Island of the Sequined Love Nun Chapter 10~14

10Coco methamphetamine hydrochloride TelegraphJefferson Pardee dialed the island communications center and enquireed them to connect him to a friend of his in the governors office on Yap. While he waited for the connection, he seeed knock off from his office higher up the Food Store on the Truk public market wo manhoodpower selling bananas, coconuts, and banana leaf bundles of taro go forth of plywood sheds children with bandannas on their faces against the ri wrongg passage dust rum custody languishing reddish-eyed in the shade. Across the street lay a stand of coconut palms and the vibrant blue-green water of the lagoon dotted with protrudeboards and go pieces of Styrofoam coolers. A nonher day in paradise, Pardee ideal.Pardee had been taboo present for thirty years now. Hed come fresh unwrap of North occidental School of Journalism full of passion to save the field, to help those less fortunate than himself, and to exclude the draft. After his cardinal years in t he Peace Corps were up his main achievement was article of belief the islanders to boil water hed continueed. First he counterfeited for the budding island governments, helping to write the makes, the constitutions, and the re-quests for aid from the United States. That work finished, he found himself afraid to go plaza. Hed g whiz to fat on breadfruit and beer and become customary to dollar whores, fifty-cent taxis, and a two-hour workday. The idea of returning to the States, w present he would have to live up to his potential or face being called a failure, terrified him. He wrote and received a grant to start the Truk Star. It was the last signifi grasst thing that hed d 1 for twenty-five years. Covering the news in Truk was akin to taking a penguin census in the Mojave Desert. Still, deep in look, he wishd that nearlything would happen so that he couldflex his atrophied journalistic muscles. Something he could lay passionate near. Why couldnt the United States nuke a nearby island? The French did it in Polynesia all the meter. But no, the United States nukes one little(a) atoll in Micronesia (Bikini) and they go a mien, saying, Well, I remember that ought to do for twenty-five thousand years or so. Wimps.Then again, maybe in that location was almostthing sledding on protrude on Alualu. Something clandestine and dirty. Jefferson Pardee had lost his ambition, notwithstanding he still had hope.Go ahead, the operator verbalise.Ignatho, how you doing, slice?Ignatho Malongo, governors assistant for outer island affairs, was not in the mood to chat. It was lunchtime and he was out of pansys and betel pepper nut and no one had come to relieve him on the radio so he could draw a blank. His office was in a bright blue corrugated stigma shed tucked hindquarters the offices of the governor. It housed a military-style steel desk, a shortwave radio, a new IBM com coiffureer, and a wastebasket full of tractor-feed paper stained with red betel nut spit under a sign that emphatically decl bed NO SPITTING. He was round, brown, and wore exclusively a loinc stripeh, a Casio watch, and a Bic pen on a string just about his neck. He was diaphoresis into a puddle that pour down in the mouthened the concrete floor somewhat his desk.Pardee, what do you collect?I was wonder if youve comprehend anything liberation on out on Alualu?Just the same. Occasionally the refer radios for supplies to be direct out on the Micro Trader. Theyre not officially in Yap evince, so they dont go through and through my office. Why?You go out any rumors, maybe from the Micro Trader crew?Like what? The Shark concourse dont have contact with anyone since I can remember. Just that Dr. Curtis.Pardee didnt command to be in the business of first rumors. More than once hed had to track down a story to disco really out that it had started with a intoxicated lie hed told in a pothouse that had circulated through the islands, changed enough to sound credible, and landed bear out on his desk. Still, Malongo wasnt giving anything today. I hear they have a new aircraft out in that respect. A Learjet.Malongo laughed. Where did you hear that?Ive heard it twice now. A couple of months ago from a computerized tomography who said he was justton out there to travel it for them and sound now from another pilot on his way. perhaps theyre starting a new airline. Be serious, Jeff. Are you that desperate for a story? Ive got or so grants you can write if you read the work.Pardee was a little embarrassed. Still, he had no question that play out Case had been contacted by Dr. Curtis. Something was up. He said, Well, maybe you can ask the guys on the Trader to keep an eye out. Ask around and call me if you hear anything.Suddenly Pardee had a flash of motivational inspiration. If nearlyones corrupting jet airplanes, there dexterity be some untapped government money out there that you guys dont know about. He could almost hear Malongo abduct to attention.Malongo was sentiment air conditioner, laser printer, a new chair. Look, Ill ask out at the airport. If someones flying a jet off of Alualu, then they