River of Death (16 page)

At a distance of about half a mile and about three hundred feet below their present elevation a spidery, sagging, and apparently twisted series of ropes spanned the gorge between the top of the plateau and a point about half-way up the top of the cliff on which they were lying. Immediately below the cliff anchorage a small waterfall arced out into the river.
'A rope bridge,' Hamilton said. 'Well, a liana bridge. Or a straw bridge. Those are normally renewed once a year. This one can't have been renewed for at least five years. Must be in a pretty rotten state by this time.'
'So?' Smith said. The apprehension in his voice was unmistakable.
'So that's the way we go in.'
The silence that followed was long and profound.
At last Serrano said 'Another proof of Andean ancestry, no? I mean, there are no rope bridges in the Mato Grosso — well, there's not one now - nor, as far as I know, anywhere in Brazil. The Indians never learnt how to make them. Why should they have done — they never needed them. But the Incas and their descendants knew how to make them — living in the Andes, they had to know."
'I've seen one,' Hamilton said. 'On the Apurimac river, high up in Peru - about twelve thousand feet. They use six heavy braided straw cables for the main supports - four for the footpaths, two for the hand rails. Smaller ropes for closing in the sides and a bed of twigs spread over the footpath so that only a three-year-old could possibly fall through. Can support scores of people when new. I'm afraid this one is not new.'
A narrow cleft ran down the cliff at an angle of close on 60°. A small stream, probably fed from some spring above, fell, rather than flowed down this cleft, leaping whitely from spur to spur. On one side of this cleft a series of rough steps had been cut, obviously a very long time ago.
Hamilton and the others started to descend. It was a fairly arduous descent but not really either difficult or dangerous as Hamilton had taken the precaution of binding together a series of tough lianas, anchoring one end to a tree and letting the rest fall down the cleft.
At the foot of the cleft, just above where the waterfall arced out above the river, a platform, about eight feet by eight, had been quarried out of the cliff-face. Hamilton was already standing there. One by one he was joined by the others.
Hamilton moved to examine a stone bollard and an iron post that had been hammered into the platform. Three now threadbare lianas were attached to both. Hamilton produced his sheath knife and scraped at the iron post. Thick brown flakes were shaved away.
'Keep your voices down,' Hamilton said. 'Rusty, isn't it?' He turned away to look over the gorge. The others did the same. The straw bridge was very flimsy and clearly venerable. Both the hand supports and the footpath were severely frayed. Several of the straw ropes appeared to have rotted and fallen away.
Hamilton said: 'Not in the best condition, wouldn't you say?'
Smith, his eyes wide, was obviously appalled, 'Good God in heaven. That's suicide. Only a madman would go on it. Do you expect me to risk my life on that?'
'Of course not. Why on earth should you? You're only here for the story, for the pictures. You'd be crazy to risk your life just for that. Tell you what. Give me your camera and I'll take the pictures for you. And don't forget — the people over there may not be welcoming trespassers.'
Smith was silent for some time, then said: 'I'm a man who sees things through to the end.'
'Maybe the end is closer than you think. It's dark enough now. I'm going first.'
Navarro said: 'Senor Hamilton. 1 am much lighter -'
'Thank you. But that's just the point. I'm a heavy man and I'm carrying a heavy pack. If it takes my weight - well, you should all be okay.'
Ramon said: 'A thought occurs to me.'
'And to me.' He moved towards the straw bridge.
'What was that meant to mean?' Maria said.
'He thinks, perhaps, that they will have a welcome mat out over there.'
'Oh. A guard.'
Hamilton moved steadily across the straw bridge. That is, he made steady progress. The bridge itself was shockingly unsteady, swaying from side to side. Hamilton was now more than half-way across. The bridge sagged so badly in the middle that he had to haul himself up a fairly steep incline. But he was experiencing no great difficulty. He arrived safely on a platform similar to the one he had left on the other side of the gorge. He crouched low, for the platform was only a few feet lower than the plateau. Cautiously, he lifted his head.
There was, indeed, a guard, but he was not taking his duties too seriously. He was smoking a cigarette and, of all things, relaxing in a deck chair. Hamilton's bent arm was raised to shoulder level. His handkerchief-wrapped hand held the blade of his heavy sheath knife. The guard drew deeply on his cigarette, clearly illuminating his face. He made no sound as the haft of the knife struck him between the eyes, just tipped to one side and fell out of his chair.
Hamilton turned and flashed his torch three times. Within minutes he was joined one by one by eight people who had not enjoyed their passage across the rope bridge.
