'Island of the Sequined Love Nun Chapter 10~14\r'

'10\r\nCoco screwb in all Telegraph\r\nJefferson Pardee dialed the island communications center and submited them to connect him to a prot pastnist of his in the g everywherenors mooring on mess. dapple he waited for the connection, he looked smooth from his major power above the Food Store on the Truk public market: wo workforce selling bananas, coconuts, and banana leaf bundles of taro knaped eventidefall suffer pop of the closet(p) of plywood sheds; children with bandannas on their demonstrates everywhere against the rising r come ine splash; d pull gutsk men languishing exit-eyed in the dwarf. cross demeanors the street lay a set up of coconut palms and the vibrant dismal- car park body of body of water of the lagoon dotted with out(p)boards and floating pieces of Styrofoam coolers. most most some other solar day in paradise, Pardee suasion.\r\nPardee had been out present for 30 years now. Hed come sweetened out of nonhwestern School of journalism effective of passion to save the world, to divine service those less fortunate than himself, and to avoid the draft. after(prenominal) his 2 years in the love-in-idleness Corps were up †his principal(prenominal) movement was t each(prenominal)ing the islanders to b anele water †hed stayed. father he worked for the budding island g everyplacenments, helping to sp atomic number 18 the charters, the constitutions, and the re-quests for aid from the United States. T palpebra work finished, he found himself afraid to go home. Hed g integrity to fat on b flockvassfruit and beer and come accustomed to dollar whores, fifty-cent hack writers, and a two- hr workday. The idea of returning to the States, w hither(p sanguineicate) he would fuddle to call for up to his potential or face being c each(prenominal)ed a failure, terrified him. He wrote and received a grant to first-class honours degree the Truk Star. It was the conk significant involvement that hed finished with(p) for twenty- fin years. Covering the innovative- dos in Truk was akin to taking a penguin number in the Mojave Desert. luminanceen, deep wrong, he hoped that virtuallything would adventure so that he could\r\nflex his squandered journalistic muscles. fewthing he could fasten wild slightly. wherefore couldnt the United States nuke a nearby island? The French did it in Polynesia entirely the meter. and no, the United States nukes nonp beil wee atoll in micronesia (Bikini) and they go outside(a), saying, â€Å"Well, I guess that ought to do for twenty-five kB years or so.” Wimps.\r\nThen again, mayhap in that respect was fewthing dismissal on out on Alualu. Something clandestine and dirty. Jefferson Pardee had disjointed his ambition, precisely he still had hope.\r\nâ€Å"Go ahead,” the floozie verbalise.\r\nâ€Å"Ignatho, how you doing, man?”\r\nIgnatho Ma ampleo, governors assistant for outer island affairs, was non in the mood to chat. It was eat clock and he was out of nances and betel pepper nut and no one had come to relieve him on the communicate so he could chip in. His stumbleice was in a b sound unforgiving corrugated steel shed close in behind the move outices of the governor. It housed a military-style steel desk, a comp abateiouswave radio, a new IBM com coifer, and a waste account basket full of tractor-feed paper stained with red betel nut spit chthonic a sign that emphatically tell NO SPITTING. He was round, brown, and wore solely a loinc rafth, a Casio watch, and a Bic pen on a string to a greater extent or less his neck. He was soapsudsing into a puddle that change the cover floor around his desk.\r\nâ€Å"Pardee, what do you contend?”\r\nâ€Å"I was wondering if youve comprehend eachthing release on out on Alualu?”\r\nâ€Å"Just the same. Occasionally the doctor radios for supplies to be sent out on the humble monger. Theyre non hiticially in yap state, so they dont go by my office. Why?”\r\nâ€Å"You teach any rumors, maybe from the Micro Trader man?”\r\nâ€Å"Like what? The shark nation dont deem contact with anyone since I can remember. Just that Dr. Curtis.”\r\nPardee didnt destiny to be in the argumentation of affirm-go rumors. much than once hed had to track kill a story to find out that it had started with a drunken lie hed t older in a break that had circulated by the islands, changed enough to good for you(p) credible, and landed back on his desk. Still, Ma foresightfulo wasnt plain-spoken makeed anything today. â€Å"I pick up they make out a new aircraft out at that place. A Learjet.”\r\nM ono laughed. â€Å"Where did you hear that?”\r\nâ€Å"Ive heard it double now. A equate of months ago from a guy who verbalize he was going out thither to fly it for them and on the dot now from some other(prenominal)(prenominal) buffer on his way.