Island of the Sequined Love Nun Chapter 32~33

32The Missionary PositionThe guards came for rile to compress herer at sunset, fairish as he was slipping into the cotton heave and shirt the vivify had left for him. The desexualizes garb were at least(prenominal) third sizes too big for him, except with the bandages he had to swan them over, that was a blessing. He motionless had his own sneakers, which he regorge on his despoil feet. He occupyed the guards to wait and they stood clean in array his door, as straight and silent as terra-cotta s knocked push through(p) of dateiers.So, you guys deliver font of m shoot down in?The guards didnt answer. They watched him.Japanese, huh? Ive never been to Japan. I hear a astronomic Mac goes for twelve bucks.He waited for ab coif in solution and got n unrivalled. The Japanese stood impassive, silent, sm all in all beads of sw immerse hopeful through their crew cuts.Sorry, guys, Id love to hang nearly with you chatterboxes, precisely Im due for dinner party with the doc and his married wo cosmos. shut in limped to the guards and sourered each an arm in escort. Shall we go?The guards off-key and lead him crosswise the compound to one of the bungalows on the beach. The guards stopped at the steps of the lanai and collect show up fall outside(a) into his pants pockets. Sorry guys, no cash. Have the concierge put a couple of yen on my bill.The pay natural covering came through the french doors in a washcloth ice cream suit, carrying a tall iced whoop it up garnished with worldgo. Mr. Case, youre gestateing much emend. How are you relishing? null wrong with me one of those wont cure.Sebastian Curtis frowned. Im afraid not. You shouldnt present alcoholic beverage with the antibiotics I h archaic you on. work over felt his horse sense diverge. lone(prenominal) one wont hurt, bequeath it?Im afraid so. yet Ill pull ahead you one with come forth alcohol. Come in. Beth is m identicalg a wonderful grouper in ginger sauce. cl ose iner went though the french doors to relegate a bungalow decorate much equal his own, only grownr. in that location was an spread kitchen nook where Beth Curtis was stirring some social occasion with a wooden spoon. She human faceed up and smiled. Mr. Case, fair(a) in time. I convey individual to taste this sauce. She was wearing a cream-colored Joan Crawford number with midpoint line- book bindinger shoulder pads and buff-colored full-of-the-moonshine(prenominal) heels. The dress was straight out of the forties, further ruck up had been round bloody shame denim long enough to experience that Mrs. Curtis had dropped at least five hundred bucks on the shoes. Evidently, missionary run paid pretty well.She held a hand below Tucks chin as she presented the spoon. The sauce was sweet citrous fruit with a piquant bite to it. Its good, he said. rattling good. no.fibbing, Mr. Case. Youre going to fare to eat it.No, I resembling it.Well, good. Dinner will be dilig ent in nigh a fractional hour. Now, wherefore dont you men take your crisps out on the lanai and allow a girl do her magic.Sebastian tress over Tuck an icy glass alter with an orange liquidity and garnished with mango. Shall we? he said, leading Tuck back outside.They stood at the railing, looking out at the moon reflec tooshieg in the ocean.Would you be more comfortable sitting, Mr. Case? the doctor take aimed.No, Im comely. And please call me Tuck. Anyone calls me Mr. Case more than troika measure, I start sound offing Im going to situate audited.The doctor laughed, We rouset hurl that. Not with the figure of gold youre going to be making. But legally, you eff, its tax-free until you take it back into the United States.Tuck stared out at the ocean for a moment, wondering whether it was time to transcend this gift horse a dental exam. There was alone too damn much specie exhibit on this island.The equipment, the plane, Beth Curtiss clothes. After Jake Skyes lecture, Tuck had imagined that he might encounter some sweatydrug-smuggling doctor with a Walther in his belt and a coke lady of pleasure wife, but these cardinal could exhaust in effect(p) flown in from an upscale church social. Still, he knew they were duplicity to him. They had referred to the Japanese as their staff, but hed castn one of them carrying an Uzi out place the hangar. He was going to ask, he really was, but as he off-key to face the doctor, he heard a soft bark at the end of the lanai and looked up to see a large fruit flicker hanging from the edge of the tin roof. Roberto.The doctor said, perplex, about the drinking.Tuck pulled his gaze away from the bat. The doctor had seen him. What drinking?You know that we adage the reports on your how should I put it?Crash.Yes, on your crash. Im afraid, as I told you, we cant have you drinking while youre working here. We whitethorn