They started down the path of amber ground lamps. ‘Una momenta!’ whispered Emilio. ‘The lights. Kick them out, se๑or. The more darkness, the better we are.’
‘Good thinking,’ agreed Kendrick, heading back with the Mexican to the white barrier, where they proceeded to crush each succeeding domed bulb on both sides. They reached the main island path that on the left led down to the boats and the dock, on the right up to the manor house on the top of the hill, with an offshoot leading to the escape proof rustic cabin. Evan and the Mexican raced from one lamp to another, demolishing each until they came to the cabin path. ‘That way!’ ordered Kendrick, rushing ahead to the right. ‘Forget the lights. We’ll take them out on our way back.’
‘La caba๑a?’
‘Hurry up!’ Once again the startling magnified wash of light from the thick bevelled windows illuminated the clearing in front of the small, solid house. Evan approached the door and pressed a green button on the electronic key. He heard the bolts slap back into the frame; he turned the knob and went inside. ‘Get in here,’ he called to Emilio. The Mexican did as he was told and Kendrick closed the door, pressing the red button, locking it.
He ran to the kitchen area, opening drawers and cabinets one after another, selecting items that struck him as useful: a torch, a large carving knife and several smaller knives, a meat cleaver, three small tins of Sterno, solid fuel, a box of camping matches—coated with paraffin, strikable on any hard surface—and a stack of folded towels. With everything on the oval oak table, he glanced over at Emilio, who was watching him. He picked up one of the knives, the handle extended, and held it out for the Mexican. ‘I hope you don’t have to use this, but if you do, don’t miss.’
‘There are men I could not kill without reasoning with them first, for they are as desperate as myself for employment. But there are others, the ones who have been here longest, I would have no such problems.’
‘Goddamn you, you can’t have any problems! If one alarm is raised—’
‘No alarms will be raised by my friends, se๑or, not if they know it is I, Emilio. Besides, most of them are in the barracks asleep. They use the veteranos for the night patrols; they fear the boats at night.’
‘You’d better be right.’
‘I wish to go home, believe that.’
‘Take some towels, a can of fuel and a handful of matches. Hurry!’ Picking up the remaining items and putting them in his pockets, Kendrick left the meat cleaver until last. He gripped it, went to the intercom console on the wall and, standing sideways, sliced the heavy blade into the back of the equipment, prising it off the wall and out of its recess. ‘Get the two lamps over there,’ he said to the Mexican. ‘Smash them. I’ll do the stove lights and the lamp on the other side of the room.’
Less than a minute later the two desperate men were out on the path, the previously brightly lit clearing in front of the cabin now eerily dark. ‘The tools—the gardeners’ tools. Take me to them.’
‘Con mucho cuidado! We must be careful going around the big house. We will put out the path lights only up to where I say. From the second level those in the house can see they are not on, and there will be alarms. If there are patrols, let me study them first.’
‘Let’s go. They’ve got problems up there, but pretty soon someone’s going to wonder where my executioner is. Hurry up!’
They smashed the amber lamps up to a ridge that preceded the level ground of the huge manor house—great house, thought Evan, thinking of the tropic zone and the great houses of the Caribbean. The Mexican suddenly grabbed Kendrick’s arm and pulled him through the bordering foliage of the path, then pushed his shoulder down, gripping the flesh; the message was clear: Crouch and be still. A guard, his rifle strapped over his shoulder, passed them on the path going in the opposite direction. ‘Now quickly, se๑or! There is no one until the back galena where they drink wine and smoke fish!’
A large patio with a barbecue pit, thought Evan, following Emilio through the thick greenery, wishing he had a machete to cut through the vines but grateful for the strangely ever present sound of the wind and the crashing waves. They circled down and around the house, another sound intruding. It was the massive generator, its hum constant, bass-toned, awesome. The engineer in Kendrick tried to calculate the power it produced and the fuel it consumed and the auxiliary input of the necessary field of photovoltaic cells—it was mind-blowing. He had installed generators from Bahrain to the western deserts of Saudi Arabia but they were temporary, to be used only until electricity could be cabled in; nothing like this.
Again the Mexican gripped Evan’s shoulder, now more fiercely, his hand trembling, and again they crouched in the undergrowth behind the long clipped wall of shrubbery. Kendrick looked up and with sudden fear understood. Ahead, to the left, above the hedgelike border of the path, a guard had heard something or seen something. His upper body was clearly visible in the glow of the amber lights; he moved forward rapidly, snapping the rifle off his shoulder and levelling it in front of him. He walked directly towards them, then only feet away, he poked the barrel of the weapon into the brush.
‘ฟQuien es?’ shouted the patrol.
Suddenly, lashing out and pouncing like an angry cat, Emilio shot up, grabbing the rifle and pulling the guard through the foliage. There was an abrupt expunging of air that cut off the start of a scream; the man fell into the greenery, the base of his throat a mass of blood. The knife was in Emilio’s right hand.
‘Good God!’ whispered Evan as he and the Mexican dragged the body farther into the brush.
‘I had no problem with this perrol’ said Emilio. ‘This dog smashed the head of a boy, a young gardener who would not accommodate him, if you understand, se๑or.’
‘I understand, and I also understand that you just saved our lives… Wait a minute! The rifle, his cap. We can save time! There are no uniforms here, just work clothes—the weapon is the uniform. Put on the cap and strap the rifle over your shoulder. Then walk out there and I’ll stay as close to you as I can over here. If it’s quicker for me to go on the path myself, you can make sure it’s clear!’
‘Bueno,’ said the Mexican, reaching for the cap and the weapon. ‘If I am stopped I will say that this perro forced me to replace him for an hour or so. They will laugh but no one will doubt it… I go. Stay close and when I tell you, come through the bushes and walk at my side. Not in front and not in back, but at my side. Do you speak Spanish?’
‘Not well enough to talk to anyone.’
‘Then say nothing. Stay close!’ Emilio broke through the bordering hedge, the rifle over his shoulder, and started down the path. Thrashing against the dark tangled greenery, Kendrick did his best to keep pace, every now and then whispering to the Mexican to slow down. Once at a particularly thick area, Evan removed the meat cleaver from his belt and hacked at a webbed mass of tropical vines, only to hear Emilio cry out under his breath. ‘!Silencio!’… Then he heard another command: ‘Now, se๑or! Come out and walk with me. Quickly!’
Kendrick did so, forcing his way through the bushes and joined the Mexican, who suddenly, emphatically, began accelerating his strides down the sloping path. ‘Is going this fast such a good idea?’ asked Evan breathlessly. ‘If we’re seen, someone might think we were running while on duty.’
‘We have come to the back of the main house,’ answered Emilio, rushing forward. ‘There is no one here at this hour but two guards on different paths who meet at the stone galena then go back over the hill and down to the beaches. It takes them many minutes and they have just left. We can run across the galena and up the far path, then through the woods to the mantenimiento— the tools, se๑or.’
They reached a sunken brick patio, the same patio Kendrick had studied from the small balcony of the guest room above. He remembered the two guards signalling each other from the bases of the opposing paths. The Mexican, who was now very much in charge, grabbed Evan’s arm and nodded to his left, breaking into a run. They raced down into the sunken patio which was far larger than Kendrick had realized; it extended the length of the house itself, and white wrought-iron furniture had been placed around the central area in front of a large brick barbecue pit. They ran by the side of the house under the balconies, then sprinted across and up the south path of amber lights to a flat area bordered by tall grass, a knoll overlooking the ocean and two beaches separated by a rock-filled coastline perhaps six hundred feet below. The amber lights were now behind them, nothing in front but a narrow descending dirt road.