Island of the Sequined Love Nun Chapter 42~43

PART THREECoconut Angel42BedfellowsJust onwards dawn, conglomerate crawled by dint of the bottom of the lay poper kindred a homesick cockroach, scuttled extinct of the bathroom under the mosquito netting and into bed. t here(predicate) were things to do, big things, important things, maybe dismantle insecurityous things, undecomposed he had no idea what they were and he was too tired and too sot to figure them out now. He had tried, he had documentaryly tried to coax the Shark men that the debase and his married woman were doing horrible things to them, hardly the islanders ceaselessly came back with the same answer It is what Vincent wants. Vincent willing lease c atomic number 18 of us.To sinning with them, put in thought. Dumb bastards deserve what happens to them.He rolled everyplace and pushed the coconut-headed clam up a spot. The dummy pushed back. foregather leaped out of bed, tripped in the mosquito netting, and scooted on his scarcelyt homogeneous a man backing away from a snake.And the dummy sit up. garner couldnt see the bet in the predawn lightsomeness filtering into the bungalow, only when a silhouette behind the mosquito netting, a shadow. And the shadow wore a captains hat.Dont recall I dont distinguish what youre speculateing because Ill spend a penny you six to five I do. The accent was somewhere out of a Bowery Boys movie, and close in recognized the voice. Hed hear it in his head, hed comprehend it in the voice of a talk bat, and hed heard it twice from a young traveler.You do?Yeah, youre thinking, Hey, I n forever and a day cherished to bewilder a guy in my bed, but if you got to find a guy in your bed, this is the guy Id want itto be, right?Thats non what I was thinking.Then you shoulda taken odds, ya mook.Who ar you?The flyer threw back the mosquito netting and tossed something crossways the room. stick in flinched as it landed with a thump on the radical next to him.Pick it up. introduce coul d just see an object glitter by his knee. He picked up what mat akin a cigaret lighter.Read what it separates, the shadow express.I cant. Its dark.Tuck could see the flyer tingle his head dole ripey.You fill out, I saw a guy in the war that got his head shot off about the hat line. Docs did some m eachet on some stainless steel and riveted it on his noggin and protected his life, but the guy didnt do nonhing from that day forward but walk around in a circle yanking his hamster and singing just the path give of Row, Row, Row Your Boat. They had to tape oven mitts on him to grip him from rubbing himself raw. nary(prenominal), Im not saying that the guy didnt know how to beget a trade good cadence, but he wasnt more than for conversation, if you know what I mean.That was a beautiful story, Tuck utter. wherefore?Because the steelhead hamster- riping row guy was a genius compared to you. Light the fuckin lighter, ya mook.Oh, Tuck said and he flipped open the lighter and sparked it. By the firelight he could read the scratch VINCENT BENNIDETTI, CAPTAIN U.S.A.F.Tuck vistaed back at the flyer, who was still caged in shadow, even though the rest of the room had head started to ligh decennary. Youre Vincent?The shadow gave a slight bow. not exactly in the flesh, but at your fuckin service.Youre Malinks Vincent?The same. I gave the chief the pilot program of that lighter.You could moderate just said so. You didnt expect to be so dramatic. Tuck was glad he was a little drunk. He didnt determine frightened. As strange as it on the whole was, he felt safe. This guy this thing, this feel had more or less unbosomd his life at to the lowest storey twice, maybe three epochs.I got responsibilities, kid, and so do you.Responsibilities? Now Tuck was frightened. It was a conditioned response.Yeah, so when you get up later today, dont go storming into the docs office demanding the facts. Just go driftming. Cool off.Go swimming?Yeah, go to the far side of the get wipe out and swim away from the direction of the resolution about five snow yards. Keep an eye out for sharks distant of the reef.Why?A guy appears out of nowhere in the philia of the nighttime saying all kinds of mystical shit and you ask wherefore?Yeah. Why?Because I said so, Vincent said.My dad always said that. ar you the ghost of my dad?The shade slapped his forehead. Repeat after me and dont be getting either on you, now one and two and three and Row, row, row, row, row He started to fade away with the chant.Wait, Tuck said. I need to know more than that.Stay on the sly, kid. You dont know as much as you think you do. merelyYou owe me.Two armed ninjas followed Tuck to the water. He watched them, sorting for signs of microwave poisoning from the radar blasts, but he wasnt authorized exactly what the signs would be. Would they plump noticeably, perhaps explode without fork holes to release the home(a) press? That would be cool. Maybe theyd fall asleep on the land and wake up a hundred measures bounteousr, yearning to do battle with Godzilla while tiny plurality whose words didnt match their brim movements scrambled in the flaming rubble be-low? (It happened all the time in lacquerese movies, didnt it?) Too good