted. `My object in coming to Mexico was largely to gather background material for a new book. Of course I shall go down to Yucatan and, perhaps,
Palenque. Are there any other places that you think are particularly worth seeing?'
`Yes, plenty,' came the prompt reply. `You should certainly see Taxco, the centre of our silver industry, and the beautiful old churches at San Miguel de Allende. Why don't you hire a car with a driver guide and make a round trip? You could go north to the picturesque old Spanish town of Queretaro, across to San Miguel, then to Guanajuato, where there is a lovely eighteenth century theatre, on to San Diego then down to Morelia. From there it is a delightful drive through San Luis Caliente which would bring you round to Taxco in the south, then back to Mexico City. None of these places is much more than a hundred miles from the next, so you could make the trip easily in a week and have plenty of time for sight seeing.'
The ancient ruins were of much more interest to Adam than Spanish architecture, but, as Chela had not returned direct from Oaxaca to the capital, it now seemed unlikely that she would be back for another week, and the suggested trip would keep him occupied; so he agreed that it was a good idea.
Ramon promptly volunteered to send him an itinerary, arrange about hotel accommodation and engage a reliable driver guide. Then, after hesitating for a moment, he gave Adam a quick look and went on, `I suppose that, as an author wanting to get as much information as possible, you talked to the guides you had down at Oaxaca not only about the sights they were showing you but about all sorts of other things: the conditions they live under, education, politics and so on?'
As Chela was supposed to have been inspecting schools, Adam naturally refrained from saying that he had had a professional guide only for his first morning, and thought it easiest to reply, `Yes.'
`Did any of them happen to say anything about unrest among the Indians?' Ramon asked casually.
It was a subject which now deeply concerned Adam, so he was glad that it had been brought up. With the object of drawing his host, he replied with a smile, `I take it you would not ask unless you believed there to be.'
Ramon was silent for a minute while he ran a hand over his crinkly hair, then he said, `I see no reason why I shouldn't tell you. My job at our Embassy in Washington is Security. The F.B.I. picked up some indications of possible trouble and I was sent back to inform the Minister. When I got here I found that our own people were on to it that there is something brewing. They wouldn't be much good at their job if they hadn't. Anyhow, I was ordered to remain here for a bit and lend a hand collating such information as can be picked up.'
Adam was wondering how much Ramon knew about Chela's activities and if he would in due course try to pump him about her. Smiling again, he asked, `Is that why you asked me to lunch?'
`Gracious no!' Ramon's surprise appeared quite genuine. `It was my offer to get a good guide for you that led me to ask you about the ones you had at Oaxaca. You see, people of that kind often let off steam about the government to foreigners in a way they never would to anyone like myself, and I just thought you might have heard something.'
To draw Ramon further, Adam had to play a card; so he said, 'As a matter of fact, I did. I gathered that the peasants have been disappointed time and again about promises that they should be given the land, and they have become so fed up that they are likely to rise in a mass and take it.'
Kaman nodded. `That's it. Was any mention made of the church?'
`No. Is it involved in this?'
`Yes, up to the eyes. The Church was sitting pretty as long as the Spaniards ruled the roost here. It ran a virtuous sideline of protecting the Indians from exploitation and in the meantime accumulated enormous wealth. But after Independence it was forced to disgorge, and ever since it has been our nigger in the woodpile, continually inciting trouble in the hope of getting its ill gotten gains back.'
`I see; and it is able to make use of the peasants because the great majority of them are such devout Catholics?'
`Devout Catholics! Don't you believe it. At heart they are every bit as pagan as they were a thousand years ago. They attend the ceremonies of the Church, of course, but only because all pagans
believe that any god may play them a dirty trick if they fail to propitiate him. And to them the white man's God must seem pretty powerful. When they show particular devotion to a Christian saint they are really asking some favour from one of their own deities with whom they have identified him. What is more, most of them come to Mass on Sunday morning after having participated in a good old fashioned blood sacrifice of a cock and a hen the previous evening. The priests know that perfectly well and make no effort to stop it. All they care about is the hold they have over the people.'
`I must say I find this a bit surprising.'
`It's common knowledge. Ask anyone. The Indians are so riddled with paganism that they don't even bother to hide it. Right here in the middle of Mexico City there is a Witches' Market.'
`Oh, come! You're pulling my leg.'
`I'm not, I assure you. I'll take you to it after lunch if you like.'