Free Golden Heart (The Lazarus Longman Chronicles) by P. J. Thorndyke Page B

behind his back as they watched the mechanicals, “we are equipped to deal with anything that might stand in the way of our pursuit of the golden cities.”
    “Do you really believe they exist?” Lazarus asked him.
    The general looked at him askance. “Got the map here, don’t we?”
    “It just seems a little unlikely, that’s all, General.”
    “Plenty of treasures have been turned up on this continent and the one south of Mexico. The Spaniards got the Aztec and Inca empires. Now it’s our turn to reap this land’s wealth that will bring us to further greatness.”
    “The Aztecs and Incas fell centuries ago,” said Lazarus. “This land may have precious few secrets left.”
    “Nonsense,” the general snapped. “White man has barely begun to reap the rewards of this land. The Southern states cannot afford to be shut off from all possibility of expansion by the hostile action of the federal government. We already own Mexico. And we shall push further—south as well as north—have no doubt about that. The tropics are still more or less uncharted. Do you know how much wealth might still be down there, undiscovered by the Spaniards, hidden by steaming jungles and brainless savages? No no, Mr. Longman, we are far from finished with this harvest.”
    General Reynolds’ office was decked out in green velvet with a wide mahogany desk, a fireplace and two studded leather armchairs.
    “Now then,” said the general as he poured them both some cognac from a decanter. “Let’s hear about these adventures you’ve been having. I received reports that the train from Yuma came into station with two carriages running with blood, and the post office and horse cars cut loose and drifting in the desert. You’ve got some explaining to do, young man.”
    The General’s reprimand was jovial. He threw himself down into one of the armchairs and indicated to Lazarus to do the same.
    “There was something of an altercation on board,” he began.
    The general hooted. “An ‘altercation’? Is that British for a rowdydow?”
    “An agent of the Russian Tsar was also looking to apprehend Vasquez and the map.”
    “Hmm, and hoping to sell him to the Union, is my thinking.”
    “Indeed. After the… rowdydow , we escaped on horses, taking the Russian with us.”
    “This Russian fellow fell in with you?”
    “I believe they had designs to lure us into the hands of the Unionist rebels.” For some reason, Lazarus was very reluctant to tell this man anything about Katarina. Or anything he absolutely didn’t have to, for that matter. “It certainly turned out that way. We took Vasquez’s balloon north and set down at a deserted outpost as the foot of the mountains where Vasquez had some supplies stored.”
    “I know the one. I’ll obliterate that when I have the chance. Have to stop snakes like Vasquez from using our leftovers.”
    “We set out to retrieve the map from the cave in which Vasquez had secreted it, and then found ourselves betrayed by the Russian and in the hands of the U.P.R.”
    Lazarus did not give any details about the underground railroad or its location. But the information he had given seemed to satisfy the general, who leaned back in his chair, whistling through his teeth.
    “Your story reads like a dime novel. Never trust a Russian, that’s what we can learn here.”
    They had barely tasted their cognac when an eager young sergeant hammered on the door, before opening it and hurling up a salute. “An advance party of armed civilians are on the ground northwest from us.”
    “Rebels?”
    “They appear to be, Sir.”
    Reynolds pounded his fist on the arm of his chair. “This will be your Unionist partisans, Longman. We’ll soon make short work of them!”
    Lazarus’s stomach lurched as he thought of Katarina on their trail, wandering under the shadows of Reynolds’ balloon of terror.
    “Follow me,” said the general, slamming his glass down on the desk corner as he bolted from the room.
    They