The Golden Keel / The Vivero Letter

by Desmond Bagley

  ‘Make a guess?’ I urged.

  He looked irritated, and said, ‘These things are priceless—no one has ever tried to put a price on them. Any unique work of art is worth what someone is willing to pay.’

  ‘How much did you pay for that plate?’

  ‘Nothing—I found it.’

  ‘How much would you sell it for?’

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ he said definitely.

  It was my turn to get exasperated. ‘For God’s sake! How much would you be willing to pay for that plate if you didn’t have it already? You’re a rich man and a collector.’

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe I’d go up to $20,000—maybe more, if pushed.’

  ‘That’s good enough for Gatt, even if he is clued up on the gold fallacy—which I don’t think he is. Would you expect to find any similar objects in Uaxuanoc?’

  ‘It’s likely,’ said Fallon. He frowned. ‘I think I’d better have a word with Joe Rudetsky about this.’

  ‘How are things coming along?’ I asked.

  ‘We can’t get anything more out of the air survey,’ he said. ‘Now we’ve got to get down on the ground.’ He pointed to the photo-mosaic. ‘We’ve cut down the probables to four.’ He looked up. ‘Ah, here’s Paul.’

  Halstead came into the hut, the usual glower on his face. He dumped two belts on the table, complete with scabbarded machetes. ‘These are what we’ll need now,’ he said. His tone implied—I told you so!

  ‘I was just talking about that,’ said Fallon. ‘Will you ask Rider to come in?’

  ‘Am I a messenger boy now?’ asked Halstead sourly.

  Fallon’s eyes narrowed. I said quickly, ‘I’ll get him.’ It wasn’t to anyone’s advantage to bring things to a boil, and I was quite willing to be a messenger boy—there are less dignified professions.

  I found Rider doing a polishing job on his beloved chopper. ‘Fallon’s calling a conference,’ I said. ‘You’re wanted.’

  He gave a final swipe with a polishing rag. ‘Right away.’ As he walked with me to the hut, he asked, ‘What’s with that guy, Halstead?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s been trying to order me around; so I told him I work for Mr Fallon. He got quite sassy about it.’

  ‘He’s just like that,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it.’

  ‘I’m not worried about it,’ said Rider with elaborate unconcern. ‘But he’d better worry. He’s liable to get a busted jaw.’

  I put my hand on Rider’s arm. ‘Not so fast—you wait your turn.’

  He grinned. ‘So it’s like that? Okay, Mr Wheale; I’ll fall in line right behind you. But don’t wait too long.’

  When Rider and I walked into the hut there seemed to be some tension between Fallon and Halstead. I thought that maybe Fallon had been tearing into Halstead for his uncooperative attitude—he wasn’t the man to mince his words—and Halstead looked even more bloody-minded than ever. But he kept his mouth shut as Fallon said shortly, ‘Let’s get to the next step.’

  I leaned against the table. ‘Which do you tackle first?’

  ‘That’s obvious,’ said Fallon. ‘We have four possibles, but there’s only one at which we can put down the helicopter. That’s the one we explore first.’

  ‘How do you get to the others?’

  ‘We winch a man down,’ said Fallon. ‘I’ve done it before.’

  So he might have, but he wasn’t getting any younger. ‘I’ll give that a go,’ I offered.

  Halstead snorted. ‘With what object in mind?’ he demanded. ‘What do you think you could do when you got on the ground? This needs a man with eyes in his head.’

  Regardless of the unpleasant way in which he phrased it, Halstead was probably right. I had already seen how difficult it was to spot a Mayan ruin which Fallon had seen casually, and I could certainly miss something which might prove of the utmost importance.

  Fallon made a quick gesture with his hand. ‘I’ll go down—or Paul will. Probably both of us.’

  Rider said hesitantly, ‘What about Number Two—that one’s real tricky?’

  ‘We’ll consider that if and when it’s necessary,’ said Fallon. ‘We’ll save it until the last. When will you be ready to leave?’

  ‘I’m ready now, Mr Fallon.’

  ‘Let’s go, then. Come on, Paul.’