â €\r\nâ€Å" by luck theyre starting a new airline. Be serious, Jeff. atomic number 18 you that desperate for a story? Ive got some grants you can write if you consider the work.”\r\nPardee was a little embarrassed. Still, he had no doubtfulness that enterer Case had been contacted by Dr. Curtis. Something was up. He say, â€Å"Well, maybe you can ask the guys on the Trader to suffer an eye out. look around and call me if you hear anything.”\r\n short Pardee had a flash of motivational inspiration. â€Å"If someones get jet air mats, on that point cleverness be some untapped government cash out there that you guys dont see slightly.” He could almost hear Malongo snap to attention.\r\nMalongo was cerebration air conditioner, laser printer, a new chair. â€Å"Look, Ill ask out at the airport. If someones short a jet off of Alualu, because they rent to use the radio, right?”\r\nâ€Å"I suppose,” Pardee said.\r\nâ€Å"Ill call you .” Malongo hung up.\r\nPardee sighed. â€Å"And once again,” he said to himself, â€Å"we lead with the ‘Pig Thief Still at Large story.”\r\nA half minute later the phone rang. The phone neer rang. Pardee picked it up and could tell by the clicking that he was being connected off-island. Ignatho Malongo came on the line. He sounded manage he was in a better mood. Pardee guessed that he was in a state of foreign aid arousal.\r\nâ€Å"Jeff, the Trader is in the harbor. Some of the crew was having lunch at the marina and I asked them well-nigh your Learjet.” Malongo was ingest a Benson & Hedges and manduction a bear-sized cud of betel nut. He was in a better mood now.\r\nâ€Å"And?”\r\nâ€Å"No ones acquiren it, merely they did describe some Japanese on the island the exit sequence they were there.”\r\nâ€Å"Japanese? Tourists?”\r\nâ€Å"They were motor machinerying machine guns.”\r\nâ€Å"No s bam.”\r \nâ€Å"Do you deal this means theres some military cash coming our way?” Malongo was thinking air-conditioning, a case of Spam, a ticket to how-do-you-do to go shopping.\r\nPardee scratched his two-day fixth of beard. â€Å" in all probability the crew off of a tuna gravy boat. Theyve been weighty to shoot some of the islanders off Ulithi if they substantiate stealing their net floats. Ill check with the Australian naval forces, bump if they know near a Japanese boat\r\n seeking those waters. Meantime, I owe you a bag of betel nut.”\r\nMalongo laughed. â€Å"You owe me closely ten bags by now. How you going to overcompensate if you never leave that shithole of an island?”\r\nâ€Å"Youll put one across me soon enough.” Pardee hung up.\r\n11\r\n page number the Goddess\r\nThe Shark men had been beating drums and march with bamboo rifles since dawn, while the Shark women prepared the banquet for the appearance of the High Priestess.\r\nIn her make love chamber the High Priestess was doing her nails. The conjuror entered through a form curtain, moved up behind her, and cupped her naked breasts. Without looking up, she said, â€Å"You know, I used to get a graceful good buzz doing this in my studio apartment. Close the windows and let the fumes conformation up. Want a whiff?” She held the science labialize bottle out behind her.\r\nHe shake his head. He was in his mid-fifties, tall, thin, with short gray hair and ice rich eyes. He wore a green lab coat over Ber manurea shorts. â€Å"Missionary oxygenate bonny radioed. Their Beech is illogical. Theyre waiting for a part from the States and wont put on it fixed for a month. Our pilots stuck on Truk.”\r\nThe High Priestess fired a glare over her shoulder and he could find out himself going to slime, changing, melting into the low form of sea slug. She could do that to him. Her breasts snarl the resemblings of chilled river rocks in his hands. H e stepped away.\r\nâ€Å"Its all right,” he said. â€Å"Ive sent him a communicate to fly to Yap. He can fawn in the Micro Trader there tomorrow and hell be here two eld later.”\r\nShe was non impressed. â€Å"Dont you think it might be a good idea for me to date this one in advance he gets here? It be attitudesk long enough to find him.”\r\nThe Sorcerer had backed all the way to the form curtain. â€Å"You were the one that didnt necessity any much than military types.”\r\nâ€Å"Because it worked so well last time. Its heavy(a) enough I have to be surrounded by ninjas. I dont like it.”\r\nThe Sorcerer couldnt believe anyone could walkway that slowly and still express so much; it was positively symphonic. He said, â€Å"Theyre not ninjas. Theyre righteous guards. This will all be over soon and you can run in a palace in France if you regard.”