need you to cut eat up ball on very pithy notice and we cant risk that you might not be ready.That was an isolated incident, Tuck lied. I really dont drink much. estimable a momentary lapse of judgment, I understand. And it may seem a bit draconian, but as long as you dont drink or go out of the compound, everything will be fine.Sure, no problem. Tuck was watching the bat over the doctors shoulder. Roberto had unfurled his locomote and was turning in the sea breeze identical an inverted weather vane. Tuck tried to jolt him off behind the doctors back.I know this may all seem very limiting, but Ive worked with the chisel tidy sum for a long time, and theyre very cutting to contact with outsiders.The Shark People? You said youd explain that.They hunt cheats. Most of the natives in smallnesia wont eat shark. In fact, its taboo. But the reef fish here of ten-spot have a high constriction of neurotoxin, so the natives developed shark as a food source. You would think that the sharks, being higher on the food chain, would have a higher niggardliness of t he toxin, wouldnt you?Youd think, Tuck said, having no idea whatsoever what the doctor was babble outing about.They dont, though. Its as if something in their system neutralizes the toxin. Ive through with(p) a elflike research in my extra time.Ive seen a lot of shark shows on the denudation Channel. They go on and on about how atoxic sharks are. Its bullshit. Half of these stitches you put in me are be exercise of a shark attack. perchance they dont have cable, the doctor said.Tuck turned to him, amazed. A joke, medical student?The doctor looked a lightedtle embarrassed. Im going to go see how dinner is coming along. Ill be right back. He turned and went into the house. pound bolted to the end of the lanai where Roberto was hanging. Shoo. Go away.Roberto made a trilling noise and tried to catch Tucks drink with his wing claw.Okay, you can have the mango, but hence you have to stir up out of here. Tucker held out the piece of cut mango and the fruit bat took it in his win g claw and slurped it pot.Now lay out out of here, Tucker said. Go convalesce Kimi. Shoo, shoo.Roberto tip his head and said, gumption off on these people, Tuck. You touch on them too hard, theyll pull your plug. Just keep your eyeball open.Tuck moved away from the bat with wonky jerking steps out of the line leaping of the undead. The bat had said something. It was a tiny voice, high but raspy, the voice of a chain-smoking Topo Gigio, but it was clear. You didnt talk, Tucker said.Okay, said Roberto. Thanks for the mango.Roberto took off, the beat of his wings like the shuffle of a deck of leather cards. Tuck backed though the french doors into a wickerwork emperors chair and sat down.Come sit, Beth Curtis said as she carried a tray to the table. Dinners ready.What kind of drugs have you been handsome me, Doc?Broad-spectrum antibiotics and some Tylenol. Why?Any chance they could cause hallucinations?Not unless you were allergic, and wed know that by now. Why?Just wonderin g.Beth Curtis came to him and patted his shoulder. Her nails, he noticed, were perfect. You had a fever when they brought you in. Sometimes that can give a person with child(p) dreams. I think youll feel a lot better after a good meal.She helped him up and led him to the table, which was set with a white tablecloth and black linen paper napkins some a centerpiece oforchid sprigs staged in a watch glass bowl. A tout ensemble grouper stared up between fanned slices of plantain on a serving tray, his eye a little dry but clear and accusing.Tuck said, If that thing starts talking, I deficiency to be sedated and right now.Oh, Mr. Case. Beth Curtis turn her eyes and laughed as they sat down to dinner.Tuck could just about feel his body absorbing the nourishment. He told them the story of his journey to the island, exaggerating the d petulance aspect and glossing over his injuries, Kimi, and his craving for alcohol. He didnt mention Roberto at all. By the time Tucker was in the typ hoon, the Curtises were well into their sustain bottle of white wine. Beths cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled with intensity for Tucks every word.Tuck really intended to ask about Kimi, their cryptic messages, the guards, the rules for his employment, and of course, where the hell all the bullion came from, but instead he ensnare himself acting to Beth Curtis like a comedian on a roll and he left the bungalow at midnight quite taken with both himself and the doctors wife.The Curtises stood arm in arm at the door as the guards escorted Tucker back to his quarters. Halfway across the compound, he did a giddy turn and waved to them, feeling as if he had been the one to consume two bottles of wine.What do you think? the mavin asked his wife.Not a problem, she said, keeping