Hurricane Gold (6 page)

James heard shouts and footsteps from outside the room.

‘Hide!’ he yelled and made a dive for the Wendy house. He just had time to get into a position where he could see out through the curtains when the playroom door was barged open and a young man came in. He was nattily dressed and holding a large pistol. Precious screamed and JJ burst into tears.

‘Believe me now?’ James whispered, but he could take no satisfaction from what was happening. Much as he didn’t like the two children, he realised that he was going to have to try to help them.

That was just assuming he didn’t get caught himself.

6

In the Belly of the Storm

James watched as the young man waved his gun at Precious and JJ.

‘Where’s your father?’ he yelled. ‘Tell me or I’ll hurt you.’

‘He’s not here,’ wailed Precious. ‘He’s flown down south. He won’t be back until after the storm.’

As Precious said the word ‘storm’ three things happened at once. There was a terrific crack of thunder, the whole house shook and the lights went out.

The storm had finally arrived.

Precious screamed. The young men snarled at her to shut up. There was just enough light coming through the window for James to see him grab the two children and drag them out of the room.

James stayed put, breathing heavily. The intruders seemed to have come prepared, but with luck they wouldn’t know that he was here at all.

James waited in the Wendy house for a full five minutes. Once he was sure that the man wasn’t coming back he crept out of his hiding place and tiptoed over to the playroom door.

He hardly needed to be quiet. The storm was making a fearsome racket as it buffeted the house. There was a cacophony of different sounds; crashing, hissing, roaring, squealing, rumbling.

As he moved out into the corridor James felt the full force of the wind slam into the house like a physical object. He could actually feel the floor moving beneath his feet, and the walls seemed to sway and shudder. He glanced out of the window, but all he could see was a swirling maelstrom of cloud and rain. There was a startling flash and another blast of thunder, then a gust of wind so powerful it blew the windows in. The rain followed, hosing down the corridor in horizontal bars. The walls were instantly soaked and a picture flew off the wall.

The noise from outside was like nothing that James had ever heard before, like boulders crashing down a mountainside. The wind was whipping around in the corridor and the house was vibrating as if at any moment it might crack up and be blown away.

James dropped to his knees and crawled along the sodden carpet as bits of debris were hurled past his head.

He reached the stairs and slid down them on his backside in the darkness. He made it safely to the lower landing and peered out between the rails into the hallway below.

The servants were being rounded up and herded into the dining room by two of the men. The raid had been planned like a military operation.

James was the only person who might be able to get out and go for help.

He backed away from the banisters, ducked into his bedroom and pulled the door shut.

He stood there for a moment, with his back to the door, breathing deeply. Rain was pouring in through the open window, and the carpet was soaked. There was already a large pool of water forming in the middle of the floor. James was sweating again. But it was a cold sweat, caused by fear, not heat. The temperature had dropped dramatically.

He considered his options and found that he had only one: to climb out and make a run for it.

He remembered seeing a little ornamental balcony outside and some thick jungly creeper up the side of the house.

He stepped towards the window, then suddenly threw himself to the floor as a piece of wood the size of a tabletop exploded through the window spraying the room with jagged splinters. It was a broken door. The wind must have ripped it off another house and tossed it up here.

Over the sound of the storm James heard shouts and someone running up the stairs.

He quickly pulled the bedclothes off the bed and covered himself with them, leaving just enough space to see out.

He saw the door open and a pair of legs come in.

‘It’s just the storm,’ the person shouted. ‘Window’s smashed. It’s getting pretty hairy out there.’

The legs departed and the door slammed shut.

James crawled out from under the bedclothes. The room was strewn with bits of wood and shredded leaves. He battled his way to the window and looked out into the belly of the storm.

It was hopeless. He wouldn’t last five minutes out there. Even if he made it out of the garden, which was unlikely, he doubted that there would be anybody who would be able to help him. No one would risk leaving the safety of their home to brave this storm.

The wind was throwing stuff in every direction. The palm trees were bent over, and, as he watched, a large shrub was uprooted and sent spinning across the lawn. It ended up tangled in the iron gates. Another, even stronger gust, tore the gates loose from their hinges. They tumbled into the road and bounced off out of view.

Occasionally the wind would change direction, the clouds would break and he would get a glimpse of Tres Hermanas. No lights were showing. The buildings were a black tumble. The electricity must be out everywhere.

James couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was mesmerised by the awesome power of the storm. A set of garden furniture rolled across the lawn and knocked over a statue. A large tree near the road, unable to bend, snapped in half and collapsed on to the perimeter wall, flattening it. All the tiles from the roof of a nearby outbuilding were plucked off and James only just managed to duck down out of the way before they came clattering against the side of the house as if thrown by some bad-tempered giant.

His face was wet and his eyes stung. He couldn’t tell whether it was him or the house that was shaking.

Probably both.

He had never known a storm like this before.

There was no point in staying here. He picked himself up and ran in a crouch to the door, teased it open, checked the coast was clear and squeezed out of the room.

He crept along to the top of the stairs and once more looked down. The hallway was deserted now and in almost complete darkness. He moved stealthily down the stairs. As he reached the bottom he could make out voices from a room off to the right. The door hadn’t been closed properly. He crossed the marble floor and peered in through the narrow crack.

He could see into what must be Stone’s study, lit by hurricane lamps. The smell of burning oil filled the air.

The blonde woman was standing next to an unopened wall safe. With her were the Japanese man and the smartly dressed young man who had taken the children from the playroom.

James couldn’t see Precious and JJ from where he was, but he could hear them, sobbing.

‘I’ll ask you again,’ said the woman. ‘What’s the combination of the safe?’

