Empire of the Skull

by Philip Caveney

  The closest of the bandits, a big thickset man wearing a sombrero, lifted his pistol to take aim at the struggling Coates. At such close range, it seemed unlikely that he could miss. Alec glanced wildly around the interior of the plane and his gaze fell on what looked like a rucksack hanging beside the door. Without hesitating, he scooped it up by the strap and flung it over Coates's head, straight at the bandit. It hit him full in the face, just as he was about to fire his gun; he tipped back in his saddle, flailing his arms wildly as he fell. His horse veered to one side and the riders behind him crashed into it. There was a tangle of rearing, kicking horses, and suddenly the plane was leaving them behind.

  Then there was a concerted heave from all three rescuers, and Coates was lifted off the ground and in through the opening. Everyone went down in an ungainly sprawl in the cramped interior and lay there, gasping for breath.

  Alec looked at the man who had just rescued him. 'I'm sorry if that was your bag,' he apologized.

  The man shook his head and replied in a broad Cockney accent: 'It weren't a bag, son. It was one of the flippin' parachutes!'

  There was a dull thud as a bullet punched into the fuselage and the man hurried forward and slammed the door shut; then Alec realized that somebody was shouting to him from the open cockpit. The pilot. He got onto his hands and knees and crawled through an open hatchway to see a tall, thin man grinning down at him. He was wearing a leather flying helmet and his thick goggles gave him an owlish appearance.

  'Are you all right?' he yelled, with what sounded like a German accent.

  Alec nodded. 'I think so,' he shouted back.

  'Come on in here and grab yourself a seat, kid! Give your friends a little more room back there.' The man gestured to the co-pilot's seat. 'Strap yourself in. Why were those men chasing you?'

  Alec stood up and scrambled into the spare seat. He saw now that they weren't very far from the end of the airstrip. A screen of trees and bushes barred their way. 'They wanted to cut off my ear!' he yelled back. 'They were going to take me hostage!'

  'Mein Gott. Animals! You were lucky that Mr Campbell saw you. A few moments later and we would have been in the air.' He reached out and shook Alec's hand. 'Klaus Dorfmann,' he cried. 'At your service.'

  Alec nodded. 'Aren't we a bit close to the end of the runway?' he asked nervously.

  Klaus nodded. 'I was just thinking the same thing. I'm afraid we're going to have to turn the plane round.'

  Alec stared at him. 'You're kidding!'

  'I never kid,' Klaus assured him, his voice calm, matter-of-fact. Then he stamped a foot down on a pedal at his feet, yanked on a brake, and magically, the plane's nose began to come round.

  'How are you doing that?' shouted Alec. 'I thought we'd all have to get out and push!'

  Klaus laughed. 'Ah, but you're thinking of biplanes. This is a Junkers F13. This machine can do things you've only dreamed of.'

  Alec saw that the bandits had now recovered from their collision and were urging their horses forward again, galloping straight towards the oncoming plane. 'What happens now?' he cried.

  Klaus didn't seem in the least bit perturbed. 'We get to play a little game,' he said. 'I think the Americans like to call it "Chicken".' He glanced over his shoulder. 'Everyone OK back there?' A chorus of muffled shouts came from the cabin. 'Good. Now, I think we've hung around long enough . . .'The pilot coaxed the power up again and the plane lunged forward as though it had been straining at an invisible leash. It went speeding towards the Mexicans.

  Alec stared down the runway in horrified fascination. The bandits were approaching rapidly – much too quickly for comfort. Then Bandolier, who was in the lead, raised his gun and Alec saw a puff of smoke emerge from the barrel. An instant later, there was a dull thud as the bullet glanced off the fuselage just above his head, but Klaus didn't slow down. Now Alec could see the looks of panic on the bandits' dirty faces as the plane came roaring towards them. He steeled himself for the terrible impact when the plane's propeller ploughed into them . . . But at the last moment, they pulled their horses aside. Then the plane was hurtling past them and lifting off. It rose steadily, but more trees were approaching and Alec pictured the plane smashing into them and exploding on impact . . .

  'Come on!' yelled Klaus to nobody in particular. And then he added something in German, which Alec didn't understand.

