Hurricane Gold

by Charlie Higson

‘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?’

  ‘It’s like an underground room,’ said the boy. ‘It’s not used any more. Dad bricked it up, said it was dangerous. But we found a way in last summer.’

  ‘How do we get there from here?’ said James. ‘Do we have to go outside?’

  ‘Yes.’ JJ nodded his head sadly.

  ‘We can’t go out there,’ said Precious.

  ‘We have to,’ said James. ‘Even if it wasn’t for the gangsters it’ll be a lot safer than staying in the house. The storm is tearing the place apart.’

  ‘I am not going out there,’ said Precious tetchily, back to her old self.

  ‘We don’t have any choice,’ said James. ‘Any minute now they’re going to come looking for Manny.’ He turned to JJ. ‘Once we’re outside, how far is it to the ice house?’

  ‘Not far. You could get there in less than a minute.’

  ‘You feeling brave?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said quietly, though James could tell that he was lying.

  James looked at Precious. ‘And you?’

  ‘It’s not bravery,’ she said. ‘It’s stupidity.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ said James, pulling her out on to the landing, ‘there’s very little difference.’

  The three of them struggled along to the stairs, which had been turned into a waterfall. The rain was coming in and pouring down them, creating a shallow lake in the hallway.

  ‘We can’t risk going to the front door,’ said James. ‘If anyone came out of the study we’d be done for.’

  ‘Then what?’ said Precious.

  ‘We’ll climb down the tree,’ said James.

  Before she could stop him, James went over to where the top of the tree jutted in through the broken window. It was pitch dark outside now so he couldn’t see how bad the storm was, but the noise of it was worse than ever.

  Don’t stop to think. Don’t talk about it. Just do it.

  ‘Be careful,’ he said pushing his way past the fronds. ‘They’ve got sharp spines, and –’ The rest of his sentence was plucked away by the wind.

  James could not have prepared himself for just how awful it was outside. The trunk of the tree, which was resting at a 45-degree angle, was sharp and slippery at the same time and the wind thrashed him, like a team of men with broom handles. He clung on with all his strength and slid slowly down.

  A lightning strike hit a chimney, which crumbled, spilling bricks down the side of the house. In the brief instant of brightness James saw JJ scrambling to get a hold on the trunk above him.

  James shouted some words of support but they were lost. He had to concentrate on not falling off himself as he inched his way downward and the next time he looked up there was no sign of JJ, but Precious was out of the window.

  James dropped the last few feet and found JJ huddled behind a low wall. He had evidently fallen off but the ground was so soft and sodden from the rain that he didn’t seem to be injured.

  At last Precious joined them, fighting for breath, her pretty dress ruined. The three of them had to cling on to each other so as not to be blown away. The air was loaded with flying rubbish and something gave James a nasty, stinging slap in the face.

  He put his mouth right next to JJ’s ear and shouted as loudly as he could.

  ‘Which way?’

  JJ pointed. They were going to have to move across an open stretch of lawn.

  This was suicidal madness. James knew it. He closed his eyes. The noise was terrible. The rain forced its way into his nose, his mouth, his ears. He felt like he was drowning.

  He held on to one of JJ’s hands and Precious took the other.

  ‘Lets go,’ said James, and they stood up.

  7

  You Have to Laugh

  Half-crouching, half-crawling, leaning into the wind, they fought the storm inch by inch across the lawn. James and Precious had hold of JJ and they dragged him between them, the rain drilling into their faces, blinding them.

  James thought that if they could only just ignore the wind and rain and keep putting one foot in front of the other, keep moving slowly forward, they would eventually make it to safety. They had gone no distance at all, however, before they were blown off their feet and sent spinning and tumbling over the lawn like fallen leaves. They ended up tangled in a hedge that was somehow standing up to all that the elements could throw at it. They wriggled through to the other side and saw that if they slithered on their bellies and kept their heads down they could use the hedge as a windbreak. The bottom of the hedge was in a small dip where the rain was collecting. The ground had been churned into mud and the three of them splashed along on their elbows and knees.

  But the hedge soon ran out and when they reached the end James tried to see where they were. The rain was pouring down his face. There was so much of it, it was like being underwater. His body was bruised all over. JJ managed to crawl up next to him. The little boy was coming off worst of the three of them. He looked like he’d been put through a mangle.

  ‘Where do we go?’ yelled James and JJ tried to get his bearings.

  A lightning strike lit the garden bright as daylight for an instant.

  ‘There!’ JJ screamed, pointing across the lawn. ‘That dark patch. There are bushes.’

  The mound of shrubbery was less than 30 feet away, but it might as well have been 300. With no cover they would be exposed all the way. James looked to see if there was any other available shelter and spotted a white-painted gazebo that had until recently been covered in rambling roses. All that was left were a few tattered stems. The framework was set into a semicircular stone wall that looked just tall enough to offer some protection.

  The gazebo wasn’t directly on the way; it would mean zigzagging. They would first have to cut diagonally across to the left, into the wind all the way, and then come back to the right. But it was a better bet than striking straight out across the lawn.

  James gestured to the others.

  ‘Wait for a lull in the storm,’ he shouted. ‘Then we’ll make a run for it.’

  The wind was mainly blowing one way, but it kept swirling and switching direction. In these brief lulls, when it was making its mind up which way to go, there were moments of calm, lasting a few seconds at the most.

  James waited, listening for a dip in the deafening roar, feeling the hedge as it strained and flapped next to him.

  There.

  The noise dropped. The hedge fell still.

  ‘Go!’ he shouted, jumping to his feet and grabbing JJ’s arm.

  He ran for it, ho
ping that Precious was with them.

  Halfway there the wind came back with renewed fury and, to his horror, James saw the gazebo tear loose from its foundations. The whole structure came rolling and bouncing towards them. James threw himself to the ground, hurling JJ into the mud, and the gazebo flew over their heads.

  He looked round. Precious was by his side.

  ‘That was close,’ he yelled and she nodded. ‘Think you can try again?’ Once more she nodded.

  They struggled to their feet, both holding tight on to JJ, but he lost his footing and was plucked up into the air like a kite.

  ‘Don’t let go,’ James shouted and they managed to pull the poor bedraggled boy back down to earth.

  ‘We’ll have to crawl!’

  And crawl they did.

  It took them ten minutes. Ten long, hard, painful minutes – rain and mud slicing into their faces, bits of tree, stones, broken wood and roof tiles whizzing past and occasionally crashing into them. At last they reached what was left of the gazebo and huddled below its broken wall.

  The next leg would be easier. This time they would have the wind behind them, but they would still have to be careful not to get blown over or pushed too far along.

  James couldn’t look at the other two. He didn’t want to see the hopelessness and fear in their eyes. Instead he just took hold of JJ’s hand again. It felt tiny and cold and fragile.

  ‘Let’s move,’ he said and set off, letting the wind carry them along. It was almost like sailing a boat, or crossing a river with the current. They were nearly flying; they bounded across the lawn with giant strides and hurtled into the shrubbery. Precious crashing in next to them in a mad rush.

  They had made it this far.

  James went after JJ as he scrabbled across the earth beneath the bushes to a small brick construction like a chimney top. There was a hinged wooden board covering the opening. James pulled it open and JJ wriggled inside. James made sure Precious got in safely then followed her down, pulling the board shut over his head. There were metal rungs set into the wall and James groped his way down until he felt a solid floor beneath his feet.

  It was dark down here and quiet and unexpectedly dry.