"Tell them it is a forced landing." His tone was clipped, quite the
opposite of Cranston's drawly speech. "There is an excellent airport at
Libertad, the capital. We shall use it."
Margo passed the word along. Others were doubtful, wondering. While Margo
was trying to separate the queries, Allard did it for her.
"Our gasoline is low." He gestured toward a cluster of a dozen dials,
among the many that spread over the panel. "Probably a faulty gas tank.
Castenago won't annoy this party, unless individual members criticize his
regime. There is an American consulate in Libertad; we shall notify it as soon
as we arrive.
"The Imperial Hotel is excellent, and has survived half a dozen
earthquakes. Anyone who wants to go home can take a train from Libertad to
Puerto Marias, the town we just passed, and take the first ship for New
Orleans."
WHILE Margo was dispensing that information in individual doses, Allard
guided the ship through a wide, curving mountain pass, where the roar of the
motors awoke flocks of condors and sent the giant thunderbirds away in
scattering squadrons.
The mountains spread into regiments of peaks, and miles ahead, a great
valley splashed the vivid green of tropical verdure.
Fears of Castenago dwindled as the air voyagers watched the unfolding
scene. Traces of white appeared among the green and soon became a solid
splotch, with dabs of faint pink and creamy-yellow serving as a touch of color.
The plane was approaching a city so charming in its setting, so bizarre in its
own appearance, that no one could retain thoughts of the ominous.
Conspicuously inviting, the airport practically beckoned to Allard's
plane. He crossed it, banked, and came to a perfect landing inside a mile-wide
inclosure, where men in picturesque uniform came dashing over to meet the ship.
Some of these men were airport attendants; others police; still more were
soldiers. One representative of each group was on hand when Allard stepped from
the plane.
Allard talked in Spanish, with a trace of local accent that seemed to
please them, with the exception of two listeners, who wore green-gray uniforms
and remained in the background. After the passengers alighted, to be received
with courteous bows by all but the green-gray pair, Allard undertoned to Margo:
"Gatomontes. They don't trust anyone, not even themselves. Don't tell the
other passengers; they'd only worry."
Margo was pleased to thus receive Allard's confidence. She remembered what
Cranston had said that afternoon in Miami. He'd spoken well of Allard, and Margo
had seen the aviator that very evening, but hadn't known who he was until the
next day.
When Cranston mentioned persons briefly, it meant that he regarded them as
real friends. In this instance, it applied to Allard. Cranston was right in
wanting Margo to take the air trip. She and Kent Allard were good friends
already.
Automobiles were at the airport - large, closed cars that took the party
of eight, in two groups of four. Margo was in the car with Allard, and just
before they started she saw one of the gatomontes speak to an airport official.