  The wheels tore chunks of foliage from the topmost branches of the trees, but the plane kept rising and then suddenly they were clear and all the dangers were left behind. Alec gave a shout of exaltation, but the wind sweeping through the open cockpit snatched his breath away. The plane banked hard and came racing back over the runway. Alec could see the horsemen far below, already dwarfed into miniature, firing their guns upwards in a last desperate attempt to halt the plane, but they might as well have been firing peashooters.

  'You did it!' cried Alec. 'You saved our necks!'

  'Ja.' Klaus grinned. He turned to look at Alec. 'Now tell me,' he said. 'What were the three of you doing out there in the middle of nowhere?'

  Back in the cabin, Ethan and Coates were thanking the man who had just saved their lives. His name, it transpired, was Frank Campbell, and he was a Londoner.

  Ethan shook his hand warmly. 'I figure we're in your debt,' he said, shouting above the roar of the engines. 'Those men would have shot us down like dogs.'

  'It's a bloomin' miracle I saw you,' Frank yelled back as they settled themselves into the leather seats in the cramped interior. 'I just happened to glance out of the window and I said to Conchita, "Blimey, there's some blokes gallopin' towards us and it looks like they're in trouble." Then I shouted to Herr Dorfmann to slow down a bit.'

  Ethan raised his eyebrows. 'Herr Dorfmann?'

  'The pilot, Klaus. He's a German.'

  Coates scowled. 'Well, we won't hold it against him,' he muttered. 'I suppose the war's been over five years now. Time to forgive and forget.'

  'That's big of you considering he just saved our necks,' laughed Ethan.

  The Mexican woman, Conchita, was sitting staring sullenly at the newcomers. She didn't seem as friendly as Frank. 'How do we know these men aren't bandidos?' she snapped. 'They must have done something real bad to be chased like that.'

  Coates shook his head. 'I can assure you, madam, they were the perpetrators,' he told her. 'We were merely trying to enjoy a quiet picnic when they approached us and started making overtures of an unsavoury nature.'

  Conchita looked at Frank. 'What he saying?' she snarled. 'He talk funny.'

  'Oh, that's all right, Conchita, I think the gentleman's just from the north – ain't that right, Mr . . .?'

  'Coates. And this is Mr Ethan Wade. And the young gentleman in the cockpit is Master Devlin, for whom I valet.'

  Conchita looked mystified by this. 'You a servant?' she asked.

  Coates forced a smile. 'I prefer the word valet,' he insisted.

  The plane hit an air pocket and shuddered violently. Coates looked around nervously, but refrained from saying anything.

  'So what was the plane doing out here in the middle of nowhere?' shouted Ethan. 'Don't think I'm complaining or anything, but . . . it was the last thing I expected to see.'

  Frank nodded. 'I hired Herr Dorfmann to take us across to the south coast,' he said. 'He works cheap and doesn't like to pay for space at airports. This was the only strip he could pick us up from. I must confess, I was nervous about it being such a remote spot and everything. But we reckoned it was worth takin' the risk. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.' He smiled at Conchita with evident pride. 'You see, I'm taking Conchita to Tonala for a screen test.'

  'Oh yeah?' Ethan looked at him blankly. 'What's that?'

  Conchita glared at him. 'Don' you know what a screen test is?' she cried. 'It's what they give you when you're gonna be a movie star.'

  'Hey, you're putting me on!'

  Frank shook his head. 'On the level, Mr Wade. And it's not just any old run-of–the-mill screen test, ne
ither. It's with Louis B. Mayer, just about the biggest name in the motion picture business.'

  Ethan must have looked puzzled, so Frank continued, 'You know: The Woman He Married ? He Who Gets Slapped?'

  Ethan nodded. He hadn't heard of the films, but didn't like to say so. 'And, er . . . what's a big-shot motion picture producer doing in a dump like Tonala?' he asked.

  'Is not a dump!' snapped Conchita. 'Is very nice town. My cousin live there.'

  Frank smiled. 'Mr Louis B. Mayer's shooting a movie in Tonala. A Latin romance, I believe. I sent him a telegraph telling him all about Conchita and he's agreed to give her a screen test.'

  'How wonderful,' said Coates tonelessly. 'And what exactly does it entail?'

  'A little bit of acting,' said Conchita. 'But mostly, just looking beautiful.'

  'I've told Mr Mayer all about her stunnin' Latin looks,' said Frank.

