Hurricane Gold

by Charlie Higson

  James wiped some muck off Precious’s face. She was crying, the tears were mingling with the honey on her cheeks.

  ‘This is it,’ he said. ‘Xibalba. We’ve come to the last challenge.’

  ‘It’s going to be terrible,’ she said. ‘I know it is.’

  James saw the glyphs on the wall, but couldn’t read them. They were a jumble of skeletons and monsters.

  ‘Hun Came,’ he said, remembering the name that Moises had told him in the tunnels beneath the run.

  ‘What does it mean?’ said Precious.

  ‘One Death,’ came a shout from above. It was El Huracán, standing with his hands on his hips. ‘The Mayans gave some of their gods numbers. Hun Came was the number one god of Xibalba, the place of fear, the Mayan underworld. The road to Xibalba was filled with many obstacles: vicious spiked thorns, a river of scorpions, a river of blood, even a river of pus. And once you were there you would have to face even more deadly challenges from the lords of the underworld. For you, however, there is only one more challenge. To meet One Death himself.’

  El Huracán laughed. ‘Look at you,’ he said. ‘You are not so cocky, now, eh, James Bond?’

  One by one the other men joined in with the laughter, anxious to show that they were on his side.

  ‘What’s with the feathers?’ said a beefy gangster at his side. ‘Is it just a gag?’

  ‘No,’ said El Huracán. ‘One Death’s favourite food is chicken, but he also has a sweet tooth. He will smell the chickens and taste the honey, and he will attack. He has not been fed for weeks. He will be hungry. You will hear him make his kills and feed. You will hear their death screams, but you will not see them die. One Death deserves his privacy. He is a god after all.’

  ‘What is he really?’ said the man.

  ‘He is Hun Came,’ said El Huracán, and that was all he would say.

  James and Precious walked on and came to Xibalba, the end of the rat run. La Avenida de la Muerte went no further. The passageway opened out into a square, and in the centre of the square stood a squat pyramid. It was a modern construction, based on a Mayan design, and they knew from the plans that it was hollow and built over a huge water tank.

  There were steps up each of the pyramid’s four sides and at the top was a wide stone platform.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said James, and he took hold of Precious’s hand.

  He knew exactly how the Mayan prisoners of war must have felt as they climbed the pyramid temples to their certain deaths. Ever since he had got up from the bed of feathers, he had felt weirdly detached and light, as if this were all happening to somebody else. It felt unreal. The ants were biting somebody else, the tight suit of pain was being worn by somebody else, the smell of honey and chickens was coming from some other place.

  When they reached the top of the pyramid, they discovered a circular opening cut into the floor. There was a long drop into water below, and a familiar, fishy stink.

  ‘Listen to me,’ said James quietly and urgently, ‘I didn’t want to tell you this before, because I knew you’d be too frightened to go through with it, but now there’s no going back.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ said Precious.

  ‘There’s a way out,’ said James.

  Precious smiled through her tears.

  ‘Is there? How do you know?’

  ‘Remember I told you about the iron door I saw in the tunnels,’ said James. ‘And the sluice they use to empty the tank.’

  ‘But you said we couldn’t open the door from this side,’ said Precious.

  ‘We can,’ said James. ‘I got the idea from Whatzat.’

  ‘What idea?’ said Precious.

  ‘With the right amount of explosives you can open any door you want.’

  ‘That would be fine if we only had some explosives,’ said Precious.

  ‘Last night,’ said James, ‘before I met you in the plaza, I took some dynamite from the store shed and I went down into the tunnels. I rigged three sticks to the wheel that opens the door and threaded a fuse into a small hole above the tank. I left some matches too. We won’t have long. Whatever’s in there is going to come after us. But if I can get to the hole and light the fuse, we’ll have about three seconds and then – boom!’

  ‘We’ll be blown to pieces,’ said Precious.

  ‘It’s always possible,’ said James. ‘But the water should cushion the explosion. At least that’s what I hope. Then we get out down the sluice.’

  ‘Are all English boys as crazy as you?’ said Precious.

  ‘Most of them,’ said James. ‘So what do you say? Do you trust me?’

  ‘No,’ said Precious, ‘but I’d follow you to hell and back.’

  ‘Then, let’s go,’ said James. ‘Satan’s waiting for us.’

  The top of the pyramid was higher than where the spectators were standing. El Huracán was staring up and shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun with one hand.

  ‘Will you keep your word?’ James shouted down to him.

  ‘Of course,’ El Huracán called back. ‘I do not break my own rules.’

  ‘If we make it out of the final chamber alive, we’re free to leave the island?’

  ‘Completely free,’ shouted El Huracán. ‘I will even give a feast in your honour before you go.’

  ‘There are no other rules?’ James yelled.

  ‘No.’

  ‘However we get out of there, it’s fair?’

  ‘You have my word, James. These men are witnesses to it. If you emerge alive from One Death’s lair, you and the girl are free to leave.’

  Precious squeezed James’s arm.

  ‘I’ll go first this time,’ she said.

  ‘We’ll go together,’ said James.

  They sat down on the edge of the opening and held hands.

