Golden Heart (The Lazarus Longman Chronicles) (15 page)

“The Spaniards got the idea into their heads that if this had been going on for generations upon generations, then the bottom of Lake Guatavita must be silted in gold dust and littered with sunken treasures. They tried dredging the lake and came up with a few objects, but were ultimately disappointed.

“A few years ago, a company was set up in London with the aim of draining the lake. It was funded by the government, and I was to head an advance party to explore the lake and its surroundings. The Muisca were wiped out by disease and violence soon after the Spanish conquered them, but the natives who dwell there now, although Catholic for the most part, still hold the lake in great reverence. I did not count on this and neither did my superiors.

“I found a people who, despite suffering the worst oppressions for several hundred years—or perhaps because of them—were fiercely independent. They do not even consider themselves part of the United States of Colombia, despite living within forty miles of Bogota. I fell in love with their free spirit and in love with one individual in particular.

“She was beautiful, and as strong and fiery as any of her people. As my love for her grew, so too did my disillusionment with my mission and my government’s plans. What right did we have, I asked myself, to lay claim to the sacred lake of these people? The Colombian government may have endorsed our plan for their cut of the profits, but even if Lake Guatavita had been filled to the brim with enough gold to buy the world twice over, it would not have been enough for me to help my own country rob these people.”

“You disobeyed orders?”

“Yes,” Lazarus replied with a grim smile. “Perhaps I cannot expect a Russian agent, loyal to the end, to understand, but it was during my months among the natives of Cundinamarca that I learned that some things trump fealty to one’s government. I warned the girl I loved of what was coming, and she told the rest of her people. When the British arrived they found a revolt on their hands. These people were not going to let them drain their lake without a fight. And so a fight is what they gave.”

Katarina winced. “Natives against soldiers of the British Empire? They were wiped out?”

“Damn near every last one of them. You’ve seen how Reynolds has torn holes through the Cibolans. The British don’t have that level of firepower, but the natives of Cundinamarca were fewer in number and less warlike. It took only a day to lay their villages to waste. The lake was soon red with their blood, and the fires of their burning homes were reflected in those dark waters.”

“And the girl you loved…”

“Dead like the rest of them. I vanished then, heading north through Panama and Mexico towards the C.S.A. I had decided to wash my hands of the British Empire and their thirst for conquest.”

“And yet here you are. Here
we
are.”

“Yes. Here we are.”

“And Lake Guatavita? Was it drained?”

“Yes. But the damned fools didn’t count on the mud drying in the sun and setting like concrete. Any gold there was stuck fast and irretrievable. They abandoned the project.”

Katarina watched him silently. It was cold and many hours lay between them and dawn. She moved closer to him to get some of his heat, and he tried to pretend that he had not noticed. “Why did you go back into their service after that?” she asked him.

“My contact, Morton, tracked me down in some sorry shithole in the American Southwest. I was drinking myself into an early grave far from home. He persuaded me to get back up on my horse, as they say here. He had a mission for me. Something local. Find Gerard Vasquez. I may have been foolish enough or drunk enough to accept the offer then, but if I saw Morton right now I don’t know that I wouldn’t blow his brains out. He’s managed to fool me into the old game of imperialism again.”

“We all have our price,” said Katarina.

“What was yours?”

“That’s a long story.”

“It’s a night for telling stories. Where in Russia are you from?”

“Smolensk. My father was an impoverished nobleman. When he died my mother sent me to live with my uncle.”

“The one in the Okhrana?”

“There’s really no such thing, you know? That is a word the enemies of the Tsar thought up to cover all of the different clandestine agencies of the Internal Ministry. But yes, my uncle is a high-ranking member. He raised me. I’d rather not go into it all now, if that’s all the same with you.”

“Alright. You must of course feel free to remain the woman of mystery for me.”

“You’re one to talk. I don’t know a thing about you. I mean, I’ve read your file but I know nothing about your childhood.”

“You never asked.”

“There’s hardly been time in between getting shot at. Very well. Tell me about your parents.”

“Don’t remember them. They died when I was very young. I was adopted by a learned man who raised me as his own.”

“And so you were saved from the notorious workhouses of London. How Dickensian.”

“Actually I was saved from something altogether different. And I’m not from London.”

“Oh?”

“That’s all I want to go into right now.”

“Come on, where were you born?”

“When you feel like telling me more about your uncle and your childhood, then I’ll tell you about how that kind gentleman found me on the streets of a foreign city and took me into his care.”

“Very well. Perhaps if we live for a few more days.” She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know why, Longman, but I hate you more than I’ve hated any man I’ve ever known.”

Lazarus felt the acceptance of this latest insult seemed a fair price to pay for the liberty of putting his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulders and they said no more.

 

Chapter Fifteen

 

In which blood is spilt between comrades

 

They moved at first light. It promised to be a hot day and they were keen to find water before they ran out entirely. The river cut close to the foot of the cliffs, and they descended to drink and refill their canteens. A gunshot sounded nearby and they flung themselves flat, drawing their weapons. Katarina belly-crawled towards a boulder and pressed her back to it, peering into the trees up ahead.

