Hurricane Gold (4 page)

For the first time, James got a proper look at him.

He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and loose, wide trousers. His hair was black and oiled and he had a faint fuzz of hair on his top lip. He was almost exactly the same height as James and, but for the fact that he had brown eyes instead of blue, the two of them could have been brothers.

The boy raised his knife higher, taunting James.

James was unarmed, and he knew never to get into a fight with someone who had a knife. The damage that even a short blade could do was appalling.

‘Give me back the bag,’ he said calmly.

The boy said something defiant in Spanish and cocked his chin at James.

‘The bag,’ said James, nodding at it.

The boy held it in his free hand. Without its straps it was heavy and awkward.

‘
Americano
?’ said the boy.

‘English,’ said James.

‘You like I should cut you, Ingleesh?’ said the boy. ‘So you always remember the name of Angel Corona?’

James said nothing, but held Angel’s gaze and tried to appear neither scared nor angry. He wanted to do nothing to provoke the boy.

It made no difference, Angel lashed out at him anyway, and once more James had to jump back.

Angel advanced on him.

‘I slit you belly and spill you guts, yeah?’ he said, and smiled widely, showing his perfect white teeth.

James held his palms up towards the boy and kept on slowly walking backwards. He knew that in a few paces he would have his back against the wall and there would be nowhere for him to go.

‘You are stupid,’ said Angel. ‘You should never have chased me, Ingleesh.’

James had to agree. He had acted without thinking.

He sensed something above him. It was a bed sheet, hanging from a line. He thought quickly. It might be his only chance. He raised his arms higher in a gesture of surrender and as his fingertips brushed against the cotton sheet he grabbed hold and tugged hard. The sheet flapped down on to Angel. It was just enough to distract him. James kicked hard at his wrist.

He was wearing a pair of stout English-made shoes with hard leather soles and toecaps. He connected with the underside of the Angel’s wrist and the force of his kick knocked the knife flying.

Angel was furious. He tossed the sheet to one side and hurled himself at James.

But James had the advantage now; without the knife and weighed down by the bag, Angel was no threat to him.

James brought up his forearm and smashed it into Angel’s throat as he ran at him. Angel croaked and fell back, dropping the bag and clutching himself. He spat out a curse and came back at James in a roaring scramble. James stepped to one side and raised his knee at the same time, driving it into the boy’s stomach. As Angel doubled over James grabbed him around the neck and, holding him tight in the crook of his elbow, marched him over to the well and shoved his face under the water.

Angel struggled and flailed about and when James reckoned he’d had enough he let him go and dropped him to the cobbled ground. He sat there, coughing and spluttering and looking at James with a mixture of fear and hatred.

‘Maybe
you’ll
always remember the name of James Bond,’ said James, and then he retrieved Charmian’s bag, picked up the knife and dropped it into the well. ‘
Adios
,’ he said finally and walked back down the alley towards the main street.

He found Charmian at the other end, standing in the middle of the road calling out his name. James waved and called back.

‘James, that was very reckless,’ said Charmian when she saw him. ‘That boy could have killed you.’

‘I know,’ said James. ‘I didn’t think. I got your bag back, though. Everything’s still in it, but you’ll need new straps.’

‘I should have been more careful,’ said Charmian. ‘I shall have to replace them with thin chains, then they’ll be harder to cut.’

James saw Charmian’s eyes go suddenly wide and fearful. She had seen something behind him. He spun round to see Angel tearing out of the mouth of the alley, the knife once more in his hand.

Hell. He should have checked. The well obviously wasn’t as deep as he had imagined.

But the next moment there was a commotion as two burly men in suits grabbed hold of the boy. They both had moustaches and one was holding a pistol.

Angel struggled, but the man pressed the pistol into his face and he calmed down. They said something quickly to him in Spanish; the only words James could understand were the boy’s name.

The second man took the knife and snapped a pair of handcuffs on Angel.

As the two men dragged him away they stopped briefly by Charmian and the one with the gun bowed.

‘Good afternoon,
señora
,’ he said. ‘I am sorry about this unfortunate incident. The boy is known to us. We have been trying to catch him at his games for many weeks now. We lock him up,
señora
. You come in the morning to the police station and make a statement, yes?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Charmian smiled politely and watched as the men dragged the struggling boy away down the street.