for them.He pulled on his fins and bowed to them as he backed into the water. May your nads shrivel like raisins, he said with a smile.They bowed back, more out of reflex than respect.The far side of the reef and five hundred yards down The ninjas were breathing out to fill a fit. Hed never gone(p) to the ocean side of the reef. Inside was a cranky clear aquamarine where you could always see the bottom and the fish looked, if not friendly, at least not dangerous. But the ocean side, past the browse, was a dark cobalt blue, as deep and liquid as a clear night sky. The colorful reef fish must meet like M to the hunters of the deep blue, Tuck thought. The outer edge of the reef is the candy dish of monste rs.He kicked slowly out to the reef, letting the light surge lift and drop him as he watched the multicolored connect in the food chain dart around the bottom. A aerate fish, painted in tans and blues that seemed more at home in the desert, was crunching the legs off of a crab while smaller fish darted in to steal the floating crumbs. He pulled up and looked at the only open break in the reef, a deep blue channel, and headed toward it. Hed prolong to go out to the ocean side and swim the five hundred yards there, another(prenominal) than the breaking surf would dash him against the coral when he tried to swim over the reef.He put his face in the water and kicked out of the channel until the bottom disappeared, because, once past the surf line, turned and swam gibe to the reef. It was like swimming in space at the edge of a c eachon. He could see the reef sloping down a hundred and fifty feet to disappear into a blue blur. He tried to keep his bearing on the reef, let his eye bounce from coral devotee to anemone to nudibranch to eel, like visual stepping-stones, because to his left(p) there was no reference, nothing but empty blue, and when he looked there he felt like a child watching for a strange face at the window, so convinced and terrified it would go down that every shape, any movement, any play of light becomes a horror. He saw a flash out the side of his mask and whipped around in time to see a harmless green parrot fish munching coral. He sucked a mouthful of water into his submerged snorkel and choked.He hovered in a dead mans float for a full minute before he could breathe normally and start kicking his way up the reef again, this time resolved to faith. Whatever, whoever Vincent was, he had saved Tucks life, and he knew things. He wouldnt have gone to the trouble to have Tuck eaten by barracudas.Tuck ticked off his stepping-stones, trying to gauge how far he had come. He would have to go out farther to see past the rising surf and use the shore as a reference, and besides, what was above the waters surface was irrelevant. This was a foreign world, and he was an uninvited guest.Then another flash, but this time he fought the panic. Sunlight on something metal about thirty feet down the slope of the reef. Something undulation in the surge near the flash. He be a second,gathered his breath, and peacenik, swooping down to grab the object just as he recognized what it was a set of military dog tags on a beaded metal chain. He shot to the surface and hovered as he caught his breath and read SOMMERS, JAMES W. James Sommers was a Presbyterian, tally to the dog tag. Somehow Tuck didnt think that a thousand-yard swim was worth(predicate) finding a pair of dog tags. But there was the knock of fabric still down there. Tuck hadnt gotten a good look at it.He tucked the tags into the inside pocket of his trunks and dove again. He kicked down to the swath of cloth, prop his nose and blowing to equalize the pressure on his ea rs, even as the air in his lungs tried to pull him to the surface, away from his prize. It was some kind of printed cotton. He grasped at it and a slice came away in his hand. He pulled again, but the cloth was wedged into a scissure in the reef. He yanked and the cloth came away, revealing something white. Out of breath, he shot to the surface and examined the cloth. Flying piggies. Oh, good. Hed risked his life for Presbyterian dog tags and a degenerate piggies print.One more dive and he saw what it was that had wedged into the crevice a human pelvic cram. Whatever else had been here had been carried away, but this bone had wedged and been picked clean. Someone wearing flying piggies boxers had become part of the food chain.The swim back to the channel seemed longer and slower, but this time Tuck forgot his fear of what aptitude lurk behind the vasty blue. The real danger lay back on shore.And how does one, over dinner, proffer the opinion that ones employers are murdering or gan thieves? Stay on the sly, Vincent had said. And so far he seemed to know what he was talking about.43Boiling the PuppetsOh, come in, Mr. miscue. Sebastian is out on the lanai. She wore a white raw silk pant suit, cut loose in the legs and low at the neck, a rope of pearls with matching earrings. Her hair was fix back with a white satin bow and she moved before him like the ghost of good housekeeping. How do you feel about Pacific lobster?I like it, Tuck said, flavour for some sign from her that she knew that he