Pulse

TWENTY-THREE

The ride aboard the Mercury felt closer to a pleasure cruise, which was the intention of the double-hulled catamaran's designers. It cut through the surface, completely stable. Moving at a steady, casual pace propelled by the ships two outboard engines, King steered toward the small harbor of Cow Bay, the only official and safe way to land at the island. With the surrounding waters lit by four halogen bulbs, he easily avoided the rocky shoreline and made a swooping arc around and between two jetties that protected the harbor from the constant assault of ocean waves.

"Looks harmless enough," Queen said as she stood next to King. Without the pounding surf soaking them to the bone, she remained in her skimpy outfit, absorbing the cooling yet still eighty-degree air.

The settlement of Edinburgh emerged from the darkness, lit by a combination of moonlight and a few streetlights. Most of the buildings, both home and official, were stark white, while their roofs were brightly colored with reds, yellows, greens, and blues. King's attention drifted to the hill just beyond town where a strong glow illuminated the misty air and side of the volcano. He thought it strange that the Manifold facility would be so wide out in the open and glowing like a beacon for all to see. But with two thousand miles in every direction separating them from the outside world, who would be looking?

They cruised past several docked sailboats and fishing vessels. All seemed in good repair but not one looked like it had been built within the past twenty years. Steering toward an open spot on the dock, King saw an old man with a scraggly beard hobbling toward them. "Here comes the welcome wagon."

The old man gave a feeble wave as the Mercuryslid up to the dock. He seemed slow and ungainly, but deftly caught the tie line as Queen threw it to him. He tied them off quickly, then repeated the process at the catamaran's stern.

"What brings ya to Edinburgh," the man asked.

King recognized the accent as coming from Massachusetts. By the looks of him, the man had spent a lifetime at sea. Probably a fisherman or lobsterman. He laid on his phony French accent and said, "We are traveling the world. Seeing the… ehh, sights. And my sweetheart… she wanted to see the world's most remote locale."

"Well, you've found it," the man said, scratching his long, thick beard. "And you'd be wise to leave it."

King raised an eyebrow. "And why is that, monsieur?"

He nodded toward Queen, "This one's going to cause a ruckus."

"Oh?"

"There are two hundred and seventy-one people on this island. Almost two hundred of them are men. And the women here are either married or too young, though that doesn't stop most from marrying at sixteen. You're the first visitors we've had in six months. And there ain't anyone here who's going anywhere fast. You catching my drift?"

"Then add one more married woman to the list," King said.

"Listen, boy, it ain't gonna matter if she's married or not." He looked at Queen's breasts silhouetted inside her sheer white half shirt and emerging from the l ow-cut collar. "I haven't seen a rack like that in twenty years and I'm feeling some life in places I'd long since given up for dead."

King smiled. He liked the old man, but not what he was insinuating. He knew Queen could take care of herself, but if the locals turned on them it would compromise the mission. "I see what you are saying. Honey, make yourself decent." He shooed her away with his hands, which garnered a quick glare. She disappeared belowdeck a moment later.

King hopped onto the dock and found the thick old man stood as tall as he did and a good portion thicker. Aged, but with a body earned through hard labor. He shook his leathery hand and said, "Etienne Brodeur, a pleasure."

"Captain Jon Karn," he returned, pronouncing his last name Kahn.

"How did you come to live on Tristan da Cunha?"

Karn eyed him. "Why you want to know?"

"I am a, ahh, connoisseur of life. I am interested in people. You see?"

Karn smiled and shook his head. "You better watch your back, too, buddy. You're about as feminine as the gals here."

King guffawed. "You are from Massachusetts, no? I recognize the accent. We've summered on the Cape Cod."

This got a smile from Karn. "I'll bet you have… I'm a Gloucester-man. Third-generation fisherman. But the waters dried up. Fish disappeared. Made living hard. At the time the waters here were thick with fish, so I left home and tried my hand out here in the middle of nowhere. Worked out great for a while. But two years ago the fishing factory burned down. Most folks lost their income. Course, that all changed about a month later when they showed up."

Karn motioned toward the distant glow of the Manifold facility. "Most everyone gave up on the fish and went to work for them. Now the lights stay on day and night. We get cable television. High-speed Internet. The works. Me, I liked it here before they came. You don't come to the settlement if you like being connected to the world. And that's just the start of—"

"Is this better, monsieur?" Queen exited the cabin dressed in hiking boots, loose-fitting blue jeans, and a baggy sweater. A sports bra combined with the sweater hid her curves nicely. Her hair was tied in a bun that protruded from the back of a Yankees baseball cap. She'd washed off the makeup she'd applied for her role, but her natural beauty would be impossible to hide without a thick coat of mud.

"Lose the fucking Yankees cap and I won't throw you to the fishes." Karn gave a nearly toothless smile.

"All Americans are Yankees to the French," she said, smiling fiendishly.

"Watch your language, lady," he replied, though he couldn't hide a grin of his own.

Queen removed the cap and tossed it into the water.

Karn nodded. "You should be fine." He caught King's eye. "Just don't leave her alone."

King pulled Queen up and into his arms. "I would never let anyone harm my darling Dominique."

Queen feigned a giggle as she jabbed her thumb into a pressure point on King's back. He winced and covered it with a laugh of his own. "Please, Monsieur Karn. Is there an eatery on the island?"

"An eatery?"

"A restaurant. Someplace we might socialize… pick up the local flavor?"

"The local flavor is shit, boy. But if you're in the mood for shit, Jake's Tavern is three streets up on the right. There ain't no sign, but it'll be the only place with lights in the front."

"Merci," King said with a wave. He placed his arm around Queen and they strutted off toward town.

Karn shook his head. "French people." He thought the two were nice enough. He just hoped they could stay out of trouble. Strange things had been going on in Edinburgh since Beta Incorporated had arrived. And more than a few volunteers had yet to return. Including his brother, who had made the trip to Tristan da Cunha with him. He'd volunteered to undergo an experimental treatment for a tumor on his leg. That was a month ago. He hadn't heard a peep from his brother since and was beginning to think he never would again.