  'Hmm. And did you mention her natural modesty?' asked Coates, without raising an eyebrow.

  'I mentioned everything,' said Frank, missing the dig entirely. 'Cost me a small fortune, it did, to put it all in a telegram, but it seems to have done the trick. Let's face it, when he gets a look at Conchita, he can't fail to sign her up.'

  'I don't get to see many moving pictures,' said Ethan. 'Never seem to be in a place that has a nickelodeon.'

  Frank chuckled. 'Forgive me, Mr Wade, but they've come on a bit since the days of the nickelodeons. Now they have real stories and most pictures last for over an hour.'

  'Over an hour?' Ethan stared at Frank. 'Who would want to sit and watch a screen for that long?'

  'Anybody would if Conchita was up there,' said Frank, and he smiled adoringly at the back of the would-be star's head.

  Ethan smiled. Conchita was pretty in a moody, Latin sort of way, but unfortunately she seemed to have the disposition of a rattlesnake with a belly ache. It was evident to Ethan that Frank was mad about her and was using their professional relationship as an excuse to be with her. Ethan was intrigued.

  'So how did you two hook up?' he asked.

  Frank looked slightly bashful. 'Well, my background is in music hall. I used to work for Fred Karno at the Fun Factory in Camberwell . . .' Ethan didn't have a clue what Frank was talking about, but Coates seemed to be familiar with the name.

  'Mr Karno is, I believe, the impresario who discovered Charlie Chaplin,' he said. 'Before he became a star of moving pictures himself.'

  Now Ethan was impressed. 'Charlie Chaplin,' he said. 'Wow! I don't go to the moving pictures, but I've heard of him!'

  'Oh yes, he was one of our acts,' said Frank proudly. 'Officially I was Fred's associate producer, but I wasn't much more than a glorified errand boy. I wanted to find acts of me own. Anyhow, I came out to Acapulco for a holiday and I happened to see Conchita in the chorus line of this musical revue, One Night in Acapulco. Well, it was obvious to me that she was destined for bigger things – know what I mean? So I offered to manage her career.'

  Conchita leaned forward as if to confide a secret. 'Frank say to me, I can be bigger than Mary Pickford.'

  Ethan tried not to laugh. He somehow couldn't see Conchita taking the place of the young actress who was currently known as 'America's sweetheart', but then he would be the first to admit that he knew nothing about this new industry – and who could have predicted that a shy young boy from one of the poorest slums in London would go on to become a star of the magnitude of Charlie Chaplin?

  'Yeah, but Conchita's more your mysterious type – dark, moody. I've got these plans for a series of pictures featuring Conchita Velez, the Mexican Wildcat.'

  Ethan didn't quite know what to say to that. Coates, on the other hand, didn't mind voicing his opinions.

  'I can't help feeling that Miss Velez would be advised to set her sights a little lower to start with. Maybe begin with smaller roles. It would be a shame to aim too high and come a cropper.'

  'What you know?' snarled Conchita, glaring down at him. 'You just a servant anyway.'

  Coates opened his mouth to reply, but then the engine started to whine and the plane began to descend. He looked alarmed but Frank patted his shoulder reassuringly.

  'Don't worry, Mr Coates. We're just makin' a quick stop before we set off across the rainforest. Gotta pick up another passenger at the oil fields.'

  'Ah.' Coates nodded in evident relief. 'You must forgive me but there's something about planes that makes me nervous.'

  'No need for that,' Frank assured him. 'Herr Dorfmann tells me this plane is the finest in all Mexico. He's flown coast to coast dozens of times without a problem.'

  Coates smiled thinly. 'I'm glad to hear it,' he said. 'Master Alec was involved in a flight in Egypt last year.' He glanced accusingly at Ethan. 'It didn't end well.'

  Ethan made a dismissive gesture. 'Heck, Coates, that was different. For one thing, I'd never flown that kind of plane before – and for another, we were being attacked by hundreds of bats . . .' He noticed Frank staring at him in alarm and changed the subject. 'So,' he said, 'er . . . where exactly are we stopping off ?'

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Desperate Measures

  Klaus eased the plane down expertly and landed on an airstrip behind a high wire fence. In the distance Alec could see the tall shapes of metal oil derricks.