  Fallon and Rider walked out and I was about to follow when Halstead said. ‘Just a minute, Wheale; I want to talk to you.’

  I turned. There was something in his voice that made my short hairs prickly. He was buckling a belt around his middle and adjusting the machete at his side. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Just this,’ he said in a strained voice. ‘Stay away from my wife.’

  ‘What the hell do you mean by that?’

  ‘Exactly what I said. You’ve been hanging around her like a dog around a bitch in heat. Don’t think I haven’t seen you.’ His deeply sunken eyes looked manic and his hands were trembling slightly.

  I said, ‘The choice of phrase was yours—you called her a bitch, not me.’ His hand clutched convulsively at the hilt of the machete, and I said sharply, ‘Now just listen to me. I haven’t touched Katherine, nor do I intend to—nor would she let me if I tried. All that’s gone on between us is all that goes on between reasonable people in our position, and that’s conversation of varying degrees of friendliness. And I must say we’re not too friendly right at this minute.’

  ‘Don’t try to pull that on me,’ he said savagely. ‘What were you doing with her down at the pool three days ago?’

  ‘If you want to know, we were having a flaming row,’ I said. ‘But why don’t you ask her?’ He was silent at that, and looked at me hard. ‘But, of course, you did ask her, didn’t you? You asked her with your fist. Why don’t you try asking me that way, Halstead? With your fists or with that oversized carving knife you have there? But watch it—you can get hurt.’

  For a moment I thought he was going to pull the machete and cleave my skull, and my fingers closed around one of the stones that Fallon used to weigh the maps on the table. At last he expelled his breath in a whistling sound and he thrust home the machete into its sheath the half inch he had withdrawn it. ‘Just stay away from her,’ he said hoarsely. ‘That’s all.’

  He shouldered past me and left the hut to disappear into the blinding sunlight outside. Then came the sudden rhythmical roar from the chopper and it took off, and the sound faded quickly as it went over the trees, just as it always did.

  I leaned against the table and felt the sweat break out on my forehead and at the back of my neck. I looked at my hands. They were trembling uncontrollably, and when I turned them over I saw the palms were wet. What the flaming hell was I doing in a set-up like this? And what had possessed me to push at Halstead so hard? The man was obviously a little loose in the brainbox and he could very well have cut me down with that damned machete. I had a sudden feeling that this whole operation was sending me as crazy as he obviously was.

  I pushed myself away from the table and walked outside. There was no one to be seen. I strode over to the Halsteads’ hut and knocked on the door. There was no reply, so I knocked again, and Katherine called, ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Who were you expecting? It’s Jemmy, damn it!’

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ I said. ‘All you have to do is listen. Open the door.’

  There was a long pause and then a click as the door opened not too widely. She didn’t look very well and there were dark smudges below her eyes. I leaned on the door and swung it open wider. ‘You said you could control your husband,’ I said. ‘You’d better start hauling on the reins because he seems to think that you and I are having a passionate affair.’

  ‘I know,’ she said tonelessly.

  I nodded. ‘You know, of course. I wonder how he could have got that impression? You couldn’t have led him on a bit—some women do.’

  She flared. ‘That’s a despicable thing to say.’


  ‘Very likely it is; I’m not feeling too spicable right now. That nutty husband of yours and I nearly had a fight not five minutes ago.’

  She looked alarmed. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Where do you think he is? He’s gone with Fallon in the chopper. Look, Katherine; I’m not too sure that Paul shouldn’t pull out of this expedition.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said quickly. ‘You couldn’t do that.’

  ‘I could—and I will—if he doesn’t bloody well behave himself. Even Rider is threatening to hammer him. You know that he is only here because of my say-so; that I forced him down Fallon’s throat. One word from me and Fallon will be only too glad to get rid of him.’

  She grabbed my hand. ‘Oh, please, Jemmy; please don’t do that.’

  ‘Get up off your knees,’ I said. ‘Why the hell should you have to plead for him? I told you a long time ago, back in England, that you can’t apologize for another person—not even your husband.’ She was looking very blue, so I said, ‘All right, I won’t push him out—but see that he stays off my neck.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she said. ‘I really will try. Thanks, Jemmy.’