have to use the radio, right?I suppose, Pardee said.Ill call you. Malongo hung up.Pardee sighed. And once again, he said to himself, we lead with the Pig Thief Still at Large story.A half hour posterior the phone rang. The phone never rang. Pardee picked it up and could sound out by the clicking that he was being connected off-island. Ignatho Malongo came on the line. He sounded like he was in a better mood. Pardee guessed that he was in a state of foreign aid arousal.Jeff, the Trader is in the harbor. Some of the crew was having lunch at the marina and I asked them about your Learjet. Malongo was smoking a Benson & Hedges and mastication a medium-large cud of betel nut. He was in a better mood now.And?No ones seen it, yet they did see some Japanese on the island the last time they were there.Japane se? Tourists?They were carrying machine guns.No shit.Do you think this means theres some military money plan of attack our way? Malongo was thinking air-conditioning, a case of Spam, a ticket to Hawaii to go shopping.Pardee scratched his two-day developth of beard. in all probability the crew off of a tuna ride. Theyve been threatening to shoot some of the islanders off Ulithi if they keep stealth their net floats. Ill check with the Australian Navy, see if they know about a Japanese boat angle those waters. Meantime, I owe you a bag of betel nut.Malongo laughed. You owe me about ten bags by now. How you spill to pay if you never leave that shithole of an island?Youll see me soon enough. Pardee hung up.11Paging the GoddessThe Shark men had been vanquish drums and marching with bamboo rifles since dawn, while the Shark women prepared the feast for the appearance of the High Priestess.In her bed domiciliate the High Priestess was doing her nails. The Sorcerer entered through a beaded curtain, send awayd up behind her, and cupped her naked breasts. Without flavor up, she said, You know, I used to get a pretty good buzz doing this in my studio apartment. cockeyed the windows and let the fumes build up. Want a whiff? She held the polish bottle out behind her.He shook his head. He was in his mid-fifties, tall, thin, with short gray hair and ice blue eyeball. He wore a green lab coat over Bermuda shorts. Missionary manner reasonable radioed. Their Beech is stony-broken. Theyre delay for a part from the States and wont have it fixed for a month. Our pilots stuck on Truk.The High Priestess fired a flame over her bring up and he could feel himself going to slime, changing, melting into the lowest form of sea slug. She could do that to him. Her breasts felt up like chilled river rocks in his spates. He stepped away.Its all right, he said. Ive sent him a message to fly to Yap. He can catch the Micro Trader there tomorrow and hell be here two days late r.She was not impressed. Dont you think it might be a good idea for me to meet this one originally he gets here? It took long enough to induce him.The Sorcerer had backed all the way to the beaded curtain. You were the one that didnt want any more military types.Because it worked so well last time. Its toughened enough I have to be surrounded by ninjas. I dont like it.The Sorcerer couldnt remember anyone could walk that slowly and still express so much it was positively symphonic. He said, Theyre not ninjas. Theyre just guards. This will all be over soon and you can live in a castling in France if you want.He held his arms out to receive her embrace. She turned on a red banish heel and quickstepped back to the vanity. Well colloquy about this later. I have to go on in an hour. spirit stupid, he dropped his arms and backed through the beaded curtain. In the distance the Shark People began the carol to call forth the Priestess of the Sky.12Friendly Advice stick in was sweating through a slow-motion dream beam of the crash. The end of the runway was coming up too quickly. Meadow Ma missovitch was bouncing off of various consoles in the cockpit. Someone in the copilot seat was screaming at him, calling him a fuckin mook. He turned to see who it was and was awakened by a knock on the doorsill.Mr. Case. Message for you.Just a second. introduceer scrambled in the darkness until he found his khakis on the floor, shook them to evict any bird louse visitors, then pulled them on and stumbled to the door. Rindi, the driver-rapper, stood outside holding a slip of paper.This just come for you from the telecom center. He reached past Tuck and clicked the commence switch. A supererogatory bulb went on over the desk.Tuck took the note, withdraw in his pants pocket for a tip, and came up with a dollar, but Rindi had al fake shuffled off.The note, on ductile facsimile machine paper, was covered with greasy fingerprints. Tuck guessed it had probably passed through a dozen hands before getting to him. He unfolded it and read.To Tucker Case c/o Paradise HotelFrom Dr. Sebastian CurtisMr. Case,I deeply distress that my wife will not be able to meet you on Truk as planned.We have speechless a seat for you on tomorrows Air Micronesia flight to Yap,where we have arranged transport on board the supply ship, Micro Trader, to Alualu. Your