Empire of the Skull

by Philip Caveney

  Klaus frowned. 'Well, I could certainly use the extra money,' he admitted. 'Business has been slow lately.' He looked at Nelson. 'Perhaps I could leave these three people here and pick them up on my way back through?'

  But Nelson shook his head. 'Out of the question,' he said. 'Only official personnel allowed on my oilfield.' He glanced at Luis. 'And those with government clearance. It's a dangerous place.' 'It is your oilfield?' cried Conchita. 'You must be a very rich man!'

  Nelson smiled. 'I do all right for myself, Miss—'

  'Velez,' interrupted Frank. 'Conchita Velez. A motion picture star of tomorrow. I'm taking her to Tonala for a screen test with Louis B. Mayer.'

  'Gosh,' said Alec. 'He's famous!'

  Coates looked at him. 'You've heard of him?' he asked.

  'Of course. The Woman He Married? He Who Gets Slapped ?'

  Frank grinned. 'Yeah, see – there's a kid who reads his Picturegoer magazine!'

  Alec grinned. 'When I can track down a copy,' he said. 'It's hard to find in Veracruz.'

  Klaus was looking from the plane to the passengers and back again, as though weighing them up. 'So there's no way these people can stay on the site?' he asked.

  'No way,' said Nelson. 'I'm sorry, Herr Dorfmann, but I have rules and I never break them.'

  'What's the matter?' asked Luis slyly. 'Afraid they might see something they don't approve of ?'

  'Of course not!' Nelson told the others, nodding at the Mexican. 'Ignore him. I have to let him visit, but believe me, if I had my way . . .' He left the sentence unfinished and looked doubtfully at the plane. 'Think that old crate can carry eight people?' he muttered.

  Klaus looked insulted by the question. 'Mr Nelson, this is a Junkers F13! Of course it can carry eight, no problem. True, only six of us will have seats – the other two will have to sit on the floor between the rows. It won't be very comfortable but I can take you to Tonala and then back to Veracruz the day after tomorrow. As a gesture, I will reduce your fares by ten per cent.'

  'You're all heart,' observed Coates.

  'Say, I haven't been in Tonala for years,' said Ethan wistfully. 'Used to be a little bar there where they served the best tequila cocktails in Mexico. There was a pretty little waitress too, name of Maria. I was sweet on her for a while . . .'

  'I thought you said it is a dump?' said Conchita.

  'Well . . . maybe I was being a little hard on it. I had good times there.'

  'Fascinating though this is,' said Coates, 'there's a more pressing problem. Will we be able to get a message to Master Alec's father to let him know everything's all right?'

  Ethan nodded. 'Oh sure, I seem to remember there's a telegraph office in the main square – isn't that right, Miss Velez?'

  Conchita gave a surly nod. 'Sure they have one,' she replied. 'Tonala is very modern town.'

  'Well, that's settled then,' said Klaus. He looked at Alec. 'You'll come with us to Tonala. You may as well stay in the co-pilot's seat. Actually, it's quite something flying over the Huasteca. Very few planes cross it. There are parts of it where no white man has ever walked.'

  'Gosh,' said Alec. 'And . . . the plane will carry us all safely?'

  'Of course.' Klaus patted the silver flank of his plane as though it were a favourite horse. 'This is the most advanced monoplane in the world,' he said proudly. 'It cost me a small fortune, which is why I will be working for years to pay back the loan. But what you are looking at here is the future of civil aviation. Soon these planes will be carrying passengers to every destination in the world.'

  'Very nice, I'm sure,' said Coates. 'But before we set off, can I just ask . . . ?' He leaned forward to whisper something to the pilot.

  Klaus laughed in disbelief. 'No, it doesn't have a water closet!' He pointed to a screen of bushes beside the airstrip. 'You'd better go behind there,' he said, and Coates walked quickly away, his face reddening. The German looked around at the others. 'And if anybody else needs to pay a visit before we set off, you should take the opportunity now. It's a long time before we touch down again.'

  There was a moment of indecision and then Alec, Ethan and Frank all turned as one and hurried after Coates. Klaus looked at Conchita, but she gave him a glare. He turned and went back to the cockpit.

  'I'll just make a few last-minute checks,' he said.

