The Maya 1.33

Previously On The Maya...

George Kirkegaard and Amara Barclay end up at a park bench near a lake. They talk about a variety of topics, including having a family. Kirkegaard eventually gets Amara to talk about Sutton again. She tells him that something on the island not only cured him, but may be keeping him alive well beyond normal life expectancy. She tells him that if Sutton is still alive, he would be at least 120.

For emphasis, Amara tells Kirkegaard that when Sutton came back for his wife in Tijuana, he looked like a man in his late twenties early thirties, while Lilith looked like Sutton's grandmother.

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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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"So, something on this island cured him and turned back the clock?"

Amara shrugged. "It's as good an explanation as any. And, when they came back later on that last trip, Lilith was much younger looking, too. She would have been in her sixties, when they started having kids again. For males, that's not so uncommon, but for females, it's virtually unheard of at that age. Especially ten."

"I've been told there's something in the soil that rejuvenates people here," Kirkegaard offered. He then told Amara about Marie's transformation.

"I haven't asked anyone yet, but I wouldn't be surprised to find out most of the people we talk to are much older than they look. The butler where I'm staying looks to be in his fifties, but his wife appears ten years younger."

"There's supposed to be less an affect on men here than there is women. Sutton being an exception, apparently."

"That's pretty much it," Amara said.

"Did someone tell you about Sutton? Your friend maybe?"

"No," Amara said. "I'm afraid he doesn't know much more than his business dealings with the Sutton Steel Corporation. I did some digging through some newspaper archives and in Encyclopedias. The newspapers were the more informative of the two. He's kind of been expunged from history."

"It sounds like he's been made out to be a villain." Kirkegaard paused, then spread out his arms. "Then, there's this."

"Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it."

"What?"

"Just how big of a criminal could he be, to organize and cultivate such a thriving society."

"I don't know," Kirkegaard said. "Australia was a penal colony, and it turned out okay."

"Have you been to Australia?"

"No." Kirkegaard hung his head. "I suppose you're going to tell me you have, and it's the pits."

Amara burst out laughing. "No. A lot of it is quite lovely. This place is better, though."

Music, with a latin flare, began to play nearby. Amara waited for Kirkegaard to react, then asked, "Do you want to get that?"

"Oh." It was the ringtone to the cell phone Layton had loaned him. As he plucked it out of his pocket, there was a number on the face under the words, incoming call. Not sure who it might be, he went ahead and answered.

"You still around?" It was Layton.

"Is it four already?"

"Almost four-thirty. I've been catching up on stuff, so don't worry about that, but I thought I'd better check."

"Yeah, I'm still here. Down by the lake."

"I'll come get you."

Amara, who could hear both sides of the conversation, shook her head. "Just a second," Kirkegaard said. He covered the phone. "Something wrong?"

"Tell him I'll take you home," she said. "And just for future reference, there is a mute button."

"Ah, so there is," Kirkegaard said. To Layton he added, "I guess I have a ride. So, go on ahead. I'll catch up."

"Okay." There was suspicion in Layton's voice when he spoke again. "What about dinner? I think we're having spaghetti."

"Figures. I'll need a raincheck on that. I've been invited to dinner," Kirkegaard said.

"Anyone I know?"

Kirkegaard smiled. "Actually, no. I might have mentioned her to you once, though."

"The woman on the plane?" Layton said. Now his tone was of mild teasing.

"No," Kirkegaard said quickly. He looked at Amara for a reaction, but she just smiled. "She's my ride."

"Really." Layton didn't seem to believe him. Then, he sounded confused, "So, who's the dinner date?"

"Her name's Paloma. I met her in Washington, DC during the eighty-eight election." Kirkegaard winced. He didn't want to admit that in front of Amara, but it was the truth, and she might as well know.

"Oh, right. I remember you saying something. Vaguely. The one who got away."

"That's who I'm having dinner with," Kirkegaard said.

"And she's on the island?"

"Obviously."

"Don't get cute. You know how hard it is to get here."

"Sorry. I guess she lives here. She's working at the sandwich place you sent me to. I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet. That's why we're meeting this evening."

"Okay. I'll stop interrogating, then."

"Thanks, Dad," Kirkegard said.

"Smart mouth, aren't ya?" Layton said. "Hopefully, I can let Marie know you won't be joining us before she doubles the recipe."

"Ha ha," Kirkegaard said. "If we're done, I probably should get going."

"Be safe," Layton said.

"Later," Kirkegaard said. He clicked the off button and dropped the cell phone into his shirt pocket. "Well, that was embarrassing."

"You could have told me you knew the waitress," Amara said.

"Sorry. I didn't know I was going to see her. I didn't know I was going to see you. I mean, I didn't even know I was coming here until I got here."

"Life is a river and you're going with the flow," Amara said. She was teasing. She didn't seem to be hurt about Paloma, either.

"There's a lot of truth to that," Kirkegaard said. He still felt a little sheepish about the whole thing. Hadn't he just pledged to avoid unattainable women? Now, he had one of the most unattainable women on the face of the planet draped to one side. What's more, he was set up for round two with Paloma, yet another woman outside his grasp.

Amara broke through his brooding. "Shall we?"

Kirkegaard stood and the held out his hand. She took it and he helped her to her feet. "Do you need to make a call?"

"No." She zipped open her pouch and pulled out a little black box. "Pager," she said.

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

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_{Copyright © Glen Anthony Albrethsen, 2014-2018. All rights reserved.}