knew. thither was no acknowledgment of her appearance in his room last night or that she had any suspicion of him at all. Tuck said, I feel like Im fetching advantage coming to dinner empty-handed. I ought to have you and the doc over to my place some evening.Oh, do you cook too, Mr. eluding?A few things. My specialty is blackened Pez.A Cajun dish?I learned to mark it in Texas, actually.A Tex-Mex specialty, indeed.Well, a fifth of tequila does serve it taste a lit tle better.She laughed, a polite hostess laugh, and said, chiffonier I get you something to drink?You mean a drink or some liquid?Im sorry. It does seem constraining, Im sure, but you understand, you capacity have to fly.She had a large glass of white wine on the counter where she had been working. Tuck looked at it and said, But performing major surgery under the persuade is no problem, right? That was subtle, Tuck thought. very smooth. I am a dead man.Her eyes narrowed, but the polite smile never left her lips. Sebastian, she called, youd better come in, dear. I think Mr. Case has something he wants to argue with us.Sebastian Curtis came through the french doors looking tall and dignified, his gray hair napped back, his tan face striking against the gray. To Tuck he looked like any number of executives one might see at a yacht club, a retired male model perhaps, a Shakespearean actor at long last refrained with the young prince and lover roles, seasoned and ready to play C aesar, Lear, or more appropriately, Prospero, the banished wizard of The Tempest.Tuck, still in his borrowed clothes, baggy and rolled at the cuffs, felt like a beggar. He fought to hold on to his righteous indignation, which was an unfamiliar emotion to him anyway.Sebastian Curtis said, Mr. Case. Nice to see you. Beth and I were just talking about how pleased we are with your work. Im sure these impromptu flights are difficult.Mr. Case was just suggesting that we keep an eye on our alcohol consumption, Beth Curtis said. Just in case we might have to perform an emergency surgery.The jovial way of life dropped from the doctor like a veil. And just what kind of surgery might you be referring to?Tuck looked at the floor. He should have thought this through a little more. He fingered the dog tags in his pocket. The innovation was to throw them on the table and demand an explanation. What had happened to the skel-eton, the owner of the tags? And for that matter, what would happen to wear out Case if he threw this in their faces? Mary Jean used to say, In ne-gotiations, always confide yourself a way out. You can always come back later.Go slow, Tuck told himself. He said, Doc, Im concerned about the flights. I should know what were carrying in case were detained by the authorities. Whats in the cooler?But I told you, youre carrying research samples.What kind of samples? It was time to play a card. Im not flying again until I know.Sebastian Curtis shot a glance at his wife, and then looked back to Tucker. Perhaps we should sit down and have a talk. He pulled a chair out for Tucker. Please. Tuck sat. The doctor repeat the gesture for his wife and then sat down next to her, crossways the table from Tuck.Ive been on Alualu for twenty-eight years, Mr. Case.What does that have to do?Curtis held up a hand. Hear me out. If you want answers, you have to take them in the context that I give them.Okay.My family didnt have the money for medical school, so I took a schola rship from the Wesleyan Missions, on the condition that I work for them when I graduated and go where they displace me. They sent me here. I was full of myself and full of the Spirit of the Lord. I was loss to bring God and healing to the heathens of the Pacific. at that place hadnt been a Christian committeeary on the island since World War II, and I was warned that there might be a residual Catholic influence, but the Methodists have liberal ideas about spreading the vocalize of God. A Methodist missionary works with the culture he finds. But I didnt find a Catholic creation here. What I found was a population that worshipped the memory of an American pilot and his bomber.A lading cult, Tuck said, hoping to move things along.Then you know about them. Yes, a cargo cult. The strongest Id ever heard of. Fortunately for me, it wasnt based on the hatred of whites like the cargo cults in New Guinea. They loved Americans and eitherthing that came from America. They took my medici ne, the tools I brought, food, reading material, everything I offered them, except, of course, the Word of God. And I was good to them. The natives on this island are the health-iest in the Pacific. Partly because they are so isolated that communicable diseases dont reach them, but I take some credit for it as well.So thats why you dont let them have any contact with the ship when it arrives?No, well, that is one of the reasons, but mainly I cherished to keep them away from the ships store.Why?Because the store offered them things that I couldnt or wouldnt give them, and the store only accepted money. Money was becoming an mental picture in their religion. I heard drums in the village one night and went into the village to find all the women crouched around a fire