Previously On The Maya...
George Kirkegaard and Paloma Reyes dance, where he shows his two left feet. Paloma doesn't seem to mind because she loves to dance. After several dances, Amara Barclay shows up just as Kirkegaard and Paloma are about to sit down. She wants to dance with Kirkegaard, who was insisting he and Paloma stop. After he and Paloma exchange glances, he dances with Amara while Paloma dances with Eugenio Stavros.
Amara tells Kirkegaard that he's changed, that he's no longer angry or defiant, and that such emotions just don't disappear. Kirkegaard blames it on the Isle of Use and suggests Paloma has something to do with it, too. Amara asks if it's serious, to which Kirkegaard answers that it's heading in that direction. Amara says she's glad, but she seems to be on the verge of tears. When he goes to ask, she tells him to hold her for as long as he can.
A moment later, night is turned into day with the loudest explosion Kirkegaard has ever heard.
The Maya—a living legend covert operative-for-hire that no one she encounters can remember.
George Kirkegaard—a former newspaper owner forced out of business by state government.
Paloma Reyes—an intriguing woman Kirkegaard never thought he'd see again.
Eugenio Stavros—a shipping magnate on a trip to the mysterious Isle of Use to renegotiate a steel contract.
Amara Barclay—a savvy, independent multi-millionaire entrepreneur and socialite with unparalleled beauty.
Mr. Tic and Mr. Snake—two U.S. government officials running off-the-books dark ops involving The Maya.
And now...the next installment of The Maya.
PART IV: THE COMPOUND
Mr. Snake paced in anticipation. To say he was anxious to find out what was happening on the Isle of Use would be an understatement. There was not an exact hour the 'accident' was to occur, but sunset had come and gone, and now, an hour and a half later, there was still no word.
Mr. Snake tried busying himself with menial tasks, like dish washing, tidying up the main room, even cleaning the bathroom, but his mind was too fixated on the event. When Mr. Tic asked if he wanted to switch to the night shift, since essentially everything, including The Maya's reports, happened during that time, he immediately said yes. The way he felt now, trying to sleep through it would be an impossibility. How Mr. Tic could manage it tonight of all nights, was beyond him.
Mr. Tic definitely had his quirks. He also had a spine, something Mr. Snake did not fully expect. Their discussion a couple nights ago still rang in his mind. On the one hand, he was more than happy to know where Mr. Tic drew the line, but it did complicate things more than he cared for.
Frowning, Mr. Snake grabbed the stool Mr. Tic always perched on and tried to stay still for a few minutes so he could collect his thoughts. Really, Mr. Tic opposed the idea of an operation to take out Sutton from the very beginning. Still, having at least placed the limits on the mission, Mr. Tic did go along. He did appropriate the funds, illegally, from his department, and, as far as Mr. Snake knew, he was keeping to his side of the bargain. None of that would look good, if it were to leak out. Something Mr. Snake fully intended to occur.
It wasn't anything personal. He did not loathe Mr. Tic. He actually had a grudging respect for him. Under different circumstances, they might even develop a friendship. However, Mr. Snake needed a partner, one who could be blamed and disposed of. Mr. Tic had fit the bill perfectly, though he came kicking and screaming.
As Mr. Snake contemplated his situation and that of Mr. Tic, the arm of the telemetry device began to move. There was more of the island coming in, which Mr. Snake guessed was nearly all of it now, as elevation continued to increase. What would be missing was the mountains and the far eastern side of the island, which included Sutton's well-guarded compound.
After the third bit of the map came in, Mr. Snake set it with the other two, and watched for more. He hoped the report on the staged accident was to follow. Sure enough, there were a few static lines, which despite their lack of detail, sent a spark of triumph through his body. He raised his fist in the air, but avoided crying out.
The Maya's message came in staccato bursts. Explosion spectacular/tremors felt all over the island, blast for miles/destruction devastating/blame game commencing
Mr. Snake laughed, long and hard. The Maya had done it! Despite all the odds, all the failures of others, The Maya did the impossible. Infiltrating an island no one knew how to get to, setting up a base to work from and then surveying and reconnoitering. Now, the explosion. What should follow was an investigation, and then the finger pointing, reluctantly, but firmly, toward old man Sutton.
