“Sure. What were the choices?”
“Well, it was a choice between the fried fish plate with spicy mango relish or the fried fish plate with spicy mango relish.”
I smiled and asked, “So what did you order?”
“I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
Her foot brushed my leg. I looked at her, but she was looking at her finger as it completed another lap around the top of her glass. She gave me no sign of whether the foot contact was an accident or something else. Twelve years of celibacy had done funny things to my brain, so I waived it off as a figment of my sex-starved imagination.
This was nuts. I needed to get a hold of myself. We were having a dinner to discuss the evacuation list, nothing more. I took another sip of water.
Melana, the cute Maldivian girl that kept me from killing Ahmed a few nights ago, brought out our food. Like William, she was the by-product of a procreation epidemic that had spread across the islands during the first few years after the storm. It must have been some kind of instinctual human response to the imminent end of our species that made all of those people screw each other silly. Thankfully, when it became apparent that we were going to be stuck on these islands for a while, people slowed down. Overpopulation led to starvation, and starvation was a powerful libido inhibitor.
“Thank you, dear,” Shannon said to Melana with smile. She reached out and softly stroked Melana’s cheek.
Melena tilted her head from side to side and said, “You’re welcome, Miss.” Before returning to the kitchen, she did a half curtsy and then skipped away.
We ate our food over small talk, mostly about the Council; what moves and counter moves had played out over the last four days. And we talked about the upcoming holiday weekend. Shannon was looking forward to a good party and I was looking forward to avoiding it. As the conversation began to wind down, I felt pretty stupid for thinking there was something going on between us. I mean for Christ sake… someone like her coming on to someone like me?
We finished dinner and Melena returned. She brought us tea and some kind of pastry. When we finished desert, I looked at my watch and said, “I’ve got to go. I have to get up early to catch my ride. Guess I’ll see you in a few days.” I stood up, turned towards the door, but then turned back. “Oh yeah,” I said. “Thanks for dinner.”
She looked at me with a raised eyebrow and said, “You’re not expecting me to pick up the bill are you?”
There was that playful smile again. It was a good thing that I didn’t have any of Mohamed’s moonshine tonight. “Oh yeah, the bill.” The meals for Council members were free, but I played along. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll get the tip. How much should I give?”
“It all depends,” she said, looking over her teacup. “Shall we discuss gratuities up in my room over a drink?” She took a sip of tea.
And just like that… bam, I realized that I was in way over my head. For twelve years I’d avoided getting mixed up in any kind of relationship. What was the point? Why get involved when people were dying of curable diseases like cancer? And besides, Kelly had been my soul mate, the one true love of my life. The thought of getting intimate with anyone else still felt like I’d be cheating.
I tried to play her comment off as a joke. “You have booze in your room? Aren’t you afraid of the morality police?”
She set her cup down, “Diplomatic immunity, remember? One of the perks of being on the Council.”
Council members did have some diplomatic immunity, but it was intended to make sure that nothing prevented us from missing Council meetings.
I said, “I’m not sure that immunity covers violations of Islamic law. If I had known that I could have brought some booze up to my—”
“Do you want to debate the law, or join me for a drink?”
Kelly used to cut to the chase like that, and the thought of her suddenly sent a flood of guilt coursing through my soul.
This was ridiculous. She’d been dead for more than a decade. So why the hell should I feel guilty?
“Some other time,” I said. “I know how you Irish are. You’d end up drinking me under the table and I’d miss my boat.”
Her smile turned into a disappointed frown. She leaned forward on her elbows, rested her chin on folded hands, and said, “Missing a boat is better than missing an opportunity.” Then sighing, she added, “Well, if you change your mind, Aron, you know where I’m staying.”
I left before I had a chance to reconsider.
The next morning, before the boat departed, I checked with the harbormaster to see if she’d heard of any new pirate activity. Nothing had been reported since my trip to Male four days ago. I hoped that it would stay that way, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Lanka and Senil.
The uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach was still there as I waited for the captain of the boat to finish preparations for departure. To keep my mind from dwelling on the last boat ride, I checked my messages. Jin still hadn’t replied. I considered sticking around Male and searching for him, but where would I look? He didn’t say where he was staying, and for all I knew, he might have already gone back to his island or still be plugging away at his decryption scheme. In the end, I decided to leave. I could try to contact him again before I left Lohifushi for North Point.
By the time we left the dock, the winds had shifted northward, pushing the clouds away and revealing a clear blue sky for the first time this week. As we got underway, I looked out on the ocean and remembered how awestruck I had been when I first arrived in the Maldives. The water was crystal clear and I remembered looking over the side and seeing the corral thirty feet below the surface. The water reflected the sky and sparkled like a brilliant turquoise gem.
An MDF patrol boat passed by and the drivers exchanged a wave. I looked at the hull number. Wracking my brain, I tried to remember if it was the same one that Jin had mentioned, but I couldn’t remember. I looked away and tried to put the thought out of my mind.
Ten minutes later, we passed Noonu, a small island about halfway between Male and Lohifushi. Like Lohifushi, it had once been a popular resort. A flash from the top of the communications tower caught my eye. The red and white tower stood a hundred feet above the jungle canopy. I strained to make out what had caused the flash. There were two men up in the tower. One held binoculars to his eyes and he seemed to be looking at us. Few islands in the interior of the atoll posted guards in the towers. Something had to be up. A few minutes later, we passed another island and I spotted another manned tower. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who was worried.
The calm waters provided a smooth ride and yet I couldn’t relax. Nearly every island we passed was the same. Those with towers had men on them. Those without a tower had people standing watch on the beach. An hour later, we finally entered the Lohifushi marina. The muscles in my neck and shoulders were strung tighter than a cocked spare gun. If I didn’t get to North Point soon, I’d snap.
We docked next to the thatched roof boathouse at the end of the concrete pier. Grabbing my duffle bag, I patted the driver on the shoulder and thanked him for the lift. Then I hopped off the boat and headed over to my hut. As I followed the well-worn trail under the jungle portico, I passed a dozen or so people. Some smiled politely. Most avoided making eye contact. I’d noticed this change in everyone’s behavior the minute I was appointed to the Council. It was as if by not making eye contact, they thought they would somehow improve their chances of making the list. I didn’t get it.
When I reached my hut, I found William sitting on the white plastic recliner outside the front door. I could tell by the expression on his face and the way his fingers flew across his data mat that he was playing a video game. I also could tell that he knew I was there, but he didn’t look up.