Hamilton said: 'Let's go and see the boss man.' He could find his way blindfolded and led them silently through the ancient ruins. Shortly he stopped and pointed.
There was a large and fairly new wooden hall with lights showing. The sound of voices carried.
'Barracks,' Hamilton said. 'Mess hall and sleeping accommodation. Guards.'
Tracy said: 'Guards? Why?'
'Guilty conscience somewhere.'
'What's that noise?' Smith said.
'Generator.'
'Where do we go from here?'
'There.' Hamilton pointed again. At the foot of the giant ziggurat was another but much smaller wooden building. Lights also shone from that building.
'That's where the guilty conscience lives.' Hamilton was silent for a few moments. 'The man |j , who every night feels dead feet trampling over his grave.'
Silver said: 'Mr Hamilton —'
'Nothing, nothing. Ramon, Navarro. I wonder if you see what I see?'
'Yes, indeed,' Ramon said. 'There are two men standing in the shadow of that porch.'
Hamilton seemed to ponder for a few moments. 'I wonder what they could be doing there?'
'We'll go and ask them.'
Ramon and Navarro melted into the shadows.
Smith said: 'Who are these two? Your assistants, I mean. They are not Brazilian.'
'No.'
'European?'
'Yes.'
Ramon and Navarro returned as silently and unobtrusively as they had left.
'Well,' Hamilton said. 'What did they say?'
'Not a great deal,' Navarro said. 'I think they may tell us when they wake up.'
CHAPTER NINE
Inside the smaller wooden house was a large dining-cum-living-room. The walls were much behung with flags, banners, portraits, swords, rapiers, guns and pictures, all German. Behind a table a large, rather red-faced, heavily jowled man was eating a solitary meal to be washed down by beer from a pewter litre mug beside him. He looked up in amazement as the door crashed open.
Hamilton, pistol in hand, entered. He was followed by Smith, then the others.
'Guten abend, Hamilton said. 'I've brought an old friend along to see you.' He nodded towards Smith. 'I think old friends should smile and shake hands and say "hallo", don't you? You don't?'
Hamilton's pistol fired, gouging a hole in the seated man's desk.
'Nervous hands,' Hamilton said. 'Ramon?'
Ramon went behind the desk and removed a gun from an already half-opened drawer.
'Try the other drawer,' Hamilton said. Ramon did so and came up with a second gun.
'Can't really blame you,' Hamilton said. 'There are thieves and robbers everywhere these days. Well. Embarrassing silences bother me. Let me introduce you to each other. Behind the desk, Major-General Wolfgang Von Manteuffel of the S.S., variously known as Brown or Jones. Beside me, Colonel Heinrich Spaatz, also known as Smith, also of the S.S., Inspector General and Assistant Inspector General of the north and central Polish concentration and extermination camps, thieves on a colossal scale, murderers of old men in Holy orders and despoilers of monasteries. Remember, that's where you last met — in that Grecian monastery where you cremated the monks. But, then, you were specialists in cremation, weren't you?'
They weren't saying whether they were or not. The stillness in the room was total. All eyes were on Hamilton with the exception of those of Von Manteuffel and Spaatz: they had eyes only for each other.
'Sad,' Hamilton said. 'Very sad. Spaatz came all this long way to see you, Von Manteuffel. Admittedly, he came to kill you, but he did come. Something, I believe, to do with a rainy night in the Wilhelmshaven docks.'
There came the sharp crack of a small-bore automatic. Hamilton looked at Tracy who, gun loose in an already nerveless hand, was sinking to the floor and from the state of his head it was clear he would never rise again. Maria had a gun in her hand and was very pale.
Hamilton said: 'My gun is on you.'
She put her automatic back in her bush jacket pocket. 'He was going to kill you.'
'He was,' Ramon said.
Hamilton looked at her in bafflement. 'He was going to kill me, so you killed him?
'I was waiting for it.'
Navarro said thoughtfully, 'I do believe the young lady is not all that we thought she was.'
'So it would seem.' Hamilton was equally thoughtful. He said to her: 'Whose side are you on?'
'Yours.'
Spaatz at last looked away from Von Manteuffel and stared at her in total incredulity. She went on quietly: 'It is sometimes quite difficult to tell a Jewish girl from other girls.'
Hamilton said: 'Israeli?'
'Yes.'
'Intelligence?'
'Yes.'
'Ah! Would you like to shoot Spaatz too?'
'They want him back in Tel Aviv.'
'Failing that?'
'Yes.'
