By now, the guerilla said, the other search teams had probably sought help from others. The hill would soon be swarming with search teams, leaving the valleys unguarded. It seemed to be our grand opportunity to search for the ancient cave. But I looked at my watch and saw that it was well past noon. In about eight hours, it would be dusk and Don Carlos would send up the signal from the top of Alto Arete.
The guerilla, of course, had no idea where the cave entrance was. He had merely been given orders not to let anyone pass up the hollow; he wasn't even to go up the hollow himself. That was why the search teams had gone up the ridge, and had unhappily stumbled onto us.
After conferring with Purano and Antonio, I found the future prospects dimmer than I'd previously thought. It would take at least an hour to check out each of the seven hollows. Unless we hit the cave on our first two or three tries, it would be too late to stop Don Carlos. Even after we found the cave, Purano pointed out as succinctly as possible, it would take many hours to scale the natural chimney. It was, after all, more than two thousand feet long.
For the first time in many years, it looked rather conclusively that Nick Carter, N3, Killmaster for AXE, would fail in an assignment. Not only fail, but be lucky to get out of it alive.
But there was an answer somewhere in my mind, something that could shorten the time considerably, enable us to find the cave in a matter of an hour or two, giving us ample time to scale the chimney and reach Don Carlos Italla's lair in the clouds.
But what was the answer, and who had it?
We dragged all the dead bodies off the trail and, with the sole surviving guerilla securely tied, we started off down the trail again. This time, we moved with more caution, keeping our eyes and ears peeled for the search teams. It wasn't likely they'd all cover the same ground, but with our luck one team could get lost and accidentally stumble across our path. It was a possibility we couldn't overlook.
We were near the mouth of the hollow when Purano suddenly stopped and held up his hand. We all took to the brush, weapons ready. We could all hear it then. Someone was thrashing his way up the hill, ignoring stealth, coming hell bent for election.
I crouched in the brush, my hand gripped tightly around Wilhelmina's butt. The thrashing became louder and it sounded as though a whole troop of Marines was making its way up the faint trail, knocking aside trees, vines and brush, kicking fallen logs.
I saw a flash of cloth and raised the luger. I was sighting down the barrel, tightening my finger on the trigger, ready to fire as soon as I had a clear shot at the target. I would get the first in line and let the others concentrate on those behind.
I had just about reached the point of no return on Wilhelmina's trigger when I saw who was coming. I damned near threw the luger away then.
In another fraction of a second, I would have killed Elicia Cortez.
She was alone and in a hurry. She had forgotten all I'd taught her about traveling in the jungle when there were enemy troops about. She had been in such a hurry to find us, to be with us, she had ignored danger. And she had almost paid for that ignoring with her life. I was trembling when I came out of the brush and saw her still plunging up the trail.
"Senor Carter," she cried. "Oh, Nick, I thought you were dead. I thought you were all dead."
She was crying as she lunged into my arms and began to shower my face, grizzly now with several days' growth of beard, with sweet, wet kisses. I held her loosely and glanced back over my shoulder at Purano, who had been smiling at her arrival. He was now scowling at us both. Jealousy. It can work wonders, even among the best of allies.
Elicia saw him, too, but her response was quite different. She leaped back out of my arms and suddenly turned darker in a blush. She glanced at Purano's eyes, then her eyes fell and she looked at the ground near his feet.
"I was fearful for you as well," she said. "It gives me pleasure to see you healthy and well."
That was all the mush stuff Purano needed. His eyes gazed at the ground near Elicia's feet and he made the longest speech of his brief life.
"It gives me pleasure that you are pleased that I am well. I fear for you, also, and am delighted to find you healthy and well."
I stood back and watched Elicia Cortez turn into a rose in that moment, budding, blossoming, flowering — more than Purano knew.
I had to break up the unusual courtship, though.
"Why did you come looking for us, Elicia?"
She tore her eyes away from the ground near Purano's feet and looked at me, steadily, without her usual shyness. "The hermit came to the Indian camp to warn Botussin," she said. "The Iman from Apalca has given his assent to a revolution in both Nicarxa and Apalca. The revolution is to begin at nightfall. No one else knows that agreement has been reached. Once the signal has been given from Alto Arete, a special contingent of guerillas, part of Don Carlos Italla's elite corps, is to attack the Ninca lands and kill every man, woman and child."
"How does Pico know all this?" By then, Antonio and the others had formed a circle around us, all listening with keen ears and wide eyes.
"He has a radio," Elicia said. "He took it with him when he went to the mountain to live away from man. He makes periodic trips to the capital, disguised as a monk, to buy parts and batteries. He has been listening to frequencies he has learned about in his listening. He has heard coded communications between Don Carlos and the Cubans. With so much time on his hand, old Pico has broken the code."
A thought came. "I've been told that Don Carlos will signal the beginning of the revolution with a flare gun from the top of Alto Arete. If he has sophisticated radio equipment, why doesn't he spread the word that way?"
"I can answer that," Antonio said. "We are still a poor country, Senor Carter. Not many people have radios. Not even Don Carlos has been able to equip all his revolutionary groups throughout the island with radio equipment. But a flare at dusk from Alto Arete can be seen from every point on the island, even in Apalca and far out at sea. Even, it is said, in Cuba."
Good God, I thought. That flare has more significance than I had imagined. Somehow, I had to stop Don Carlos from shooting off that flare. Without it, he might radio a few of his contingents — the Cubans mostly — but not enough to make the revolution a total success. But how?
I thought of old Pico sitting up there on his hidden plateau listening to all of Don Carlos Italla's radio communications. This man, who had sought a place away from the company of men. I recalled the sadness in his voice when he had told me about what had happened to his beautiful eleven-year-old daughter:
I could tell by his eyes that he was lying. That was when I followed him and his friends and learned that he had indeed lied, and I came away a broken man.
Thoughts began to tumble through my brain. I thought my head would explode trying to sort them out. They were a jumble of thoughts, leading everywhere and nowhere. In that jumble of thoughts was the answer I had been seeking. I grabbed Elicia by her slender arms.
"Elicia, where is the hermit now? Where is Pico?"
"With Chief Botussin. He will stay there and help fight the elite corps when they come to murder the Nincas."
"Does he know where we are, what we're trying to do?"
"I don't know. I only know what he told the chief. After that, they sat down to a big dinner, planning to discuss strategy later."
It figured. Botussin's stomach came before everything. Pico didn't know that we were looking for the cave entrance. If he did…