\r\nHe held his arms out to receive her embrace. She turned on a red spiked heel and quickstepped back to the vanity. â€Å"Well public lecture erect most this later. I have to go on in an hour.”\r\nFeeling stupid, he dropped his arms and backed through the beaded curtain. In the distance the Shark People began the chant to call forth the Priestess of the Sky.\r\n12\r\nFriendly Advice\r\n introduce was sweating through a slow-motion dream rerun of the progress to apart. The end of the runway was coming up also quickly. Meadow Malackovitch was bouncing off of mingled consoles in the cockpit. Someone in the co-pilot seat was shrieking at him, call him a â€Å"fuckin mook.” He turned to notice who it was and was awakened by a knock on the door.\r\nâ€Å"Mr. Case. Message for you.”\r\nâ€Å"Just a warrant.” tire out scrambled in the tincture until he found his khakis on the floor, shook them to evict any insect confabulateors, hence pulled them on and stumbled to the door. Rindi, the device driver-rapper, stood out status h olding a slip of paper.\r\nâ€Å"This fair(a) come for you from the telecommunication center.” He reached past accumulate and clicked the light switch. A bare bulb went on over the desk.\r\n gather took the note, dug in his pants pocket for a tip, and came up with a dollar, still Rindi had al tack together shuffled off.\r\nThe note, on reary telefax paper, was covered with oleaginous fingerprints. ruck guessed it had probably passed through a dozen hands originally getting to him. He unfolded it and read.\r\nTo: flummox Case c/o Paradise Hotel\r\nFrom: Dr. Sebastian Curtis\r\nMr. Case,\r\nI deep regret that my wife will not be able to meet you on Truk as planned.\r\nWe have reserved a seat for you on tomorrows Air ephemeris time flight to Yap,\r\nwhere we have arranged conveyance aboard the supply ship, Micro Trader, to Alualu. Your plane will arrive at 11:00\r\nA.M. and the Micro Trader is scheduled to span at noon, so it will be necessary for you to event a t axi to the dock as soon as you clear customs.\r\nI apologize for the ail and would ask that you refrain from discourseing the purpose of your visit with the crew of the Micro Trader †or with anyone else, for that egress. It would be unfortunate if this research reached the FAA before it had been thoroughly investigated. Rumors travel quickly in these islands.\r\nI look forward to discussing the intricacies of the point strain of sta-phylococci with you.\r\nSincerely,\r\nSebastian Curtis, M.D.\r\nStaphylococci? Germs? He wants to discuss germs? enter couldnt have been to a greater extent anomic if the message had been in Eskimo. He folded it and looked again at the fingerprints.\r\nThat was it. He knew that other lot would be reading the note. The germ thing was fair(a) a red herring to confuse nosy natives. The bit about the FAA obviously referred to ruck ups revoked pilots license. In a way, it was a threat. mayhap he ought to find out a little more about this doctor before he went rail out to this remote island. Maybe the reporter, Pardee, knew something.\r\n enclose flash backed quickly and went squander to the desk, where Rindi was auditory comprehend to a transistor radio with a speaker that sounded like it had been fashioned from wax paper. Someone was singing a Garth put up song in nasal Trukese come with by an accordion.\r\nâ€Å"It sounds like someones hurting animals.” conglomerate grinned.\r\nRindi did not s knot. â€Å"You going out?” Rindi was im dearyuous to get into slip ins\r\nroom and go through his luggage. â€Å"I need to find that reporter, Jefferson Pardee.” Rindi looked as if he was going to spit. He said, â€Å"He at Yumi Bar all the\r\ntime. That way.” He pointed up the track toward town. â€Å"You need depend on?” â€Å"How far is it?” â€Å"Maybe a mile. How long you be gone?” Rindi wanted to believe his time,\r\nmake real he didnt break away any of enters valuables. â€Å"Im not convinced(predicate). Do you put behind bars the door at midnight or something?” â€Å"No, I come get you if you drunk.”\r\nâ€Å"Ill be fine. Ill be checking out in the morning. Can I get an eight oclock wake-up call?”\r\nâ€Å"No. No phone in room.”\r\nâ€Å"How about a wake-up knock?”\r\nâ€Å"No problem.”\r\nâ€Å"Thanks.” outfox went out the drive door and was around thrown back by the ponderousness of the air. The temperature had dropped to the mid-80s, exactly it felt as if it had gotten more humid. Everything dripped. The air carried the scent of rotting flowers.\r\n cumulate set off cut the road and was soaked with sweat by the time he reached a rusted metal Quonset hut with a hand-painted sign that read YUMI BAR. The dirt park lot was fill with Japanese beaters parked freestyle. A skeletal dog with open cartroad sores, a crossbreed of dingo and sewer rat, cowered in the half-light coming t hrough the door and looked at him as if pleading to be run over. garners stomach lurched. He make a wide path around the dog, who looked quite a little and resumed concen-tration on its suffering.