As they went, they had to push past a group of tourists, four Americans and a Japanese. They pointed at Angel.

‘Give ’em hell, kid,’ one of them shouted, a short slab of a man who was almost as wide as he was tall, with no neck and a big square head.

‘Whatzat?’ said one of the others, who was as bony as his friend was solid.

‘I said, “Give ’em hell.” ’ The squat man repeated loudly.

‘That’s right,’ said his friend, and they all laughed.

All except the one woman who was with them, a beautiful blonde wearing a wide-brimmed hat.

‘Come along,’ said Charmian, taking James by the elbow. ‘I have no intention of going to make a statement in the morning. For one, I fully intend to be a hundred miles away by then and, for two, the less we have to do with the local police the better. I know that boy
did
try to rob me and probably tried to kill you, but I’m afraid I do feel rather sorry for him. The police do not have a good reputation.’

Just then there was a rumble of thunder and the heavens fully opened, pouring down a torrent of rain into the dusty street.

‘We should hurry,’ Charmian yelled. ‘Or we shall be drowned.’

In his haste to escape the rain James quickly forgot about Angel Corona and the five tourists.

He could have had no idea what part they were all going to play in his life.

4

A Broken Doll

The Stones’ house stood alone on the west side of Tres Hermanas, on a high rise of land, looking out over the houses and the pink-tiled rooftop of the church of Santa Maria towards the sea. It had been built as a palace for a local aristocrat, and designed by an imported French architect in neoclassical style, with pillars and balconies and ornate carved stonework decorating every surface.

‘I met Jack Stone in Texas about ten years ago,’ Charmian shouted over the noise of the pounding rain. ‘At an air show. He was quite famous then. A war hero. Fighter pilot. Very dashing. I think you’ll like him.’

A servant met James and Charmian at the wide, wrought-iron gate and led them up the gravel driveway. There was a huge avocado tree and a clump of palms standing on a well-kept lawn among rows of hedges that had been clipped into stylish geometrical shapes.

But it was raining too hard for James and Charmian to stop and admire the grounds.

‘I’ll stay tonight and make sure you’re settled in,’ said Charmian as they approached the house. ‘But I shall have to leave before you are up. I have no way of knowing how long I will be in the rainforest, but if I am not back in time Mister Stone will take you to Vera Cruz and put you on the boat.’

There were two crouching stone lions on the terrace guarding the front door, water streaming down their carved manes. A row of roses in heavy lead urns and two big red-leaved poinsettias in tubs were drooping under the downpour.

Another servant – an elderly Mexican with white hair and a simple black uniform – opened the front door. He welcomed them inside and took Charmian’s bag and umbrella.

The entrance hall was dark with a polished marble floor. Bronze statues stood in the corners and a huge crystal chandelier gave off only a dim, flickering light. One wall was covered in portraits of forgotten Mexican generals. On the wall opposite hung a gigantic painting of an aerial dogfight. Two biplanes, one American and one German, were shooting at each other. The artist had painted the machine guns in some detail. Bright orange flashes sprouted from their barrels and spent cartridges flew off into the air. Fire and white smoke was streaming from the German’s tail. In the background was a battlefield, with men charging from a trench into no-man’s-land.

James wondered if the American airman was meant to be Jack Stone.

‘Charmian, welcome.’

James looked up to see Mr Stone coming down the stairs. He was wearing a leather flying jacket and high boots. With his thin moustache and swept-back hair he looked every inch the air ace from the Great War.

‘Jack,’ said Charmian, ‘you don’t look a day older. May I introduce my nephew, James.’

‘Pleased to meet you, James,’ said Stone in a southern drawl, pumping James’s hand. ‘Welcome to Tres Hermanas. And welcome to my home.’

Before James could say anything Stone turned to Charmian and suddenly turned brisk and businesslike, setting his jaw firm and fixing her with a steely look.

‘Don’t get too settled,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan.’

‘Oh,’ said Charmian, taken aback.

‘Don’t worry.’ Stone smiled, showing a row of perfect white teeth. ‘It’s none too serious. As you’ve probably noticed, there’s a big storm moving in off the gulf.’

‘We could hardly not have noticed,’ said Charmian, who, despite her umbrella, had managed to get rather wet.

