Caribbean Gold: Three Adventure Novels

by K. T. Tomb

  The man put his magazine down and slowly approached the front desk to speak with Paulson.

  “The crazy lady who just tried to burn the door down has her group circling the property looking for somewhere to shelter. Mr. Masterson said I was to alert you of it just in case it turns into something else.”

  “Does he want us to go remove them?”

  “Are you nuts, man? It’s Category 4 out there and we aren’t animals. I hope they find somewhere to hunker down, just as long as they don’t try breaking in again.”

  ***

  Mike Morton sat in the tiny cell on the almost deserted block of the jailhouse, looking up at the bare ceiling and the rapidly deteriorating roof. With each gust of the strengthening wind, the sheets of galvanized sheeting lifted a little bit more. It was a far climb to get up there, but there were enough men on the block with him who were even more desperate than he was to get out of the jail. He continued to watch the roof above him carefully until he saw what he was waiting for. A strong gust lifted the sheeting above him and literally curled the metal back until it could no longer recoil to its original placement.

  Rainwater sheeted down on Mike and his fellow inmates, who immediately started climbing up to the rafters. With minimal effort, all twenty-three inmates of that block of the jail climbed out of the hole and pulled themselves up to the roof. It was difficult to scale it in the heavy rain and the gusts of strong, persistent wind threatened to throw them all to the ground. Carefully, they crossed the roof, heading towards the perimeter wall, which lay close to the end of their building.

  One by one, they crept down to the edge of the gabled roof, dangled their legs over the gutters and swung down to the edge of a tree that hung slightly over the wall. Mike was one of the last to go down the roof, jump over to the limb and scale backward down the tree to freedom. He thought that they would all make it, but just as he did so, he heard a scream then a loud thud as one of the men slipped and fell to the ground, apparently breaking his neck in the fall. Immediately, there were sirens sounding in the yard and spotlights were hurriedly focused in their direction. Mike heard shots being fired and two more thuds as the men who were hit by the prison guards’ bullets fell from the roof as well.

  “Go, go, go!” he shouted to the others who were already on the ground below him.

  When his feet touched down into the mud underneath the huge tree, there was still a group of escapees waiting for him. There were sixteen men in all.

  “Why are you still here?” he asked. “I told you to run. The guards have seen us going over the wall.”

  “We don’t know where to go,” said one of the men.

  “We want to go with you,” said another.

  “Where are you planning to go? What are you going to do?” asked yet another escapee.

  “I’m going to the hotel, to Samsara. I’m going to kill Steve Masterson, rob him and burn that goddamn place to the fucking ground!”

  Chapter Ten

  The storm raged throughout the night. Though the Winfreds were on the fifth floor, the roaring storm still rumbled throughout the building. They couldn’t relax enough to fall asleep, so the couple stayed up through the night doing everything they could think of to tire themselves out. They watched TV, they made love, they lay in bed counting the spots on the ceiling and finally, they read. After what seemed like hours had passed, Rebecca looked at the clock.

  “It’s five o’clock in the morning,” she said. “I still don’t feel tired.”

  Rebecca picked up her beauty magazine again; the novel had been too action-packed to lull her into any state of relaxation. Karl searched through his nightstand draw.

  “Maybe I can check up on the latest updates. Becky, where’d you put my computer?”

  Rebecca didn’t move her eyes away from the page she was reading.

  “I didn’t touch it.”

  Karl brought the Holy Bible out of the drawer and closed it. He thumbed through the book’s pages.

  “I don’t understand why it’s necessary for hotels to do this; putting a Bible in every room seems so redundant,” Karl said.

  “It’s not the hotel. There’s a group of people that distribute those. Starts with a G, it’s on the tip of my tongue—Gideons. They’re called Gideons.”

  “Why would they want to have Bibles in every room? It’s distracting and pointless. Lots of bad things happen in hotel rooms, you know: adultery, crimes, even murders. The Bible has no place here.”

  “Maybe if people spent five minutes reading the Bible before going on to do some of those things, they wouldn’t do them.”

  Karl raised his eyebrows as he skimmed through the Book of Genesis.

  “And the story of Noah’s Ark—familiar with that?”

  “I am. Learned about it in Sunday school, but that’s about it.”

  Rebecca put her magazine down at her side.

  “Why this sudden interest in the Bible? I’ve never seen you read one.”

  Karl sneered.

  “I’ve read plenty of damn Bibles in my lifetime.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes, picked up her magazine and resumed reading.

  Karl turned the pages to Genesis Chapter 9. He read out loud.

  “‘Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him, “Behold, I establish my covenant with you and your offspring after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the livestock, and every beast of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark; it is for every beast of the earth. I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of the flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.’

  And God said, ‘This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations.’”

  Karl lifted his eyes from the page.

  “Remember I told you about hating rainbows?”

  “That’s like your number one pet peeve, so yeah, I remember.”

  “What’s with peoples’ fascination with rainbows anyway? They’re just reflections produced by sunlight.”

  “There you go again, being all practical, when really you should try to see beyond the rationale behind it and just enjoy what’s in front of you.”

  “Enjoy what’s in front of me?”