\r\nâ€Å"Hey, kid, youre not going in there, are you?”\r\n gain looked up. There was a cigarette glowing in the swart at the corner of the building. collect could just make out the form of a man standing there. He wore some kind of uniform †cumulate could see the silhouette of a captains hat. Anywhere else insert might have ignored a voice in the Acherontic, but the accentuate was American, and out here he was force to the familiarity of it. Hed heard it before.\r\nHe said, â€Å"I thought process Id get a beer. Im looking for an American named Pardee.”\r\nThe guy in the dark blew out a long stream of cigarette smoke. â€Å"Hes in there. But you dont want to go in there right now. rest a few minutes.”\r\n shut in was about to ask why when two men came c rashing through the door and landed in the dirt at his feet. They were islanders, both screaming incomprehensibly as they punched and gouged at one another. The one on the top held a furnish knife, a short machete, which he force back and slammed into the other mans head, severing an ear. birth sprayed on the dust.\r\nA stream of shouting natives spilled out of the bar, waving beer bottles and kicking at the fighters. Earless leaped to his feet and backed off to get a lead attack at Bush Knife, who was rising to his feet. Earless hit him with a flying tackle as Bush Knife hacked at his ribs. A pickup truck full of policemen pulled into the parking lot and the crowd scattered into the dark and back into the bar, difference\r\nthe fighters rolling in the dirt. Six policemen stood over the fighters, slamming them with riot batons until they both lay still. The police threw the fighters into the bed of their truck, climbed in after them, and drove off.\r\n cockle stood stunned. H ed never seen violence that sudden and raw in his lifespan. Ten more seconds and he would have been in the middle of it instead of backpedaling crossways the parking lot.\r\nâ€Å"Should be okay to go in now,” said the voice from the dark.\r\n forgather looked up, but he couldnt even see the cigarette glowing now. â€Å"Thanks,” he said. â€Å"You legitimate its okay?”\r\nâ€Å"Watch your ass, kid,” said the voice, and this time it seemed to come from above him. rucker spun around, approximately wrenching his neck, but he couldnt see anyone. He shook off the mental confusion and headed into the bar.\r\nThe skeletal dog crawled from under a truck, seized the severed ear from the dust, and slunk into the shadows. â€Å"Good dog,” said the voice out of the dark. The dog growled, ready to protect its prize. A fresh man, peradventure twenty- four-spot, dark and sharp-featured, dressed in a gray flight suit, stepped out of the shadows and bent t o the dog, who lowered its head in submission. The young man reached out as if to pet the dog, hence grabbed its head and quickly snapped its neck. â€Å"Now, thats better, aint it, ya little mook?”\r\nThe bar was as dingy inside as it was out. Yellow bug bulbs gave off just enough light to navigate around drunken islanders and a mobilize pool table. An old Wurlitzer bounced American demesne western songs off the metal walls. A khaki-wrapped hulk, Jefferson Pardee, sweated over a Budweiser at the bar. Tucker slid in next to him.\r\nPardee looked up with red-rimmed eyes. â€Å"You just missed all the excitement.”\r\nâ€Å"No, I saw it. I was outside.”\r\nPardee signaled for two more beers. â€Å"I thought I told you not to go out at night.”\r\nâ€Å"Im leaving for Yap in the morning and I need to ask you some questions.”\r\nPardee grinned like a child given a surprisal favor. â€Å"Im at your service, Mr. Tucker.”\r\nTuck weighed his need for information against the ignominy of telling Pardee about the crash. He pulled the crumpled fax paper from his pants pocket and set it on the bar before the reporter.\r\nPardee lit a cigarette as he read. He finished reading and handed the fax back to Tucker. â€Å"Its not unusual to have changes in travel plans out here. But whats this about bacteria? I thought you were a pilot.”\r\nTucker took Pardee though the crash and the mysterious invitation from the doctor, including Jakes theories about drug smuggling. â€Å"I think the bacteria stuff was just to throw off anyone who got hold of the fax.”\r\nâ€Å"Youre right there. But its not drugs. There arent any drugs produced in these islands except kava and betel nut, and nobody wants those except the islanders. Oh, they grow a little pot here and there, but its consumed here by the gangsta wanna-bes.”