‘They reckon it might settle in for a spell, which means there’ll be no boats in or out of the harbour. If you don’t get out of town tonight you might well be stuck here for days.’

‘Oh, but that would be a disaster,’ said Charmian. ‘I absolutely
have
to get to Palenque before next Saturday.’

‘Well, you won’t make it by sea. And you sure as shooting won’t make it by land. The roads are bad enough at the best of times, but any heavy rain and they all get washed out.’

‘So what am I to do?’ asked Charmian.

‘I’m going to fly you down there,’ said Stone, offering Charmian a big, heroic grin. ‘There’s an airstrip in the jungle one of the mining companies built. We can land there, so you’ll be ahead of schedule.’

‘But, Jack, I can’t impose on you…’

‘Think nothing of it, ma’am,’ said Stone and he saluted and winked. ‘I love to fly and I rarely get the chance these days. This’ll be a good excuse. But I’m afraid we’re going to have to hurry. If we don’t get in the air in the next half hour or so we’ll be grounded.’

‘This is very gallant of you,’ said Charmian. ‘But, what about my luggage? My equipment?’

‘I took the liberty of sending some of my servants down to the harbour,’ said Stone. ‘They’re already loading everything on board my plane. Your man Mendoza’s been supervising. Trust me, there really isn’t any other way.’

Charmian sighed and turned to James. ‘It seems I am going to have to desert you, James,’ she said. ‘There is no arguing with the man.’

‘My staff’ll look after you well until I get back,’ said Stone.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ said James and he smiled at his aunt. ‘The important thing is that you don’t mess up your expedition.’

Stone put an arm across James’s shoulders.

‘Good man. Well, what do you reckon?’ he said, showing off his hallway with a sweep of his free arm. ‘Not a bad little shack to spend the next month in, eh?’

‘It’s very nice,’ said James, who secretly felt that the place was overstuffed and ugly. He had no idea why someone would want so many bits and pieces. He preferred things to be simple.

‘Now,’ said Stone, who still had his arm around James, ‘I’ll bet you’ll be wanting to go up and play with the kids.’

‘Yes,’ said James bravely, although he had no desire just then to play with anyone.

‘Me and your aunt will get ourselves fixed,’ said Stone. ‘Then we’ll come up and see you before we leave. Alonzo will show you to the playroom.’

Stone nodded to the elderly servant who had been hovering nearby.

Alonzo led James up the staircase, along a landing and up another staircase to a second, smaller landing. At last they arrived at a large, heavily carved oak door and went through it into a vast playroom, filled with every toy imaginable. There was too much to take in at first, but James noticed a doll’s house and a Wendy house, two rocking horses, a pile of stuffed animals, a piano, some skittles, toy soldiers, a pedal car, a castle and a train set. This was a children’s paradise, but not a thing was out of place. He was wondering if the children kept it like this when he spotted another servant on all fours, tidying something away. She was a young Mexican girl with a tired, scared-looking face.

A girl’s voice came from somewhere.

‘You are not to touch anything. Boys are clumsy and they break things.’

Presently James spotted the owner of the voice. Sitting at a large make-up mirror, painting her nails.

She was wearing a long, elegant dress made of shiny gold material, and her dark hair was set into a short, fashionable style with tight waves that someone must have spent ages setting in place.

‘You must be James,’ she said without looking round.

‘That’s right.’

‘I am Precious,’ said the girl, who had the manner and accent of a haughty Southern belle. ‘And that is Jack Junior. You may call him JJ, everyone does.’

A boy of about seven, wearing a smart suit, appeared from behind the doll’s house, carrying a doll.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said James.

‘Will you play with me?’ said JJ. ‘I never get to play with other boys.’

‘You might as well know we don’t want you here,’ said Precious before James could reply. ‘It was not my choice. I don’t want another boy about the place.’

‘Yes, I know,’ said James. ‘We’re clumsy and we break things.’

He went over to the window. ‘It’s a little stuffy in here,’ he said, pushing it open and looking out.

The playroom was two floors up and overlooked a small terrace at the side of the house. The rain was drumming down and making large puddles in the garden.

‘Come away from the window,’ said Precious. ‘You are blocking my light.’

‘You’re a friendly creature, aren’t you?’ said James.

