"Did they tell you why the nuns want them to go to the lake?"
"There can be only one reason. Pilar wants the people to unite behind her. She wants control of Masagua. If she was not so widely known for her goodness, for her kindness, some might even suspect her of placing the bomb that killed her husband. " Rivera's tone of voice did not suggest if he suspected her or not.
Ford said, "Then she has become your rival, just as Zacul is your rival. "
"It is difficult to think of such a woman as a rival. Now my only rival is Zacul—and, of course, the generals who are presently in control. The other factions are weak. Ultimately they will back him or they will back me."
"Then you will help me?"
Rivera made a gesture with his hands, a gesture of finality. "No. I'll riot risk my men on a premature attack. "
"We would need only two commando squads attacking from different directions. All we need is an avenue of escape. In return, Zacul would be eliminated."
"Yes, I know—sever the head and the snake dies. But who would do it?"
Ford said, "I think you know."
Rivera studied him for a moment, then said, "To be frank, I believe Zacul will have you and your hippie friend killed the moment you show any curiosity at all about this child you seek. It is a source of admiration that you would risk your own life for a boy you do not know. "
Ford said, "Then you overestimate my resolve. It would be nice to rescue the child, but I won't pretend that I'd trade my life for his. As for Tomlinson, I've decided it's too dangerous for him to go. It would be useful to have him, but I cannot accept the responsibility. Not after what you've told me. Could he remain here with you for a few days?"
"Of course. He is a scholar. And I would like to pitch to him again."
"Then I will leave in the morning, before Tomlinson is awake—"
"Juan? Juan?" A girl's petulant voice interrupted, and both men looked up to see the small figure in a long white shirt, hands on hips, dark hair hanging over heavy breasts, silhouetted by the light from within Rivera's tent. "I am getting very sleepy, Juan. Waiting for you is causing this pain in my head."
"Then do not wait! Go to sleep!" Rivera called back, sounding angry for her interruption, but he was already moving away from Ford, toward the tent. To Ford he said, "Women," and sounded slightly embarrassed as he added, "These pains in her head are a worry to me. I must go now. But I will have two men waiting to escort you back to the village."
"Thank you, General."
"Such pains in the head are not normal for a young girl. And only the touch of my hands will make the pain go away. It is a mystery, no?" Still embarrassed, still explaining himself, General Juan Rivera of the Masaguan People's Army disappeared into his tent.
FOURTEEN
A quetzal bird flew over, a red-chested male trailing its green tail feathers like a yard-long banner. The quetzal dropped down out of the jungle shadows, flew hard across the clearing, then banked abruptly toward the rising sun and burst into iridescent flame, sunlight still clinging to the bird's wings as it faded from sight.
Two of Rivera's soldiers were waiting, and Ford swung onto the saddle and nudged his horse. They rode from the camp straight up the mountainside to a ridge to begin the series of switchbacks that would take them around the peak to Isla de Verde. Ford stopped for a moment on the ridge, looking down into the camp. Rivera's men were stirring in the fresh morning light, tending their cooking fires. Dogs trotted here and there scattering chickens while a couple of other early risers saddled horses.
Ford wondered how Rivera had fared with his teenage mistress. He doubted if the pain in her head had lasted long; doubted if it would ever last any longer than it took to get Rivera to do exactly what she wanted. That made him smile, thinking of Juan being bullied by the tiny girl.
The two soldiers waited; when Ford nodded, they kicked their horses into a lazy walk. They rode for twenty minutes before one of the soldiers stopped suddenly, holding up his hand like a cavalry officer. In Spanish, the man said, "Do you hear something? Did you hear that?"
Ford sat listening; sat listening to the rustling silence of deep jungle; sat listening to saddles creak and their horses blowing air; sat listening . . . and then he heard it, too: voices behind them. The two soldiers quickly slid off their horses and led them into the jungle, weapons raised. Ford sat alone on the trail, feeling ridiculous, then got off his horse, too.
The voices had come from the switchback beneath them, so it was nearly ten minutes before the men came into view: two more riders on horseback. Ford guessed the soldiers were going to wait until the men were past, so he crouched down, but then he saw the men clearly, and he stepped out onto the path because one of them was Tomlinson.
"Goddamn, Doc, I didn't think we were ever going to catch you." Pulling his horse up like Randolph Scott, but looking like Joe Cocker, Tomlinson was grinning as if they hadn't seen each other in a month; a reunion smile. "I kept telling these cowboys we had to hurry—you know, like vamos. But these horses got minds of their own, man."
Ford said, "Now that you've caught us, you're going to have to turn right around and go back. Didn't Rivera give you my message?"
"Yeah, man; sure, he gave me the message. You said it was too dangerous. This Zacul dude was better organized than you thought and I had to stick around and play baseball with the general. Some message. You coulda told me personally, you know."
"I can't take responsibility for your safety, Tomlinson. I knew there would be some danger involved, but I didn't know how much until I talked to Juan. I'd appreciate it if you stayed here for a few days—or I can drop you off at the next town. You might be able to rent an old truck or something, but I'm not sure."
Tomlinson was shaking his head, not accepting any of it. "Bullshit, man. I'm going with you. This is the chance of a lifetime, and you think I'm going to miss it? My shot at being a bodhisattva. Besides, there's that kid to think about."
"You have nothing to do with the boy."
"Which just shows you don't know what bodhisattva means."
"Right. And I don't want to know. "
"The kid and I are both caught up in a big dharma, man. You, too. None of this is accidental, Doc—"
"I don't want to hear any more of this stuff, damn it."
"Most people fear death. Me, I'm tuned into the only one valid fear: missing life—"
"Tomlinson—"
"I'm just telling you how I feel. I'm going with you, Doc."
"I'm telling you I can't be responsible for your safety."
"Hey, whose asking you to be responsible? You want to know why you can't be responsible for me? I'll tell you why."
Ford listened for a moment to what was to become another lesson in philosophy, then cut him off, saying "Okay, okay." He was getting back onto his horse.
Tomlinson said, "I'm way past twenty-one and I can make my own decisions."
"I said okay!"
"I knew you'd come around to my way of thinking, man."
"Just no more of that ping-pong karma Buddhist talk. It gives me a—pain in the head. And don't say I didn't warn you if things get rough."
Tomlinson kicked his horse up alongside Ford's. "You know what I think about danger? I think if you're walking on thin ice anyway, why not dance?"
Ford said, "Tell that to Zacul when we find him."
They drove 150 miles over bad roads, down through the central plateau of Masagua with its grazing cattle, its solitary gauchos, then west toward volcanic peaks, which sat on the horizon like stalagmites piercing smoke-colored thunderheads near the edge of the sea. Beyond the volcanoes, Ford knew, was the lake, God's Eye.
They stopped once for a breakfast, then again in Utatlan, the only town of size between Masagua City and the Pacific. Utatlan had been founded by the Spaniards in the 1500s, and it still looked like something out of a postcard from Castellon with its whitewashed haciendas and donkeys pulling carts down red brick streets.