This is the twenty-fifth episode of the novel Two Tamas in Paradise. It is the fourth novel in the Trace Troy South Pacific Adventure series. It will be posted in episodes. The plan is for two or three a week. There are fifty episodes. It has not been published yet. The reader is given a sneak preview.
It suffices to say that because this is one novel in a series, there may be things not understood unless one knows what has taken place in previous novels from this series. Here is a link to the first novel in the series: The Big Gamble in Paradise, paperback or Kindle.
Business Concerns
Makani dashed up the companionway. He wore a confident smile.“What’s up, Cap?” He said.
“We know you to be a discreet and wise man,” Adam said.
“What you mean?” Makani said. The smile slowly fell away.
“I think what the Captain is trying to say,” Trace said, “is he thinks you could talk a clam out of pearl.”
“Don’t know that good or bad,” Makani said.
“It’s good,” Trace said. “In this instance, it’s good.”
“I think you want Makani to do dirty job,” Makani said.
“Point proved,” Adam said, “wise and discreet—and discerning.”
“So, what you want Makani do?” Makani leaned closer.
“Do any passengers come below during the day for a drink or snacks?” Adam said.
“Sure,” Makani said, listening carefully.
“When they do, Makani gets curious,” Adam said, “in a subtle way.”
“What you want to know?” Makani said.
“Makani,” Adam said coyly, “what do you want to know?”
“Why do people who look like casino customers want to go to island in the middle of nowhere?” Makani said. “People like that only want good time. Sleep all day, play all night.”
“Take your time,” Trace said, “there’s no need to rush.”
“I want to know right away,” Adam said. “I know islanders like Makani. Am I right, Makani? If I don’t give you a deadline, you’ll do it when you feel like it, and that might be the night before we get there.”
“It’s the way of the islands,” Makani smiled.
“So the first time you get a chance,” Adam ordered. “And create opportunities.”
“I understand,” Makani said, “but I must work own way. I know of such things. I don’t need crew around. They mess things up. Best be alone. They think Makani no smart and no remember.”
“I’ll leave it all up to you,” Adam said.
“It’s your show,” Trace said.
“I go now and make plan,” Makani said. He smiled and climbed down the companionway.
“I think we have unleashed a monster,” Trace said.
Trace relieved Adam at the wheel. Adam slowly descended below. He asked Makani for a beer. Makani handed him one from the refrigerator. Adam thanked Makani, and closed his cabin door behind him.
Meanwhile, Maxwell leaned forward against the railing of the starboard bow. Trace watched his movements. He thought that by close observation and study, he might get a decent read on the man. He struggled in the wind to light a cigarette. After a couple of deep drags, he looked at it as if something foul and tossed it into the water.
‘A man trying to tame a habit,” Trace thought. ‘Cares about his health—maybe, maybe not.’
He breathed deeply and tossed his head up as if taking a shower and letting the water fall in his face.
‘A man trying to cleanse himself?’ Trace wondered.
Then he squinted directly into the sun.
‘A man looking for enlightenment,’ Trace mentally speculated.
Trace continued watching.
Maxwell turned and leaned back against the railing. He watched the sails. His eyes slowly cast downward to the deck. He stood and walked toward the pilothouse. He walked to the aft deck and opened the back door of the pilothouse.
“Good afternoon,” Trace said.
“May I come in?” Maxwell said.
“Wipe your feet,” Trace grinned.
Maxwell walked in. He glanced at the bench.
“Sure,” Trace said, “have a seat.”
“This is really your boat, isn’t it?” Maxwell said as he sat.
“It was my father’s before it was mine,” Trace said. Trace thought to himself, ‘He’s the one who’s curious.’
“Have you sailed this way before?” Maxwell said.
“Yes,” Trace said, “I was in these waters about three weeks ago. Adam has been here several times.”
“Are you at all curious about us?” Maxwell said.
“Four people to an uninhabited island,” Trace said. “A haul full of cargo. You paid. What else do I really need to know?”
“Like, why are we going there?” Maxwell said.
“I take cargo to all sorts of places, and people, too,” Trace said. “I never ask. When was the last time you flew and the pilot or steward asked why in the world are you going to New York, LA, or Wala Wala? And if they asked, you’d say, ‘What business is it of yours. I paid for my ticket, now get me one of those little bottles of whisky.’”
“Nobody on this boat seems to be curious,” Maxwell said.
“Maybe we are just the intellectually empty sort,” Trace said. “We do our job, that’s it.”
“Do you know anything about us?” Maxwell said.
“Look,” Trace said, “this seems to be bothering you a whole lot more than it bothers me or anyone else on this boat. We mind our business, but if it satisfies your need to feel important or have attention drawn your way, pick up the mic, press the button, and tell everybody.” Trace handed him the mic.
Maxwell pushed it slowly away. And Trace hung it back on its hook.
“My first load on this boat was for a project engineer,” Trace said. “I hauled a bunch of equipment and material to an island. He worked for some investors who were building some sort of island retreat hotel. You look like you might be a hotel manager or something, and the guy with you is an accountant. There, I have been thinking.”
“I’ve seemed to have rubbed you the wrong way,” Maxwell said.
“Ya think!” Trace said sarcastically.
“It’s just that your crew makes us feel very uncomfortable,” Maxwell said. “They almost completely ignore us. We are concerned about what things will be like in a couple of days.”
“In a couple of days, we’re a real obnoxious bunch,” Trace said, “Telling crude jokes, up in your face and everything.”
“I think you're mocking me,” Maxwell said.
“You're right,” Trace said, “I am. It’s just that the way you're coming off is that you expect us to think you're something special. It’s a turn-off; at least to us. Except for Makani, we’re all ranchers from Texas. The only thing that impresses us is a good-looking steer.”
“Understood,” Maxwell said.
“And if I were to ask you,” Trace said, “what good would the information do me? And I might run the risk of you telling me to mind my own business. So why are you going to Oeno Island?”
Maxwell smugly turned his mouth down. “You’re right, mind your own business.”
“And get out of my pilothouse,” Trace said.
Maxwell bobbed his head, stood, and exited through the back door.
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