  Sitting in the co-pilot's seat, Alec felt the back of his seat pushing against his spine as the plane took off and rose swiftly into the air. Below, he saw an extraordinary sight: rows of tall steel derricks and, around them, men milling about like industrious ants. There were huts and sheds and what looked like garages for the automobiles; and then a huge pool of black fluid. Even up here, high above it all, the smell of it hung heavy in the air.

  'That little landing strip is only temporary, by the way,' shouted Nelson through the open doorway. 'I already have plans to extend it.'

  Luis Chavez snorted derisively. 'Oh yes, the rich Yankee with the big plans! What Señor Nelson omits to point out is that those oil wells are standing on what was once several hundred acres of tropical rainforest. And in order to drill those wells he has cut down thousands of trees.'

  Nelson made a dismissive gesture. 'I don't know why Señor Chavez is on my case all the time. Anyone would think he doesn't want his country to make progress.'

  'You call that progress?' snapped Luis. 'You people have been in Veracruz more than fifteen years and I don't see any progress. I see the destruction of one of the country's natural resources – pollution on an incredible scale . . . And let's not forget about the tribes that live in the rainforest, the people you are making homeless.'

  Alec looked down. More of the lakes of crude oil were appearing now, like great black tumours on the earth. From up here they appeared small but he knew that some of them must hold thousands of gallons. More and more of them appeared, interspersed with derricks, machinery and dilapidated buildings.

  Nelson was appealing to the others in the cabin now and Alec turned back to listen, ducking his head through the doorway. Sitting opposite the oil man, Conchita looked fascinated, but Alec suspected that it was Nelson's wealth that had got her attention. In the seat immediately behind her, Frank was clearly worried that she might be a bit too interested in the American. Coates and Ethan were sitting cross-legged on the floor, jammed into the narrow gap between the seats. Coates was studying Nelson as he might an insect that had just crawled out of a half-eaten crumpet; Ethan's face betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

  'Señor Chavez here seems to have made it his mission in life to follow me around,' complained Nelson. 'Everywhere I go, there he is at my side, nagging about how I'm despoiling his beautiful country. He's a naturalist, apparently. At least that's what he calls himself. "Troublemaker" would be a more accurate description. He doesn't seem to appreciate that I have made millions for these people.'

  'You've made millions for yourself, you mean!' said Luis.

  'You're a millionaire?' gasped Conchita. 'Ay-yi!'

  'Yes, he is,' Luis told her. 'But I don't see a lot of Mexicans making much. Oh, the landowners, they get paid a reasonable amount, but nothing like what their land is worth. And those who won't sell . . . well, they seem to suffer terrible accidents. Anyone who stands in the way of this . . . progress, they get cut down, just like the rainforest.'

  'I'm warning you,' snarled Nelson. 'Don't make allegations you cannot back up.'

  Luis shrugged his narrow shoulders. 'OK, let's talk about things I don't need to prove,' he said. 'Things that are common knowledge. What about the fact that Mexicans can only hold menial jobs in your organization?'

  Conchita's expression was suddenly rather less friendly. 'This is true?' she asked.

  'Well, he's just twisting things—'

  'It's undeniable,' persisted Luis. 'Let's also talk about the "whites-only" social clubs you've set up – and the stinking slums you allow your native workers to live in. And oh, let's talk about Dos Bocas, shall we?'

  Nelson flinched. 'Well,' he
said, 'of course that was unfortunate. But in all industries there are accidents – that's just part of the process.'

  'What's Dos Bocas?' asked Ethan.

  'It's a place that used to be called San Diego del Mar,' said Luis. 'A beautiful area of lakes and jungle. Fifteen years ago an oil well exploded—'

  'Not one of mine,' said Nelson hastily.

  'No, not one of his,' admitted Luis. 'But somebody very like him. The fire burned for over fifty days. They tried every way they knew to snuff it out, but they could not. When it finally burned itself out, they found it had spilled four hundred and twenty million gallons of crude oil over thirty square miles. Now there is a lake so poisonous that nothing can live in it – and scientists believe that in a hundred years' time it will still be the same.'

  'That's terrible,' shouted Alec, over the bluster of the wind.