  Klaus brought the plane to a halt, then removed his goggles and flying helmet and gestured to Alec. 'Come on,' he said. 'Let's go and meet our new passenger.' He climbed out of the cockpit and down some metal rungs to the ground. Alec followed him round to the rear of the plane. The cabin door opened and the other passengers emerged, grateful for the chance to stretch their legs.

  Ethan hurried straight over to Klaus and shook his hand. 'Thanks a million,' he said. 'We owe you our lives.'

  Klaus grinned. 'My pleasure,' he said. 'I wouldn't leave anybody in a fix like that. But . . . er, listen, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you for some money. I am trying to run a business here.'

  'Of course,' muttered Coates. 'You will be paid, sir, I can assure you of that. We have no funds with us, but just as soon as we're back in Veracruz I'll arrange to have the money sent to you.' He glanced around. 'So . . . these are the famous Veracruz oilfields?'

  Klaus nodded. 'The last stop before the Huasteca Veracruzana,' he said.

  'What's that?' asked Alec.

  'The tropical rainforest,' said Klaus airily. 'We'll be flying across it en route to Tonala. The question is – what are we going to do with you? There's really only room for four passengers in the back and one in the front, which means we're going to be short of a seat.'

  'Short of two seats, I reckon,' said Frank, pointing.

  Everyone turned to look. Two men were approaching the plane, both of them carrying bags. Oddly they were not walking side by side, but several yards apart, as though the second man was following the first.

  The leader was tall and distinguished looking, dressed in a pearl-grey suit and a checked shirt. As he drew closer they could hear him speaking in an American accent.

  'Say, what's going on? There seem to be more people on this plane than I figured.'

  Klaus nodded. 'An unexpected event, Mr Nelson,' he said. 'These three people were being chased by bandits – I couldn't leave them to their fate.'

  Nelson seemed to consider this for a moment. Ethan took the initiative and stepped forward to offer his hand.

  'Ethan Wade,' he said. 'This here is Alec Devlin and the guy who looks like he just swallowed a sour apple is called Coates.'

  The tall man nodded and grinned, showing even white teeth. He took the hand and shook it vigorously. 'I'm Ulysses T. Nelson,' he announced grandly, as though Ethan should have heard of him. 'Oil man. Always good to meet a fellow American.'

  Behind him, the second passenger smiled sarcastically at this. He was small and dark, with shoulder-length black hair and a ragged beard. He was dressed in a sweat-stained khaki shirt and trousers, with a battered slouch hat pulled down over his eyes. A Mexican, Alec decided, and when h
e spoke his accent confirmed it.

  'Relax, Mr Nelson,' he said. 'Unlikely as it may seem, I don't think he has heard of you.'

  Nelson's lip curled into a sneer. 'I didn't suppose for one moment that he had,' he said, without turning round. 'You'll have to excuse him . . .' He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. 'That's Luis Chavez. My shadow. He follows me everywhere.'

  'Why's that?' asked Ethan.

  'Oh, believe me, it wasn't my idea. But Luis works with this so-called environmentalist group, the Huasteca Alliance. The government seems to think it's a good idea if he checks out how things work in my organization. I'm obliged to give him access. I didn't figure on him flying with me to Tonala though. May I enquire why these villains were after you, Mr Wade?'

  'They were planning to kidnap young Alec here and hold him to ransom. His father's with the British embassy in Veracruz.'

  Nelson shook his head. 'There are some nasty characters around,' he admitted. 'Everyone says the revolution's over but nobody seems to have told the Mexicans.'

  Coates looked at Alec triumphantly. 'Didn't I tell you the very same thing, Master Alec?' he said. 'But would you listen to me? Oh no.' Klaus looked doubtfully at Luis Chavez. 'Were you planning to come with us too?' he said. 'Ordinarily, there would be a spare seat, but—'

  'I have money,' said Luis; and he took a large bundle of grimy-looking dollar bills out of his pocket. 'I can pay you.'

  Nelson raised his eyebrows. 'Hey, that's a lot of dough, Luis. What did you do, rob a bank?' He laughed unpleasantly.

  'I've been saving up,' Luis told him. 'And I have to be in Tonala by tomorrow. An urgent appointment.' He looked at Klaus. 'You wouldn't leave me behind, would you?'