  I blew out my cheeks. ‘If I’m accused of it, and if I’m going to get into a fight because of it, this passionate affair might not be such a bad idea. At least I’ll get myself halfkilled because of something I did.’

  She stiffened. ‘I don’t think that’s funny.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ I said wearily. ‘With me the girl has to be willing—and you’re not exactly panting hotly down the back of my neck. Forget it. Consider I made a pass and got slapped down. But Katherine, how you stand that character, I don’t know.’

  ‘Maybe it’s something you wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Love?’ I shrugged. ‘Or is it misplaced loyalty? But if I were a woman—and thank God I’m not—and a man hit me, I’d walk right out on him.’

  Pink spots showed in her cheeks. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  I lifted a finger and smoothed down her collar. ‘I suppose you got that bruise walking into a door.’

  She said hotly, ‘How I get my bruises is none of your damned business.’

  The door slammed in my face.

  I contemplated the sun-seared woodwork for quite a while, then sighed and turned away. I went back to the big hut and opened the refrigerator and looked at the serried rows of beer cans, all nicely frosted. Then I slammed it shut and went into Fallon’s hut where I confiscated a bottle of his best Glenlivet whisky. I needed something stronger than beer right then.

  An hour later I heard the chopper coming back. It landed and taxied into the hangar and out of the sun and, from where I was sitting, I could see Rider refuelling and I heard the rhythmic clank of the hand pump. I suppose I should have gone to help him but I didn’t feel like helping anyone, and after three stiff whiskies the idea of going into the sun struck me as being definitely unwise.

  Presently Rider came into the hut. ‘Hot!’ he said, stating the obvious.

  I looked up at him. ‘Where are the brains?’

  ‘I dropped them at the site. I’ll go back in four hours to pick them up.’ He sat down and I pushed the whisky bottle at him. He shook his head. ‘Uh-uh—that’s too strong for this time of day. I’ll get me a cold beer.’

  He stood up, got his beer, and came back to the table. ‘Where’s Mrs Halstead?’

  ‘Sulking in her tent.’

  He frowned at that, but his brow cleared as he drank his beer. ‘Ah, that’s good!’ he sat down. ‘Say, what happened between you and Halstead? When he climbed into the chopper he looked as though someone had rammed a pineapple up his ass.’

  ‘Let’s say we had a slight altercation.’

  ‘Oh!’ He pulled a pack of cards from his shirt pocket and riffled them. ‘What about a game to pass the time?’

  ‘What would you suggest?’ I enquired acidly. ‘Happy Families!’

  He grinned. ‘Can you play gin?’

  He beat the pants off me.

  II

  There was nothing at the site. Fallon came back looking tired and drawn and I thought that his years were catching up with him. The forest of Quintana Roo was no place for a man in his sixties, or even for a man in his thirties as I had recently discovered. I had taken a machete and done a bit of exploring and I hadn’t left the clearing for more than ten minutes before I was totally lost. It was only because I had the sense to take a compass and to make slash marks on trees that I managed to get back.

  I gave him a glass of his own whisky which he accepted with appreciation. His clothes were torn and blood caked cuts in his hands. I said, ‘I’ll get the first-aid kit and clean that up for you.’

  He nodded tiredly. As I cleaned the scratches, I said, ‘You ought to leave the dirty work to Halstead.’

  ‘He works hard enough,’ said Fallon. ‘He’s done more than me today.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Getting cleaned up. I suppose Katherine is doing the same to him as you’ve done to me.’ He flexed his fingers against the adhesive dressings. ‘It’s better when a woman does it, somehow. I remember my wife bandaging me up quite often.’

  ‘I didn’t know you are married.’

  ‘I was. Very happily married. That was many years ago.’ He opened his eyes. ‘What happened between you and Halstead this morning?’

  ‘A difference of opinion.’

  ‘It often happens with that young man, but it’s usually of a professional nature. This wasn’t, was it?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t,’ I said. ‘It was personal and private.’