a parade smile pointed Tucks way.I really judge him to be a little more disgustful to our conditions.As if hes in a position to bargain. The man has nothing, is nothing. He shatters this little illusio n weve given him and he has to face himself.He looks at you like youre some sort of beatific vestal virgin. I dont like it.I can handle that. You just get fly male child ready to do his job.Hell be able to fly within a week. He brought up his sailing master once again while we were outside.If hes here, youd better regain him.Ill speak to Malink tonight. The Micro Spirit is due in daytime after tomor-row. If we hear the navigator, we can send him back on the delight.Depending on what hes seen, she said.Yes, depending on what he knows.Tucker Case entered his bungalow feeling satisfied and full of himself. Someone had turned on the lights in his absence and turned down the bed. What, no mint on the pillow?He changed into a pair of the doctors pajama bottoms and grabbed a paperback spy novel from a fate someone had left on the coffee table.They had a TV. There had been a TV in the Curtises bungalow. Hed have to ask them to get him one. No, dammit, demand a television. What did M ary Jean always vocalise? You can shop all day, but if you dont ask for the money, you havent made a sale. Good food, good money, and a bang-up aircraft to fly hed stumbled into the best gig on the planet. I am the Phoenix, rising slope from the ashes. I am the comeback kid. I am the entire 1980 gold-medal-winning U.S. Olympic hockey team. I am the fucking walrus, coo-coo ka-choo.He went into the bathroom to dust his teeth, caught his reflection in the mirror. His mood went terminal. I am never going to get laid again as long as I live. I should have pressed them about Kimi. I didnt until now ask about what in the hell kind of cargo Im going to be flying. I am a spineless worm. Im scum. Im the Hindenburg, Im Michael Milken, Richard Nixon. Im seeing ghosts and bats that talk and Im stuck on an island where the only woman energises Mother Theresa look like a lap dancer in a leper colony. I am the man who put the F in failure, the P in pathetic, the G in gullible. I am the ring worm menu boy of Gangrene City. Im an insane, unemployed bus number one wood for the death camp cartel.Tuck went to bed without brush his teeth.33Chasing the ScoopNatives slept side by side, crisscrossed, and piled on the deck of the Micro Spirit until with a thu showing here, or a lavalava there, streams of primary color among all that gelatinous brown flesh it looked as if someone had dropped a big box of candy in the hot sun and they had melted together and spilled their fillings. Amid the mess, Jefferson Pardee, turn and pitched with the ship, finding three sleeping children lying on him when the ship moved to starboard, a turgid island grandmother washing against him when the ship listed to port. Hed been stepped on three times by ashy callused feet, once on the groin, and he was relatively sure he could feel lice crawling in his scalp.Unable to sleep, he stood up and the mass moved amoebalike into the vacated deck space. A three-quarter moon shone high and bright, and P ardee could see well enough to make his way through to the railing, only stepping on one woman and evoking colorful island curses from two men. Once at the rail, the warm wind washed away the supply comprehend of sweat and the rancid nut relish of copra coming from the holds. The moons re-flection lay in the black sea like a tossing pool of mercury. A fuel pod of dolphins rode the ships bow wave like gray ghosts.He took several deep breaths, relieved himself over the side, accordingly dug a bent cigarette out of his shirt pocket. He lit it with a expendable lighter and exhaled a con domiciliate of smoke with a long sigh. Thirty years in the tropics had given him a high tolerance for botheration and inconvenience, but the break in routine was maddening. Back on Truck, hed be toweling off the smell of stale beer and the residue of an oily tumble with a dollar whore, preparing to pass out with a flashiness of Mencken under his little air conditioner. No concept of the day to co me or the one just passed, for one was like the next and they were all the same. Just cool cloudy sleep that made him feel, if only for a minute, like that young Midwestern boy on an adventure, exhausted from passion and fear, rather than a fat old man worn down by ennui.And here, in the salt and the moonlight, on the trail of a story or maybe just a rumor, he felt the fungus growing in his lungs, the pain in his lower back, the w viii of ten thousand beers and fractional a million cigarettes and thirty years of fish fried in coconut oil pressing on his heart, and none of it none of it was so heavy as the possibility of specked hopes. Why had he opened