After a few seconds there was the scraping of a match and then an oil lamp’s glow illuminated the room.
They were about 20 feet below ground in a round, windowless chamber with a domed ceiling. The walls were built of tightly packed stone blocks.
‘What is this place?’ said James.
‘Before electricity they used to store ice down here,’ said JJ proudly. ‘It’d stay cold all year.’
‘Where did they get the ice from?’ said James.
‘They’d bring it down from the mountains,’ said JJ, ‘cut from frozen lakes and ponds.’
James smiled at JJ. ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘They’ll never find us down here and we can sit out the storm in safety.’
‘We built a den,’ said JJ and he showed James a pile of old mattresses, blankets and cushions.
‘Perfect,’ said James and JJ gave a great, happy grin.
‘We could have been killed,’ said Precious.
‘Yes,’ said James, ‘but we weren’t. Isn’t that a good feeling? The gods are smiling on us today.’
‘Smiling on us?’ Precious gave a bitter snort of laughter. ‘Well, I would hate to see what happens when they’re angry.’
‘We’ve been lucky,’ said James. ‘Isn’t that enough?’
Precious shook her head. ‘This is terrible,’ she wailed. ‘Just terrible. Look at my dress, it’s ruined. I just got it a week ago. It’s by Jean Patou of Paris.’
James couldn’t help laughing. The dress looked like a bundle of wet rags.
‘Maybe you should have worn a swimsuit,’ he said. JJ laughed.
Precious gave them both a filthy look. ‘Why did nobody try to help us?’ she said. ‘The servants? Why didn’t they help?’
‘What could they do?’ said James. ‘Those gangsters had guns. Maybe they did try to help. You don’t know. What was in your father’s safe anyway?’
‘All his money,’ said Precious. ‘Everything. He doesn’t trust Mexican banks.’
James laughed again, but he stopped abruptly when Precious slapped him hard on the face. ‘How dare you laugh at us,’ she said and the next moment she burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But I’m so scared. I don’t know what’s happening.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said James. ‘I’m scared too.’
He wiped his face and his hand came away bloody, but it wasn’t his own blood. He realised that Precious’s hand was bleeding.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, nodding towards the wound. She hadn’t even noticed the cut before, but now that she did she let out a sob and went very white. James looked at himself and saw that he was also covered in small nicks and cuts, probably from climbing down the palm. He had scratches all down his front and he felt truly battered.
‘I think I’m hurt too,’ said JJ in a small, quiet voice. Sure enough, there was a nasty gash in the little boy’s thigh.
‘Have you got anything in here we can clean that with?’ James asked.
‘Like what?’ said Precious.
‘I don’t know,’ said James. ‘Antiseptic, alcohol, clean water…’
‘There’s nothing,’ said JJ, sadly shaking his head.
‘Never mind,’ said James. ‘The rain should be clean enough. Once the storm passes we’ll sort you out, but we should bandage it at least. We don’t want to get any dirt in the cut. Precious, tear a strip off your dress.’
‘I will do no such thing,’ she protested.
‘You said yourself it was ruined,’ said James. ‘He’s your brother, help him.’
‘Turn away.’
‘Oh don’t be so silly,’ said James and he stepped forward, snatched up the hem of her dress and tore off a long strip where it was already frayed.
Precious said nothing, but James felt that if he hadn’t been attending to her brother she might have hit him again.
He soon had JJ bandaged and Precious tore off another strip to put round her own hand.
JJ sat quietly on a pile of cushions with his back to the wall, looking very young and very small. He was obviously terrified and the shock was just starting to show. James felt sorry for him, and knew how lonely he must be right now. He put a blanket around him and the boy looked pathetically grateful.
It was cold in here, but the lamp gave off a feeble heat and the three of them huddled round it, lost in their own thoughts. Outside, muffled by several feet of earth, the storm was a distant rumble and clatter.
James eventually fell into a fitful, feverish sleep. When he awoke some time later he was coughing and his whole body ached. He got up and stamped about the place to try to force some life into his muscles. It was only after a while that he noticed that he couldn’t hear anything.
There was a tiny glimmer of light coming down the ventilation shaft. He hobbled over, his stiff joints creaking.
He looked up. Sunlight.
He climbed the rungs and gingerly pushed the door open.
Bright sunlight.
Warm sunlight.
He crawled out.
The storm had passed. He had never been more pleased to see a clear blue sky. He fought his way through the wreckage of the shrubbery and stumbled out on to the lawn.
He turned his face up to the sun and let its energy fill him as he breathed in fresh, clean air.
It was good to be alive.
He went back to the shaft and called down to the others. Soon they emerged, blinking, into the daylight, and Precious even managed a smile.
Her smile soon died, however, when she saw what the storm had done. There was hardly a tree left standing, the garden looked like a battlefield and the house was badly damaged.
Inside it was worse; water and debris had got in everywhere and there was a fetid, damp smell.
Apart from three frogs and a lizard in the hallway, there were no signs of life. The staff seemed to have all left, as had the five intruders, leaving a large ragged hole in the study wall where the safe had been.
Precious sat down on the stairs and wept.
‘What are we going to do?’ she said.