  Rebecca nodded. “It’d do you a world of good. It really took me by surprise when you decided to go ahead and invest in this hotel. It was one of the craziest things you’ve ever done, and you were going to do it without me knowing.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be stupid and throw away money on this hotel,” Karl explained. “I did my research. The material this building is constructed out of is very practical. I spoke with Masterson about it extensively and even the foreman, Mr. Morton, and some of the construction crew. I read stacks of files and saw the blueprints. It took me months to research this project. I don’t take anything lightly, you know that.”

  “So, what’s your beef with rainbows?”

  Karl put the Bible into the nightstand drawer and closed it.

  “I should’ve been clearer about what I mean. My uncle told me the story of Noah’s Ark once when I was twelve. He read the story to me from the Bible and we talked about it. The story blew me away—I mean, how can a centuries-old guy build an ark, then spend one year in it with his family and animals. My uncle told me about how it was basically God set out to destroy sin and wickedness, but then promised never to send a flood like that again. My uncle was a good man … or so I thought. I used to go over his house every Saturday. He was my mother’s brother, and they were very close.”

  Karl spun around in his chair and watched the wall; he preferred not to look Rebecca in the eyes. “My uncle was big on making promises, telling me we’d go out for ice cream, amusement parks, movies, stuff like that. It was hit or miss with him. Sometimes we’d go out to places; other times, we didn’t. But he loved to make everything sound bigger than it truly was. So ever since my
uncle promised he’d never see me get hurt because he loved me, I figured, well why not trust him; ice cream and movies aren’t that important, but when someone says they won’t ever hurt me, I should believe it. So, I did. And that was a mistake.”

  Staring at the wall in front of him, Karl looked as though his childhood was flashing before his eyes.

  “Then on the night before Easter, my mother and I went to my uncle’s place. My uncle was an amateur cook, so he made a whole buffet table of food, with duck and chicken and ham, and these delicious rows of bread, pastas and vegetable casseroles. I knew I could learn so much about cooking from him. There were a ton of guests that night, most of them his friends and co-workers.”

  Though Karl kept his eyes glued to the wall, he sensed Rebecca move up next to him.

  “After dinner and all the guests had left, my uncle and Mom went outside on the patio by themselves. He told me to stay in the house and start clearing the plates. So I did. I figured they wanted to catch up, even though she took me to his place every week; it wasn’t like they were strangers.”

  Karl heaved and clasped his hand over his face. Tears poured from his eyes, and he wiped them. Rebecca rubbed his back and shoulders.

  “It was about fifteen minutes later and I noticed a strange muffled sound coming from outside. I turned the faucet off and listened carefully until it came to me again. It was the sound of someone screaming but it was very faint. I ran outside, and saw my mother lying on the floor of the porch. My uncle was on top of her, with his back to me, trying to push her legs apart with his knees. He was covering her mouth with one hand and tearing her blouse with the other. I starting coming up to them when he looked around and saw me there.

  “‘Don’t come any closer,’ my uncle insisted. I was like, ‘Why not?’ That was when I saw my mother sit up, grab a terracotta flower pot and swing it at his head. He dropped on top of her like a sack of potatoes and she just dropped the pot and started wailing. I had to pull him off her and call the police.”

  Karl’s eyes met Rebecca’s.

  “My uncle tried to rape my mother, his sister-in-law, right there on his porch, under my nose. I almost didn’t hear her screams, there had been no arguments, nothing. I just remember that it rained all through that night, and it didn’t stop until the crack of dawn. A little after the sun rose, a rainbow appeared in the sky. My mother pointed up to the sky and said, ‘Remember, God made a covenant with Noah, saying He’d never flood the earth again.”

  “I think I turned to her and told her never to tell me that story again. That every promise is made to be broken and people who believe in promises are the biggest liars there are.”

  Karl sniffed and rubbed his forehead.

  “Ever since then, I have pushed the memory of that night out of my mind and the story he always told me, so that’s why it pisses me off every time I see a rainbow because all it reminds me of is that damn bastard. You’re the first person I’ve ever told this to. I never even told the people at my 12-step meetings. Sure I danced around it—how I ended up in the wrong crowd in high school, became a functioning alcoholic in college because you can’t show up drunk when you’re taking exams—but I never told them about that night.”

  Karl sat down at the desk and looked out the window. It was difficult to view the scene through the slats in the shutters but not impossible. Darkness blanketed the beach and the ocean. The trees remained rooted and stalwart against the wind that did its best to deracinate them. All of the hotel’s patio furniture had been stacked and stored in neat piles that were tied down securely to prevent the gale from dragging them across the beach and into the sea or down the boardwalk. The fence that lined the promenade was being ripped apart by the wind. Something flew up and slammed into the shuttered window. The surprise knocked Karl halfway out of his seat before he could compose himself and reseat in his chair. Rebecca jumped off the bed and lowered the window blinds. More loud sounds were heaving outside the room.

  “That’s weird,” Karl said. “It’s not coming from outside, and it doesn’t sound like its coming from the storm.”

  Rebecca endeavored to listen to what Karl heard. “You’re right. It sounds like … screaming.”