‘You’re English,’ said Precious, peering at his reflection in the mirror. ‘The English don’t know how to dress. Your clothes are horrible. My clothes are the height of fashion.’

James laughed at this formal phrase and Precious finally turned to look at him.

‘You don’t have a lot to say for yourself, do you?’ she said. ‘You’re boring, like all boys. Boys are dull and ignorant. They’re not interested in fashion and books and movie stars. Go away and play with JJ. I don’t play any more. I’m too old for all this. My dolls bore me. You bore me.’

She said this in such a snooty manner that James was momentarily lost for words. This girl was acting like his superior, even though she was the same age as him, probably a little younger. She was wearing so much make-up it was impossible to tell. She looked like she might have been quite pretty without it all, with her big dark eyes and her wide mouth.

‘Listen,’ said James, keeping his cool. ‘I’m going to be here for a while. So we need to find some way to get along with each other.’

Precious ignored him. As if he had suddenly ceased to exist. She looked right through him at JJ.

‘What are you doing with that doll?’ she said. ‘Bring it here.’

‘Leg’s broken,’ said JJ holding it up and shaking it.

Precious took the doll off him and inspected it. It had a painted, china face, real hair in yellow ringlets and an expensive-looking silk dress.

‘I used to love this doll,’ she said. ‘I’m too grown-up for it now, of course.’

She jumped up and took it over to the window, where she made it dance along the ledge.

‘Oh, look at me,’ she sang in a mocking, lisping, put-on childish voice. ‘I am the prettiest doll in all the world. See my pretty dress and see how well I dance. Oh, but my poor leg is broken… Oh no… I have slipped.’

So saying, Precious tossed the doll out of the window and, laughing, watched it fall to the paving stones below.

‘Oh, the poor thing. I think she is killed.’ She suddenly stopped laughing and turned from the window to the Mexican girl, who was still tidying the room.

‘Dolores, my doll has fallen out of the window. Go and fetch her for me.’

Dolores nodded quickly and left the room, her face worried and pinched.

‘They do everything I say,’ said Precious, walking past James and returning to her place at the mirror. JJ, meanwhile, was running noisily around the room messing up everything that Dolores had tidied.

‘Is that necessary?’ said James.

‘You are a guest here,’ said Precious. ‘You don’t tell us what to do.’

‘I’m going,’ said James and he headed for the door.

‘Wait,’ said Precious, a note of softness in her voice.

James stopped.

‘I’m sorry.’

James turned to the girl. She had a sad, slightly anxious expression on her face. She looked different, younger.

‘I am not used to having other children here,’ she said quietly. ‘There’s only JJ and me. It’s sometimes very lonely. I guess we can get a little crazy. Mother is never here.’

‘It’s OK,’ said James. ‘There’s no reason why we can’t be friends.’

‘Yes,’ said Precious and her whole face lit up with a sweet smile. She walked over holding out her arms, and clasped James’s hand briefly.

‘Come on. I’ll make it up to you,’ she said. ‘Let’s play with JJ.’

James shrugged. He couldn’t remember the last time he had played with anyone.

‘What do you want to play, JJ?’ said Precious excitedly.

‘Blind man’s bluff,’ said JJ.

‘Good choice,’ said Precious, running to a dressing-up box. ‘First we’ll make you blind, James.’ She whipped out a scarf and tied it around James’s head. Then the two children spun him around, singing a childish rhyme. Finally they stopped.

‘Now what?’ said James, wobbling giddily on his feet.

‘Now this,’ said Precious and she pushed him hard. He stumbled backwards and tripped over something, landing painfully on his backside. He tore the blindfold off and saw JJ kneeling on the floor, helpless with laughter.

At last James lost his cool. He was flushed with anger. It was not that the trick had hurt him. It was the pettiness of it. It was such a silly, pathetic thing to do, and yet these two children thought it the funniest thing in the world.

James got up. ‘You’re a spoilt little –’ He stopped himself from saying something he might regret.

‘What?’ said Precious. ‘I’m a spoilt little what?’

Before James could say anything, Dolores returned, carrying the broken doll. She looked utterly worn down, and when she saw the state of the room she put her hands to her face and burst into tears.

‘It’s all right,’ said James. ‘I’ll help you.’

He started to put things away and Precious stared at him with scorn.