Temple Of The Moon

With the feeling she was living through some kind of bad dream, she explained her predicament in her halting Spanish and saw his smile broaden.

‘No norteamericana?’ he asked.

Gabrielle shook her head. ‘Inglesa,’ she returned.

‘And who tells an Inglesa to come to Hernandez?’

‘They sent me from the Café Tula. A woman called Pilar told me to try here.’ Gabrielle was relieved that his command of English seemed so good.

‘Pilar told you, eh?’ He was overcome by a spasm of silent laughter, his shoulders heaving up and down appreciatively. ‘It—figures. Pilar does not like gringas.’ He reached down and picked up Gabrielle’s case. ‘I show you the room, señorita.’

Gabrielle followed him across the room, embarrassedly aware of the frankly assessing glances fixed on her from all sides. She found herself uneasily checking that all the buttons on her navy shirt were fastened and that the cream flare of her skirt hadn’t been caught up in any way. She was almost glad to find herself out of the bar and going up a narrow stairway between stained and peeling walls. She felt a shiver of distaste which she firmly quelled. Whatever the room was like, she could put up with it for one night at least. Tomorrow she could make fresh plans—maybe even go to Villahermosa.

But the room was not as bad as she had anticipated. The floor was uncarpeted, and some of the slats were broken in the shutters at the windows, but the brightly patterned bedcover seemed clean and so did the cracked washbasin in the corner.

She turned to Hernandez. ‘How much is the room, Señor?’

The price he named made her gasp in disbelief. ‘I—I couldn’t possibly afford all that!’

He shrugged. ‘But the señorita is working. It is a fair rent.’

Now how did he know that? she wondered helplessly. She tried to speak firmly.

‘I am—hoping to work, yes, but nothing is settled yet, and I haven’t a great deal of money. Besides, I only want the room for one night,’ she added hastily.

Hernandez’ large greasy face creased into a frown. ‘Que? But the señorita is muy hermosa. She will not take long to find—work. But I am not a hard man. I make a reduction now and later we talk again.’

Gabrielle accepted with relief, deciding it might be better not to continue any argument about the length of her proposed stay. She handed over the money and watched Hernandez count it before stowing it away in his pocket. He gave her another ingratiating smile as he prepared to leave. ‘The señorita want anything? Tequila?’

‘Thank you, no.’ Gabrielle said hastily. Her empty stomach revolted at the thought of alcohol. She would have to find a restaurant nearby and have something to eat, she thought, flinching a little from the prospect of having to face another trip through the bar downstairs, and wishing that she’d had the foresight to buy some food during the day.

She was glad to see the back of Hernandez, who had seemed disposed to linger, but her heart sank when she finally closed the door behind him and discovered there was no lock on it, and a small broken bolt. She groaned aloud. If she did go out, what guarantee did she have that any of her belongings would still be here when she returned? She gazed rather desperately round the room, registering the fact that the door of the small wardrobe had to be wedged shut with newspaper. It looked as if she was a prisoner in her room until morning. Wearily she picked up her case and put it on the bed. She might as well try and get some sleep and forget her hunger that way.

She found her nightdress and slippers and closed the case again. There was no point in unpacking any further when she would be out of here first thing in the morning, she thought. She swung the case off the bed and looked round for somewhere to stow it. Under the bed seemed the most obvious place and she lifted a corner of the bedcover to make sure there was room.

Something—more than one—ran. Black, bloated and shining from the sheltering darkness under the bed, almost brushing her hand in passing. Her skin crawled uncontrollably and she heard herself scream in pure panic. She jumped to her feet, pulling the covers back from the bed with shaking hands, determined to find if there were any more lurking horrors.

‘What is the matter? Why are you shouting?’ Hernandez was back again. His voice sounded irritable through the closed door. She threw it open and confronted him.

‘There are cockroaches in this room, Señor!’

He looked at her almost incredulously and gave a short laugh. ‘So? Perhaps you should have taken a room at the Montejo Palace, gringa.’

She bit her lip. ‘I’ll need some insecticide. And a bucket of water, some disinfectant and a mop. I’m going to clean this room.’

Hernandez came in and shut the door behind him. He smiled at her genially, but Gabrielle felt a quiver of alarm run along her nerve endings.

