The owner, a woman with a close-cropped graying afro and a colorful sundress, lost her wide smile when she heard our request. “What do you want to be messing around with that fool Caligula Jones for?”
A younger man came out of the back office at her loud words. “No one is going to fly you over there. Heard the airstrip is part jungle again.”
“Who’s Caligula Jones?” Arkady said.
I shrugged. “Beats me.”
“That crazy man who lives there,” the owner said.
“That’s your uncle?” Arkady blew out his cheeks.
The younger man whistled. “You’ve got one messed up family.”
“Honorary uncle,” I said. “And Caligula Jones sounds like a ridiculous constructed persona.” I tsked. “He always did have a tendency to self-aggrandization.”
The younger man shook his head. “He hunts people for sport.”
“He’s a slightly shady old dude on an island,” I said. “This isn’t Running Man. He’d be locked up if that were the case.”
The owner wagged a finger at her employee. “She’s right. That wasn’t proven. But those parties of his did enough damage. Brought in all the wrong people and engaged in who knows what kind of depraved activities. And that’s when he was still receiving visitors. You’d best stay away.”
Disheartened, I thanked them and we left the office, the cheery jangle of the bell over the door a discordant note.
“That certainly spices this adventure up,” Arkady said.
“Should we still go through with this?” I said. Arkady had army and black ops training. I’d defer to him.
“The name, the people hunting, it sounds like a lot of hot air to keep unwanted visitors away. Let’s see if we can hire a boat.”
Arkady took charge, judging rightly that the men down at the docks would deal better with another man. Unfortunately, finding a boat for the hour-long trip led us to increasingly higher prices and more unseaworthy crafts.
The last possibility in the marina was a black sailor called Jacques whose surliness made my personality seem like it was spun from cotton candy. Though he was hot in a buff bald guy way. After seeing our documents marking me as Mundane and Arkady as Nefesh, Jacques agreed to take us over for an exorbitant sum of cash.
“Yo, Jacques,” another boat owner called out. “You got duct tape and tarps? I hear Caligula pays extra for body removal. Doesn’t like the hassle.”
“Your uncle has a hell of a PR machine,” Arkady said. “I’m impressed.”
“Only the finest of depraved psychopath rumors for Paulie,” I said.
We stepped aboard Jacques’ banged-up speedboat named “Blow Me.”
I pushed aside a coil of rope to sit on the cushion-less bench. “Is the boat named for a general hatred of mankind or…” I mimed snorting cocaine.
Jacques regarded me with a flinty-eyed stare. “When we get to the island, I don’t dock. You jump out and wade to shore.”
“But you’ll wait for us?” I said.
He grinned unpleasantly. “Depends on how much you annoy me.”
Arkady threw up his hands. “We’re fucked.”
Jacques raked a slow gaze over him. “You, I might stick around for.”
“Well, of course you would, darling.” Arkady preened.
I shoved my engagement ring in his face. “Sitting right here. Darling.”
Arkady groaned. “Women.”
Jacques flashed him a smile and started the outboard motor.
The sound rattled through the boat, up my poor ass, and into my teeth, where it knocked my jaw around like a heavyweight champ. Then the speedboat roared off. I clung to the bench for dear life, each bump sending me flying into the air, while salty water drenched me.
“This was the best you could find?” I yelled at my useless fiancé.
“It’s perfect,” he whooped.
“No. It’s not. I am a Jew. We wandered in the desert for forty years. We like land.” My voice rose in a screech as I almost flew out of the boat. Did I mention that lifejackets were not included on this fine vessel?
“I haven’t had this much fun since the golems.” He stretched his arms out along the boat’s railing. “We should have gotten engaged sooner.”
My life flashed before my eyes. Well, I think it did. It was hard to tell for the tangle of locks permanently plastered to my face, given we were driving into the wind.
“Make yourself useful,” I said. “Tell me how to get your overthinker to be nice to your fiancée.”
Arkady tilted his face into the sun. “Good luck with that. Miles takes his job as Levi’s personal security very seriously.”
“He sees me as a threat.”
“Not in the way you’re thinking. Look at it from his point of view. Miles ensuring Levi’s safety means Levi is free to govern the Nefesh to the best of his ability. Miles is thorough and thoughtful when he assesses a risk. The combination of your history with Levi and you being what you are makes you a volatile and unpredictable element that he can’t simply assess and neutralize. It’s not your fault, but he can’t predict from moment to moment how your mission is going to compromise his. That’s a lot of added pressure.”
I gazed out over the choppy waves. “Did he say all that to you?”
“Miles? Are you kidding? The man is hardly forthcoming. It’s a winning combination. Overthinking and not sharing.” Arkady booped me on the nose. “You’re not the only one who can read a situation, pickle. Try to see where he’s coming from.”
“Fine.” It’s not like it would be reciprocated.
By the time Jacques pointed out the island in the distance, I was soaking wet, had swallowed half a pound of my own hair, and my butt was a screaming, bruised mess.
Desperate for some posterior relief, I wobbled my way to the prow, gripping the railing for dear life. White foam frothed on the churning waves and the closer we got, the more the cloudless sky became streaked with blue and pink. The sun turned to a sinking ball of brilliant red, casting everything in a hellish glow.
It would have been a photo-worthy sunset were it not the middle of the afternoon.
A