  ‘Whatever it is in there,’ said James, ‘it won’t attack straight away. It’ll try to find out what we are first. But once it’s made up its mind, it won’t hesitate. Are you ready?’

  ‘See you in hell,’ said Precious and they pushed off the edge.

  There was a moment of falling through darkness and then they smashed into the water with a noise like a cannon going off. They sank to the bottom of the tank, which must have been about 10 feet deep, and their feet touched slimy stonework. They kicked up and broke the surface, gasping for air.

  At least the honey and the ants and feathers had been washed away, but there was no time to enjoy the sensation. James had to move fast.

  There was just enough light from the opening above to show that they were in a large square chamber. There was a shelf along one side and on it lay the huge, dark shape of an animal.

  James guessed that the wall with the door must be opposite the shelf. He quickly swam over and started searching for the hole.

  He wished he could see better, and scanned the wall frantically, squinting in the gloom.

  ‘Hurry, James,’ said Precious and he heard the animal shift on its stone ledge and give a guttural grunt.

  James felt all over the wall with his hand. Why couldn’t he find the hole?

  He heard the animal’s body scraping roughly along the shelf.

  Where was it? Where was the hole?

  ‘There!’ shouted Precious, her voice echoing and slapping off the walls. ‘You’re looking on the wrong wall!’

  James looked round to see her bobbing in the water and pointing to the left.

  She was right. He could just make out a small dark patch in the masonry.

  He splashed over and reached up. It was the hole all right. He felt inside, treading water. There was the box of matches. He carefully closed his fingers around it.

  If he dropped it in the tank they were done for.

  ‘It’s moving,’ said Precious. ‘Hurry. It’s coming.’

  There was another grunt and the animal shifted ominously again. It sniffed and snorted and they could hear its claws rattling on the stones.

  James gently pulled the end of the fuse
until about 6 inches was showing. Then he carefully slid the matchbox open.

  He glanced back to see the huge dark shape sliding slowly off the ledge into the water. He thought he might be sick with fear. He wasn’t going to make it in time.

  He fumbled for a match, dropping several in his panic, but at last got one and struck it against the box. He had got it damp and it wouldn’t light. He struck it again.

  Still nothing.

  He could feel the water moving as the beast swam towards them.

  He dropped the damp match and took out another one.

  He struck it. It sparked. It flared. It lit the whole chamber brightly for a second and James caught a glimpse of a reptilian eye and huge snout drifting across the surface of the murky water.

  He put the match to the fuse and it lit first time. The flame climbed up and disappeared into the hole. The chamber was plunged back into darkness.

  ‘Move away from the wall,’ James yelled at Precious, thrashing the water to try to ward the animal off.

  As they floundered across the pool, James felt a long leathery body slide along his legs. He prepared himself for the awful bite, the jaws closing around his torso.

  He could bear it no longer. He finally cracked.

  He opened his mouth wide and started to scream.

  The sound filled the chamber… and then there was silence.

  It felt as if the whole building had been struck by a giant hand.

  Time held its breath.

  A tremendous shock wave passed through the water. James was stunned, unable to see or hear or feel anything. There was an awful pressure, crushing him from all sides. He felt as if his brain must be squeezed out of his ears.

  Then the world erupted around him and he was in a maelstrom of churning water and flying rocks.

  His senses returned like a slap. He was being tugged through the water towards the wall.

  The beast had got him, then?

  No. It wasn’t that. The water was being sucked out of the tank through a massive, gaping crack.

  He lost sight of Precious as he was spun round and tossed about in the surging torrent. His head hit something. His ribs were pummelled, and then he realised he was in the sluice. It had worked. He was being flushed away like a spider being washed down a plughole. And there was Precious, sliding along just ahead of him, on the slick, stone slipway.

  Had they really done it? Had they beaten El Huracán?

  Not yet.

  The Mayan gods were going to try for one last time to take James to Xibalba, the land of the dead.

  One Death was not finished with them.

  James heard a bellow and looked back to see a giant bull crocodile come barrelling down the sluice after him, its soft belly glowing a sickly greenish white.

  James hadn’t thought of that.

  He and Precious were escaping down the sluice, but so was One Death. And the crocodile was crazed with fear and anger. It snapped wildly with its ugly jaws and thrashed its head from side to side, roaring and screaming like a pig.

  The sluice acted like a long slide. James could hear Precious shrieking as she was thrown about, bashing against the rocks and floundering in the rushing, filthy water. James didn’t know if he was more scared of being dashed to pieces on the rocks or being savaged by the crocodile.

  The sluice veered sharply to the right and James was hurled against the wall. The wind was knocked out of him and he turned just in time to see the crocodile come slithering and slopping on top of him. He instinctively grabbed hold of it, and somehow managed to get his arms around its long snout. Then the two of them were sliding on together and James was staring into the animal’s mad yellow eye.

  Its whole body was twisting and jerking, its short legs scrabbling to get a purchase on the sides and carving big gouges out of the soft rock. They rolled over. For a moment James was on top, then, as they hit another bend, he was rolled back underneath the crocodile and he was forced to let go. The animal was determined to get him, though, determined to kill the intruder who had blown its world apart. It arched its back and jack-knifed, snapping at James.

