Previously On The Maya...
The boat that Tuscon Sutton II, his wife and dinner guests are on makes it to the large falls, where the group enters an awaiting SUV limousine. The ride continues through alpine forests and winds up the mountains. The conversation revolves around the trees and lumber production, until Amara Barclay asks about diamonds. Sutton replies that there are four mines on the island, along with others producing different gems. Sutton promises to provide Amara with a list of the mining companies for her to contact if she so pleases.
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.
The group fell silent for a few moments, the trees flying by the window at a rapid rate. Paloma was the next to speak, choosing to go back to the tragedy of the fertilizer plant.
"Do you know how many people would have been working this evening?"
"No," Sutton said, his smile dimming. "My guess is upwards of fifty, though, since they would be in production still."
"Any chance they survived?"
"From our vantage point, it would be difficult to tell. I've never experienced explosions of the magnitude we witnessed tonight. It seems virtually impossible to think someone could live through that, if they were standing at ground zero."
"What would have caused those kinds of explosions?"
"I'd rather not speculate. The most obvious possibility would be something caused the fertilizer to ignite. What that was, or how it happened—any of a number of possibilities come to mind."
"Including someone coming after you?" Simmons asked.
"Poor aim if you ask me," Sutton said. It was easy to see he was trying to downplay things. "It's troubling, though, to say the least. Negligence, faulty maintenance or subpar equipment are all technically possible, but highly unlikely. So is the likelihood of a manmade error. Unfortunately, given the size of the blasts, there might not be much evidence left of what actually happened."
"What about insurance?" Kirkegaard said.
"Insurance doesn't exist on the island," Paloma answered. "In any form."
"So, in cases like this..."
"The company, if it chooses to, will have to rebuild. At the very least, they will clean up the mess."
"So, they could be out of business, just like that."
"If they chose to." Paloma looked over at Sutton. "However, my guess is, if they didn't rebuild, they'd find something else to do with their time and resources."
Sutton nodded.
"What about those who may be dead or seriously injured, though," Kirkegaard persisted. "No coverage for them?"
"Everyone saves on the island, for retirement, or contingencies such as this," Paloma answered. "People have the ability to pay for medical bills or burial services on their own."
"Young people might be the possible exception," Sutton said, "If they don't have enough on their own, there is always parents or extended family, the company the young person works for, and a number of charities, churches and individuals standing ready to assist. My guess is, there will be many who contribute, regardless, since this would be the first real tragedy to occur in nearly fifty years."
"That's good to hear," Kirkegaard said. "Though it seems like it would be easier if everyone had insurance of their own."
"I can see how you would feel that way," Sutton said. If he was offended, frustrated, or defeated, he did not show it. "However, medical costs actually stay down when patients are able to negotiate terms directly with the practitioner, clinic or hospital. Without a middle man, who does very little in the way of providing a service, people receive better health care at lower costs."
"If they save up and can afford it."
"Except for something as large scale as this, most people can," Paloma said. "Baby doctors stay busy, and some doctors for the aged do, too, but for the most part, people here don't even see a doctor for a regular check up."
"Eating right and getting regular exercise," Kirkegaard said.
"Prevention goes a long way," Paloma said.
"Where's the fun in that?" Amara said. The smile on her face meant she wasn't trying to be combative. "Personally, life isn't worth living without some risks."
"I agree," Sutton said, smile returning.
That conversation quickly died off as the limo came out of the trees into a clearing. In the distance, a stone wall ran in either direction for as far as any of them could see. On the road, in the middle of the wall, was an iron gate. As they approached, Amara realized the wall was at least fifteen feet tall, and the doors to the gate close to twelve. A dozen armed guards stood at attention. This is the most security I've seen since I got here, she thought.
The driver of the limo rolled down his window as they neared the gate, and one of the guards ambled up to the door. After exchanging a greeting, the guard asked. "We heard an explosion and felt the tremors. Is it true the old fertilizer plant blew up?"
"Appears that way," the limo driver said.
"Everyone okay?"
"Everyone here is. I have Mr. Sutton, his wife, and their guests."
"How many?"
"Six."
"Will they be spending the night."
"Yes."
The guard appeared to be making notes, except he wasn't using a paper or pencil, but some kind of flat device. Amara couldn't see well from her angle, but he was using the fingers of his hand as if he were typing. When he was finished, the guard called over to the man inside the control booth to open the gate. He then waved the driver through.
As the gate opened, so did the view. Trees returned for a while, but then gave way to lush landscaping—grass, ferns, hedges, palmettos, palms, a long reflecting pool, all leading to the largest home Amara had ever seen. Or, she thought it must be a home. To clarify, she turned to Sutton with the question.
"That's your house?"
"Yes, it is," Sutton said. "Between family and staff, there's about thirty of us living there."
"Really."
"There used to be twice that much," Lilith said. Her eyes became wistful, as if she missed those days.
"The children grew up, started having children, and they wanted to get out on their own. That's the way it's supposed to be," Sutton said.
"Things don't last forever," Lilith sighed.
'The Maya' publishes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Copyright © Glen Anthony Albrethsen, 2014-2018. All rights reserved.