Chapter Thirty-Five
Andy stood on the steps at the top of the garden and wondered how the hell he was going to get back into the hotel. He was soaked to the skin, despite his thick overcoat and the violent wind, which was almost knocking him over.
He’d run out of his room when he realised that the storm was getting worse and, in a panic, had jumped into the Porsche to drive it to higher ground.
But now, with the vehicle parked at the top end of the courtyard and already a foot underwater, Andy knew that escape was impossible.
It was inconceivable that the waters had risen so quickly and as he stared down the garden at the submerged lawn, he knew that the safest place to be was in his room, high above the rising water level, where he could wait for rescue to arrive.
He had no choice but to make his way through the waters flooding the lawn and somehow get back into the hotel and up the stairs to safety.
A relentless gust almost swept Andy down the steps.
With his hair plastered across his eyes, he moved forward and began to make his way tentatively down the steps and through the water.
The flood was up to his thighs and the lawn a muddy mass that sucked each footstep deep into the vortex of sodden ground.
His progress was agonisingly slow and Andy’s heart trembled as he battled his way forward.
The conservatory door was closed, with sandbags piled against it, and the only way in was through a window.
Andy pulled the drenched coat from his body and, wrapping it around his arm, smashed his elbow against the glass and reached in to lift a latch and push the frame to one side.
He climbed up then dropped his body down into the water in the conservatory.
His arm caught against the broken glass and blood swirled as a small gash appeared on his skin but at least he was in and, with difficulty, could drag himself through the pile of floating furniture and up to his room.
Moments later, he’d found the back stairs and, gripping the banister, pulled himself out of the water and fell into the corridor.
He crawled gratefully along. Thank goodness he still had his key in his pocket, for Andy doubted that he had the strength to kick down the door.
He tumbled into the room where everything appeared to be just as he’d left it and a bottle on the desk still held a good measure of whisky.
He held it to his lips and drank thirstily and as the whisky soothed his beating heart, he began to smile.
Kate’s monies were safely on their way to his offshore accounts and with the crisis that was taking place, no one would suspect or even be interested in investigating the circumstances leading to Andy’s fraud.
Hugo’s blackmail was well and truly in place and would be ongoing.
The old fool would cough up on a regular basis to an untraceable account, giving Andy a handsome source of revenue.
He just had to be patient and hope that the storm would soon start to recede and rescue be on hand, then he would make his way to the nearest airport and get on the first available plane.
In the meantime, he’d get changed out of his ruined clothes and be ready to get out of here.
Andy looked out of the window and wondered who would be first in, a rescue boat or a helicopter?
But as he stared, he suddenly leapt back.
Something was shooting through the dark sky towards him!
An image swirling up from the waters began to materialise.
It formed in to the face of the Shaman. His eyes glared like lasers, sharp and piercing and Andy felt pain stab his body.
As if blasted by machine gun fire, he fell back on the bed, shocked and scared by the intensity.
But as quickly as the image had come, it disappeared and slowly, the pain receded.
Andy closed his eyes with relief. The sooner he managed to get the hell out of this godforsaken crazy place the better.