  Karl got out of his seat and both of them then headed to their door, with Karl flicking on the light switch next to the doorway. They exited the room and walked straight into a scene about two doors down from there. A man was face to face with Paulson; his entire body was tensed with anger and his jaws were clenched.

  “You’d better let my relatives in here, Paulson, or else,” the man said.

  “This isn’t your house, Mr. Sandhurst. You can’t just call your friends and say they can stay here without booking a reservation for them and coming to the front desk to confirm it,” Paulson said, preserving his professionalism.

  “Where is your compassion? I’ve been here for several days; what’s more, I’ve been a repeat guest at many of your sister hotels all over the world. If you didn’t want people to come here and stay, maybe you shouldn’t have advertised this place as indestructible in the event of a hurricane.”

  “That is what we advertise, yes, but that doesn’t give anyone carte blanche to come in here in a storm. That’s what shelters are for.”

  “That’s not my problem. My problem is getting you to let my brother and his family in here so they have somewhere to stay.”

  “But, sir—”

  The man grabbed Paulson by his neck and shoved him against the wall. He whipped out a jackknife and pointed it at Paulson.

  “Barry, my God!” a robed woman next to him screamed. “Don’t do this—This isn’t even sensible! Think about what you’re getting yourself into!”

  Barry didn’t hear a word she said. He concentrated on Paulson.

  “Arrange for them to get in here, and it will all be fine,” Barry said.

  The man ran the blade down Paulson’s neck. He nicked Paulson’s cheek. Blood pooled at the wound, but stayed within the line of the mark. Redness flushed Paulson’s face.

  “Listen to your wife. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

  “Don’t patronize my wife, and don’t patronize me. Do as I ask, or I’ll cut deeper into other places of your body.” The man moved the knife down to his neck.

  Suddenly, his wife was screaming uncontrollably and before Barry could make another move, he felt the hard, cold steel of a gun muzzle nestled up to the back of his head.

  “FBI, you dummy,” the voice said. “Drop the knife.”

  Barry did as he was told and within the next minute found himself handcuffed and sitting on the hallway floor.

  “I don’t want to press charges against him,” Paulson insisted to the agent who stood shaking his head at him.

  “There isn’t any choice. It’s armed assault and that’s a felony. I’m taking him to the security lockup downstairs.”

  “All I wanted was for my brother and his family to come inside and be safe. They’re outside huddled in a corner of the garden. They’re wet and hungry, too.”

  “I have a suite in the penthouse. Give me your credit card, I’ll charge you for a regular suite and have them set up in there,” Paulson said.

  Barry turned to his wife and extended his free hand.

  “Pass me the phone,” he said, “and give this man my Amex.”

  The wife gave him his cell phone, and Barry put the phone to his ear.

  “Elijah, it’s okay. You and Stacy and the rest have a room now. They’re gonna come get you and bring you inside.”

  Barry disconnected the line.

  “Come on, let’s go,” he said to the agent who was waiting to take him away. “It’s not like there’s anything else that I can do up here anyway.”

  So, as the two went toward the elevator, Paulson stood in the hall wiping the blood off his face.

  “Listen, if there’s anything I can do,” Karl said.

  “Everything is all right. We are all here enjoying the best accommodations in the
Caribbean, the most safe, too. It’s perfectly natural for Mr. Sandhurst to want his family to join him in the warmth and safety under this roof.”

  Paulson’s voice took on a slightly portentous tone.

  “But where he failed was that he didn’t realize that there’s a good way and a bad way to get things done. He acted like a pig.”

  Paulson straightened his collar, cleared his throat and passed by the Winfreds down the hall and turned a corner.

  Karl and Rebecca moved back to the room.

  “Want to know something strange? I saw the same look in Barry’s eyes when he was attacking Paulson that I saw in my uncle’s when he was attacking my mom.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He had a pained expression on his face. I’ve never had to describe it before, but if I had to find the word, it would probably be ‘primal,’” Karl said, an ominous tone creeping into his voice.

  Chapter Eleven

  A crowd of guests gathered around the wide-screen TV mounted on the lobby wall in the morning, trying their best to get an update on the progress of the storm. The crowd extended from right in front of the TV to the edge of the front desk. Paulson hung up the phone and watched along with the crowd, taking a brief break from attempting to locate Barry’s family members who were supposedly sheltering somewhere in the garden. None of the external cameras had been able to catch an image of them.

  “As of three this morning, Hurricane Freda has built up to a Category 5 storm,” the reporter said on TV. “Freda first gained momentum in the eastern part of the Caribbean, off the coast of the islands of Trinidad and Tobago four days ago. The path of the Hurricane has been very regular with the storm strengthening rapidly as it approached the Greater Antilles region. The eye is clearly defined and is now visible by satellite. It’s predicted that the eye will pass directly over La Isla Samsara and the south coast of Jamaica during the latter part of today. Freda’s path is then predicted to go through Southern Cuba and across the Bahamas, weakening to a Category 2 before making landfall on Florida and traveling up towards South Carolina as a tropical depression, where it is likely to cause massive flooding along the coast, through the mid-Atlantic states up to Massachusetts.”