himself up to a future and failure, when he had been failing just fine already?You cant sleep? the equalize said.Pardee hadnt heard the thready sailor move to the rail. He was drinking a Bud tallboy, against regulations, and Pardee felt a craving twist like a worm in his bureau at the sight of the can.You got other one of tho se?The mate reached into the deep front pocket of his shorts, pulled out another beer, and handed it to Pardee. It was warm, but Pardee popped the top and drank off half of it in one gulp.How long before we make Alualu? Pardee asked.Three, maybe four hour. Sunrise. We drop you on northeasterly side of island, you swim in.What? Pardee looked down to the black waves, because back at the mate.The doctor no allow whatsoeverone go on the island except to diddle cargo. You have to swim in on other side of island. Maybe half mile, maybe less.How will I get back to the ship?Captain say he will swing back almost the island when we leave. Captain say he wait half an hour. You swim back out. We pick you up.Cant you send a boat?No boat. No break in reef except on south side where we unload. We have many fuel barrel and crates. You will have s nonetheless, maybe eight hour.Pardee had seen the Spirit arrive in Truk lagoon a thousand times the ship was always surrounded by outboards and cano es filled with excited natives. Maybe I can get one of the Shark People to ferry me. He did not want to get in that pissing, and he certainlydidnt want to swim half a mile to shore, wasnt sure he could.Shark People no have boat. They no leave island.No boats? Pardee was amazed. Living in these islands without a boat was akin to living in Los Angeles without a car. It wasnt done it couldnt be done.The mate patted Pardees big shoulder. You be fine. I have masquerade and fins for you.What about sharks?Sharks afraid around there. On most island people afraid of shark. On Alualu shark afraid of people.Youre sure about that?No.Oh, good. Do you have another beer?Three hours later the rising sun lay like a smooth- rungn tray on the horizon and Jefferson Pardee was having swim fins duct-taped to his feet by the branch mate. The deck bustled with excited natives eating rice balls and edda paste, smoking cigarettes, shitting over the railings, and milling around the ships store, trying to buy Cokes and Planters cheese balls, Australian vulcanized beef, and, of course, Spam. A small crowd had gathered around to watch the white man prepare for his swim. Pardee stood in his boxer shorts, maggot white except for his forearms and face, which looked like theyd been plunge in red barn paint. The mate stuffed Pardees clothes and notebook into a garbage bag and handed it to him, then slathered the journalist with waterproof sunscreen, a project on par with basting a hippo. Pardee verbalise at a group of giggling children and they ran off down the deck screaming.Pardee heard the ships big screws grind to a halt and the mate unhooked a chain ingress set in the railing. Jump, he said.Pardee looked at the crystal water forty feet below. Youre out of your fucking mind. Dont you have a ladder?You cant climb ladder with fins.Ill take the fins off until I get in the water.No. Straps broken. You have to jump.Pardee shake his head and the flesh on his shoulders and back followed suit. Its not gonna happen.Suddenly the children Pardee had frightened came zip around the bridge like a let out pack of piglets. Two little boys broke validation and ran toward the journalist, who looked around just as he felt four tiny brown hands tinct with his back.Pardee saw sky, then water, then sky, then the island of Alualu put on the sea like a bad green toupee, then the impact with the water took his breath, ripped the mask from his face, and forced streams of brine into his sinuses strong enough to bring blood.Before he could even find the surface, he heard the ships screws begin to grind as the Micro Spirit steamed away.Two excited boys shook Malink awake. The ship is here and the hotshot is coming The old chief sat up on his shop sleeping mat and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He slept on the porch of his house, part of the stone foundation that had been there for eight hundred years. He stood on creaking aurora legs and went to the bunch of red bananas that hun g from the porch roof. He tore off two bananas and gave them to the boys.Where did you see the sensation?He comes across Vincents airstrip.Good boys. You go eat breakfast now.Malink went to a stand of ferns behind his house, pulled aside his thu, and waited to relieve himself. This took semipermanent every day it seemed. The Sorcerer had told Malink that he had infuriated the prostate monster and the only way to stay put him was to quit drinking coffee and tuba and to eat the bitter root of the saw palmetto. Malink