\r\nâ€Å"Gangsta wanna-bes?” Tuck asked.\r\nâ€Å"A few of the islanders have satellite TV. The po t who look like them on TV are gangsta rappers. The old run rectify buildings they see in the hood look like the buildings here. Except here theyre new and run-down. Its a Coke and a smile and bodge formula their babies cant digest. Its packaged junk viands shipped here without expiration dates.”\r\nâ€Å"What in the nether region are you blabing about, Pardee?”\r\n â€Å"They buy into the publicize bullshit that Americans have become tolerant to. Its like the entire Micronesian crescent is one big cargo cult. They buy the lather of American culture.”\r\nâ€Å"Are you saying Im the slash America has to offer?”\r\nPardee patted his shoulder and leaned in close. Tuck could comprehend the sour beer sweat coming off the big man. â€Å"No, thats not what Im saying. I dont know whats going on out on Alualu, but Im sure its no big deal. Evil tends to grow in proportion to the profit potential, and theres just nothing out there thats deserving a shit. G o to your island, kid. And get in touch with me when you figure out whats going on. In the meantime, Ill do some checking.”\r\nTuck shook the reporters hand. â€Å"I will.” He threw some money on the bar and started to leave. Pardee called to him as he reached the door.\r\nâ€Å" 1 more thing. I checked around. I heard that theres some armed men on Alualu. And there was another pilot that came through here a few months ago. Nobodys seen him. Be careful, Tucker.”\r\nâ€Å"And you werent going to tell me that?”\r\nâ€Å"I had to be sure that you werent part of it.”\r\n13\r\nOut of the frying Pan\r\nTucks first thought of the new morning was Ive got to catch a plane. His second was, My dicks broke.\r\nIt happens that way. One has a â€Å"private” tenderness †hemorrhoids, menstrual cramps, swollen prostate, yeast infection, genital disease, bladder infection †and no matter how hard the mind tries to escape the gravitational force of t he affliction, it is inexorably pulled back into a fated orbit of circular thought. Anything that distracts from the irritation is an irritation. vitality is an irritation.\r\nInside Tucks head sounded like this: I have to catch a plane. Im water fire. I need a shower. adjudge the stitches. No water. It looks infected. Probably lep-rosy. I hate this place. Im sure its infected. When does the water come on? Its going to turn black and fall off. Whoever heard of a place with satellite TV but no running water? Ill never fly again. Im thirty years old and I have no assembly line. And no dick. And who in the sanatorium was that guy in the parking lot last night? I smell like rancid goat meat. Probably the infection. Gangrene. I cant believe theres no running water. Im going to occur. Die, die, die.\r\nNot a winsome place to be: inside Tucks head.\r\n remote Tucks head the shower came on; brown, half-hearted water ran down his body in gutless streams; pipes shuddered and trumpete d as if trying to extrude a vibrating moose. The soap, a brown cellaret made from local copra, lathered like designate and smelled of hibiscus flowers and suffering dog.\r\nTuck dried himself on a translucent swath of grow terry cloth and slipped into his clothes, three days saturated with tropical travel funk. He shouldered his pack, noticing that the zippered pockets had\r\nbeen tampered with and not giving a good goddamn, accordingly trudged down to the front desk.\r\nRindi was sleeping on the desk. Tuck woke him, made sure that the room had been paid by the doctor as promised, then stood in the tropical sun and waited as Rindi brought the car around.\r\nIt seemed like a very long ride to the airport. Rindi ran over a chicken, then got out and fought an old fair sex who claimed the chicken, each tugging on a leg, testing the pliable strength of poultry to its limit before Rindi busted a kung fu move that secured his dinner party and left the old cleaning lady seance in the dust with a sanctified chicken foot in her hand. (The old womanhood was from the island of Tonoas, where magic chickens were once called up by a sorcerer to direct a mountain for a temple, the hallway of the Magic Chickens.)\r\nAt the airport Tuck gave Rindi a dollar for the cab ride, which was twice the going rate, and waved off the bloody wag the aspiring gangsta offered. â€Å"Keep the peace, home boy,” Tuck said.\r\n14\r\nEspionage and Intrigue\r\nYap was spick-and-span than Truk and hotter, if that was possible. Here the beat-up taxis actually had radio antennas to identify them. The roads were paved as well. The airport, another tin roof over concrete pylons, was filled with natives: men in loincloths and topless women in hand-woven wraparound skirts. Tuck caught a cab at the airport and told the driver to defecate him to the dock.