Dennis Wheatley - Unholy Crusade

He realised then that she must have swum away under the bridge to the far end of the pool. Diving in, he set off after her. A minute later his swift crawl brought him under the bridge and there she was, her back turned to him, not floating or treading water, but hanging with both hands to one of the cross beams supporting the low bridge. Her face was turned upward and she appeared to be listening intently.

At the sound of his approach she swung round, let go with one hand, frowned at him and gestured him to remain silent. Catching at another cross beam he hung there a few feet away from her.

As the water he had churned up ceased to swish, he caught the sound of voices coming down through the floorboards of the summer house. He could not hear all that was said but enough to get the gist of the conversation. The Mexican Ambassador in Washington had been tipped off by the F.B.I. that a revolution was brewing in his country. As security man at the Embassy, Ramon had been sent back to alert his government; but he had come first to inform his father, who was greatly worried at this news and very glad of the warning, as it would enable him to put certain people on guard against possible trouble.

After a few minutes Chela let go her hold on the beam, slid under water and swam away to the narrow end of the pool. Adam promptly followed and they surfaced face to face some fifteen feet on the far side of the bridge.

When she had shaken the water from her face, her wide mouth opened in its dazzling smile and she said, `Wicked of me to eavesdrop, wasn't it? But I love learning other people's secrets, and as Ramon has nothing to do with commerce, I felt certain his unexpected return was not connected with plastics.'

Adam grinned at her a little awkwardly. `Well, as I eavesdropped too, we are birds of a feather. Do you think it likely, though? I mean, the possibility of there being a revolution?'

She shrugged her splendid shoulders. `I doubt it. There are plenty of people both rich and poor who would like to see the present government overthrown and some of them are indiscreet enough to say so. But talk is one thing and action quite another. I shouldn't think this is more than a baseless rumour that some eager beaver American agent has picked up. Best forget it. Come on. I'll race you back to the other end of the pool.'

As she struck out, Adam gave her a good start, caught her up,

then took things easily, gallantly letting her win by a head and shoulders.

When they had all dried themselves and were drinking their first cocktail, a visitor was brought out of the house. He was an elderly, thickset man, with long, lank, silver hair that turned up at the ends and strangely contrasting bushy black eyebrows, Beneath which were a pair of curiously dead looking black eyes. His sallow complexion and hooked nose suggested a dash of Indian blood, although he had the haughty look of a pure bred Spaniard. He was dressed in a dark suit of gabardine. Bernadino and Ramon were still in the summer house but the others all, stood up as the visitor approached and greeted him with deference. It was not until Chela introduced him as Monsignor Don Alberuque that Adam realised that he was a prelate.

As Adam met the glance of those cold, fish like eyes, he felt certain that he had looked into them or a pair extraordinarily like them somewhere before; but he could not remember where. He was, too, suddenly conscious of an instinctive feeling of mingled fear and hatred of their owner, although the Monsignor gave him no grounds whatsoever for such a reaction. On the contrary, he could not have been more polite and charming as he questioned Adam about his impressions of Mexico and offered to do anything in his power to make his stay more enjoyable.

He had a deep, sonorous voice, a ready smile and an agile mind. Tactfully he drew one after the other in the little circle into the conversation, asking after their parents and their recent doings. He drank his martinis with evident enjoyment and, without any trace of the coy wickedness adopted by some priests, conveyed the impression that he was a broad minded man of the world.

Some quarter of an hour after he had joined them he said to Chela, `My daughter, I feel sure your friends will forgive me if I deprive them of you for a few minutes, so that we may have a

short private conversation.'

As she stood up he added with a smile to the others, `Dear Chela is invaluable to me in my work, and I called to solicit her aid in smoothing out an unhappy dissension between two members on the committee of one of our many charities.' Then he took her by the arm and led her away towards the other end of the garden.

By then dusk was falling; so the others finished their drinks and went up to change for dinner.

They assembled again at half past eight, the men in dinner jackets, the girls in long dresses as fashionable as any that could have been seen in Paris. Another hour of drinks and laughing chatter followed, during which Don Alberuque rejoined them.

Then, an hour earlier than they would have done in the capital, they went in to dine.

The meal was of six courses, all carefully chosen, and better, Adam thought, than could have been got in most expensive restaurants. The wines had been shipped from Europe: a Manzanilla with the soup, a Montrachet with the fish, a chateau bottled Lafitte with the roast, champagne with the sweet and a Beerenauslese hock to finish up with. Again there came into Adam's mind the little boy staggering under the weight of the jerry can of water, and the appalling contrast with this feast which, he felt sure, had not been put on simply for him but was an everyday occurrence in this millionaire's household.

When the girls left the men at table, Alberuque at once moved down next to Adam and buttonholed him. In spite of his sudden and instinctive dislike of the Monsignor, the man's mind was so lively and his interest in Adam so evident that it would have been churlish not to respond pleasantly.

To begin with he questioned Adam about his books, his other interests, his early life and, with urbane tact, his religion. To the last Adam replied that he had been brought up as a Presbyterian, then took a slightly cynical pleasure in repeating what he had said to Chela about the Roman Catholic Church keeping its followers in ignorance in order to retain its power over them.

Alberuque shook his massive head. `You are wrong about that, my friend. All through the Dark Ages in Europe it was the Church alone that kept the flame of learning alight. And if we do not allow our people to question the tenets of the Church, that is for their own good. And, religion apart, the Church has played a part unrivalled by any other body as a civilizing influence.'

Greedily picking a couple of Muscat grapes from a nearby dish, he popped them in his thin lipped mouth, chewed them and went on, `Here in Mexico the Church has saved the people from generations of suffering. The Dominican Fathers, who were the first to arrive here, fought the Conquistadores tooth and nail to prevent them from exploiting the Indians. In those times priests were the only lawyers. The Dominicans controlled the Council of the Indies and they appointed the three members of the Audiencia, the Supreme Court here, which had powers even greater than those of the Viceroys. The Fathers' object was to erect a `City of God ' in which all men, irrespective of their colour, would be free and able to secure justice. It was the Church that forced through the laws restricting the encomiendas.'

`What were they?' Adam enquired.

`Soon after the Conquest, the Spaniards divided the country

into districts, making themselves feudal lords on the same pattern as the nobles in Europe. They looked on the Indians on their great estates as serfs, and compelled them to give their labour without payment. The Church could not altogether abolish these ecomiendas, as they were called, but it did persuade the King of Spain to agree to a law that after “two lives” the exploiters should have to surrender their right to use the Indians as slave labour.