Lazarus rose, confident that the shot had not been aimed at them. His Starblazer held steady, he entered the shade of the trees. Katarina followed close.

“Are you two going to just stand there?” came a voice from above them.

They looked up and saw Lieutenant Thompson perched in the branches of a ponderosa, his blue uniform dusty and torn. One leg hung down on either side of a branch. The left was dark to the knee with blood.

It was only then that Lazarus saw the mountain lion. Its beige fur camouflaged it against the dusty rocks and bronze pine needle carpet. But nothing camouflaged its snarl. Lazarus and Katarina took quick, involuntary steps backwards.

“Shoot it, for Chrissake!” yelled Thompson.

Lazarus aimed his revolver at the face of the beast and looked it dead in those honeyed eyes. His finger squeezed the trigger but the lion turned tail and loped off, the roar of the Starblazer spurring its retreat until it vanished into the trees.

Lazarus didn’t know how long Thompson had been up in that tree. Perhaps all night, but he certainly seemed eager to get down from it. They helped him plant his feet back on solid ground, although he limped terribly.

“Let me look at that leg,” said Katarina.

“Damned cat caught me just before I got out of its reach,” said Thompson, wincing as he sat down. “It’s been circling my ass for hours, hoping for a slice of Louisiana Nigger.”

“Can’t cats climb trees?” asked Lazarus.

“You bet. He’s a nimble bastard, but the noise of my gun kept him from scrambling up here. Only got five cartridges left.”

“We heard you spend one. Lucky for you we were passing by.”

Thompson screwed his face up as Katarina tightened the torn strip of her dress that she was using as a bandage around his calf. “Yeah, what are you two doing snooping around here anyway? Didn’t those underground lunatics try and stop you leaving?”

“They didn’t stop you, did they?” said Katarina. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“We got wind that your captain left us,” said Lazarus. “And you after her. What’s it all about?”

Thompson narrowed his eyes. “I don’t usually discuss partisan affairs with strangers. Especially not those working for the C.S.A.”

“I don’t work for them anymore. I would have thought that the last few days would have proved that.”

“Well, Townsend’s just gone crazy, I figure,” he replied. “She took off when we were holding the entrance to the northern temple. Desertion is what it is. I never thought it of her, but she’s been acting pretty strange in recent months. Obsessed with things that have nothing to do with our mission. She’s lost her mind and taken off with no regard for the troops she’s left behind. That’s just plain treachery in my book. I’d have hung her if I were her superior.”

“But you aren’t,” said Lazarus. “So what are you going to do?”

“I tell you what I’m going to do,” said Katarina. “I’m going to beat the living hell out of her for ditching me in this valley. Does she think I’m here for the mountain air? I have a mission and she’s near ruined it for me.”

“Join the queue,” said Thompson as he staggered to his feet and began testing the strength in his leg. The bandage held but was already spotted with seeping blood.

“You’ll need stitches,” said Katarina. “I’ll see what I can do back at base camp, but that should hold for now.”

“She hasn’t got more than a couple of hours on us if she stopped to rest,” said Thompson. “If we hurry we’d catch up with her, it’s just my leg…”

“Just try and keep up with me,” said Katarina. “Longman, you help him.”

“Get your hands off me,” snapped Thompson as Lazarus tried to offer his support. “I can hobble along well enough on my own.”

Hobble he did but admirably, matching Lazarus and Katarina pace for pace as they rose up out of the forest and continued following the cliffs to the southern point, where they dipped down. He was clearly struggling, and the strip of Katarina’s dress wasn’t enough to keep the blood in his body.

It was a brutal trek. Before the sun had reached its zenith, they had caught up with the lone figure of Captain Townsend, who they saw wandering through the shimmering heat waves like a ghost. She was weighed down by a knapsack that looked like it was bursting at the seams and the weight of it made her stagger.

“Captain!” called out Thompson.

She whirled in surprise. Thompson drew his pistol and aimed it at her. Townsend returned the favor. Katarina drew her own and aimed it at Thompson.

“Let’s just be calm…” said Lazarus, his hand hovering near his own pistol, unsure that if he had to draw it who he would point it at.

“Go back, Lieutenant!” called up Townsend. “That’s an order.”

“Orders?” scoffed Thompson. “I don’t take orders from deserters. Townsend, I am escorting you back to camp and relieving you of command!”

“I’m warning you, Thompson…”

“As am I,” said Katarina. “You shoot her and I’ll put a bullet in you before she hits the ground.”

Thompson ignored her and descended the slope, keeping his gun on his captain. Katarina followed close. “What’s in the knapsack?” he asked her.

She didn’t answer but un-looped one strap and dropped it to the ground. It landed with a dull thud. Its seams split and its contents slid out. Gold glinted in the sun; enough gold to buy several large farms.

“Goddamn you, Townsend…” said Thompson. “You’re nothing but a lousy traitor out for your own profit.”

“You think this gold is for me?” she snapped back. “You think I give a damn about bits of metal? This gold can pay for some of the blood this war has drained from my homeland. It can buy up an orphanage or two. It can reimburse some families who have lost everything.”