  The sluice suddenly split into two, and James was taken one way and the crocodile another.

  There were a few brief seconds of peace and calm, as James slid on down the algae-coated rock, and then the paths reconverged.

  Was One Death ahead of him or behind?

  An enraged bellow told him that the crocodile was behind. There it came, all mouth and teeth. James’s head struck the side and he was momentarily stunned. He didn’t know which way was up or down.

  And then he was flying through the air. He opened his eyes to see, inches away from his face, the wide, gaping jaws of the crocodile. He could see its pink tongue and smell its awful breath. The two of them were falling together.

  The crocodile lunged and James jerked away so that its teeth closed with a loud CLACK on nothing but air.

  Then its massive tail whipped round and batted James away.

  His unconscious body spun off into oblivion.

  There was a small splash in the darkness.

  31

  The Figure in the Tower

  James awoke to find himself lying on a narrow rocky ledge inside a sea-cave. Precious was stroking his face.

  ‘I’m getting used to fishing you out of the water,’ she said.

  ‘What happened to the crocodile?’ said James.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Precious. ‘Maybe he swam off, maybe he’s dead, but the main thing is, he’s gone.’

  ‘So we made it, then?’

  ‘Looks like it. It’s been some day.’

  ‘And you’re some girl.’

  ‘I know.’

  Precious bent over and kissed James lightly on the lips. They were numb and he felt nothing. It was like being kissed by an angel.

  They waited there like that, saying nothing, James with his head in Precious’s lap, until they heard the sound of a boat and voices calling out across the water.

  Precious called back and presently a motor launch appeared, piloted by a crew of El Huracán’s Indians.

  James and Precious left their perch and climbed into the boat. The Indians looked at them as if they were creatures from another planet, and after giving them some blankets, they kept a wary distance.

  The boat chugged out of the cave into the light. It was a glorious day. The sun glinted on the deep blue water. Seabirds swooped and dived after fish. Clouds scudded along on a light breeze. And for James and Precious it was made more glorious by the fact that they had cheated One Death, the chief lord of the underworld.

  No day had ever looked so good. No air had ever tasted sweeter.

  They motored round to the harbour where El Huracán was waiting for them.

  He looked them up and down as they clambered stiffly off the boat, but it was impossible to read his face and tell what he was thinking.

  ‘You’re alive,’ was all he said.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ said James.

  El Huracán, shook his head, stamped out his cigar, turned and walked away.

  Two days later, patched up and rested, James and Precious were back at the harbour, waiting to board the steamer that was going to take them over to the mainland. El Huracán had been true to his word. He had laid on a feast in their honour in the plaza. And he had sat at the head of the table and toasted them. But his good humour had been forced, and James noticed that he drank a lot, but ate nothing.

  A group of musicians was also waiting for the boat, and one of them was strumming a guitar and singing a sad song. James didn’t know if it was the music, or the warm, sunny day, or the scent of flowers wafting across the island, but he felt almost sorry to be saying goodbye to the place.

  Precious walked up the gangboard. James took one last look back and saw El Huracán walking towards the harbour, flanked by two of his guards.

  He waited.

  ‘I wanted to make sure you got safely away,’ said the wily old Mexican when he a
rrived.

  ‘No tricks up your sleeve?’ said James, and El Huracán held up his hands and drew back his cuffs to show that they were empty. His mood seemed to have lightened since the feast.

  ‘No tricks,’ he said. ‘But I want to make a deal with you, James Bond.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I want you to swear that you will not try and cause trouble for me. That you will not come back for Mrs Glass.’

  ‘Why should I agree to that?’ said James.

  ‘I agreed to let you go,’ said El Huracán.

  ‘You had no choice,’ said James. ‘You made the rules.’

  El Huracán shrugged and took a cigar from his pocket. ‘You cheated,’ he said, lighting it.

  Now it was James’s turn to shrug.

  ‘Listen to me, James,’ said El Huracán. ‘If I wanted, I could kill you now and that would be the end of it. Luckily for you, I am a sporting man, and I like you, despite all that you have done to me.’

  ‘I can’t make any promises,’ said James.

  El Huracán became serious. ‘I have friends in the Mexican government,’ he said. ‘I pay them enough money to leave me alone. And, besides, once a dangerous criminal turns up at Lagrimas Negras, he never leaves. The island is still, in its own way, a prison. All these men and women will die here. Mrs Glass with them. I have done the world a favour taking her in. Mrs Glass has her punishment. You are free. You must leave it at that.’

  ‘I came here to get something,’ said James. ‘It’s bigger and more important than me.’

  ‘The stolen plans,’ said El Huracán.

  ‘Exactly,’ said James. ‘As long as you still have them, it’s not over.’

  ‘What do you intend to do about it?’ said El Huracán.

  ‘As you say, you’ve got a perfect set-up here,’ said James. ‘You are left alone. You are king of your own little empire. But how do you think the American government is going to react when it finds out, as it must do eventually, that you have the plans? And that you are going to sell their secrets to some foreign power? Do you think the Americans will leave you alone? The navy came here once before. They killed every man on the island.’