Besides Shannon, Michio was the only other person on the Council that I trusted and genuinely liked. Rick had told me about him. He told me that there was a lot more to the guy than met the eye, but he never explained what he meant. It didn’t matter. Michio helped me get up to speed on the Council and taught me about the parliamentary rules that governed it. It was during those lessons that I had discovered that we shared a few things in common.
Like me, he came to the Maldives on a vacation to fish. Unlike me, he was smart enough to have brought his family with him. And like me, he hated Ahmed. But unlike me, he was able to hide it.
I looked over by the door. Three members from the eastern islands congregated in a tight huddle. There was Bill Mathers, a sixty-year-old New Zealander with a brand new thirty-year-old wife. I’m sure his long, crooked nose and bushy eyebrows had won him that trophy and not his position on the Council.
To his right was Abdul-Wahid, a skinny, dark skinned Pakistani who, rumor had it, once had been on the national cricket team. He had a boyish face with an overcompensating mustache and he always seemed to be in a bad mood. Shannon said his bad mood was because he was a bit of a religious fanatic and resented working with infidels. I figured it had more to do with the Pakistan Cricket team’s loss to India a few months before the storm. No chance for a rematch now.
On Abdul’s left, Karl Kopperstag leaned against the wall. He was a mean-looking South African with a shaved head.
Further down the wall I saw Hari Singh and Raj Balamudi, or as I liked to call them, the bobble-head brothers. They never nodded or shook their heads. They bobbled them from side to side so I never knew if they were indicating yes and no. It drove me up the wall.
They were the youngest members of the Council, both in their early thirties. They represented the western island alliance, although in practice they represented the best interests of Ahmed. They referred to Ahmed as uncle. And while I knew that term was used in this part of the world as a sign of respect for elders, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that Ahmed was actually their uncle.
Ahmed laughed at something and I looked over at him. That stupid laugh of his, that machine gun blast of ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha just pushed me over the edge. I stood up and yelled, “Ahmed, for Christ’s sake! Take control of the Council.” I reached up and grabbed my forehead to make sure it was still attached.
Ahmed looked at me and smiled. Then he picked up his gavel and struck it twice on the table to bring the room back to order.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen. Please, take your seats.” He continued hammering until, one by one, all of the Council members were seated.
The last three in their seats were Chen Liu, Jun Wong, and Kim Pao, all originally from China, except Jun Wong, who still preferred to be called Korean despite the annexation of the Korean peninsula by China twenty years ago. They represented the central islands and while they had once been considered swing voters, like the rest, they’d been voting with Ahmed lately.
Michio remained standing. When everyone was seated, he said, “Mister President, point of order.” He said it as if it were the first time he had uttered the phrase all day.
Ahmed looked amused and said, “The chair recognizes Mr. Shimitzu, the representative of the Hurra island chain.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. A motion for a vote on the list was proposed and seconded. With the motion on the table, you must call for a vote.”
“Yes, yes… of course. I apologize.” Then Ahmed addressed the entire group. “A motion for a vote has been proposed and seconded, so will those in favor of the current list, as amended, please signify by a show of hands.”
Ten hands shot up from the Ahmed caucus.
“Very good. And those opposed?”
Michio, Shannon, and I raised our hands.
“Will the secretary please note that there were ten in favor and three opposed. Having not met the required twelve votes, the motion fails.”
Michio nodded and sat down, his face devoid of emotion. I made a mental note never to play poker with him.
Abdul-Wahid took off his sandal and began to beat it on the tabletop while glaring at Michio, Shannon and me… but mostly at Shannon. Shannon smiled and blew him a kiss. She was the only female on the Council and her action sent Adbul into a rage. He stood up and beat his sandal harder. I waited to see Shannon’s next move, but a melodic Islamic chant worked its way into the room from the mosque down the street. Abdul froze, sandal still in hand.
“Allahu Akbar,” someone said and then repeated, “Allahu Akbar.” The words had a Pavlovian effect on almost everyone in the room. One by one, people got up and started to shuffle out.
“Gentlemen. It is call to prayers,” Ahmed said for formality’s sake. “Therefore, I propose a thirty minute recess. Is there a second?”
Abdul-Wahid, who was now putting his sandal back on, mumbled something unintelligible.
Lifting his gavel, Ahmed asked, “We have a second, so all in favor?”
Half the room was already gone, but it didn’t matter. End of the world or not, the Maldives was still a Muslim state, so voting against daily prayers was not really an option. Those in the room raised their hands and Ahmed declared a recess with a thump of his gavel.
Shannon came over and plopped down in the chair next to me. Without a word, she lifted her long legs and rested them on my lap. I pretended like I couldn’t see up her skirt, but I was never very good at pretending.
She represented the far southern islands, the Gan atoll. The islands were populated predominately with refugees, most from Sri Lanka. I still thought it was odd that she ended up as their representatives, but she was a very likable person. I mean, what’s not to like?
“You know,” she said. “I think I’ll teach Abdul how we used to settle our differences in the back streets of Dublin. We didn’t use sandals back there, we used our fists.” She smiled and winked at me as she pushed a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear.
I smiled as an image of Shannon kicking the shit out of that little creep popped into my head.
Michio walked over and joined us. “This is pointless. We have just wasted four days of work because they refuse to follow the rules.”
“You said this would be easy, Shannon.”
“I don’t recall using those exact words,” she said.
“Well, whatever words you used, I’m getting really tired of this shit and I’ve only been on the Council for a couple of weeks. I don’t know how you two have lasted so long. I still think it would be easier if we let the captain of that ship decide for us,” I said.
Both of them stared at me.
Michio spoke first. “No. We must stand strong. The rest of the Council will eventually see that we all have too much to lose if we do not compromise. In the end, they will honor the charter.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Shannon said. “They have about as much honor as the fucking Irish Republican Army back in 2096 when they broke the hundred-year truce.”
“The IRA uprising was over forty years ago,” I said. “I think it’s time you let it go.”
“We let it go once and look what happened,” she said. “You can never let your guard down with bastards like that. We need to watch our backs.”
I chuckled and Shannon asked, “What’s so damned funny, Yank?”
“Us. There are only three of us, for God’s sake. The only way we can watch our backs is if you watch Michio’s back, Michio watches my back, and I watch your back.”
Her smile widened and her incredible green eyes twinkled. “Sounds like some kind of excuse for you to stare at my backside.” She flipped another lock of hair off her forehead with a suggestive toss of her head.
“Come on,” she said. “They’ll be gone for a good hour. Let’s go grab a cup of tea.”