“And what of the partisan rangers?” asked Thompson. “And the Union? They need this gold too.”

“Damn the Union! I haven’t fought my way out of the gutter and lost countless friends here in Arizona to hand everything over to them!”

Thompson had set his face to that of a cold statue. Lazarus saw his gun arm tense.

“Thompson, no!”

The gun roared and Townsend fell backwards, her own gun remaining unspoken, Thompson’s bullet lodged somewhere deep within her. She staggered and then her legs gave out and she fell, her unbound lion’s mane of twisted hair spreading out around her head like a halo of gold.

Thompson ignored the barrel of Katarina’s gun that was only a few inches from his temple. If she was going to shoot him then she would have done it already. He holstered his pistol.

“I should kill you right now,” she hissed.

“And that would achieve precisely what?” Thompson replied. “You were too slow to save her and now it’s done.” He bent down and began scooping the gold back into the knapsack.

“Why couldn’t you have just let her go?” Lazarus asked him.

He glared at him under his heavy brow. “She was a traitor and a deserter. This is how it is in the army. Besides, she nearly drew on me.”

“Her reasons did not seem wholly selfish. What is a sack full of gold when there are seven cities of the stuff here?”

“It is not the amount that counts but the intention. This gold belongs to the Union. Townsend lost her faith in the Union, I don’t know when, perhaps long ago. I had my suspicions but should have acted sooner. There’s no helping such as her.” He rose and looked at Katarina. “I am now in command of the Arizona Territory Unionist Partisan Rangers. I shall pass on my good words to your superiors. Townsend’s death will not affect your mission.”

Katarina spun and strode away.

“You’re a cold man, Thompson,” said Lazarus.

“Who isn’t in this world?”

They made their way back north, Thompson hobbling to keep up with Katarina’s furious pace. When they came within sight of the western city something made her halt and step into the shade of the pines.

“What is it?” Lazarus asked.

She pointed up at the deserted pueblo. It did not seem so deserted now. Figures were moving about between the buildings. Figures in  uniforms.

“What are they doing back here?” Lazarus asked. “There’s surely nothing of interest left in those hovels.”

“Stay out of sight,” said Katarina. “Last thing we need is to be spotted by them now.”

Thompson’s eyes glared up at the Confederates, his hand brushing his revolver. He clearly wished he had firepower and opportunity enough to take them all on. They trod the soft floor of the forest in perfect silence, or at least they assumed so. Somebody had heard them. A figure rose up sharply from the foliage, causing all three of them to draw their guns.

“Don’t shoot her!” hissed Lazarus.

It was Kokoharu. She looked surprised to see them but not, Lazarus was willing to wager, as surprised as they looked to see her. Her keen ears had most certainly picked up their approach.

“What on earth are you doing out here?” Lazarus asked her, forgetting for the moment that she could not understand English. “Don’t you know that a party of the enemy is up at your old city?”

The jerk of his head in that direction elicited a fierce response from the girl and she began to babble and gesticulate, showing that yes, she knew very well that the enemy had returned to the home of her clan. From the ensuing monologue, Lazarus could pick out only the names of people he knew; Mankanang and Xuthala were mentioned, as was Pahanatuuwa along with some variant on the pronunciation of Vasquez’s name. She kept pointing up at the cliffs.

“They’re all up there?” asked Lazarus. “Vasquez and Pahanatuuwa? And Mankanang and Xuthala? Up at the city?”

She nodded.

“What the devil has been going on?” he demanded, but Kokoharu had turned and was making her way through the foliage, leaving the outlanders with no choice but to follow.

“Do you suppose they’ve been captured?” Katarina asked Lazarus.

“Unlikely. The chief and his wife, along with their greatest warrior, and Vasquez who shouldn’t even be out in daylight, incidentally? That’s too lucky for Reynolds. I’m guessing Mankanang and Xuthala are discussing terms with Reynolds. They probably brought Pahanatuuwa along as an interpreter. And Vasquez? Who knows? Something to do with his relationship with Reynolds is my guess. All the same this is very fishy.”

Kokoharu led them to a little squashed area in the bushes where some brush had been piled up to form a soft bed. Here she picked up her spear.

“Poor lovesick child has been sleeping here all night,” said Lazarus. “Must have followed them and kept a watch over Pahanatuuwa to see that he would come to no harm.”

“What’s she doing now?” Katarina asked.

Kokoharu was setting off towards the cliffs, spear in hand, as if she was going to singlehandedly conquer the Confederate army.

“I think our presence has made up her mind to attack,” Lazarus replied.

Kokoharu stopped suddenly and impatiently beckoned them to follow. Lazarus drew his pistol.

“You’re not thinking of following this insane creature up to the city?” Thompson exclaimed.

“I’m not asking you to come with me, either of you,” said Lazarus. “But my friends are up there and I do not leave friends in such perilous straights. And also, it may be worth remembering, Thompson, that there are plenty of Confederates up there that require killing.”

Thompson said nothing, but drew his revolver and looked at it as if in longing. Lazarus reached into his pocket, drew out a couple of boxes of Colt cartridges and tossed them to him with an accompanying grin.

 

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