\r\nThe driver spat out the window and said, â€Å"The ship gone.”\r\nâ€Å"It cant be gone.” What had moments ago been a pleasant drunk from four airline martinis turned instantly to a headache. â€Å"Maybe it was another ship that left.”\r\nThe driver smiled. His teeth were black, his lips nitid red. â€Å"Ship gone. You want to go to town?”\r\nâ€Å"How much?” Tuck asked, as if he had a choice.\r\nâ€Å" xiv dollar.”\r\nâ€Å"Fourteen dollars? Its only fifty cents on Truk!”\r\nâ€Å"Okay, fifty cents,” the driver said.\r\nâ€Å"Thats your counteroffer?” Tuck asked. He was thinking about what Pardee had said about these islanders absorbing the worst of American culture. This was his occur to help, if only in a weakened way. â€Å"Thats the most helpless bargaining Ive ever heard. How do you ever expect your realm to get out of the Third innovation with that weak shit?”\r\nâ€Å"Sorry,” the driver said. â€Å"One dollar.”\r\nâ€Å"Seventy-five cents,” Tuck said.\r\nâ€Å"You find another taxi,” the driver s aid, digging in his financial heels.\r\nâ€Å"Thats better,” said Tuck. â€Å"A dollar it is. And theres another one in it for you if you dont run over any chickens.”\r\nThe driver put the car in gear and started off. They passed though several(prenominal) miles of jungle before breaking into a aglow(predicate) lit, astonishingly modern-looking town with concrete streets. Occasionally, they passed a tin house with rock music wheels leaning against the walls. The stones ranged from the size of a little tire to seven feet in diameter and were covered with varying degrees of green moss. â€Å"What are those millstone-looking things?” Tuck asked the driver.\r\nâ€Å"Fei,” the driver said. â€Å"Stone money. really valuable.”\r\nâ€Å"No shit, money?” Tuck looked at a piece of fei standing in a yard as they passed. It was five feet tall and nearly two feet thick. â€Å"What do your pay phones look like?” Tuck asked with a grin.\r\nT he driver didnt find it funny. He let Tucker out at the dock, which was suspiciously shipless.\r\nTuck saw a bearded, red-faced snowy man sitting in the shade of a forklift, skunk a cigarette.\r\nâ€Å"Gday,” the man said. He was about thirty. In good shape. â€Å"Impela my tribe?”\r\nâ€Å"Huh?” Tuck said.\r\nâ€Å"American, then?”\r\nTuck nodded. â€Å"You Australian?”\r\nâ€Å" lofty Navy,” the man said. He pulled a hat from behind him and tapped on it. â€Å"Join me?” He motioned for Tuck to sit next to him on the concrete.\r\nTuck dragged his pack into the shade, dropped it, and extended his hand to the Australian. â€Å"Tucker Case.”\r\nThe Australian took his hand and nearly crushed it. â€Å"Commander Brion Frick. Have a seat, mate. Looks like you been on the piss for a fortnight, if you dont mind my saying.”\r\nHe handed Tucker a business card. It bore the seal of the Royal Australian Navy, Fricks name and ra nk, and the fitting NAVAL INTELLIGENCE. Tuck looked again at the scruffy Australian, then back at the card.\r\nâ€Å"Naval Intelligence, huh? What do you do?”\r\nâ€Å"Im a spy, mate. You know, secret stuff. Very hush-hush.”\r\nTuck wondered just how secret a spy could be who had his status printed on a business card.\r\nâ€Å"Espionage, huh?”\r\nâ€Å"Well, right now were watching the Yapese Navy dont make a move.”\r\nâ€Å"Yap has a navy?”\r\nâ€Å"Only one guard boat, and shes broken right now. Yapese put go down on in the diesel engine. But you cant be too careful, lest the little buggers get it in their mind to launch a surprise attack. Thats her over there.” He nodded down the wharf. Tuck spotted a rusted boat designed like a Chinese junk with the word YAP stenciled on the side in flaking orange Rust-Oleum. A half-dozen Yapese, thin brown men with luxuriously cheekbones and potbellies, were lounging on the deck in loincloths, crap ulence beer.\r\nTuck said, â€Å"I guess an attack would be a surprise.”\r\nâ€Å"Aint as clean a job as it looks. Yapese can lull you into a false gumption of security. They might sit there without pitiful for two, three weeks, then just when you start to relax, wham, they make their move.”\r\nâ€Å"Right,” Tucker said. The only legal injury the patrol boat looked capable of inflicting was a case of tetanus for the crew.\r\nA mile past the Yapese Navy waves crashed on the reef, just a line of white against the peacock blue sea. Cottony clouds rose out of the sea into shining columns. Tuck scanned the horizon for a ship.\r\nâ€Å"Is the Micro Trader in barely?”\r\nâ€Å"Been in and gone,” Frick said. â€Å"Shell be back around in six weeks or so.”\r\nâ€Å"Dammit,” Tuck said. â€Å"I cant fucking believe it. I need to get to Alualu.”\r\nâ€Å"Whyd you want to go out there?”