  'I agree it's a shame,' said Nelson. 'But, you see, that's what happens when people try to cut corners. That's not the way we do it. We always observe proper safety procedures.'

  'Is that right?' said Luis. 'I wonder if the thirty-four employees who have died or been injured this year alone would agree with you.'

  'Thirty-four?' echoed Frank. 'That don't sound too healthy.'

  'You see what he does?' said Nelson. 'Always emphasizing the negative. There are thousands of automobiles driving around this country because of my wells.'

  'I don't own an automobile,' said Luis. 'And this may surprise you, Señor Nelson, but neither do many of my countrymen.'

  'Yeah, well, only because you're so stubborn. Didn't I offer to give you a Ford only last month?'

  'You tried to buy me off,' said Luis. 'But I didn't want your bribe.'

  'You offered him an automobile?' Conchita suddenly seemed impressed again.

  'I just figured if he was going to spend so much time following me around, I should make life a little easier for him.'

  'I would love an automobile,' sighed Conchita. 'A big one.'

  'And you will have it, my dear,' Frank assured her. 'Just as soon as we sign that contract with Mr Louis B. Mayer.'

  'That's how Señor Nelson does business, I guess,' said Luis. 'He buys people off. But the one thing I do want, he cannot give me.'

  'Which is . . . ?' grunted Nelson.

  'All those thousands of acres returned. In their original condition.'

  'Yes, well, now you're just being ridiculous! You know perfectly well that's not possible.' Klaus tapped Alec on the shoulder, pointing down. Alec saw that they were finally leaving the last of the oil industry behind. The rainforest rose up suddenly, dense, mysterious, seemingly impenetrable – but he could see that machinery was already at work, cutting down more of it.

  'We're heading out over the jungle now!' he shouted into the cabin.

  Luis gave a sad smile. 'Take a good long look at it, kid,' he said, 'while you still can. I guarantee, in fifty years it will all be gone.'

  'But . . . it's huge,' said Alec. 'Surely they can't take it all?'

  Everybody looked at Nelson, as if expecting him to give an answer, but he said nothing. Everyone stopped talking and there was just the roar of the engine as the plane sped onwards towards its destination.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Snake in the Grass

  They flew for hours over the great stretch of rainforest and Alec found himself wondering if Luis Chavez had been exaggerating. How could so much jungle disappear in such a short space of time? When he looked down, he saw nothing breaking up the dense green depths but the occasional river, coiling and twisting like a giant serpent.

  'It's quite something, isn't it?' yelled Klaus, over the noise of the engine.

  Alec glanced up, surprised. 'Yes,' he shouted back. 'It's magnificent.'

  Klaus studied the boy for a moment. 'You have been in a plane before, I think.'

  'Just once,' admitted Alec. 'In Egypt.' But he didn't want to dwell on what had happened there. 'You obviously know a lot about planes.'

  Klaus nodded with evident pride. 'I was decorated,' he said. 'In the Great War.'

  'Really? Ethan flew planes in the war,' said Alec. 'Hey, who knows? Perhaps the two of you were in a dogfight with each other!'

  'I doubt it,' said Klaus. 'I had a reputation for shooting down everyone who attacked me. In fact I received several medals. I was given the Pour la Mérite, the ultimate award for a pilot. It was presented to me by none other than Manfred von Richthofen. You have heard of the Red Baron, ja?'

  Alec nodded. 'Oh yes – he was famous, wasn't he?'

  'A brilliant pilot and a great personal friend of mine. When he was shot down and killed in nineteen eighteen, he had over eighty Allied planes to his credit.' The German suddenly looked embarrassed. 'But I don't suppose you want to hear about that.'

  Alec shrugged. 'It's all history now,' he said. 'I was only ten years old when the war ended. My father was a diplomat – he wasn't called up – so it didn't really affect me that much. I don't understand why people can't just get on together . . . You know,' he went on, 'your English is very good.'

  'Thank you. Well, yes, I went to college in England before the war. I was in Manchester studying engineering. I would have been a good engineer, I think. But then of course, the war intervened.' Klaus smiled sadly. 'There is still, I think, a lot of resentment towards the Germans because of the war. People don't say much, but the man with you – not the American, the other one . . .'

