The helicopter swept along the river, then turned to hang lazily above the landing pad. As it dropped gently down she saw two Land Rovers moving towards it along the track which led from the rear of the big house. The noise of the engine faded abruptly, and the dust settled. Without a word Damion unlocked the handcuffs, removed the noose, opened the door and got out, followed by Paxero. A man in a bush hat and wearing a gun appeared and said, 'Out.' As she emerged, one of the Land Rovers was already moving off with Paxero and Damion. The driver of the other Land Rover glanced at her without interest and pointed to the passenger seat. She climbed in, and the man in the bush hat sat behind her. The driver let in the clutch.

  After half a mile Paxero's truck swung round in front of the big house. Her own carried on along the road which led through the middle of the plantation, and now she saw the slaves. They wore white cotton shirts, trousers or skirts, and most had floppy linen hats. Some were on steps, stripping the coffee cherries from the trees, some were filling wicker baskets with the picked cherries, some carrying baskets to a horse-drawn cart. Faces turned to stare as the Land Rover went past. Ahead she saw a man on low steps working on a tree near the edge of the road, at the end of a line. He took off his hat and wiped his brow as the Land Rover drew near, staring openly, but with no sign of recognition. She lifted a hand to push back a tress of hair, and flickered an eye-lid as they passed.

  Danny Chavasse. So Lucifer had been right.

  She said, 'What happens next ? What is this place ?'

  The man behind her slapped the back of her neck. 'It's Limbo, girl. And that's your last question, see?' He spoke with a Welsh accent, and with a note of relish. 'It's a slave you're to be now, and no asking questions. You'll find out.'

  The truck came out of the plantation area and bore right, towards a prefab hut which was set apart from the main quarters within the wire fence. A black man stood in the open doorway. As the truck halted the man behind her gave her a push in the back and said, 'Have her ready in an hour, Doc.'

  She got out. The Land Rover swung in a tight circle and moved off. The black man said, 'My name's Crozier. Dr Kim Crozier. Come in, please.' He turned back into the hut.

  She followed, and found herself in a well-kept and seemingly well-stocked consulting room. Dr Crozier gave her a sober smile, put out his hand and said, 'Hallo, Miss Blaise.'

  She took the hand, and looked at him vacantly. 'You know my name ?'

  'I'm not supposed to yet, but I get to hear about most things, and I knew they were bringing you in. Danny Chavasse is quite certain you're here by your own design, and I'm hoping he's right.'

  'Danny who ?'

  White teeth showed in a broad smile. 'You're not quite sure where I stand in this set-up, of course.'

  'I'm not sure of anything. I just know I've been kidnapped, and doped, and brought to this place. It looks like a slave plantation.'

  'That's what it is. You're taking it very calmly.' 'So far I'm too numb to react.' She frowned, rubbing her brow with the tips of her fingers. 'You have to get me ready for something ?'

  'For induction. An explanation of why you're here.' 'How do you get me ready ?'

  He made a vaguely apologetic gesture. 'Medical check-up, Miss Blaise, A thorough one. I have to certify you free from infection. I'm sorry I've no nurse to be present, but Miss Benita doesn't allow slaves that kind of privilege.' 'MissBenita?*

  'She's the Mistress of Limbo.'

  'I keep thinking I'm dreaming.' She looked about her with dull eyes. 'I haven't washed in two days, and I'm dirty. Is there somewhere I could wash or shower before you start ?'

  'Yes, of course. At least we keep clean here, and as resident doctor I have useful privileges.' He opened a door. 'You'll find a toilet and shower at the end of the passage, last door on the right.' 'Thank you.'

  As she moved past him he said, 'Do you know Danny Chavasse's hand-writing, Miss Blaise ?' 'Who?'

  Kim Crozier put a folded piece of paper in her hand. 'Danny thought you might not recognize it, so he gave me a word to say. Lanzarote.'

  She unfolded the paper and read: 'You can trust Kim all the way. Danny.'

  When she lifted her head Kim saw that the dull expression had vanished, and her eyes were friendly now. She gave him a quick smile and said, 'Hallo, Kim. Safe to talk ?'

  'Sure.'

  'I don't remember the handwriting, but the word Lan-zarote's good enough.'

  He said with sudden urgency, 'Have you got any sort of back-up laid on ? It needs to be quick, like a platoon of paratroops dropping at dawn.'

  'I've got two people coming overland.'

  'Two?'

  'Think about it. Nobody's going to send a force into Guatemala. And if the CIA or British Intelligence had taken this thing to the Guatemalan Government, you can bet Paxero would have been the first to hear about it. Don't tell me he hasn't got emergency arrangements to close this place down fast.'

  'He's got them.' Kim put hands on his hips and gave a hopeless shake of his head. 'But what can you do with two?'

  'I don't know yet, not till you've answered about a hundred questions.'

  'All right, we'll talk while I do the medical. Go and get a quick shower, then slip on a robe you'll find behind the door.'