plane will arrive at 1100A.M. and the Micro Trader is schedule to sail at noon, so it will be necessary for you to confine a taxi to the dockage as soon as you clear customs.I apologize for the inconvenience and would ask that you refrain from discussing the take of your visit with the crew of the Micro Trader or with anyone else, for that matter. It would be unfortunate if this research reached the FAA before it had been well investigated. Rumors travel quickly in these islands.I attend to forward to discussing the intricacies of the particular strain of sta-phylococci with you.Sincerely,Sebastian Curtis, M. D.Staphylococci? Germs? He wants to discuss germs? Tuck couldnt have been more confused if the message had been in Eskimo. He folded it and looked again at the fingerprints.That was it. He knew that other people would be reading the note. The germ thing was just a red herring to confuse nosy natives. The bit about the FAA obviously referred to Tucks revoked pilots license. In a way, it was a threat. perchance he ought to find out a little more about this doctor before he went running out to this remote island. Maybe the reporter, Pardee, knew something.Tuck dressed quickly and went down to the desk, where Rindi was listening to a transistor radio with a lectureer that sounded like it had been fashioned from wax paper. Someone was singing a Garth Brooks song in nasal Trukese accompanied by an accordion.It sounds like someones hurting animals. Tuck grinned.Rindi did not smile. You going out? Rindi was eager to get into Tucksroom and go through his luggage. I need to find that report er, Jefferson Pardee. Rindi looked as if he was going to spit. He said, He at Yumi Bar all thetime. That way. He pointed up the road toward town. You need ride? How far is it? Maybe a mile. How long you be gone? Rindi cute to take his time, constitute sure he didnt miss any of Tucks valuables. Im not sure. Do you lock the door at midnight or something? No, I come get you if you drunk.Ill be fine. Ill be checking out in the forenoon. eject I get an eight oclock wake-up call?No. No phone in room.How about a wake-up knock?No problem.Thanks. Tucker went out the front door and was nearly thrown back by the thickness of the air. The temperature had dropped to the mid-80s, but it felt as if it had gotten more humid. Everything dripped. The air carried the scent of rotting flowers.Tuck bent off down the road and was soaked with sweat by the time he reached a rust metal Quonset hut with a hand-painted sign that read YUMI BAR. The dirt parking lot was filled with Japanese beaters parked freestyle. A skeletal dog with open running sores, a crossbreed of dingo and stool rat, cowered in the half-light coming through the door and looked at him as if pleading to be run over. Tucks stand up lurched. He do a wide path around the dog, who looked down and resumed concen-tration on its suffering.Hey, kid, youre not going in there, are you?Tuck looked up. There was a cigarette glowing in the dark at the corner of the building. Tuck could just make out the form of a man standing there. He wore some kind of uniform Tuck could see the silhouette of a captains hat. Anywhere else Tuck might have ignored a voice in the dark, but the accent was American, and out here he was drawn to the familiarity of it. Hed heard it before.He said, I thought Id get a beer. Im sounding for an American cognomend Pardee.The guy in the dark blew out a long germinate of cigarette smoke. Hes in there. But you dont want to go in there right now. Wait a few minutes.Tuck was about to ask why when tw o men came crashing through the door and landed in the dirt at his feet. They were islanders, two screaming incomprehensibly as they punched and gouged at one another. The one on the top held a bush knife, a short machete, which he drew back and slammed into the other mans head, severing an ear. Blood sprayed on the dust.A 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 running attack at Bush Knife, who was rising to his feet. Earless hit him with a flying trailer truck 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, leavingthe fighters rolling in the dirt. Six policemen stood over the fighters, slamming them with revolt batons until they both lay still. The police threw the fighters into the bed of their truck, climbed in after them, and drove off.Tuck stood stunned. Hed never seen rage that sudden and raw in his life. Ten more seconds and he would have been in the middle of it alternatively of backpedaling across the parking lot.Should be okay to go in now, said the voice from the dark.Tuck looked up, but he couldnt even see the cigarette glowing now. Thanks, he said. You sure its okay?Watch your ass, kid, said the voice, and this time it seemed to come from above him. Tucker spun around, nearly wrenching his neck, but he couldnt see anyone. He shook off the confusion and headed into the bar.The skeletal dog crawled from under a truck, seized the severed ear from the dust, and slunk into the shadows. reasoned dog, said the voice out of the dark. The dog growled, ready to protect its prize. A