  He caught the implication—that I was warning him off—and chose to ignore it. ‘For anyone to interfere between man and wife is very serious,’ he said.

  I drove the cork into the bottle of antiseptic. ‘I’m not interfering; Halstead just thinks I am.’

  ‘I have your word for that?’

  ‘You have my word—not that it’s any business of yours,’ I said. As soon as I had said it I was sorry. ‘It is your business, of course; you don’t want this expedition wrecked.’

  ‘That wasn’t in my mind,’ he said. ‘At least, not as far as you are concerned. But I am becoming perturbed about Paul; he is proving very awkward to work with. I was wondering if I could ask you to release me from my promise. It’s entirely up to you.’

  I pounded at the cork again. I had just promised Katherine that I wouldn’t get Halstead tossed out on his ear, and I couldn’t go back on that. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Other promises have been made.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Fallon. ‘Or, at least, I think I do.’ He looked up at me. ‘Don’t make a fool of yourself, Jemmy.’

  That piece of advice was coming a bit too late. I grinned and put down the antiseptic bottle. ‘It’s all right; I’m not a home wrecker. But Halstead had better watch himself or he’ll be in trouble.’

  ‘Pour me another whisky,’ said Fallon. He picked up the antiseptic bottle, and said mildly, ‘We’re going to have trouble getting that cork out again.’

  The Halsteads had another quarrel that night. Neither of them appeared for supper and, after dark, I listened to the raised voices coming from their hut, rising and falling but never distinguishable enough to make sense. Just raw anger coming from the darkness.

  I half expected Halstead to stomp over to my hut and challenge me to a duel, but he didn’t and I thought that maybe Katherine must have argued him out of it. More probably, the argument I had put up had a lot of weight behind it. Halstead couldn’t afford to be ejected from the expedition at this stage. It might be a good idea to pass on Fallon’s attitude to Katherine just to make sure that Halstead realized that I was the only person who could prevent it.

  As I went to sleep it occurred to me that if we did find Uaxuanoc I’d better start guarding my back.

  III

  Four days later there was only one site to be investigated. Fourteen out of the fifteen in Fallon’s original list had proved to be barren; if this
last one proved a bust then we would have to extend our radius of exploration and take in another forty-seven sites. That would be a bind, to say the least of it.

  We had an early-morning conference before the last site was checked and nobody was happy about it. The cenote lay below a ridge which was thickly covered in trees and Rider was worried about the problem of getting in while coping with air currents. Worse still, there was no possible place for a man to drop from the winch; the vegetation was thick and extended right to the edge of the cenote without thinning in any way.

  Fallon studied the photographs and said despondently, ‘This is the worst I’ve seen anywhere. I don’t think there’s a chance of getting in from the air. What do you think, Rider?’

  ‘I can drop a man,’ said Rider. ‘But he’d probably break his neck. Those trees are running to 140 feet and tangled to hell. I don’t think a man could reach the ground.’

  ‘The forest primeval,’ I commented.

  ‘No,’ contradicted Fallon. ‘If it were, our work would be easier. All this ground has been cultivated at one time—all over Quintana Roo. What we have here is a second growth; that’s why it’s so goddamn thick.’ He switched off the projector and walked over to the photo-mosaic. ‘It’s very thick for a long way around this cenote—which is archeologically promising but doesn’t help us in getting in.’ He laid his finger on the photograph. ‘Could you put us down there, Rider?’

  Rider inspected the point Fallon indicated, first with the naked eye and then through a magnifying glass. ‘It’s possible,’ he said.

  Fallon applied a ruler. ‘Three miles from the cenote. In that stuff we couldn’t do more than half a mile an hour—probably much less. Say a full day to get to the cenote. Well, if it must be done, we’ll do it.’ He didn’t sound at all enthusiastic.

  Halstead said, ‘We can use Wheale now. Are you good with a machete, Wheale?’ He just couldn’t get out of the habit of needling me.

  ‘I don’t have to be good,’ I said. ‘I use my brains instead. Let me have another look at those photographs.’