When the meal had been wheeled in, Chela put on one of Adam's pyjama jackets which, tall as she was, came down to her knees. Giggling, they shared the glass and Adam cut up the food, feeding her with the fork. Replete with champagne, a truffled omelette, lobster and strawberries, they went back to bed; but as they had decided to make a fairly early start the next morning and Chela had to pack, she dressed before midnight and, after many kisses, she left.
At nine o'clock the following morning, Adam rang up the Enriquezes' penthouse and, using an assumed name, asked for Ramon. His intention was to report that he had accepted the role of Quetzalcoatl with the object of finding out the conspirators' plans, but Ramon had already gone out.
At ten o'clock Chela arrived in her car and they set off on their two hundred and sixty mile drive. The way out of the city lay through a seemingly endless suburb, towards the end of which Adam noticed that at the roadside the small houses and shops had numbers over five thousand. But, at last, they were clear of the built up area and out on the fine motorway to the south.
It was the road on which lay both Cuernavaca and Taxco, but bypasses took them round those cities. By that time they had come down several thousand feet, it was much hotter and the vegetation gave ample evidence of the difference in temperature. They had left behind the almost barren mountain slopes upon which little but occasional groups of firs and casuarinas grew. The hillsides were now more thickly wooded, there were many palms and, here and there, clusters of spiky euphorbia’s, some looking in the distance like irregular patches of straight poles from twelve to fifteen feet in height and others like giant hands with any prickly fingers.
For the whole of the way from Mexico City to Acapulco the road was fenced on both sides, to prevent animals from straying to it and becoming a danger to the traffic, and the surface was good that, along straight stretches, they were able to travel at ninety miles an hour. Patches of cultivation were few and far between but, after Taxco, every half mile or so beyond the wire fence there were groups of from twenty to forty square topped, gaily painted beehives, and the country became much more picturesque. The last forty odd miles of their drive was alongside a wide, but almost dried up, river bed. Wooded mountains rose on every side, the road curved sharply every few hundred yards to run up steep gradients then plunge down again, and, beyond the heights in their immediate vicinity, there was always a vista of the mountains in the distance.
It was four o'clock when they entered Acapulco, with its beautiful mountain surrounded double bay. After all that Adam had read about Mexico, he expected to see some evidence of the ancient glories of this city which, in the seventeenth century, had been the largest port on the Pacific in all the Americas. Spanish expeditions had sailed from it to establish new colonies far south as Chile and as far north as San Francisco. It had also been the Spaniards' base for trading with their settlements in the East Indies and Manila. Since their rivals, the Portuguese had denied them a peaceful passage home by the western route via Ceylon, the Spaniards had sent all their rich cargoes of spices, silks and ivories from the East to Acapulco, had them carried by thousands of native porters overland to Vera Cruz, then shipped again across the Atlantic to Spain. The Philippines had, in fact, been ruled from Mexico, which is why today their culture has no semblance to that of their Asiatic neighbours, but is entirely Spanish.
But, except for a double domed cathedral facing the little square, not a building was left from the days when great fleet’s unwieldy galleons, caravels and pinnaces had sailed from Acapulco harbour. In recent years it had become a holiday resort of the first rank, rivaling Juan les Pins or Miami Beach for luxury and high prices.
Chela turned left along the great sweep of the southern most bay. Interspersed with lines of palm trees, there reared up huge, many storied hotels of glass and concrete. On the inland side of the road were more modest buildings: restaurants, airline offices, cafes, motels, tourist agencies, night clubs and garages, eager to supply every facility for the enjoyment of this sunny playground. After some two miles they gave way to another two miles of private villas set in spacious gardens; then, when the car had reached the far end of the bay, facing the town, Chela turned off the coast road to take one that wound up a steep hill.
`This,' she told Adam, `is the Las Brisas estate. It is mainly occupied by an hotel which is unique. I don't think there is another quite like it in the world.'
Craning his neck, Adam looked up the wooded eight hundred foot high hillside they were climbing. Between the trees, and what looked like croton hedges, he could see scattered about quite a number of small, flat roofed villas but no building of any size, and he asked
`Where is the hotel? All I can see is scores of little bungalows.'
She laughed. `They are the hotel. Each consists of a big double bedroom and bathroom. In each there is a fridge containing soft drinks and a big dish of fruit, and above it there is a bar carrying a selection of a dozen wines, spirits and liqueurs. Outside is a terrace with a private swimming pool, chairs, tables and lilos, which cannot be overlooked from any of the other little villas. Every morning one of the hotel boys comes up, cleans the pool and scatters a hundred or so hibiscus blossoms on it, while another leaves a set of thermos containers outside the door, so that you have only to take it in and have a hot breakfast at any hour you wish. The hotel owns over a hundred jeeps. Look, there is one with its red and white striped awning. If you wish to go to the restaurant, halfway down the slope, you have only to ring up for one. Or they will take you right down to the shore, where there are several big enclosures for swimming, protected from sharks, speedboats for water skiing, barbecues and bars. So you can take your choice: either join the merry throng along the beach, or telephone down for your meals to be sent up to you and live like sybaritic hermits in your private heaven.'
Adam turned to smile at her. How absolutely marvelous. But you told me you had your own villa, so I take it we will have to fend for ourselves.'
She shook her head. `No, darling. There are quite a number of villas on the far side of the estate that are privately owned but enjoy the service of the hotel. I have one of them and we'll soon
be there.'
Ten minutes later they arrived. Chela had telephoned in advance, so they found everything ready for their reception: the bar stocked, blossoms floating on the surface of the oval swimming pool, big bath towels laid out on the lilos, and flowers on the altar of Chela's little chapel.
As Adam entered the spacious, air conditioned bedroom, he had not failed to notice that, instead of twin beds, it contained the largest double bed he had ever seen. Chela had made no secret of it that she had used this luxury hideout before for purposes quite other than periods of solitary religious contemplation and, she went into her oratory to say a short prayer of thanksgiving for their safe arrival, he marvelled again at the complexity of her nature.
The villa was four hundred feet up the hillside and from the terrace there was a magnificent vista across the great bay, but it as extremely hot. As soon as they had got their suitcases from the car, they stripped and swam naked in the pool. Afterwards, wrapping Chela in one of the big bath sheets, Adam carried her into the bedroom then, laughing with joy, they made love on the huge bed.
The eight days that followed were undiluted bliss for them. There were no telephone calls or post to distract them. On most days they never left the villa, but on one occasion they drove in to have a look round the town and lunched in the garden of the Hilton, after having drinks at the great, circular, thatched bar which stands in the middle of the huge swimming pool. On another day they had cocktails on the seaside terrace of the El Presidente, with its tropical trees and the rocks below them lit with red floodlights. Afterwards they dined at La Perla, on the north side of the peninsula that separates the two bays. The restaurant there is built out in a series of semi circular terraces, suspended one hundred and thirty feet above a cove only fifteen feet wide, bordered by treacherous rocks. For the entertainment 'visitors, courageous young Mexicans dive from one side of the chasm, nearly one hundred and fifty feet into the wildly foaming sea below.