fresh man, perhaps twenty-four, dark and sharp-featured, dressed in a gray flight suit, stepped out of the shadows and bent to the dog, who lowered its head in submission. The young man reached out as if to pet the dog, then grabbed its head and quickly snap ped its neck. Now, thats better, aint it, ya little mook?The bar was as blasphemous inside as it was out. Yellow bug bulbs gave off just enough light to navigate around drunken islanders and a beat-up pool table. An old Wurlitzer bounced American country 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.Pardee looked up with red-rimmed eyes. You just missed all the excitement.No, I maxim it. I was outside.Pardee signaled for two more beers. I thought I told you not to go out at night.Im leaving for Yap in the morning and I need to ask you some questions.Pardee grinned like a child given a rage favor. Im at your service, Mr. Tucker.Tuck 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.Pardee lit a cigarette as he read. He finished reading and handed the fax b ack to Tucker. Its not unmatched to have changes in travel plans out here. But whats this about bacteria? I thought you were a pilot.Tucker took Pardee though the crash and the mysterious invitation from the doctor, including Jakes theories about drug smuggling. I think the bacteria blank out was just to throw off anyone who got hold of the fax.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.Gangsta wanna-bes? Tuck asked.A few of the islanders have satellite TV. The people who look like them on TV are gangsta rappers. The old rundown 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 baby economy their babies cant digest. Its packaged junk food shipped here without expiration dates.What in the hell are you talk ing about, Pardee? They buy into the advertising bullshit that Americans have become immune to. Its like the entire Micronesian crescent is one big cargo cult. They buy the worst of American culture.Are you saying Im the worst America has to offer?Pardee patted his shoulder and leaned in close. Tuck could smell the sour beer sweat coming off the big man. No, thats not what Im saying. I dont know whats going on out on Alualu, but Im sure its no big deal. condemnable tends to grow in proportion to the profit potential, and theres just nothing out there thats worth a shit. Go to your island, kid. And get in touch with me when you figure out whats going on. In the meantime, Ill do some checking.Tuck shook the reporters hand. I will. He threw some money on the bar and started to leave. Pardee called to him as he reached the door.One 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 see n him. Be careful, Tucker.And you werent going to tell me that?I had to be sure that you werent part of it.13Out of the Frying PanTucks first thought of the new morning was Ive got to catch a plane. His second was, My dicks broke.It happens that way. One has a private irritation hemorrhoids, menstrual cramps, swollen prostate, yeast infection, venereal disease, bladder infection and no matter how hard the heed tries to execute the gravity of the affliction, it is inexorably pulled back into a doomed orbit of circular thought. Anything that distracts from the irritation is an irritation. Life is an irritation. indoors Tucks head sounded like this I have to catch a plane. Im pissing fire. I need a shower. Check 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 o ld and I have no job. And no dick. And who in the hell 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 die. Die, die, die.Not a pleasant place to be inside Tucks head.Outside Tucks head the shower came on brown, tepid water ran down his body in gutless streams pipes shuddered and trumpeted as if trying to extrude a vibrating moose. The soap, a brown minibar made from local copra, lathered like slate and smelled of hibiscus flowers and suffering dog.Tuck dried-out himself on a translucent swath of balding terry cloth and slipped into his clothes, three days virgin with tropical travel funk. He shouldered his pack, noticing that the zippered pockets hadbeen tampered with and not giving a good goddamn, then trudged down to the front desk.Rindi 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 tropica l sun and waited as Rindi brought the car around.It seemed like a very long ride to the airport. Rindi ran over a yellowed, then got out and fought an old woman who claimed the chicken, each tugging on a leg, testing the tensile strength of poultry to its limit before Rindi busted a kung fu give the axe that secured his dinner and left the old woman sitting in the dust with a sacred chicken foot in her hand. (The old woman was from the island of Tonoas, where magic chickens were once called up by a illusionist to level a mountain for a temple, the Hall of the Magic Chickens.)At the airport Tuck gave Rindi a dollar for the cab ride, which was twice the going rate, and waved off the bloody handshake the aspiring gangsta offered. Keep the peace, business firm boy, Tuck said.14Espionage and IntrigueYap was cleaner than Truk and hotter, if that was possible. Here the beat-up taxis actually had radio antennas to get wind them. The roads were paved as well. The airport, another tin roo f 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 take him to the dock.The driver spat out the window and said, The ship gone.It cant be gone. What had moments ago been a pleasant drunk from four airline martinis turned instantly to a headache. Maybe it was another ship that left.The driver smiled. His dentition were black, his lips bright red. Ship gone. You want to go to town?How much? Tuck asked, as if he had a choice.Fourteen dollar.Fourteen dollars? Its only fifty cents on TrukOkay, fifty cents, the driver said.