High Citadel / Landslide

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Authors: Desmond Bagley
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smoke from his failing pipe with a disconsolate gurgle. ‘Well, that’s the last of the tobacco until we get back to civilization,’ he said as he knocked out the dottle. ‘Tell me, Captain; what are you doing in this part of the world?’
    ‘Oh, I fly aeroplanes from anywhere to anywhere,’ said O’Hara. Not any more I don’t, he thought. As far as Filson was concerned, he was finished. Filson would never forgive a pilot who wrote off one of his aircraft, no matter what the reason. I’ve lost my job, he thought. It was a lousy job but it had kept him going, and now he’d lost it.
    The girl came back and he crossed over to her. ‘Anything doing down the road?’ he asked.
    She shook her head. ‘Nothing. Miguel says everything is quiet.’
    ‘He’s quite a character,’ said O’Hara. ‘He certainly knows a lot about these mountains—and he knows a bit about medicine too.’
    ‘He was born near here,’ Benedetta said. ‘And he was a medical student until—’ She stopped.
    ‘Until what?’ prompted O’Hara.
    ‘Until the revolution.’ She looked at her hands. ‘All his family were killed—that is why he hates Lopez. That is whyhe works with my uncle—he knows that my uncle will ruin Lopez.’
    ‘I thought he had a chip on his shoulder,’ said O’Hara.
    She sighed. ‘It is a great pity about Miguel; he was going to do so much. He was very interested in the soroche , you know; he intended to study it as soon as he had taken his degree. But when the revolution came he had to leave the country and he had no money so he could not continue his studies. He worked in the Argentine for a while, and then he met my uncle. He saved my uncle’s life.’
    ‘Oh?’ O’Hara raised his eyebrows.
    ‘In the beginning Lopez knew that he was not safe while my uncle was alive. He knew that my uncle would organize an opposition—underground, you know. So wherever my uncle went he was in danger from the murderers hired by Lopez—even in the Argentine. There were several attempts to kill him, and it was one of these times that Miguel saved his life.’
    O’Hara said, ‘Your uncle must have felt like another Trotsky. Joe Stalin had him bumped off in Mexico.’
    ‘That is right,’ she said with a grimace of distaste. ‘But they were communists, both of them. Anyway, Miguel stayed with us after that. He said that all he wanted was food to eat and a bed to sleep in, and he would help my uncle come back to Cordillera. And here we are.’
    Yes, thought O’Hara; marooned up a bloody mountain with God knows what waiting at the bottom.
    Presently Armstrong went out to relieve Rohde. Miss Ponsky came across to talk to O’Hara. ‘I’m sorry I behaved so stupidly in the airplane,’ she said crossly. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
    O’Hara thought there was no need to apologize for being half frightened to death; he had been bloody scared himself. But he couldn’t say that—he couldn’t even mention the word fear to her. That would be unforgivable; noone likes to be reminded of a lapse of that nature—not even a maiden lady getting on in years. He smiled and said diplomatically, ‘Not everyone would have come through an experience like that as well as you have, Miss Ponsky.’
    She was mollified and he knew that she had been in fear of a rebuff. She was the kind of person who would bite on a sore tooth, not letting it alone. She smiled and said, ‘Well now, Captain O’Hara—what do you think of all this talk about communists?’
    ‘I think they’re capable of anything,’ said O’Hara grimly.
    ‘I’m going to put in a report to the State Department when I get back,’ she said. ‘You ought to hear what Señor Aguillar has been telling me about General Lopez. I think the State Department should help Señor Aguillar against General Lopez and the communists.’
    ‘I’m inclined to agree with you,’ said O’Hara. ‘But perhaps your State Department doesn’t believe in interfering in Cordilleran

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