had tried these things for almost two full days before giving up, but it was too hard to wake up without coffee, too hard to go to sleep without tuba, saw palmetto made his stomach hurt, and he seemed to have a headache all the time. The prostate monster would just have to remain angry. Sometimes the Sorcerer was wrong.He finished and straightened his thu, passed a thundering cannonade of gas, then went back to the sitting spot on the porch to get his cigarettes. The women had made a fire to boil water for coffee the smoke from the burning coconut husks wafted out of the corrugated tin cookhouse and hung like blasphemous fog under the canopy of breadfruit, mahogany, and palm trees.Malink lit a cigarette and looked up to see the Sorcerer coming down the coral path, his white science laboratory coat stark against the browns and greens of the village.Saswitch (good morning), Malink said. The Sorcerer spoke their lan-guage.Saswitch, Malink, the Sorcerer said. At the sound of his voice Malinks wife and daughters ran out of the cookhouse and disappeareddown the paths of the village.Coffee? Malink asked in English.No, Malink, there is no time today.Malink frowned. It was rude for anyone to turn down an offer of food or drink, even the Sorcerer. We have little Tang. You want Tang? Spacemen drink it.The Sorcerer shook his head. Malink, there was another man here with the pilot you found. I need to find him.Malink looked at the ground. I no see any othe r man. The Sorcerer didnt seem angry, but just the same, Malink didnt like lying to him. He didnt want to anger Vincent.I wont punish anyone if something happened to him, if he was hurt or drowned, but I need to know where he is. Vincent has asked me to find him, Malink.Malink could feel the Sorcerer staring a hole in the top of his head. Maybe I see another man. I will ask at the mens house today. What he look like?You know what he looks like. I need to find him now. The Sky Priestess will give back the coffee and sugar if we can find him today.Malink stood. Come, we find him. He led the Sorcerer through the village, which appeared ramshackle except for a few yellow(a)s and dogs, but Malink could see eyes peeking out from the doorways. How would he ex-plain this when they asked why the Sorcerer had come? They passed out of the village, went past the abandoned church, the graveyard, where great slabs of coral rock kept the bo run lows from floating up through the soil during the r ainy season, and down the exceed path to Sarapuls little house.The old cannibal was sitting in his doorway sharpening his machete.Malink turned to the Sorcerer and whispered, He rude sometime. He very old. Dont be mad.The Sorcerer nodded.Saswitch, Sarapul. The Sorcerer has come to see you.Sarapul looked up and glared at them. He had red chicken feathers stuck in his hair, two severed chicken feet hung from a cord to a higher place his head. All the sorcerers are dead, Sarapul said. He is just a white doctor.Malink looked at the Sorcerer apologetically, then turned back to Sarapul. He wants to see the man you found with the pilot.Sarapul ran his thumb over the edge of his machete. I dont know what happened to him. Maybe he went swimming and a shark got him. Maybe someone eat him.Sebastian Curtis stepped forward. He wont be hurt, he said. We are going to send him out on the ship.I want to go to the ship, Sarapul said. I want to buy things. Why cant we go to the ship?Thats not the is sue here, old man. Vincent wants this man found. If hes dead, I need to know.Vincent is dead.The Sorcerer crouched down until he was eye-to-eye with the old cannibal. Youve seen the guards at the compound, Sarapul. If the man isnt at the gate in an hour, Im going to have the guards tear the island apart until they find him.Sarapul grinned. The Japanese? Good. You send them here. He swung his machete in front of the sorcerers face. I have a present for them.Curtis stood. An hour. He turned and walked away.Malink ambled along behind him. Maybe he is right. Maybe the man drown or something.Find him, Malink. I meant it about the guards. I want this man in an hour.He is gone, Sarapul said. You can come out.Kimi dropped out of the rafters of Sarapuls little house. What is he talking about guards?Ha Sarapul said. He knows nothing. He didnt even know I had this. Sarapul reached down and pulled out a decapitated chicken he had been sitting on. He is no sorcerer.He said there were guards. K imi said.Sarapul laid his chicken on the ground. If you are afraid, you should go.I have to find Roberto.Then let them send the guards, Sarapul said, brandishing his machete. They can die just like this chicken.Kimi stepped back from the old cannibal, who was on the verge of foaming at the mouth. We friends, right? var. a fire, Sarapul said. I want to eat my chicken.