‘We’re not going to sit around here feeling sorry for ourselves,’ said James. ‘That’s for sure. We’re going to go down into the town. Somebody there will be able to help us.’
‘Will Dad come for us?’ said JJ.
‘If he can,’ said James. ‘If he can find somewhere to land. If he didn’t get caught up in the storm.’
‘If, if, if…’ said Precious. ‘You don’t know anything.’
James sighed but said nothing. Instead he turned on his heel and went back outside into the sunlight.
Presently the other two joined him. Precious looked sullen and grumpy, JJ looked anxious.
‘What’s that on the lawn?’ he said.
James looked where he was pointing.
‘Maybe all the servants didn’t leave after all,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ said Precious.
‘I think that’s Alonzo,’ said James.
They walked over.
Sure enough, it was the elderly servant. He was lying on the lawn, half-hidden by a mess of leaves and branches.
He had either died from the blow to the head or he had drowned. James didn’t have the stomach to try to find out how. Mercifully the old man’s face was hidden from them.
JJ stared with fascinated horror at the body. He had never seen a dead person before.
It wasn’t the only body they saw that morning.
On their way down into town they passed several collapsed buildings where weeping families were digging in the rubble. It was like the aftermath of a war. Everything was flattened and smashed. People were wandering around in a daze, not knowing what to do. Here and there were awful reminders of what might have been; flags and bunting from the carnival, wrecked floats.
The town centre was worse; most of it was under about a foot of water. The drains had not been able to cope and the sea had surged inland bringing wrecked boats with it. It was as if someone had
simply picked up the town and shaken it.
To make matters worse, fires had broken out. The locals were working together to try to deal with them, but there seemed to be no one in charge.
James and the two children wandered the drowned streets aimlessly.
‘Somehow we need to get in contact with your father,’ James said eventually. ‘Maybe if we could find a radio set somewhere?’
‘We could try the police station,’ said Precious.
‘Good idea,’ said James.
Their hopes of getting help at the police station were short-lived, however, because when they arrived they were met by a bizarre sight.
A large fishing boat was jutting out of the front of the building, which had been reduced to little more than a pile of rubble. A group of policemen were standing round arguing and waving their hands.
It was a few moments before James realised that it was the very boat he had come down from Tampico on. And there was the skipper, Garcia, standing a little way off, talking quietly with one of the plain-clothes detectives who had arrested the pickpocket.
James and the others hurried over.
‘Garcia,’ said James, ‘what’s happened?’
‘Is very bad,’ said Garcia, nodding sadly at his boat.
‘Is all very bad,’ said the policeman looking the children up and down.
‘We need help,’ said Precious and the policeman laughed.
‘Join the line,’ he said. ‘Everybody in Tres Hermanas needs help. What makes you so special?’
‘I am Precious Stone, my father is –’
‘Go home,’ said the policeman flatly.
‘It’s not that simple,’ said James.
‘Yes it is,’ said the policeman. ‘There is nothing I can do for you. Maybe in a couple of weeks we will be back to normal, maybe a couple of months, maybe a couple of years. Come back then.’
‘Please,’ said Precious and the policeman rounded on her angrily.
‘Go away. Leave me alone,’ he snapped. ‘I have a whole jail of escaped prisoners to catch.’
The policeman walked off, fuming.
James turned to Garcia, who shrugged.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said. ‘My boat was my whole life. My only income, and now… Look at her.’
James looked. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, but, despite everything, he found himself wanting to laugh. The boat looked so funny sticking out of the building. He put a hand over his mouth but couldn’t stop a snort from escaping. The next thing he knew, Garcia was grinning too.
‘She does look funny,’ he said, and in a moment the two of them were both helpless with laughter.
Precious made a face. ‘I’m glad you’ve found something to laugh about,’ she said, which only made the two of them laugh even more.
‘Sometimes,’ said Garcia, when he had calmed down, ‘when God makes a big joke like this, you have to laugh.’
James introduced Garcia to JJ and Precious and then told the Mexican everything that had happened last night.
‘So you can see the trouble we’re in,’ said Precious when he had finished. ‘Is there nothing anyone can do for us?’
‘All the lines are down,’ Garcia explained. ‘There is no power in the whole of the town. No way of communicating with the outside world. It could be the same as this all the way along the coast. I am going to try and see if I can get my radio from the boat. If it is undamaged, it has a battery. It may be useful. If I was you I would try to get inland.’
‘We can’t leave town,’ said Precious. ‘What if Daddy comes looking for us?’
‘How will he get here?’ said Garcia. ‘The roads are blocked, boats sunk, harbour in ruins, water everywhere. There will be nowhere he can land his plane.’
‘We’re not leaving,’ said Precious.
‘You must,’ said Garcia. ‘There is no electricity, no food, no drinking water. The sewers have all burst. Soon there will be sickness and disease. The boy is bleeding. You must get him to a doctor. There is nobody here who can help. You will find nurses in Puente Nuevo, in the mission house on the other side of river. They will look after you. Take what you can and get up there. There is still one road open. If the river breaks its banks, then even this will close. If I can get my radio fixed I will try and contact your father, tell him you have moved to safety. He has a radio on his plane. But, please, go from here while you still can.’