‘Why do you make so much fuss? The room is cheap, no, and the—clients when they come do not notice such things. The other girls do not complain.’

Dry-throated, Gabrielle said, ‘Other girls?’

‘Si. You do not imagine you are the first? But you were wise to come to Hernandez, Inglesa. I will—look after you.’

The expression in his eyes as he watched her made her feel as if she was swimming through slime. Trying to keep her voice steady, she said, ‘I think there has been some mistake. I’d better leave.’

His small eyes narrowed. ‘Why you go? Soon everyone will know there is an Inglesa at Hernandez’ place. Many will come. You will make a lot of money. You were a fool to go to Pilar. Pilar is a good woman—very moral—go to Mass each day.’

‘No,’ she said desperately. ‘You don’t understand …’

‘I understand.’ He shrugged negligently. ‘You had to leave your hotel. Hotels here—very strict. But is O.K. here. Is good room, very cheap.’ He smiled again and took her arm, pinching the flesh between his stubby fingers. ‘Be nice to Hernandez, gringa, and maybe the room gets cheaper.’

Sheer panic lent her extra strength. She tore herself free from his grip and dodged past him out of the room, intent only on reaching the street and the comparative safety it seemed to offer. But there was a man coming up the dark stairs, blocking them. She collided with a hard body. Arms like steel bands went round her, controlling her struggles, as sobs of fright tore at her throat.

‘Calm down!’ The voice held a snarl, but it was English and it was also familiar. Dazedly, Gabrielle looked up into Shaun Lennox’s dark face, his eyes brilliant with anger.

‘What are you doing here?’ she gasped.

‘I could ask you the same, but it’s hardly the time for damfool questions.’ He took her arm in a bruising grip and led her back down the passage, ignoring her instinctive resistance. ‘Don’t abandon your luggage, Miss Christow. Hernandez will only sell it, and I imagine he’s had some money from you already. Don’t let him make more profit from your mistake.’

Hernandez was standing sulkily by the door as they went in. At the sight of Shaun Lennox, his whole attitude became defensive and he embarked on what seemed to be lengthy explanations in Spanish, causing every now and then to shoot accusing glares at Gabrielle.

Dr Lennox silenced him with one swift phrase which brought dull colour into the swarthy cheeks. Then he turned to Gabrielle.

‘Get your things together, Miss Christow,’ he advised curtly. ‘They’re holding dinner for us at the Institute.’

She stared at him unbelievingly for a moment. ‘What made you change your mind?’

‘I haven’t,’ he said succinctly. ‘Dennis Morgan has made one of his lightning recoveries and wants to have a look at you. I phoned your hotel this morning to let you know and found you’d left without a forwarding address. We’ve been looking for you most of the day.’

‘How did you find me?’ She rolled her nightdress into a ball and rammed it into a corner of the case.

‘Quite by accident. Rosita who works in the office at the Institute—you may have seen her yesterday—was dining at the Café Tula with her novio tonight and she saw you. She got the gist of what was going on and it worried her, especially when she heard friend Hernandez’ name being mentioned. This bar is pretty notorious. But her English isn’t too good and she doubted whether she’d be able to make you understand, so she telephoned me instead.’

‘I’m very gateful to her.’ Gabrielle snapped the locks on her case with trembling fingers.

‘You have good reason to be,’ he said drily. ‘From your dramatic appearance just now, I imagine I came just in time. Here.’ He held out an imperative hand for the case and she surrendered it without a word.

The jeep was parked outside. She climbed in, still without speaking and sat, staring rigidly ahead through the windscreen. Shaun Lennox joined her.

‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ she said in a tight little voice.

‘You’re just hungry.’ He started the engine. ‘Try and think about something else.’

‘How can I think of anything else?’ There was an edge of hysteria in her voice. ‘You don’t know the sort of day I’ve been through. And now this!’

‘You were warned,’ he reminded her. ‘I told you that this was not the place for practising your new-found sexual equality or women’s liberation—or any other half-baked ideas for that matter. But you had to find out the hard way. Why didn’t you tell me the Belen wanted your room and that you were stranded?’

‘You know why!’ she flashed.