Muli was giddy with excitement, and he could hardly whisper. He pointed to a white building up ahead that was partly covered by palm trees. “There is the generator house. One of the former employees told me about it. Let’s go there.”
“What are you going to do at that place?” Franklin asked.
Muli snorted in contempt while pointing at the seemingly obvious solar panels on the building’s roof. “You see that? The resort claimed they are doing this without spoiling the environment, but those things aren’t enough to provide power for all the buildings in this place.” He tapped his ear, making sure the other man could also hear the building’s droning. “You hear that? It is the sound of their diesel generators. They placed this powerplant far from the resort so it wouldn’t be obvious to the guests.”
Vaikom took a pair of wire cutters out of the wet canvas bag slung over his shoulder. “Hypocrites. They say this place is all natural and won’t harm the environment, but they lie! They ship in barrels of diesel fuel almost every day to keep the whole thing going, but we’ve got a surprise for them tonight.”
Franklin raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to sabotage the resort?”
Vaikom nodded. “It is the one way to get noticed by all those rich fools over at the hotel. Once the power is cut, the rest of our group will make their entrance into the main building and begin the protest.”
A myriad of possibilities entered Franklin’s mind. I still can’t reach Quentin, but if they cut the power to the lights I might be able to sneak in through the jungle and into the private estate. “Do you need me to be with you?”
Vaikom gave him a curious look. “You are not staying with us?”
Franklin gestured towards the darkened side of the island. “The story I’m looking for is over there.”
Vaikom made a low hiss. “I knew it, you just care for gossip instead of a real cause.”
“Mate, I’m telling you,” Franklin said. “If I can get a confirmation, this will be the scoop to end all scoops. I know that all I have to do is get some photographic evidence or a video, and I promise you the owners will have to close this entire place down.”
Muli shrugged. “Trotsky once said as long as there is proper justification in the end, then it is all good.”
“Alright, we go,” Vaikom said to his friend before glancing towards the British man. “We will wait for you until morning if you would still like a ride back to Kavaratti on the boat.”
“No problem, mate,” Franklin said, pointing down at the beached dinghy. “I can always row back if need be. Thank you.”
They shook hands, and the two local men quickly bounded off into the darkened foliage towards the generator building.
Taking out his smartphone from the waterproof bag he carried, Franklin turned it on and tried to get a cell signal, but failed. Even the internet isn’t working, he thought. Is there some sort of communications blackout over the entire island?
Not willing to waste any more time trying to contact his colleague or the outside world, Franklin took out a small digital camera from the bag and slung it over his neck, making sure the battery was full. He also had a small wireless camera the size of his fingertip, and he placed it at the front of his shirt collar. Even if they take away my other cameras, I’d still be recording.
Franklin slowly trudged through the darkened bush, his bare knees getting scratched by the sharp leaf edges of the overgrown crabgrass, his forward momentum occasionally stopped by the small but strong stems of the touch-me-not plants growing underneath the cover of the tall coconut palms above his head.
The distant lights of the security checkpoint up ahead served as his navigation point as he stayed along the shadowy edges of the undergrowth, trying to find a way around the chain-link fence that impeded further progress towards the private side of the island. He could have gone out into the water and try to swim around the barrier, but he risked the chance of being spotted since the perimeter lights had extended all the way towards the beach.
Just as he spotted what looked to be a gap in between the fence and began making his way towards it, a flashlight came on, its narrow beam shining directly at the back of his head. “Hey, you—what are you doing over there?”
Bugger me, Franklin thought as he casually turned around. “What?”
Two uniformed security guards stood a few meters from him, and one of them was shining a flashlight in his face. Franklin smiled and partly held up his hands, showing them the camera he was holding.
“Excuse me, sir,” one of the guards said to him in Eastern European-accented English. “Can you please step out into the light.”
Franklin made an aw shucks grin as he stumbled out of the foliage and into the sandy clearing. A small guard shack stood to one side, and an electric golf cart was parked beside it. Two more guards were there, radioing in using walkie-talkies while staring suspiciously at the unexpected intruder. Franklin was mildly surprised that all the security personnel were foreigners, like him.
The first guard, the one who had been asking the questions, walked up to him and took a long look at the gear Franklin carried. “This is a restricted area, sir. Why were you hiding there in the bushes?”
“Me? Oh no, I was just taking some pictures,” Franklin said.
“At night?”
He nodded. “I’m doing a pictorial on nocturnal plants and animals of this island. You see, I’m a nature photographer.”
The first guard wasn’t convinced as he gave his other three colleagues a skeptical look before returning his gaze to Franklin. “I will need your name and room number please.”
“My name? It’s uh, Mark Molton, and my room number is… 202.”
The second guard spoke into his walkie-talkie, relaying all the information Franklin had just given him.
“Wait a moment while we check, please,” the first guard said.
Franklin knew the ruse was too obvious to work. He was caught. “Alright, let me tell you the real story, my name is—”
His revelation was interrupted when the free-standing lights at the checkpoint suddenly went out, plunging the entire clearing into darkness. Three of the four guards cursed in Belarusian while grabbing the flashlights on their belts.
Franklin knew then that Vaikom and Muli had succeeded in taking out the island’s power supply. He was thinking about running off into the jungle when a strong hand clasped his shoulder, nixing the idea.
The first guard stood very close to him, and it was obvious they weren’t letting him go. “You stay right beside me until the lights come back on, sir.”
Franklin sighed. “Fine, fine. I can tell you that I’m really—”
He was interrupted again, this time by a high pitched growl coming from the darkened jungle beyond the closed gate. Franklin had been to Africa on an ecological safari tour and could recognize many sounds animals made, but this particular noise was unlike anything he had ever heard in his life.
One of the other guards shone a flashlight towards the sandy road past the gate. “What the hell was that? There are no animals on this island. Not even dogs.”
Franklin could only stand still as all four guards began shining their beams along the tall grass surrounding the clearing. He was still trying to figure out what kind of animal could possibly make a sound like that when one of the guards’ flashlights suddenly illuminated what he thought was a gray trunk of a palm tree.
He pointed at the object, just as the guard moved the flashlight beam away, completely oblivious to what he had just revealed. “Over there!”
The same guard instantly brought his light back to the original spot, illuminating something twice the size of a man with a pair of yellow eyes staring back at him.