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 chance to help, if only in a small way. Thats the most helpless bargaining Ive ever heard. How do you ever expect your country to get out of the Third World with that weak shit?Sorry, the driver said. One dollar.Seventy-five cents, Tuck said.You find another taxi, the driver said, digging in his fiscal heels.Thats better, said Tuck. A dollar it is. And theres another one in it for you if you dont run over any chickens.The driver put the car in gear and started off. They passed though several miles of jungle before breaking into a brightly lit, surprisingly modern- aspect town with concrete streets. Occasionally, they passed a tin house with stone wheels leaning against the walls. The stones ranged from the size of a small tire to seven feet in diameter and were covered with varying degrees of green moss. What are those millstone-looking things? Tuck asked the driver.Fei, the driver said. Stone money. Very valuable.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. What do your pay phones look like? Tuck asked with a grin.The driver didnt find it funny. He let Tucker out at the dock, which was su spiciously shipless.Tuck saw a bearded, red-faced white man sitting in the shade of a forklift, smoking a cigarette.Gday, the man said. He was about thirty. In good shape. Impela my tribe?Huh? Tuck said.American, then?Tuck nodded. You Australian? violet Navy, the man said. He pulled a hat from behind him and tapped on it. Join me? He motioned for Tuck to sit next to him on the concrete.Tuck dragged his pack into the shade, dropped it, and extended his hand to the Australian. Tucker Case.The Australian took his hand and nearly crushed it. Commander Brion Frick. Have a seat, mate. Looks like you been on the piss for a fortnight, if you dont sagaciousness my saying.He handed Tucker a business card. It bore the seal of the Royal Australian Navy, Fricks name and rank, and the designation NAVAL INTELLIGENCE. Tuck looked again at the scruffy Australian, then back at the card. marine Intelligence, huh? What do you do?Im a recognise, mate. You know, secret stuff. Very hush-hush.Tuck wonder ed just how secret a spy could be who had his status printed on a business card.Espionage, huh?Well, right now were watching the Yapese Navy dont make a move.Yap has a navy?Only one guard boat, and shes broken right now. Yapese put gasconade 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 decay 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 high cheekbones and potbellies, were lounging on the deck in loincloths, drinking beer.Tuck said, I guess an attack would be a surprise.Aint as easy a job as it looks. Yapese can lull you into a false sense of security. They might sit there without moving for two, three weeks, then just when you start to relax, wham, they make their move.Right, Tucker said. The only damage the patrol boat looked capable of inf licting was a case of tetanus for the crew.A mile past the Yapese Navy waves crashed on the reef, just a line of white against the turquoise sea. Cottony clouds rose out of the sea into glistering columns. Tuck scanned the horizon for a ship.Is the Micro Trader in yet?Been in and gone, Frick said. Shell be back around in six weeks or so.Dammit, Tuck said. I cant fucking believe it. I need to get to Alualu.Whyd you want to go out there?Im a pilot. Im supposed to be flying for a missionary out there.Boys and I were out there in the patrol boat last week. wild place.Tuck lit up at the mention of the patrol boat. Maybe he could catch a ride. You have a patrol boat?Seventy-footer. Some of the boys are out with it now, tuna fishin with the CIA. Dont mention it, though. Secret, you know.Whats the CIA doing down here?Frick raised a blond eyebrow. Keepin an eye on the Yapese Navy.I thought you were doing that.Well, I am, aint I? And when they come back, its my turn to go fishin. Lovely, us bein allies and all. Cuts the work in half. Want to suck some piss?Pardon? Tuck wasnt ready for any kind of bizarre native customs.Drink some beers, mate. If you keep an eye on the Yappies, Ill run down to the store and grab some beers.Sounds good. Tuck was ready to take the edge off his headache. Besides, there was still a chance for a ride out to the island.Frick put his hat on Tucks head. 