  When she returned five minutes later, wearing only a white cotton wrap, she was carrying the clothes she had worn and a small grey plastic cylinder, domed at one end. She said, 'I was dirty all right, but this is really why I asked for a shower, before I was sure about you. It's a homer to guide Willie Garvin and Maude Tiller in.'

  He stared. 'Another girl?'

  'Oh, come on, doctor. She does beautiful needlework.'

  He half laughed. 'Sorry. I'm no male pig, but there are physical differences.'

  'Which sometimes helps.' She put the cylinder on the table. 'Don't worry about Maude. When the crunch comes, it's not going to be settled by muscle. And I'd rather have Willie than that platoon you mentioned.'

  Kim Crozier studied her curiously. She stood relaxed in the thin cotton wrap, hair hanging loose, eyes quiet yet perhaps with a hint of ironic humour. She was tall, five feet six or seven he judged, and she was splendidly built. When she stood still, she stood completely still. When she moved, it was with the easy fluency that spoke of perfect co-ordination.

  It suddenly dawned on him that this striking dark-haired girl with the bruised face was having a remarkable effect on him. It was foolish to think that her coming here could in any way break the grip that Limbo had on its slaves, the odds were far too great, yet for the first time in all the long years he felt his pulse quicken with a surge of genuine hope. She had given him no hardsell encouragement, no stirring call to arms, and it would have been crude to say that she inspired confidence. There was an emanation much more subtle than that, and he could not have found words to describe its nature. He simply knew that he was in the presence of a unique personality, and the old equations were no longer valid. Soberly he decided that he had never known anyone, man or woman, with greater potential to achieve whatever would have to be achieved, if the slaves of Limbo were to outlive Miss Benita by more than a few hours.

  She said, 'Can you hide the homer for me ?'

  He nodded. 'No problem. I live here, in a room at the back., When do you aim to operate it ?'

  'At midnight every night, for two minutes. Is that going to be difficult?'

  'You'll be in the slave quarters. There are no stoolies, but any hint of an escape attempt is going to stir up a lot of trouble.'

  She stared. 'As bad as that? All right, let's talk about it later. Could you work the homer from here?'

  'What do I have to do?' She picked up the cylinder and unscrewed the dome. 'Pull this aerial out here, and poke it out of a window if you can. There's only one switch, here on the side. Click it up for" two minutes at midnight, then switch off and put the whole thing away.'

  'That's all? Right, I'll see to it.' He took the cylinder, collapsed the aerial, screwed on the dome, and set it behind an array of bottles on one of the shelves.

  'Thanks, Kim. Is that what I call you ?'

  He nodded, moved to his desk and took out a printed form. 'We all find ourselves with a single short name here, either family name, given name or in one or two cases a nickname. Like we have a Dutchman called Tonto, though I've forgotten why. I'm Kim, Danny's Danny. But Schultz is Schultz and Marker is Marker. Most of the women are first names. Oh, there's one exception, Mrs Schultz is Mrs Schultz. She's kind of the doyenne of Limbo. You'll get to know them all as you go along. You'll be Modesty, I guess.'

  'Right.'

  He pointed. 'Would you mind going through so we can start the check-up ?'

  She preceded him into the smaller room, looked about her, then moved to the examination table. 'Where do you want to start, top, bottom or middle ?'

  'First we fill in preliminary details on this form. Then I think we'll start with that cut on your face and work our way down.'

  For the next twenty minutes he talked steadily about Limbo, its origin, layout, work system, personnel, disciplines and customs. This was his own method of induction, designed to, prepare new intakes for the official one to follow, and he had been through the routine many times before. She listened with total absorption, automatically doing whatever he required of her during the examination, and she was the first who asked no questions at all until he had finished his story.

  Then, 'The Specials all carry handguns all the time, and automatic rifles most of the time ?'

  'Yes.'

  'And each overseer carries a handgun and a carbine in a saddle holster ?'

  'Right.'

  'Where's the armoury ?'

  'In the Specials' quarters. I don't know exactly where.'

  She was interested in numbers - of slaves, of Specials, of overseers, of horses and dogs. She was interested in the water pumping system, the sanitation system, fuel supply, and storage of everything that came into Limbo. Above all she was interested in personalities.

  'Tell me about the slaves, Kim. There are bound to be leaders who've emerged.'

  'Yes. Stop talking for a moment, and breathe in. Out. In. Out. Fine. Yes, there's nothing official, but Schultz and Mrs Schultz head the committee.'

  'The committee runs things ?'

  'Very loosely. There were some pretty brutal problems in the early years, but it's easier now that a pattern of behaviour has evolved. New intakes have a framework to conform to. Would you turn a little this way, please? Thank you.'

  'Suppose you get a rebel ?'

  'Most of them are rebels at first. They want to form escape committees, like in the old war films, but everybody Just goes to sleep on them, so it's like trying to stir tar with a teaspoon. Would you-? Ah, that's fine, won't be a moment now. Sometimes you get a very tough rebel, someone who just can't take it at first, and gets lippy with an overseer or a Special. That wins a flogging. We've got a man called Marker, a recent intake, who's been flogged three times. He's not broken yet, but he speaks soft and does as he's told.'

