Kara stopped talking for a moment to consider if there was anything left to tell the doctor. Satisfied with the message, she flipped the phone closed after erasing her call from the phone’s call history. She returned the phone to its owner, thanking him once again.
Termez, Uzbekistan
Victor’s friend, the doctor, had just sat down to eat a bowl of soup and to read his book when the phone began to ring. He hadn’t answered his phone in over twenty years, and he wasn’t going to start now. The only person to call him was Victor Kornev. There were a few other people he had cultivated loose friendships with over the years in Uzbekistan, such as his lawyer, his maid and a man who picked up and delivered groceries for him.
The doctor was about to put a spoon of hot soup in his mouth when he heard the voice of a woman.
“This is Victor’s friend, Tonya,” the answering machine said.
It had been forever since the doctor had a beautiful woman call him, and he really liked Tonya. She might be the most beautiful woman he had seen. An impulse the doctor hadn’t had in many years seized him. Suddenly answering the phone became of utmost importance.
The doctor slid his TV tray from his lap, and he struggled to get out of his deep chair. Time was passing too quickly for his old body to accommodate. Halfway to his feet, his left foot hit the leg of the TV tray, causing the contents of the bowl of soup to splash on his left leg. The boiling soup on his skin sent intense jolts of pain, and he inadvertently reached down to swipe the liquid off his pants. He had not yet reached a full upright standing position, and his center of gravity sent him backpedaling across the living room. He frantically attempted to catch up with his increased momentum — but it was of no avail. The doctor came to an immediate stop once his skull smacked into the kitchen’s stone countertop.
The doctor’s scream ceased as if a plug had been pulled from a speaker. The old man folded in a heap on the floor. The back of his skull caved in, and he was dead before the message had finished recording.
“—and he needs your help to get out of one of them. If you don’t help him, he will most certainly die in the tunnel.”
Sulu Sea — Courtney Island
The beach was littered with construction materials. Wood of all shapes and sizes was stacked in neat piles. Sheets of corrugated tin sat in a stack, baking in the hot afternoon sun. Boxes of hardware, screws, nuts, bolts and nails sat next to an assortment of hand tools.
Dozens of kids from all four of Hail’s full-size cargo ships were given R & R. They were running around Hail’s new island like busy little ants. After years without pets, the young adults had a dozen horses, three dogs, and two cats. The cats were busy chasing an endless supply of mice that needed to be eradicated from the island. Apparently, until the cats had arrived, they had no other predators, and the dogs had fun chasing the cats. The young crew was busy building a stable for the horses, in addition to many other small structures they would require on the island.
Some of them were working on building an endless treehouse within the mass of banyan trees that were interconnected to one another. Hail guessed it would be possible to build almost continuously throughout the trees, connecting each room to another using narrow hanging suspension bridges. His crew would be safe up in their treehouse complex unless there was a massive storm or a critical construction failure.
As each group of crew members arrived on Hail’s island, they each had exhibited a fit of excitement and amazement — running this way and that while being led around and shown the island by the young adults who had arrived earlier. After several hours of show and tell, the crew returned to the beach and got busy working, which was a kind of play. It was exactly what Hail had hoped the island would provide them.
The first task was to transfer the building materials inland to the areas where they were needed. Hail watched the teens build a gurney out of wood to be carried via a leather harness by one of the more mellow horses. With one rider on the back of the horse, the others would load wood on the gurney, and the rider would give the horse a nudge. The horse and the load placed on the gurney slowly moved hinterland to the location where it was needed.
Out at sea, Hail watched a large tender boat being loaded with more supplies being offloaded from the Hail Nucleus. The smaller boat delivered the load to the beach. His young crew loaded it on the sled being pulled by the horse, and off it would go.
Under an umbrella, sitting in a reclining beach chair, Hail smiled as he watched his crew work. It was the happiest work he had ever seen. He was certain his kids didn’t consider it work; they appeared to be having a great time. Hail had hoped they would enjoy the change of pace and time to just be young. It was exciting to see his crew work out ingenious ways of solving problems and work productively. Marshall didn’t plan to provide the island with electricity, gas, or engines. He wanted his crew to have the experience of building things with their own hands, like working the soil to grow vegetables and sitting around a campfire instead of an Xbox. Hail wanted them to read themselves to sleep. Or heck — if he dared to dream — they might even write.
And, in the future, if they really wanted electricity, they would have to figure out how to harness the waterfall to spin a generator that could charge batteries. But Hail knew they were a long way from that realization. Every civilization had to start with the basics: food, water, and shelter.
Renner and Nolan were inland, monitoring the construction of the zoo and the temporary barracks where the kids would stay during their three-week rotations on the island. After three weeks, a new rotation would take place, and yet another set of young people would get their fun in the sun.
Hail was very happy, but on the periphery clouding his pleasure, there was a dark spot.
Kara Ramey had disappeared, and it had affected Hail more than he had expected. He hadn’t known the CIA agent for long. Based on the time he knew Kara, it was disconcerting how much he found himself missing her. Even though he tried to tell himself he didn’t care, he was lying. There was an empty chair sitting next to Hail under the umbrella. His crew had put up the umbrella and put down two chairs for him. After all, why put down one chair if you can put down two? Every few minutes, Hail would glance over at the chair, imagining Kara sitting next to him. If she hadn’t left without warning, virtually disappearing without a text to let him know she was leaving, she would probably be sitting next to him right now.
Hail didn’t know whether to be angry, sad or concerned. For all he knew, Kara could be dead. When he hadn’t heard from her for a day, he had a drone flown back to Kornev’s house in Termez to watch the place. But they had seen no activity at all. No lights going on and off. No activity in front of the windows. No cars coming or going from the various garages that Kornev used when arriving or departing the compound. It was as if it had been abandoned, and that made Hail even more anxious.
As he sat in his chair, on this beautiful day, watching his crew have the most fun they had ever had, his mood became gloomier. He began to mull over what he should do. What should be his next step in locating Kara? To head down that road, he
had to accept he was going to locate Kara. He had already determined — in his mind — she needed finding. He had always found himself attracted to damsels-in-distress. He figured it had something to do with wanting to feel needed. The sublime solitude of the beach was assaulted by the harsh chime of Hail’s cellphone. Hoping it was Kara and, without checking the caller ID, Hail pulled the phone from his front pocket and placed it to his ear.