The Maya 1.35

Previously On The Maya...

George Kirkegaard gets a ride to the Layton's in a limousine with Amara Barclay. She kisses him twice, once for being her companion all afternoon and another for luck on his 'date' with Paloma later. Kirkegaard is taken by surprise both times, but doesn't complain, even if he's not sure how to take it. He also starts doubting what he's doing, arranging to see Paloma when he's not in any position to do much about a relationship, one that he doesn't believe exists anyway. It's been three years since he saw her last.

Jim and Marie Layton give George a hard time about both women. A phone call from Agent Smith of the IPB interrupts their fun. Smith interrogates Kirkegaard about the time he spent with Amara. Kirkegaard offers what he can, but doesn't tell the agent about the kisses in the limo. After the call ends, Kirkegaard finds out by going with Paloma, he's missing out on Marie's spaghetti and meatballs.

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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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Stavros was in a decidedly better mood than he was last time Amara saw him. This despite waiting fifteen minutes for them to cross downtown to the offices of Sutton Steel Incorporated. The actual mining of ore and fashioning of steel took place in the foothills of the Eastern mountains.

"It was a very productive day," he said, when Amara noted the change.

"Does that mean you have a contract you like?" she asked.

"Not yet. We finalize that tomorrow morning. However, after talking with a few vice presidents, I'm feeling better about things. We can expect some kind of increase, as a matter of course, but it will not be nearly as bad as my brother feared."

"That is good news," Amara said.

"It is," Stavros said. There was something else he wanted to tell her, though. She could see it in his eyes.

"What else?"

"We've been invited to dinner," Stavros said. He could hardly contain his excitement.

"Really? With whom?"

"Tuscon Sutton."

Amara's eyes widened. "How did that happen? Did you meet him?"

"No," Stavros said, showing some disappointment. "The VPs were talking about a dinner they hold every year. I told them you were fascinated by Sutton's story, and frankly, I am, too. That happened before lunch. Later, just before we wrapped up, they extended the invitation. It's formal, black tie and gown."

"Which means, I've got some buying to do," Amara said. She pressed a finger to her lips and looked up, as if she were thinking.

Stavros laughed. "Didn't you spend at least part of the day shopping?"

"Shopping, yes," Amara said, "Buying no. I couldn't find anything I liked."

"And you don't have anything formal in your bag?"

"Does it look like it?" Amara asked, sweeping her body with hands. "I'm on vacation, on a tropical island. I don't dress up. I dress less."

Stavros regarded her for a moment. He toyed with the idea of a comeback, something like she didn't need the tropical island as an excuse to dress less, but decided against it.

"I'm sure you'll find something. If you can do it in the morning, before I'm through, maybe we can take the boat out in the afternoon before dinner."

"Sounds delightful. I'll do my best."

"Did you do anything else today, other than shopping?"

"Not really. I walked around for a while, talked. That's about it."

Stavros raised an eyebrow. "Talked?"

"I've been known to do that."

"Anyone in particular?"

"I went to eat at a sandwich shop Annalee recommended. I ran into the guy from the plane. The one you weren't expecting." Amara watched his face as she described what had happened. When he did not overtly react in any fashion, she added, "Since I didn't know anyone else here, I asked if he would accompany me until he had to go. He didn't have anything else better to do..."

"...so he graciously accepted your invitation." Stavros finished. Amara couldn't read the tone of his voice. It sounded matter-of-fact, more than anything.

"Something like that."

"Was that wise?"

"Walking around with a total stranger?" Amara kept a straight face for several seconds, but then couldn't help but laugh. "Probably not. I thought it might be better than picking someone at random."

"Maybe not," Stavros countered. "The people here are quite different than they are virtually anywhere else. I doubt you'd run across the one bad apple."

"I'll keep that under advisement," Amara said, "for tomorrow." Playfully, she danced her fingers up his arm, then touched his nose.

They rode on in silence for a few moments. Stavros looked like he was struggling with something, whether to say it aloud. Amara noted it, but left him to decide instead of drawing it out.

Stavros made up his mind. "I hope it's not more than coincidence, this running into him."

"What do you mean?" She was surprised he actually put the idea out there. He wasn't one for speculation. "Both times, on the plane and at the eatery, I went to him. I know he didn't see me today. I had to yell at him to notice me."

That brought a wan smile to Stavros' face. Apparently, he was struggling with something else now—imagining Amara fighting for attention.

"It's true," Amara said. She slapped him on the forearm. "There was a waitress there. He was very interested in her. He said they know each other. Asked to see her later tonight."

"While you were sitting there?" That Stavros could not believe. Not with a woman like Amara. That was like trading a hundred birds in the hand for one in the bush.

"Well, he was a little more discreet than that, but essentially, that's what happened." A smile radiated out. "It was adorable."

"That's it," Stavros said. He clapped his hands. "Now, I've heard everything."

"What?"

"You calling anyone or anything adorable. This place is having an effect on you, Miss Barclay."

"Perhaps," Amara replied.

"But not enough to find something to wear for dinner tomorrow night?"

"You are feeling better," Amara said, mouth open, eyes dancing.

"It's the sea air. The wheel of industry. The unfettered flow of capitalism. It invigorates the mind and soul."

"I'm glad."

Again, there was silence, as Amara seemed lost in thought.

Stavros asked about it a few moments later, as the limo turned onto the street to the rental.

"You're the one who brought it up," she said.

"What? The guy from the plane?"

"Yes. George Kirkegaard. I can't see how our meetings could be more than just chance. If anything, I'm like the stalker, not him."

"Stalker wasn't what I had in mind," Stavros said, enjoying the image in his mind of Amara stalking anyone, rather than the other way around. "You are wealthy, well-known, and a businesswoman. It's not farfetched that he's after jewelry designs, or something else of value."

"I just can't see it," Amara said, shaking her head. In spite of dismissing that Kirkegaard could be spying on her, for any reason, she was still troubled when they walked into the house.

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

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