The Maya 1.31

Previously On The Maya...

George Kirkegaard discovers that Paloma is indeed on the Isle of Use, and they have a similar conversation as in his dream. She works as a waitress at the sandwich place he's decided to eat at. After she goes to place his order, Amara Barclay shows up, and Kirkegaard is again rocked by the eeriness of reality versus his dream.

Amara has no island money, so Kirkegaard buys her lunch that she insists she will pay back even though it is a very small amount. They continue to talk about their experiences on the island, when Amara makes the comment that she's not used to people being so agreeable around her. Kirkegaard, unable to stop himself, tells her that's a lie.

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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.

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.

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And now...the next installment of The Maya.

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Amara's mouth fell open. Her expression was a mixture of a smile and shock.

"It is, is it?" There was mirth in her voice.

Kirkegaard had nowhere else to go now, but to go for it. "I imagine you have plenty of people eating out of the palm of your hand."

Amara regarded him for a long moment with her dancing eyes. She wasn't at a loss for words. It was choosing from all of it. Finally, she picked. "You're pretty direct, aren't you?"

"I can be."

"I like that," Amara said. Absently, she played with a lock of her thick, dark hair.

Kirkegaard had no response to that. Luckily, he was saved, again, by the timely appearance of Paloma with not only Amara's lunch, but his own. Paloma also had change, two more bronze coins. "Let me know if you need anything else," she said, before excusing herself.

"Thank you," Kirkegaard said. He felt a twinge of something. Guilt maybe. He wondered what Paloma thought of Amara sitting there. He wanted to tell Paloma they had just met on the plane, that they didn't know each other, and that this was yet another chance meeting. But he couldn't do that in front of Amara, and it wasn't like he and Paloma had anything serious between them.

A greater concern, though, wasn't Paloma. It was Stavros. He didn't trust the cavalier answers of Amara in his dream. Most men would care if a woman like Amara was sitting at lunch with a stranger. Especially one she had just met the day before.

Thinking of that reminded him of the conversation with Agent Smith in the airport. Smith had been pretty specific. If Amara made contact with him, Kirkegaard was to call Smith. There had been no qualifiers. He had agreed to help, but that had been when he was positive he would never see her again. Now that it was happening, he didn't feel right. Could he just ask her why Smith would be interested in her? That would certainly tip her off, and maybe make her think he was an informant. If he called Smith, he would be anyway. What were the chances, he wondered, that Smith was already aware, maybe even listening in on their conversation. Supposedly, he wasn't being tracked, but how could he know that for sure? The island held many secrets, and maybe men like Smith were hired to ensure it stayed that way.

Though his mind was occupied with unpleasant thoughts, he continued to stare after Paloma. Amara, who was blowing on her soup, must have noticed that. "She's very pretty," she said. Kirkegaard immediately refocused to her. Without moving her head, her big eyes met his. It made her look innocent, as if that were possible for a woman like Amara. Had he not, in so many words, told her she was a manipulator? Was she trying to manipulate him? She couldn't know he and Paloma knew each other, could she?

Troubled, he tried to deflect what she'd said. "Here, all the women are."

"Touché," Amara said.

They ate their lunch in silence for a time. It may have been awkward, but it turned out to be mainly due to the both of them enjoying what they were eating.

"I'm not a fan of chicken salad," Amara said, wiping her lips. She'd already polished off the sandwich, and the soup, "but that was remarkable."

"All fresh, all island grown ingredients," Kirkegaard said.

"It obviously makes a difference." She looked down at her potato salad. "I don't think I will be able to finish this, though."

"It's filling," Kirkegaard said. "I'd offer to eat it, but I probably shouldn't."

"Maybe I'll finish it later." She started to look around for Paloma. When she spotted her, she tried waving to get her attention. It took some doing, since Paloma was busy helping other customers, but she did finally look Amara's way, and came over.

"Would you like a box?" Paloma asked.

"Yes, please," Amara replied.

"No, problem. Any room for dessert?" The question was directed to Kirkegaard.

He sighed. "No. I'm afraid not."

"I'll be right back."

"So, what plans do you have for the rest of the afternoon?" Amara put down her napkin. She was leaning forward once again.

"Nothing specific," he said. Immediately, he regretted it. It sounded too open ended. "I do need to meet my friend at four."

"What's that, two hours?" Amara looked at her bare wrist, letting him know she didn't have a watch.

He did. A glance told him it wasn't quite two pm. Hesitantly, he nodded.

"We could pal around until you have to go," Amara offered. Her voice was low and sincere. She was serious, and wanted him very much to know it.

Kirkegaard thought he should say no, but then he wondered, What would it hurt? He didn't have anything better to do, and other than the Layton family and Paloma, all of which were busy, he didn't know anyone else on the island. He could meet Jim at four, go back to his home, and then meet Paloma sometime after that.

"I can see the smoke," Amara said, when he failed to answer her immediately. She didn't sound put off by his hesitation. Rather, she seemed intrigued.

He looked at her for a moment later, still considering. Finally, he said, "Let's do it."

Amara flashed one of her brilliant smiles and stood. Kirkegaard placed the four bronze coins on the table and as he got up, Amara wrapped her arm under his. "Shall we?" she asked.

She was soft and warm against him. All of the red flags popping up since she arrived threatened to melt against her touch. He willed himself to say, "Just a minute. I'll be right back." Then, he pulled away and went to say goodbye to Paloma.

She was turning away from helping a customer when he caught up to her. She smiled at him. "Leaving?"

"Yes," he said, "I wanted to know where we should meet later."

"Oh," she said. "Do you still want to do that?"

"Of course," Kirkegaard said. He put as much enthusiasm into the response as he could.

"Okay. What would be easiest?"

"Good question. I'm going to be going back to my friend's house when he gets off work at four. I could get a ride back into town, or..."

"Why don't I just come by and pick you up?"

"Okay." Kirkegaard thought a moment, then told her the address. "I don't know the phone number to the house. Oh, wait." He pulled Layton's cell phone out of his pocket and went looking for its own number. When he found it, he recited it to her. "This isn't mine, but you can get ahold of me this way, just in case."

Paloma studied the address for a moment, then said, "Okay. It'll be sometime after six-thirty."

"Would you like to get some dinner?" he asked. "You'll need to recommend somewhere."

"I know just the place," she said.

"Okay. I better get going. I'll see you later."

They gave each other short waves, and Kirkegaard went back to Amara. He expected some kind of quip, or cool gaze, but he got neither. Instead, Amara seemed bemused.

"Where to?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation in any direction other than Paloma. He offered his arm.

Amara did not hesitate. She took it, then said, "Let's go walking, and see where we end up."

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'The Maya' publishes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

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