'My apologies, and without any reservations. You're becoming quite unpopular, Spaatz. But not yet in Von Manteuffel's class. The Israelis want him for obvious reasons. The Greeks' — he nodded to Ramon and Navarro in turn — 'those two gentlemen are Greek army intelligence officers — want you for equally obvious reasons.' He looked at Hiller. 'They supplied me with those gold coins, by the way.' He turned back to Von Manteuffel. 'The Brazilian government want you for dispossessing the Muscia tribe and for the killing of many of them and I want you for the murder of Dr Hannibal Huston and his daughter, Lucy.'
Von Manteuffel smiled and spoke for the first time. 'I'm afraid you all want a great deal. And I'm afraid you're not going to get it.'
There came a loud crashing of glass and simultaneously the barrels of three sub-machine-guns protruded through three smashed windows.
Von Manteuffel smiled contentedly. 'Any person found with a gun on him will be shot out of hand. Do I have to tell you what to do next?'
He didn't. All guns were dropped on the floor, including two that Hamilton had not known that Spaatz and Hiller were carrying.
'So.' Von Manteuffel nodded in satisfaction. 'So much better than a blood bath, don't you think? Simpletons! How do you think I have survived for so long? By taking endless precautions. Such as this little press button my right foot rests on.'
He broke off as four armed men entered and watched them in silence as they searched the captives for further weapons. Predictably, they found none.
'And the rucksacks,' Von Manteuffel said.
Again the search failed to turn up any weapon.
Von Manteuffel said: 'I would have a word with my old friend Heinrich, who would appear to have come a very long way for nothing. Ah, and this man.' He indicated Hiller. 'I gather he's an accomplice of my dear ex-comrade in arms. The rest - take them and their pestilential luggage I across to the old grain store. Perhaps I shall be subjecting them to some intensive and, I fear, very-painful questioning. On the other hand, perhaps not. I shall decide after I've had my chat with Heinrich.'
CHAPTER TEN
The old grain store was built entirely of beautifully cut and fitted stone without any mortar whatsoever. It was about twenty feet by twelve, and had three storage bins on either side. The sides and the partitions of the bins were made of heavy adze-cut wood. A single weak and naked electric lamp, suspended from the ceiling, burned in the centre of the store. There were no windows and only one door-opening without a door, which the presence outside of a man with a cocked machine carbine made superfluous anyway. There were no furnishings of any description. Hamilton and his fellow captives had nothing to do but to look at each other or at the sentry, who faced them, his elderly but no doubt still lethal Schmeisser levelled directly at them: he had about him the look of a man who was yearning for an excuse to use it.
Navarro finally broke the silence. 'I fear for the health of our Mr Smith. Hiller, too, come to that.'
'Never mind about their damned health,' Hamilton said. 'Start fearing for your own. When he's finished with those two who do you think is next on his list, whether or not he indulges in a little torture beforehand?' He sighed. 'Trust old trusty secret agent Hamilton to tell all. Von Manteuffel knows who I am, who Maria is, and who you two so-called Greek intelligence officers are. He can't let us live and I'm afraid he can't let Silver or Serrano live cither — obviously.'
'Speaking of Serrano,' Ramon said, 'could I have a word with you?'
'Go ahead.'
'In private, if you please.'
'If that's what you want.' The two men moved to a corner of the room where Ramon spoke in a low rapid tone. Hamilton lifted his eyebrows and his face registered surprise, an emotion he had practically never betrayed. Then he shrugged his shoulders, nodded twice, turned thoughtfully away and looked at the sentry.
'Big man,' Hamilton said. 'My size. Black from head to toe — beret, jacket, trousers, shoes. I want those clothes. More importantly, I want that gun. Even more importantly still, I want them both fast.'
'Easy,' Ramon said. 'Just ask him.'
Hamilton didn't reply. Savagely, almost, and to the accompaniment of the indrawn hiss of Maria's breath, he bit the ball of his left thumb. At once the blood began to flow. He squeezed the torn flesh until the blood flowed even more freely, then smeared it over Ramon's uncomprehending face.
'All in the interest of art,' Hamilton told him. 'Brother, what a fight this is going to be.'
The 'fight' started in the corner of the store, just out of the sentry's line of sight. The sentry would have been less than human not to locate the source of the sound of the heavy blows, the shouting and swearing. He moved forward into the doorway.
Hamilton and Ramon were belabouring each other mightily, fighting in apparently vicious fury, kicking and punching and obviously intent on inflicting grievous and mutual bodily harm. The sentry was clearly startled, but not suspicious. He had a heavily brutalised face behind which there lurked no great intelligence.