  'Coates?'

  'Yes. He gave me a certain look when he heard my accent. I get this often. But you have to understand, I was just doing my duty. I was called up like everybody else. I always knew I didn't want to be stuck on the ground with the infantry, so I enrolled in the Luftstreitkräfte – the German Army Air Service.' He scowled. 'After the war, the service was dissolved, all our planes destroyed – and former air force pilots were forbidden to fly anything other than kites. I knew that if I wanted to continue to fly, I would have to leave the country.'

  'So how did you end up in Mexico?'

  'I came here four years ago when they founded the Mexican air force. They needed instructors. I worked for them for a year, but the conditions were terrible. I quickly realized this country was going to need some civil aviation and that's when I decided to set myself up in business. Luckily I had saved enough money to put down a deposit on this plane. Now I fly passengers, mail, cargo – anything that pays my wages. It's varied work, I suppose.'

  Alec studied Klaus's thin face for a moment, noting the sour look. 'But you miss the war?' he asked.

  The pilot shrugged. 'I miss the excitement . . . the action. When I flew missions, I never knew if I was going to come back alive. I think for anyone who experienced those times, everything else is going to seem . . . tame.'

  Alec looked down at the incredible landscape below and wondered how anybody could possibly find such an awe-inspiring sight tame, but he thought he understood. If he was honest with himself, his life since the adventures of the previous summer had seemed somewhat mundane. Even the excitement of coming to a new country had been short-lived – especially once he had been introduced to Señor Vargas.

  'Well, I suppose it's not all humdrum,' he argued. 'We were being shot at by bandits only a couple of hours back.'

  Klaus forced a smile. 'Yes, that at least was out of the ordinary,' he admitted. 'And I suppose this is a lot better than sitting at an office desk every day. Hey – look!'

  Klaus pointed away to his left and Alec turned his head. A huge eagle was soaring on the warm thermal currents, coasting alongside the plane as though trying to keep pace with it; but the Junkers engine proved too powerful, and after a few minutes they left it behind.

  Back in the cabin, Frank was talking about Conchita Velez and how wonderful she was. The way he saw it, she was going to be the biggest movie sensation of the decade.

  'Just wait until she gets in front of that camera,' he said. 'She's gonna knock 'em dead!'

  Ethan smiled politely, but wondered once again if Frank wasn
't kidding himself. Good looks were one thing – Conchita had no problems on that score; but if the movie cameras picked up even half of that moodiness, viewers would never come to see her onscreen again. However, it soon became apparent that she had impressed at least one other person.

  'Miss Velez,' said Ulysses T. Nelson, leaning across the narrow aisle as if to confide something, 'I'm going to be in Tonala for a few days. I'm looking at some potential land investments just outside of the town. I'd be honoured if you'd have dinner with me one evening.'

  Conchita fluttered her eyelashes. 'Oh, well, I don' know about that,' she said.

  'Did I mention I have contacts in the moving picture business? Out in California there's this little place in the hills called Hollywoodland. Everyone says it's going to be the centre of the motion picture industry in years to come. I also know a few people at the Universal Film Manufacturing Company. I'm sure I could put in a good word for you.'

  Conchita's dark eyes seemed to increase in size, while just behind her, Frank's round red face couldn't conceal a look of dismay.

  'Maybe we could meet up,' she said.

  'There's no need. We'll be signin' with Mr Louis B. Mayer – you can depend on it,' Frank assured her.

  'Of course,' said Nelson smoothly. 'But if for any reason things don't work out with him, I'll be staying at the Hotel Lazaro. You can always leave a message for me at the desk.' He sat back in his seat, looking pleased with himself.

  Behind him, Luis rolled his eyes. He had just pulled out a large pocket watch and was studying it intently. 'You see, Señor Campbell, that's how Señor Nelson operates,' he said. 'It's amazing how easily impressed some people are by promises. And who knows, maybe he does have contacts in the moving picture business – or maybe he just wants a little company during his stay in Tonala.'

  'I've had just about enough of you, Chavez,' growled Nelson, looking over his shoulder. 'Why don't you keep your nose out of things that don't concern you?'

  'Yes,' said Conchita. 'This is no business of yours!'