  Kim Crozier straightened up and moved to the basin set against the wall to wash his hands. 'You can dress now. Clothes on the chair there. Shirt, skirt, sandals, and not very glamorous pants. No bra, though some of the women have made themselves one. You draw dean clothes every night and put your dirty clothes out for laundering every morning in one of three bins, small, medium, large. Danny said you'd be medium.' He began to dry his hands, watching her as she swung down from the table and began to dress. 'In case you didn't know, you're fit. By God you're fit. Oh, those are dry-season clothes, by the way. There's a different issue from September through November.'

  'I don't expect to be interested in that, Kim. A little while ago you said any hint of an escape attempt would stir up trouble among the slaves ?'

  'Yes. It would frighten them. You'd draw a lot of animosity, and maybe worse.' He was silent for a few moments, ordering his thoughts, then went on slowly, 'Modesty, you have to understand the communal attitude that's evolved here. It stems from several causes, but the main one is that after a little while people realize there's absolutely no hope of escape or rescue, none at all. There's just no way out of Limbo. So either you adjust to that, or you go crazy. If you go crazy you're put down, and as the human psyche prefers its host-body to survive, it tends towards adjustment.'

  She buttoned the shirt and tucked it into the skirt which fell four inches below her knees. 'How much adjustment, Kim?'

  He shrugged. 'Almost total. You have to take into account that in a sense the people here aren't treated badly. They have sufficient to eat, they work hard enough to give them a good night's sleep, but not savagely hard. They've developed their own simple ways of spending what leisure they have, and they get reasonable medical care. As long as they behave, they can live a life somewhat better than my great-grandpappy lived. He was a real slave, a genuine cotton-picking slave.'

  She said, 'I think I see where you're heading, but you've had years to think about it and watch it happen, so fill it out a little for me. And can I borrow a comb ?'

  'Beside the wash-basin. You'll be issued with female basic possessions in your quarters.' He smiled. 'I thought you were going to tell me there's a difference, that my grandpappy was born a slave and these people weren't.'

  'If there's no hope, it wouldn't take long to adjust.' 'Right. And remember, all the people here used to be rich. Some were idle rich, some were sixteen-hours-a-day rich, but they all had problems. Pressure problems, rat-race problems, tax problems, you name it. In Limbo, you've got no problems. Oh, you can get tired, bored, miserable. Everybody gets a bad patch now and then, when they stop just thinking about today and get hit by the full impact of being in Limbo for ever. But it passes.' He looked at his watch. 'I think ninety per-cent of the people here would be just a little bit scared of being dumped back outside now.'

  She had combed her hair and was now plaiting a pigtail, her head a little on one side, watching him. 'You feel that way yourself, Kim ?'

  'A little. Look, I've no money problems, I'm doing a job I like, and I'm a privileged member of this community. What happens to me if I go back ?' 'Are you saying you don't want to ?'

  He shook his head. 'No. I'm saying it scares me a little. I've had to adjust too, Modesty. I guess it's a sort of Big Brother syndrome. When you've been looked after for too long, you lose a little mental sinew. But I want out, honey. My God, I want but. I want all the things I haven't let myself think about for six years.'

  She began the other plait, and said, 'Who can I talk to safely, apart from you and Danny ?'

  'You mean who's safe to be told that you worked your way in here and that you're aiming for a break-out or a rescue ?' 'Yes.'

  'Schultz and Mrs Schultz. Marker. Teresa - I forget her other name, but she was an Italian actress.'

  'Teresa Labriola ? Supposed to have drowned off Capri ?' 'That's her. She's bitchy, but she's still got some fire in her belly. The only other one is Valdez. I can't tell you how any of the others will react when it comes to the crunch, I just think it's safer if they know nothing about you until the crunch really comes. Nobody's going to squeal, but you'll have big trouble.' He looked at his watch again.

  She said, 'It can't be a negotiated crunch, Kim. There's going to come a time when we have to go for broke and take control of Limbo. Will the ones you've named actually fight?'

  'Marker will, and I guess you can count on Danny, though he says he's no fighting man. That's the trouble, we're none of us fighting people.'

  'Anybody will fight if they're desperate enough.'

  'Yes. But they're not, for reasons I've just been telling you.' He moved to stand closer to her and added softly, 'And they won't get desperate until it's too goddam late, Modesty. The old woman you're going to see soon, Miss Benita, she could die tonight or she could die in another six months. No longer, in my opinion. When she does...' He dropped his hand edgewise, like an axe. 'We go with her.'

  'The Specials won't baulk at a massacre ?'

  'The Specials are conditioned, too. We're slaves, lady. Not much more than a hundred years ago, you could kill a nigger as of right, with no more come-back than if you killed a pig.' He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. 'I'm not starting an old argument, just telling you that this is how the Specials see us now. The day Miss Benita dies is going to be the last day in Limbo for all of us.'

  'So it's a matter of striking first. It has to be.'

 

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