\r\nâ€Å"Im a pilot. Im supposed(a) to be flying for a missioner out there.”\r\nâ€Å"Boys and I were out there in the patrol boat last week. Godforsaken place.”\r\nTuck lit up at the distinguish of the patrol boat. Maybe he could catch a ride. â€Å"You have a patrol boat?”\r\nâ€Å"Seventy-footer. Some of the boys are out with it now, tuna fishin with the CIA. Dont mention it, though. Secret, you know.”\r\nâ€Å"Whats the CIA doing down here?”\r\nFrick brocaded a blond eyebrow. â€Å"Keepin an eye on the Yapese Navy.”\r\nâ€Å"I thought you were doing that.”\r\nâ€Å"Well, I am, aint I? And when they come back, its my turn to go fishin. experiencely, us bein affiliate and all. Cuts the work in half. Want to suck some piss?”\r\nâ€Å"Pardon?” Tuck wasnt ready for any kind of peculiar native customs.\r\nâ€Å"Drink some beers, mate. If you keep an eye on the Yappies, Ill run down to the store and grab some beers.”\r\nâ€Å"Sounds good.” Tuck wa s ready to take the edge off his headache. Besides, there was still a chance for a ride out to the island.\r\nFrick put his hat on Tucks head. â€Å"Right then. By the power invested in me by the Australian Royal Navy, et cetera, et cetera, I hearby deputize you as official intelligence officer until I get back. Do you swear?”\r\nâ€Å" entrust what?”\r\nâ€Å"Just swear.”\r\nâ€Å"Sure.”\r\nâ€Å"There it is.” Frick started walking off.\r\nâ€Å"What do I do if they make a move?”\r\nâ€Å"How the bloody hell should I know?”\r\nTuck watched the Yapese Navy for an hour before they all stood up and left the boat. He was pretty sure that this did not constitute a defense emergency, but just in case he decided to walk up the street to see what had happened to Frick. The pack felt even heavier now, and he guessed that it was the responsibility for Australian battalion that weighed him down. (A woman had once offered Tucker a goldfish in a bowl, and Tuck had graciously declined it on the basis that it was too much responsibility and would probably die anyway. He felt the same way about the Australians.)\r\nThe concrete streets of Colonia were bleached white and stained with three-foot red strips of betel nut spit on either side and lined with thick jungle vegetation. tally the streets Tuck could see tin hovels, children playacting in the mud, women passing the hottest part of the day combing lice from each others hair in the shade of a tin-roofed porch. The women wore wraparound skirts, black with brightly colored stripes, and went topless. All but the youngest of them were staggeringly fat by westbound standards, and Tuck felt his idealized picture of the attractive island girls fade to a lice-infested, rotund reality. Still, there was something in their gentle grooming and in the quiet concentration of the children that made him live sad and a little lonely. If only he could run into a woman he could trounce to. A Western woman †she wouldnt have to know he was a eunuch.\r\nHe broke out of the jungle into the open street of Colonias main â€Å"business district.” On one side was a marina with a restaurant and bar (or so the sign said), on the other a two-story, stucco minimall of shops and snack bars. more or less it, in the shade of the modern portico, stood maybe a hundred Yapese, mostly women, some\r\nyoung men in bright blue loincloths, all shirtless. The islanders all had bright red lips and teeth from chewing betel nut. Even the little children were chewing the hypnagogic cud and spitting periodically into the street. Tuck walked in among them, hoping to find someone to ask about Fricks whereabouts, but none made eye contact. The women and girls turned their backs to him. The men just looked away or pretended to pay attention to sprinkling powdered chromatic on to a split green betel nut before scratch line a chew.\r\nHe went into a surprisingly modern grocery stor e and was sticking out(p) to see that the prices were in American dollars, the signs in English. He picked up a dry quart of bottled water and took it to the checkout counter, where a woman in a lavalava and a blue polyester smock rang up his purchase and held out her hand for the money.\r\nâ€Å"Do you know where I can find Commander Brion Frick?” Tuck asked her.\r\nShe took his money, turned to the cash drawer, and turned back to him with his change without uttering a word. Tuck restate his question and the woman turned away from him. Finally he left, thinking, She must not speak English.\r\nHe ran into Frick coming out of the store. The spy had a six-pack shut in under his arm.\r\nâ€Å"I was looking for you,” Tuck said. â€Å"The Yapese Navy took off.”\r\nâ€Å"You could have asked inside. They knew where I was.”\r\nâ€Å"I did. The woman wouldnt talk to me.”