A moment later I realized that my fate was to be the same. As they held me off the ground, Pietro grasped my head, his claw-like fingers tangling in my hair and digging into my scalp. His blood-smeared face hovered over me for a moment and then swooped down. His mouth was open, the lips drawn back over teeth filed down to razor sharpness.
Those teeth lunged straight for my jugular vein!
CHAPTER NINE
RAOUL SAVED ME. He took advantage of the fact that those who were supposed to be guarding him had shifted their attention to Pietro’s intended sacrifice— me. Just as those voodoo teeth were going for my throat, he grabbed a spear and sent it hurtling with deadly accuracy toward Pietro. It caught the high priest squarely in the back and his weight went sprawling over me.
The suddenness of it made the four who’d been holding me let go. I landed atop Simone, and she and I and the corpse rolled around in a tangle of arms and legs on the ground. Meanwhile Raoul had valiantly grabbed another spear and was holding off his erstwhile guards. The main body of voodoo worshippers was still too stunned by the rapid turn of events to take any action.
I took advantage of this to scramble over to the fire and grab a stout, burning torch. The four who’d been holding me got with it now and started to close in on me. I swung the torch and the live flame seared across the eyes of one of them. He fell back, screaming. I grabbed another torch and swung the two of them in tandem. The other three retreated in the face of my flaming assault.
I darted to the left of them and zigzagged over to Raoul. He was surrounded by about four of them now, and they were closing in for the kill. But I’d moved so quickly and they were so intent on Raoul that they didn’t see me coming. Two of them wore loincloths, and as I swept past behind them, I ignited the loose-hanging garments.
Their screams rang out as I caught a third square in the belly with one of the torches. Raoul plunged his spear deep into the other one’s guts and sprinted down the trail behind us. The other voodoo addicts were just starting to rush us as I followed.
The trail was narrow here, and I quickly judged that the wind was right. I ignited the foliage on both sides as I fled, and after about a quarter of a mile there was a flaming holocaust in my wake. As long as the wind didn’t shift, there would be a wall of flame between us and our pursuers. I tossed my two torches back into the fiery underbrush and caught up with Raoul.
“You must lead a charmed life,” he told me in Spanish.
“It’s a life you saved,” I told him. “Thanks.”
“No thanks necessary. It was obvious that I would be next on the menu. I simply acted when I saw the opportunity.”
“Well, thanks anyway.” I fell silent for a moment and then asked him if he thought we were heading right for Santo Domingo.
“Si. I can tell from the stars. We’ll be all right if this trail continues as it is.”
Luck stayed with us, and the trail led us straight to the outskirts of the city. The morning sun was well up by the time we got there. I’d expected junta soldiers to be guarding the perimeter of the city, but I was wrong. I learned later that they were all busy fighting off the rebels on the other side of town. So Raoul and I reached my hotel without incident.
Victoria Winters and Alan Foster were out on the balcony running between Victoria’s room and mine. Victoria saw us first. “Steve!” she hailed me, leaning over the balcony as we plodded wearily up the street. “We’d given you up for dead.”
“Like they say, the reports of my death were greatly exaggerated.”
“We were sure the rebels must have you. There’s a decidedly murderous attitude toward Yankees in that part of town, from what I hear.”
“Hey, Steve,” Foster chimed in, “where’d you get the froufrou outfit?” He was laughing .at the multicolored rags the clothing I’d borrowed had become.
“It’s a long story,” I told him.
“Well, if you’ll do a little dance for us there, I’m sure the folks in the hotel will be glad to throw you a few centimes.”
“Very funny. But do you mind if we continue this fun-fest upstairs? I’m beginning to feel a little conspicuous.”
“Sure. Come on up.”
Raoul and I drew a lot of stares passing through the lobby, but we ignored them. Once upstairs, I let him have first crack at the shower while I went out to talk to Vickie and Foster. The S.O.B. had his arm conspicuously around her when I came out, but I did my best to ignore this flaunting of their intimacy. I told them what I’d learned from Raoul Marti about the German scientist having been taken to Barranquilla. I told Foster that I thought he should make arrangements for us to go there as quickly as possible.
“That’s going to be easier said than done the way things are right now,” he replied. “All my contacts have been snafued by this topsy-turvy revolution.”
“What’s been happening?” I asked him.
“Right about now, our government’s in the process of landing troops,” he told me.
“What for?” I asked, surprised.
“To help the government put down the Communist revolution,” Foster told me without inflection.
“But is it a Red-dominated rebellion?” I asked.
“No. But the feeling is that there’s a good chance the Commies might take it over.”
“But do we have the right to suppress it because of that chance?”
“Might,” Foster reminded me, “makes right. The U.S. can’t take the chance of a second Commie nation in this hemisphere.”
“We might not have had a first one,” I told him, “if we hadn’t been so willing to support the Batista government in Cuba. It was obviously tyrannical. And the junta that overthrew Juan Bosch here has been just as tyrannical. They were trying their damnedest to turn the clock back to the Trujillo days and establish the kind of iron-fist rule that would be most profitable for them and hell for the Dominican people. So, naturally, the people are rebelling. And I don’t doubt that the Commies are trying to gain control of the revolution. But if you ask me, our intervention will be playing right into their hands.”
“Look, Steve, I’m not trying to start a political argument with you. I don’t make policy. I’m just telling you what I’ve been told will happen. We’re just going to land troops to keep the peace.”
“To put down the revolution and help keep the junta in power, you mean.”
“Maybe. And maybe just long enough to stabilize the situation so the Commies can’t take over. My guess is that eventually some sort of international force will be brought in to act as a buffer between the rebels and the junta government. Meanwhile, our troops will establish some sort of international zone between them. And to do that, they have to back up the junta forces. Other- wise the rebels might swamp them and the revolution would be a fait accompli with Castro commies and home-grown commies in a damn good position to seize power. But let’s drop it, shall we? The only thing that really concerns us right now is that any cooperation we want as far as getting out of Santo Domingo and to Colombia will have to come from the junta government. And that’s something I’m going to have to start working on right away.”
Foster did just that, and he did it speedily and efficiently. By the time I’d had a shower, a meal and a nap, he was back with results in the form of one Captain Ponce Mendoza. The Captain was a mucky-muck in the junta government. He was willing to use his authority to place a plane at our disposal and had offered his own services as pilot.
Yes, he was very helpful. Too helpful. It made me suspicious. “What’s this joker’s angle?” I took Foster aside to ask him the question.
“I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. “We can’t be too particular in the CIA, you know. We work with whoever’s handy and we don’t ask for a pedigree.”