Read Flame of Diablo for Free Online

decided,
    watching their descent from the bus
    without a sense of overwhelming regret.
    They had not been the quietest or the
    sweetest-smelling
    of
    travelling
    companions.
    As she alighted in her turn, she found the
    bus had stopped outside a building
    which seemed to be Asuncion's sole
    hotel. She glanced up at its peeling
    facade rather doubtfully. It wouldn't
    have been her first choice as to
    overnight stop, but beggars could not be
    choosers, and besides, there was 'an
    outside chance that Mark might have
    stayed there.
    The reception desk was deserted when
    she got there. Rachel set down her small
    suitcase and looked around, then rapped
    impatiently on the desk with her
    knuckles. Almost as if her action had
    been a secret signal, a roar of masculine
    laughter broke out quite close at hand.
    Rachel jumped, then relaxed, moving her
    aching shoulders experimentally.
    'I wish I could share the joke,' she
    muttered crossly.
    Just then a door down the passage from
    the desk opened, and a man emerged. He
    paused before closing the door behind
    him and tossed a clearly jovial remark in
    Spanish over his shoulder, which was
    greeted with yet another burst of
    laughter. Then he spotted Rachel
    standing at the desk and his face changed
    in a moment, becoming both -surprised
    and solemn.
    'Senorita?' His tone as he approached
    was civil, but Rachel felt she was being
    very thoroughly assessed, and that there
    was a strong element of disapproval in
    his assessment.
    She produced her phrase book, and
    began to laboriously recite a request for
    a room, but he waved the book aside.
    'I speak a little English. You are an
    inglesa, senorita?'
    'Yes, I am.' Relieved that she did not
    have to converse with him in her non-
    existent Spanish, Rachel smiled. 'I'm
    trying to trace another inglese, senor —a
    man. My brother,' she added hastily for
    some reason she probably could not
    have defined.
    'He has been to Asuncion, this brother?'
    The man watched her impassively.
    Rachel sighed. 'I'm not sure. I think so.'
    He hesitated, then he reached for the
    hotel register and swung it round so that
    she could see it.
    'Look for yourself, senorita. No inglese
    has been here apart from yourself.'
    Rachel scanned swiftly down the list of
    names. It had occurred to her that Mark
    might have travelled under an assumed
    name, but she knew he would not have
    bothered to disguise his handwriting and
    none of the scrawls in the register bore
    the least resemblance to his signature.
    She
    felt
    almost
    sick
    with
    disappointment.
    'Turistas do not come here, senorita,'
    the man said almost placidly. He was
    turning away, when she halted him.
    'Then can I book a room for the night?'
    she asked, braving his look of
    astonishment. 'And a guide. I would like
    to hire a guide if that is possible.'
    'Senorita,' the man said very slowly, 'I
    must tell you that I do not have
    unescorted women staying at my hotel.'
    She felt a slow tide of colour run up to
    the roots of her hair. She had never felt
    so helpless in her life.
    She said, trying to keep her voice calm
    and pleasant, 'Then as this is the only'
    hotel in this benighted town, I'm afraid
    you will have to make an exception for
    once. Unless you can provide me with a
    guide immediately, of course.'
    His look of astonishment deepened. 'And
    where do you wish this guide to take
    you, senorita ? Always supposing that
    such a person could be found.'
    She said baldly, 'I want to go to Diablo.'
    If she'd suddenly produced a hand
    grenade and drawn the pin, she couldn't
    have hoped to make a greater sensation.
    His jaw dropped, and he almost took a
    step backwards, she would have sworn
    to it.
    He said flatly, 'Es imposible. Where is
    your family, senorita ? Who are your
    friends that they let you contemplate such
    madness?'
    Rachel frowned. All sense of reality
    seemed to be slipping away from her,
    but that again could be attributed to the
    strangeness of the altitude. On the other
    hand it meant that she