‘I don’t know,’ came Precious’s voice. ‘I really don’t know. Daddy would never tell us that.’

‘So where does he keep the combination?’

‘In his head.’

‘I think they are telling the truth, Mrs Glass,’ said the Japanese man. He was big, with small hands and feet, and dressed in Western style, in a suit that was slightly too tight for him. ‘They are very scared. I think they would tell us if they knew.’

Mrs Glass took out a cigarette and lit it, the smoke curling round her face. She was still dressed for the weather, in a waterproof coat and wide-brimmed hat that shadowed her face.

‘I guess you’re right, Sakata. You reckon you can crack it?’

‘I can try, but it is a very new design. Very clever.’

‘What do you want me to do with the brats?’ said the young man, pinching his lower lip between thumb and finger.

‘Lock ’em up somewhere out of the way,’ said Mrs Glass. ‘We’ll take ’em with us. It might be useful to have a coupla hostages. This storm is going to make everything difficult. If we don’t need ’em, we’ll bury them in the jungle someplace.’

‘Sure, boss,’ said the young man, with a grin.

‘Oh, and Manny,’ Mrs Glass went on, ‘see if you can’t find some tools. We may need to dig this damned thing out of the wall.’

‘Sure,’ said Manny, and he turned towards the part of the room that James couldn’t see. ‘Come on, little lady,’ he said, slicking back his hair with his free hand. ‘And you, squirt, you’re coming with me.’

James shrank back into the darkness and held his breath.

In a few seconds the two children came out of the study. They looked very young and very scared. Manny came out after them, holding his pistol casually in front of him, and a hurricane lamp in his other hand.

James didn’t move and Manny never looked in his direction, instead he studied himself in a large mirror and used the back of his pistol hand to once more straighten his hair. He was a handsome young man, and he knew it. Satisfied, he turned back to the children.

‘Up the stairs,’ he grunted, and the children obediently did as they were told.

James followed, keeping to the shadows, the raging storm again muffling any sounds he made.

When they came to the landing at the top of the stairs Manny halted.

‘Hold it right there,’ he said and looked around.

There was a tall window here and a bright flash of lightning suddenly threw the young man into silhouette. He was a sinister shape with his gun and lamp. James flattened himself on the stairs, but again Manny didn’t look round. Instead, as a clap of thunder boomed outside, he prodded the children towards a bedroom door.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Get in there.’

‘What are you going to do?’ asked Precious.

‘Just whatever the hell I want to do,’ jeered Manny and he rattled the sights of his pistol across his teeth.

‘We’re not going in there,’ said Precious.

So the girl had some fight in her.

‘Wanna bet?’ said Manny.

‘We’re not,’ said Precious. ‘And you can’t make us. You won’t kill us. She told you not to.’

‘You think?’ said Manny. ‘I’ll tell you what: if you don’t get in there right now, I’ll shoot you where you stand.’

Manny smiled and raised his gun with slow and deadly menace.

The next moment all hell broke loose as a palm tree crashed through the window, flattening Manny. Its great ragged leaves, black and glistening, tangled with splintered wood and shards of broken glass, filled the landing.

After a moment’s shock Precious grabbed her brother.

‘Run, JJ,’ she said and they bolted along the landing.

Manny was bleeding from a cut in the side of his head and he was soaked through, but he wasn’t badly hurt. He got to his feet and fired his gun at the ceiling. Even with the sound of the storm howling through the broken window, the noise was loud and startling.

The two children ran screaming into a bedroom at the other end and locked the door.

Manny swore and limped after them. When he got to the door he rattled the handle and roared at the top of his voice, ‘Open up, you stupid brats. You’re only making it worse.’

He waited a moment, then stood back and fired three shots into the lock.

There was another window in the wall and James saw his chance. He had seen how easily the one by the stairs had broken. The wooden frames were old and rotten from the damp sea air.

While Manny was distracted, James darted to the top of the stairs and pelted along the corridor towards him. Manny turned at the last moment, but it was too late. James barged into him and sent him sprawling into the window.

The effect was spectacular. The frame gave way, the glass shattered and Manny fell through. For a second he appeared to hang in space, an amazed look on his face. Some trick of the churning air was holding him up, then he was struck in the head by some flying debris and he whipped quickly away out of sight.

The corridor was turned into a wind tunnel now as the storm howled through the broken windows. It was all James could do to stay on his feet.

He pushed the bedroom door open and the crippled lock fell away.

He could see nothing in the darkness on the other side; Manny had taken the hurricane lamp out into the night with him.

James stood there, waiting for a flash of lightning to illuminate the room. He was just about to whisper Precious’s name when something rushed at him, thudded heavily into his chest and knocked him over backwards.

He was badly winded. It was like being attacked by a wild cat, but a lightning burst showed him that it wasn’t an animal; it was Precious, her face white with fear.

‘Stop it,’ he gasped. ‘It’s me, James.’

‘Where’s that man?’ said Precious.

‘He stepped outside for a breath of air,’ said James.

‘What?’

‘He’s gone. I pushed him out of the window.’

Precious helped him up and they moved into the room to shelter from the rain that was driving along the landing.

James saw that Precious was shivering in her thin gold dress.

‘We’ll be all right,’ he said. ‘Where’s JJ?’

‘Here,’ said a small voice and there was JJ, his eyes very wide.

‘Is there anywhere we can hide?’ said James. ‘Anywhere they wouldn’t think of looking?’

‘What about the attic?’ said Precious.

‘No, that’d be the first place they look.’

‘There’s the ice house,’ said JJ. ‘In the yard. We sometimes hide there from Dad.’

‘What’s an ice house?’