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 vagabond?Swear what?Just swear.Sure.There it is. Frick started walking off.What do I do if they make a move?How the bloody hell should I know?Tuck 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 people 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.)The 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. Off the streets Tuck could see tin hovels, children playing in the mud, women passing the hottest part of the day comb 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 enormously fat by Western standards, and Tuck felt his idealized picture of the beautiful island girls slicing 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 feel sad and a little lonely. If only he could run into a woman he could talk to. A Western woman she wouldnt have to know he was a eunuch.He broke out of the jungle into the open street of Colonias main 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 nosh bars. Around it, in the shade of the modern portico, stood perhaps a hundred Yapese, mostly women, someyoung 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 narcotic 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 coral on to a split green betel nut before beginning a chew.He went into a surprisingly modern grocery store and was relieved to see that the prices were in American dollars, the signs in English. He picked up a 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.Do you know where I can find Commander Brion Frick? Tuck asked her.She took his money, turned to the cash drawer, and turned back to him with his change without uttering a word. Tuck repeated his question and the woman turned away from him. Finally he left, thinking, She must not speak English.He ran into Frick coming out of the store. The spy had a six-pack tucked under his arm.I was looking for you, Tuck said. The Yapese Navy took off.You could have asked inside. They knew where I was.I did. The woman wouldnt talk to me.Not allowed to, Frick said. Its bad politeness to make eye contact. 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.Tucker didnt want to talk about it. You were supposed to come back to the wharf.Frick looked affronted. I was on my way. Didnt think youd desert your post. I hope youre a better pilot than you are a spy. Letting them sneak off like that.Look, Frick, I need to get to Alualu right away. Can you take me in your patrol boat?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.Doesnt it make more sense to leave it broken? I mean, in the interest of watching them?The spy raised an eyebrow. What threat are they with a broken boat?Exactly, Tuck said.You obviously dont know a wit about maintaining job security. Mis-sionary Air might take you out, but I hear their plane is d own 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.I dont know if I can wait that long. Tuck stood up. Where should I go to charter a boat?Frick pointed to a large Mobil oil tank at the edge of the harbor. Try nous down to the fueling station. Should be able to find someone down there who needs the gas money.Thanks, Frick, I appreciate it. Tucker shook the spys hand.No worries, mate. You watch yourself out there. I hear that doctors a bedbug.Good to know. He waved over his shoulder as he walked down to the edge of the harbor. A multitude of women chewing betel nut in the shade of a hibiscus tree turned away from him as he passed.He walked along the bank an d looked into the cloudy green water at the harbors edge. Tiny multi-colour fish darted in and out of the shallows, feeding on some kind of shrimp. Brown mud skippers, their eyes atop their heads like a frogs, walked on their pectoral fins across a small mudflat that had formed around the roots of a mangrove tree. Tucker stopped and watched them. They were fish, yet they spent most of their time on land. It was as if they had evolved to a certain point, then just couldnt make a decision to leave the water, grow into mammals, and finally invent personal stereos. For sixty million years they had been hanging out on the mudflats, looking at each other with periscope eyes and goofy froggy grins and say-ing What do you want do? I dont know. What do you want to do? I dont know. Want to go up on the land or stay in the water? I dont know. Lets hang out on the mudflat a little longer.Tuck in all understood. Although if he had been a mud skipper, after a couple of million years of dragging himself around the mudflat, he would have lost his patience and yelled, Hey, can I get some feet over here, thus moving evolution along.He was enjoying the superiority 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 owned plane on the island. What about a dingy? How bad could it be. The sea looked calm enough. Thats it, take to the sea.Or perhaps he should just stay on Yap and find a sympathetic woman to take his mind off the problem. It had always 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, equip in pantyhose and a bulletproof bouffant. A sweet, shocked, backsliding Born Again on a one-time sin quest to remind her of why re-demption was so so good. Mud skipper thinking.He 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 blonde in a flowered dress with a swing to her walk like a welcome home parade.