This was definite news. He needed to report this to his superiors.
Then, it hit him. Stunned, Mr. Snake nearly fell off his chair. He'd failed to let the director know he was changing shifts. More than a day had gone by since. There should have been a call earlier today.
That sent Mr. Snake into a frenzy of motion. Where did he leave his cell phone? After several minutes of futile searching, he put his hands to his head and told himself to calm down. He spent a good portion of his time watching movies. The last time he remembered seeing his cell phone, he was sitting down on the couch. He rushed over, and when he did not find it immediately, he began picking up the cushions. Nothing. He looked under the couch. Nothing. He was standing back up when he inadvertently kicked over a stack of magazines. He heard something clatter to the floor.
My cell phone! Quickly, he retrieved it and checked the call list. A call from earlier in the day topped the queue. He recognized the number immediately. The director. What's more, the call showed it was...answered!
Mr. Snake's mouth fell open. He was fast asleep during that time. The only other possibility then, was that Mr. Tic had answered.
His mind reeled. What did that all mean? One, Mr. Tic knew Mr. Snake's department was officially involved. Two, Mr. Tic knew Mr. Snake was keeping all of this from him and could extrapolate its meaning from there. The fact Mr. Tic did not confront Mr. Snake earlier in the evening when Mr. Tic went to bed meant he was playing it close to the vest.
Mr. Snake cursed, and nearly threw the offending cell phone on the floor. How stupid! He had been so eager to switch with Mr. Tic, he'd forgotten completely to advise his superior.
Now what do I do? If he didn't let someone know now, the director would continue to communicate during the day. Mr. Snake could insist they switch back, but what would be the reason? Nothing came to mind. There was no logic to it, given his excitement to know how the operation went each evening. The only option was to make contact and let them know of the change.
But how much do I tell them? Should he tell them the secondary objective, making Mr. Tic the scapegoat, was seriously undermined.
Where exultant jubilation filled him moments before, now only dread possessed him. Quickly, before he could change his mind, he began to dial the number. It rang twice, and then a woman's voice answered. "Go," she said.
"There's been a switch in shifts," he said, without pretext. "I'm now covering the night shift."
"Since when?" the woman asked.
"Since..." For a fraction of a second, Mr. Snake hesitated, debating whether to tell the truth, or to cover it up. He could be reprimanded, or worse, for his oversight. Yet, he faced an even greater risk with Mr. Tic realizing he would be blamed for this operation. Was that something Mr. Snake could counter on his own?
"...now," Mr. Snake said. He winced, immediately wishing he hadn't lied.
"Duly noted," the woman said. "Is there a report?"
"Yes, actually," Mr. Snake said.
"The director is currently unavailable. When does the night shift end?"
"Five am."
"I will advise. Expect a call before then."
"Yes, sir," Mr. Snake said.
"Done," the woman said. Mr. Snake heard the call disconnect.
He couldn't leave his phone just lying around. That was his first mistake. The second was forgetting to report the switch. Could lying about when it occurred be his third?
It took everything in him to keep from going into the sleeping area, shaking awake Mr. Tic, and confronting him now. Just what was the sneaky weasel planning? Then, the thought crossed Mr. Snake's mind, That must be exactly what he's thinking about me!
A smile crossed Mr. Snake's face. It was infinitely better Mr. Tic did not know or suspect a thing, but he was imagining the look on Mr. Tic's face now, the mixture of disbelief and sheer terror. Was it enough to bring on one of his little panic attacks? Mr. Snake laughed, loudly, maniacally, then he covered his mouth with both hands.
He could manage this, but he needed to be careful from now on. He needed to do some planning to counter whatever Mr. Tic might already have in motion. This was not a problem. He would just pretend he didn't know Mr. Tic knew what was really going on. He was already pretending this was not an authorized ops, and that the two men were sharing in it equally. What was one more charade?
While he managed to subdue the laughter, he could not erase the smile from his face. Mr. Tic would take the fall, despite what he knew. It was inevitable.
Inevitable as The Maya.
'The Maya' publishes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Copyright © Glen Anthony Albrethsen, 2014-2018. All rights reserved.