‘I don’t believe this is happening,’ said Precious.
James looked at her.
‘Does your father have a motor car?’ he asked.
‘He has three,’ said Precious. ‘But what good will they be to us?’
8
‘It’s a Doozy’
The garage doors were hanging half off their hinges. James forced them open. The roof had been blown off and it was full of leaves and water, but, miraculously, the three cars were largely undamaged.
In pride of place was a big silver Model J Duesenberg. It was long and low and powerful-looking, with a great square bonnet ending in a gleaming radiator grille and huge twin headlamps. James ran his hand admiringly along its sleek flank.
‘Do you like it?’ asked JJ proudly.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said James.
‘It’s a Doozy,’ said JJ.
‘I know,’ said James. ‘I’ve seen pictures of it in magazines, but I’ve never seen one in real life before.’
Four creased exhaust tubes snaked out of the bonnet from just in front of a side-mounted spare wheel and disappeared down through the wide running-board that swept back from the front wheel arch.
James whistled. This was the very latest model, an SJ, with a supercharger fitted next to the engine. It put out 320 horsepower and had a top speed of an incredible 135 mph. There were only a very few of these in existence, and they were all owned by film stars and royalty and wealthy gangsters.
The soft roof had been damaged by the storm, so James folded it back.
‘Just what do you propose we do?’ said Precious. ‘Drive it ourselves?’
‘Right first time,’ said James.
‘No,’ said Precious. ‘Oh no. Daddy would never allow that.’
‘I think you are probably more valuable to him than his damned car,’ said James. ‘Although, if it was down to me, I’d pick the car.’
JJ made a face and James smiled at him.
‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I was only joking.’
JJ brightened. ‘Do you know how to drive?’ he said.
‘I do,’ said James.
‘But you’re not old enough,’ Precious protested. ‘I won’t let you.’
‘OK then,’ said James, ‘we’ll stay here and rot.’
Precious narrowed her eyes and thought about their situation. She looked at JJ. He was very pale and his trousers were stained with blood. At last she nodded.
‘Good,’ said James. ‘Get together anything you might need for the journey.’
James went to his wrecked room and found his sodden suitcase. He had never got around to unpacking the night before. All his things inside were soaked through. He needed to change, though – the clothes he was wearing were filthy and ripped. He searched the house until he came to the servants’ quarters at the top. Miraculously there was an undamaged wardrobe in one of the rooms whose contents were dry. He changed into a loose short-sleeved shirt and a pair of wide trousers. He looked at himself in the mirror. His skin had darkened in the weeks he had been out here. He could easily pass as Mexican.
He collected some dry blankets and a coat, then went down to the kitchen to salvage any food that wasn’t spoiled. He also found two large canisters of drinking water.
He was loading the Duesenberg when the two children arrived, lugging a heavy suitcase each. Precious had changed into another impractical dress and brought all her best clothes. JJ had brought his toys.
James was too tired to argue. He had already filled the luggage box at the back and one of the small rear seats. He found some rope
and tied the children’s cases to the side of the car.
They climbed aboard: Precious in the front next to James, and JJ squeezed into the back next to the luggage.
James familiarised himself with the controls and then gingerly drove out of the garage. In five minutes they were nosing down the hill away from Tres Hermanas towards the wide flat plain that lay inland behind the town.
The car was a beast, frighteningly powerful. James had to struggle to keep it under control. If he lost concentration the 4-foot-long engine would leap into action and the car would tear away like a wild bull.
At the bottom of the hill the road was blocked by a group of men with scarves and handkerchiefs tied round their faces. For a moment James feared that they were bandits, but then he saw that they were clearing something out of a storm drain by the side of the road. The handkerchiefs were to protect them and keep out the awful smell.
James slowed down carefully and stopped.
Lying in the dirt were the bloated bodies of several dogs and a goat. And laid out under stained sheets were the shapes of three people.
The men were hauling out another body and, as it came up out of the drain, James realised with a shock who it was.
It was Angel Corona. He must have escaped from the jail when Garcia’s boat smashed it open, only to end up drowned and stuck in a drain.
James got out of the car and walked over.
The men put Angel down. He lay there as if asleep. There were no signs of any injuries. James was once more struck by how similar the two of them looked. How easily it could have been him lying there. The hand of death had passed over Tres Hermanas last night and it hadn’t cared who it touched.
The last of the bodies was up now and the men cleared the road. James got back into the car.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Precious, a hand over her nose.
James shifted the car into gear and eased ahead. He longed to get on to the open road and let the car loose a little, but it soon became obvious that there was no open road. When they reached the main route out of town they found it clogged with traffic.
A silent, bedraggled stream of humanity was pouring out of Tres Hermanas. Men and women, old people, children, some in carts and wagons, many riding donkeys or horses, but most on foot, carrying bundles on their back or pushing hand- carts laden with clothes, valuables, chickens and babies. A handful of cars pushed their way slowly through, the drivers leaning on their horns. An old bus crawled along, belching out black fumes. It was packed with people and more passengers were clinging to the luggage rack on the roof.
Hurricane Gold Page 7