holding wooden bowls with a few coins in the bottom. They were oiled and waving their heads as if in a trance, and as the drummers played, the men, wearing masks fashioned to look like the faces on American currency, mov ed around be-hind the women, copulating with them and chanting. It was a affluence ce-remony to pip the money in the bowls multiply so they could buy things from the ships store.Well, it does sound better than getting a job, Tuck said.Curtis didnt see the humor. By forbidding them to have contact with the ship, I thought I could deplete the cargo cult, but it didnt work. I would talk of Jesus, and the miracles that he performed, and how he would save them, and they would ask me if I had seen him. Because they had seen their savior. Their pilot had saved them from the Japanese. Jesus had just told them that they had to give up their customs and taboos. Christianity couldnt compete. But I still tried. I gave them the better(p) take I could. But after five years, the Methodist Missions sent a group of officials to check on my progress. They cut my funding and valued to send me home, but I decided to stay and try to do the best I could without their support.He was afraid to leave , Beth Curtis said.Sebastian Curtis looked as if he was going to strike his wife. Thats not true, Beth.Sure it is. You hadnt been off this island in years. You forgot how to recognise with real passel.They are real volume.As amusing as it was to watch the entire couple illusion go up in flames before his eyes, Tuck put out the fire. A Learjet and millions in electronics. Looks like you did pretty good with no funding, Doc.Im sorry. And he looked as if he was. I tried to make it on what the islanders could raise by merchandising copra, but it wasnt adequacy. I befuddled one of my patients, a little boy, because I didnt have the funds to fly him to a hospital that could give him the business concern he needed. I tried harder to convert the natives, thinking I might get another mission to sponsor us, but how can you compete with a Messiah people have actually spoken to?Tuck didnt answer. Having spoken to the Messiah himself, he was convinced already.Sebastian Curtis drained his glass of wine and reach outd. I sent earn to churches, foundations, and corporations all over the world. Then one day a aeroplane landed out on the airstrip and some Japanese business community got out. They wouldnt fund the clinic out of charity, but if I could get every able-bodied islander to give blood every two weeks, then they would help. And every two weeks the plane came and picked up three hundred pints of blood. I got twenty-five American dollars for every pint.Howd you talk the natives into it? Ive given blood. Its not that pleasant.They were coming on a plane, remember? Airplanes are a big part of these peoples religion.If you cant standard em, join em, huh?They always brought something on the plane for the natives. Rice, machetes, cooking pots. I got all the medicines I needed and I was able to get the materials to build some of this compound.Beth Curtis stood up. Oh, as much as I love hearing this story, I think we should eat. alibi me. She went to the kitchen area, where a large pot was boiling on the stove, reached into a wooden crate on the floor, and came up with a large live lobster in each hand. The giant sea intercepts waved their legs and antennae around looking for purchase. Beth Curtis held them over the pot, puppeting them. Oh, Steve, you got us a room with a hot tub. How wonderful, she do the left lobster say.Yes, Im very romantic, she said in a deeper voice, bouncing the bug with the words. Lets go in now. Im a little tense.Oh, youre wonderful. Then she dropped the lobsters into the boiling water.A high-pitched squeal came from the pot and Beth Curtis went to the crate for another victim.Beth, please, the doctor said.Im just trying to lighten things up a little, Bastian. Be still.She held the second lobster over the pot, then looked at Tucker as she began her narration. This is the crazed doctor talking. Theres always a crazed megalomaniacal doctor. Its traditional.Sebastian Curtis stood up. Stop it, BethShe affected a Germ an accent. You see, Mr. Bond, a man spends too much time on an island alone, he changes. He loses his faith. He begins to think of ways to improve his lot. My associates in Japan came to me with a proposal. They would send me to a seminar in San Francisco to brush up on organ transplant surgery. I would no longer be marketing blood for pocket change. They would send me specific orders for kidneys, and I could deliver them in spite of appearance hours for a cool half-million apiece. A dying man will compensation a lot for a healthy kidney. In San Francisco I met a woman, a beautiful wo-man. Beth came out of character for a moment, grinned, and bowed quickly, then went back to terrorizing the lobster. I brought her here, and it was she who devised the plan to get the natives to comply with having their organs removed. not only beautiful, but a genius as well, and she had a degree as a surgical nurse. She used her abundant charms on the natives she held the lobster where it couldha ve a good view of her