Hurricane Gold (8 page)

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.

The road, which was slightly raised, stretched away across submerged fields towards the distant mountains of the Sierra Madre Oriental. The devastation caused by the storm seemed to go on forever. The wind and rain had scoured the countryside, drowning the land, stripping the crops and flattening trees. There were dead cows floating everywhere, their bodies swelling in the heat.

James joined the procession and they crept forward, the sun burning down on to their heads. It was stop–start all the way and James had to keep turning the engine off to prevent it from overheating. By mid afternoon they had travelled only a few miles and the three of them were hot and grumpy and frustrated. Precious had done nothing but complain all day. She complained about leaving Tres Hermanas, she complained about James’s driving, she complained about the other people on the road, she complained that her cut hand was hurting, she complained when JJ complained that
his
cut leg was hurting. She complained about her servants.

‘They probably planned the whole thing with that woman,’ she said. ‘I bet they planned to rob us all along. You can’t trust a Mexican. That policeman, he was the same. He didn’t care one jot that we are in trouble. They hate us. They hate us because we are American, because we are rich…’

At first James tried to forgive her. She was tired and scared and missing her father. She had shown some courage during the storm, but she wore him down, and no matter how hard he tried to shut her voice out of his head, it whined on like a fly trapped in a jar.

By the time the sun was setting and the light fading from the land they could just make out the town of Puente Nuevo up ahead, but they had come to a virtual standstill. Nothing seemed to be moving and the people were getting even more packed together on the road.

In the end, James found a relatively dry spot and pulled over to the side so that they could sleep.

The night was crystal clear and cold. The great black dome of the sky was studded with thousands of shining stars. A full moon shone down, turning the standing water silver. James marvelled about how the deadly, stinging rain of last night had created this magical scene.

He sat there watching the endless procession of people passing slowly along the road in silence.

As the night became colder they wrapped themselves in the blankets that James had brought from the house and tried to get some sleep.

By sunrise most of the refugees from Tres Hermanas had passed by. There were a few stragglers, but the road was much clearer.

‘We should make better progress today,’ James told Precious when she woke up.

‘I hope so,’ she said and checked her appearance in a small vanity mirror she had brought along.

She was not pleased.

‘I look a fright,’ she moaned. ‘My hair is a mess. My face is sunburnt. This is a disaster.’

James ignored her and prepared a breakfast of stale bread and cheese. They drank some of their precious water, and then, with a cool breeze blowing, James gunned the Duesenberg towards Puente Nuevo.

They overtook a couple of broken-down vehicles: an ancient truck with twenty or so patient Mexicans squatting in the shade it cast as the driver tried to repair the engine, and a dusty Ford with a flat tyre. Then they came to a party of nuns on mules going the other way. James presumed they wanted to see if there was anything they could do to help out in Tres Hermanas.

As they went past, the nuns pointed back towards Puente Nuevo, and all talked at once in high anxious voices.

‘What are they saying?’ said Precious.

‘I don’t know,’ said James. ‘My Spanish isn’t that good.’

‘Something about a river,’ said JJ.

James noticed another broken-down truck further along the road. As he was idly looking at it, he saw, with a shock, that there was a safe loaded on to the back of it. He made slits of his eyes and squinted into the glare of the sun.

There were three men standing next to the truck. Unmistakably members of the gang who had come to the Stones’ house the night before.

‘Squash down on the floor and cover yourselves with the blankets,’ he hissed to his passengers.

‘Why?’ said Precious.

‘Just do it,’ said James. ‘And do it quickly. There are some people up ahead you don’t want to meet. This car’s pretty conspicuous and they’re bound to give it a look-over.’

Precious and JJ did as they were told, and as soon as they were clear of the dawdling nuns James put his foot down and shifted gear.

The engine gave a great crackling roar and James was forced back into his seat as they leapt forward. By the time they came to the truck, they were travelling at speed and the three men were a faceless blur. James kept his foot down, gripping the wheel tightly as he steered along the uneven, pitted road. For a moment all his worries were forgotten and he felt a wild exhilaration. He wanted to whoop and howl and drive on recklessly, but the next thing he knew they had arrived at Puente Nuevo, a jumble of buildings tightly packed together on either side of a wide river.

The town was busy with refugees and James had to slow down and drive carefully through the narrow, winding streets, scared that he might run someone down.

Puente Nuevo had been built long before cars had been invented and the length of the Duesenberg made it difficult to get round some bends. At one point they came to a crumbling archway and James scraped the side of the car trying to fit through it.

‘Be careful, you clumsy idiot,’ said Precious, wincing.

‘Perhaps you’d rather drive,’ said James.

Precious said nothing in response to this and they drove on in angry silence until they came to the tail end of a traffic jam. A bus and several cars were stuck, and there was no room to turn round. The buildings on either side cut out all the light and kept the street in inky shade.

‘You said it would be better today,’ said Precious, grumpily.

‘I was wrong,’ said James.

‘Can’t you do anything right?’

‘It seems not.’

‘We’d be better off by ourselves. You’re only making matters worse, dragging us across the countryside.’

James turned off the engine.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘That’s it. You’re on your own.’ He got out of the car and slammed the door.

‘Don’t leave us,’ whined JJ.

‘It’s all right,’ said Precious, ‘he doesn’t mean it. He’s calling our bluff.’

‘Am I?’

JJ began to cry.

‘Oh, don’t be such a baby,’ said Precious. ‘If this rude English boy wants to abandon us, then let him. I’ve had enough of him.’

‘I like him,’ said JJ. ‘He saved us.’

‘You do
not
like him,’ said Precious. ‘I forbid it. You are my brother and you will do as I say.’

James leant on the side of the car and glared at the girl.

‘Listen to me,’ he said. ‘I’m going to go and see what the hold-up is. You can be here or not when I get back, I don’t much care either way. The choice is yours. If you want to go and find someone else to help you, that’s fine with me. But if you
are
here, you’re going to put up with me. All right? You’re going to stop complaining and you’re going to do as you’re told.’