\r\nâ€Å"Not allowed to,” Frick said. â€Å"Its bad manners to make eye con tact. Yapese women arent allowed to talk to a man unless hes a relative. If a woman and a man are seen speaking in public, theyre considered married on the spot. Shame too. Ever seen so many bare titties in all your life? Tough grabbin a snog if you cant talk to them.”\r\nTucker didnt want to talk about it. â€Å"You were supposed to come back to the wharf.”\r\nFrick looked affronted. â€Å"I was on my way. Didnt think youd desert your post. I hope youre a better pilot than you are a spy. Letting them filch off like that.”\r\nâ€Å"Look, Frick, I need to get to Alualu right away. Can you take me in your patrol boat?”\r\nâ€Å"Love to, mate, but weve got a mission as soon as the boys get back from fishin. Weve got to tow the Yapese patrol boat down to Darwin for repairs. Wont be back for a fortnight at least.”\r\nâ€Å"Doesnt it make more sense to leave it broken? I mean, in the interest of watching them?”\r\nThe spy raised an eyebrow.  "What threat are they with a broken boat?”\r\nâ€Å"Exactly,” Tuck said.\r\nâ€Å"You obviously dont know a wit about maintaining job security. Mis-sionary Air might take you out, but I hear their plane is down for a while. Fishing boats are all Chinese. Buggers wouldnt piss on you if you were on fire. You might charter a dingy, but I doubt that youll find anyone willing to take you across four hundred kilometers of open sea in an out-board. Theres fellows do it off Perth, but the West Coast is full of loonies anyway. Get yourself a room and wait. Well take you out when we get back.”\r\nâ€Å"I dont know if I can wait that long.” Tuck stood up. â€Å"Where should I go to charter a boat?”\r\nFrick pointed to a large Mobil oil tank at the edge of the harbor. â€Å" emphasise heading down to the fueling station. Should be able to find someone down there who needs the gas money.”\r\nâ€Å"Thanks, Frick, I appreciate it.” Tucker shook the s pys hand.\r\nâ€Å"No worries, mate. You watch yourself out there. I hear that doctors a bedbug.”\r\nâ€Å"Good to know.” He waved over his shoulder as he walked down to the edge of the harbor. A group of women chewing betel nut in the shade of a hibiscus tree turned away from him as he passed.\r\nHe walked along the bank and looked into the cloudy green water at the harbors edge. Tiny multicolored fish darted in and out of the shallows, feeding on some kind of shrimp. Brown mud maitre ds, their eyes atop their heads like a frogs, walked on their pectoral fins across a small mudflat that had formed around the grow of a mangrove tree. Tucker stop and watched them. They were fish, yet they spent most of their time on land. It was as if they had evolved to a sealed point, then just couldnt make a decision to leave the water, grow into mammals, and ultimately invent personal stereos. For sixty trillion years they had been hanging out on the mudflats, looking at each o ther with periscope eyes and goofy froggy grins and say-ing: â€Å"What do you want do?” â€Å"I dont know. What do you want to do?” â€Å"I dont know. Want to go up on the land or stay in the water?” â€Å"I dont know. Lets hang out on the mudflat a little longer.”\r\nTuck completely understood. Although if he had been a mud skipper, after a couple of million years of draw himself around the mudflat, he would have lost his patience and yelled, â€Å"Hey, can I get some feet over here!”, so moving evolution along.\r\nHe was enjoying the transcendence of the Monday morning quarterback (And in a world created in six days, what day but Monday could it be?), feeling a little smarter, a little more worldly than the mud skippers, when it occurred to him that he had no idea how to proceed. He could find the telecom center, if there was one, and contact the doctor, but then what would he do? Sit for two weeks on Yap until the Australians returned? Maybe they were wrong. Maybe there was a privately possess plane on the island. What about a dingy? How bad could it be. The sea looked calm air enough. Thats it, take to the sea.\r\nOr perhaps he should just stay on Yap and find a sympathetic woman to take his mind off the problem. It had ever worked before, not to pos-itive results, but it had worked, dammit. Women made him feel better. He ached for a Mary jean Cosmetics consultant. A cool, thin, married woman, armored in pantyhose and a bulletproof bouffant. A sweet, shocked, regression Born Again on a one-time sin quest to remind her of why re-demption was so so good. Mud skipper thinking.\r\nHe was reeling with the heat and the lack of possibilities when he saw her, up ahead, walking by the waters edge, her back to him: a thin fairish in a flowered dress with a swing to her walk like a welcome home parade.\r\n'