cleavage and the savages were more than happy to donate a kidney. Meanwhile, I have become rich beyond my wildest dreams, and as for you, Mr. Bond, now its time for you to die. She dropped the lobster into the pot and began to shake with a diabolical laugh. She stop laughing abruptly and said, They should be ready in about ten minutes. Salad, Mr. Case?Tuck couldnt think. Somewhere in that little puppet show of the damned was a confession to cutting out peoples organs and selling them like so much meat, and the doctors wife not only didnt seem to have any regrets about it, she was absolutely gleeful. Sebastian Curtis, on the other hand, had his head down on the table, and when he did look up, he couldnt make eye contact with Tuck. A minute passed in uncomfortable silence. Beth Curtis seemed to be waiting for someone to shout Encore while the good doctor gathered his wits.What Id like you to understand, Mr. Case, is that I we couldnt have taken care of these p eople without the funds weve received for what we do. They would have no modern medical care at all.Tuck was thinking again, trying to measure what he could say and what he wasnt willing to reveal. He couldnt let them know that he knew any-thing at all about the Shark People, and, as Vincent had implied, hed better find out more before he threw down the dog tags and Pardees notebook. The doc was patently stretched pretty tight by the situation, and Mrs. Curtis well, Mrs. Curtis was just fucking scary. Play it chilly. Theyd brought him here because they thought he was as twisted as they were. No aesthesis in ruining his image.I understand. Tuck said. I wish youd been a little more up front about it, but I think I get all the secrecy now. But what I want to know is Why cant I drink if you guys do? I mean, if you guys can perform major surgery when youre half in the bag, then I can fly a plane.Beth said, We wanted to help you with your subject matter abuse problem. We thought that if you werent exposed to other drinkers that youd relapse when you went back home.Very thoughtful of you, Tuck said. But when exactly am I vatic to go home?When were finished, she said.The doctor nodded. Yes, we were going to tell you, but we wanted you to become used to the routine. We wanted to see if youcould handle the job inaugural. Were going to do the operations until we have a hundred million, then we will invest it on behalf of the islanders. The proceeds will assure we can continue our work and that the Shark People will be taken care of as long as they are here.Tuck laughed. Right. Youre not taking anything for yourself. This is all a mercy mission.No, we may leave, but therell be enough to keep someone running this clinic and shipping in food and supplies forever. And then theres your bonus.Go, Tuck said. Go ahead.The plane.Tuck raised an eyebrow. The plane?If you stay until we finish our work, we will sign the plane over to you, plus your salary and any other bonuses youve accumulated. You can go anywhere in the world you want, start a charter business if you want, or just sell it and live comfortably for the rest of your life.Tuck shook his head. Of all the weirdness that had gone on so far, this seemed like the weirdest, if only because the doctor seemed so earnest. It might have had something to do with the fact that it was one of those things that a guy hopes all his life he is going to hear, but convinces himself that its never going to happen. These people were going to give him his own Learjet.He didnt want to do it, he fought not to do it, he strained, but nevertheless, Tuck couldnt stop himself from asking. Why?Because we cant do it without you, and this is something that you cant get any other way. And because wed rather keep you than have to find another pilot and lose the time.What if I say no?Then, you understand, wed have to ask you to leave and you would keep the money that youve already earned.And I can just go?Of course. As you know, you are not our foremost pilot. He decided to move on. But then again, we didnt make him this offer.What was your first pilots name?The doctor shot a look at his wife. She said, Giordano, he was Italian. Why?The aviation community is pretty small. I thought I might know him.Do you? she said and there was too much sincerity in the question for Tuck to believe that she didnt know the answer.No.Sebastian Curtis cleared his throat and forced a smile. So what do you think? How would you like to own your own Learjet, Mr. Case?Tuck sat arrant(a) at the open wine bottle, measuring what he could say, what answer they not only wanted to hear, but had to hear if he was going to leave the island alive. He extended his hand for the doctor to shake. I think youve got yourself a pilot. Lets drink to the deal.An electronic bell trilled from the bedroom and the doctor and his wife exchanged glances. Ill take care of it, Beth Curtis said. She stood and put her napkin on the table.Excuse me, M r. Case, but we have a patient in the clinic who requires my attention. Then the whiplash mood swing from officious to acid. She presses that buzzer so much youd think it was attached to her clit.Sebastian Curtis looked at Tuck and shrugged apologetically.