In some miraculous way, Grenada survived the night. McBain allowed the guests out of the cellar, and when dawn broke the storm had died away, replaced by the most torrential rain Salander had ever seen.
The Keys Hotel would be needing a major overhaul. The devastation at the hotel, and all along the coast, was extensive. Ella’s bar beside the pool was gone altogether, and one veranda had been demolished. Windows had peeled off along the facade, and the roof of a projecting section of the hotel had bent in two. The lobby was a chaos of debris.
Salander took Bland with her and staggered up to her room. She hung a blanket over the empty window frame to keep out the rain. Bland met her gaze.
“There’ll be less to explain if we didn’t see her husband,” Salander said before he could ask any questions.
He nodded. She pulled off her clothes, dropped them on the floor, and patted the edge of the bed next to her. He nodded again and undressed and crawled in beside her. They were asleep almost at once.
When she awoke at midday, the sun was shining through cracks in the clouds. Every muscle in her body ached, and her knee was so swollen that she could hardly bend it. She slipped out of bed and got into the shower. The green lizard was back on the wall. She put on shorts and a top and stumbled out of the room without waking Bland.
Ella was still on her feet. She looked dog-tired, but she had gotten the bar in the lobby up and running. Salander ordered coffee and a sandwich. Through the blown-out windows by the entrance she saw a police car. Just as her coffee arrived, McBain came out of his office by the front desk, followed by a uniformed policeman. McBain caught sight of her and said something to the policeman before they came over to Salander’s table.
“This is Constable Ferguson. He’d like to ask you some questions.”
Salander greeted him politely. Constable Ferguson had obviously had a long night, too. He took out a notebook and pen and wrote down Salander’s name.
“Ms. Salander, I understand that you and a friend discovered Mrs. Richard Forbes during the hurricane last night.”
Salander nodded.
“Where did you find her?”
“On the beach just below the gate,” Salander said. “We almost tripped over her.”
Ferguson wrote that down.
“Did she say anything?”
Salander shook her head.
“She was unconscious?”
Salander nodded sensibly.
“She had a nasty wound on her head.”
Salander nodded again.
“You don’t know how she was injured?”
Salander shook her head. Ferguson muttered in irritation at her lack of response.
“There was a lot of stuff flying through the air,” she said helpfully. “I was almost hit in the head by a plank.”
“You injured your leg?” Ferguson pointed at her bandage. “What happened?”
“I didn’t notice it until I got down to the cellar.”
“You were with a young man.”
“George Bland.”
“Where does he live?”
“In a shack behind the Coconut, on the road to the airport. If the shack is still standing, that is.”
Salander did not add that Bland was at that moment asleep in her bed three floors above them.
“Did either of you see her husband, Richard Forbes?”
Salander shook her head.
Constable Ferguson could not, it seemed, think of any other questions to ask, and he closed his notebook.
“Thank you, Ms. Salander. I’ll have to write up a report on the death.”
“Did she
“Mrs. Forbes? No, she’s in hospital in St.George’s. Apparently she has you and your friend to thank for the fact that she’s alive. But her husband is dead. His body was found in a parking lot at the airport two hours ago.”
Six hundred yards further south.
“He was pretty badly knocked about,” Ferguson said.
“How unfortunate,” Salander said without any great sign of shock.
When McBain and Constable Ferguson had gone, Ella came and sat at Salander’s table. She set down two shot glasses of rum. Salander gave her a quizzical look.
“After a night like that you need something to rebuild your strength. I’m buying. I’m buying the whole breakfast.”
The two women looked at each other. Then they clinked glasses and said, “Cheers.”
For a long time to come, Matilda would be the object of scientific studies and discussions at meteorological institutes in the Caribbean and across the United States. Tornadoes of Matilda’s scale were almost unknown in the region. Gradually the experts agreed that a particularly rare constellation of weather fronts had combined to create a “pseudo-tornado” – something that was not actually a tornado but looked like one.
Salander did not care about the theoretical discussion. She knew what she had seen, and she decided to try to avoid getting in the way of any of Matilda’s siblings in the future.
Many people on the island had been injured during the night. Only one person died.
No-one would ever know what had induced Richard Forbes to go out in the midst of a full-fledged hurricane, save possibly that sheer ignorance which seemed common to American tourists. Geraldine Forbes was not able to offer any explanation. She had suffered a severe concussion and had only incoherent memories of the events of that night.
On the other hand, she was inconsolable to have been left a widow.
PART 2. From Russia with Love
January 10 – March 23
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CHAPTER 4
Salander landed at Stockholm’s Arlanda Airport at noon. In addition to the flying time, she had spent nine hours at Grantley Adams Airport on Barbados. British Airways had refused to let the aircraft take off until a passenger who looked vaguely Arabic had been taken away for questioning and a possible terrorist threat had
