critically. “That’s what you’re wearing to the meeting?”
Kavanaugh gestured to the man’s fray-cuffed jeans, the tank top bearing the seal of Temple University Girl’s Volleyball Team and the fisherman’s cap. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
Crowe shrugged. His exposed arms and upper chest showed four puckered bullet scars, inflicted during his short career as a lieutenant in the Navy SEALs. Like Kavanaugh, the man bore other scars beneath his shirt and on the backside of his psyche.
“Uniform of the day,” Crowe drawled. “What’s your excuse except that a forty-two year old man still doesn’t know how to operate a washing machine?”
“Neither do you,” retorted Kavanaugh resentfully. “Mouzi does your laundry.”
Crowe snorted. “If she did, do you think I’d be wearing this rig?”
Assuming the question to be rhetorical, Kavanaugh did not answer.
Slipping on a pair of sunglasses, he moved toward the door, “Let’s go. Maybe Pendlebury will have made some coffee.”
The morning sky melted, pouring down heat. Crowe put on dark glasses as well. Wings flapped overhead and Kavanaugh glimpsed the green plumage of Huang Luan, the archeopteryx.
“That goddamn thing is stalking me,” he said bitterly.
Crowe squinted upward, shielding his eyes with his hands. “You’re crazy.”
Kavanaugh didn’t argue with the observation. “I got to get some money…got to get back to the world. Make it or borrow it so I can get the fuck out of here.”
“Borrow against what?”
Kavanaugh gestured behind him. “My house.”
“Nobody would want that shit shack.” Crowe shook his head in disgust. “You’re pathetic on top of being crazy.”
Kavanaugh inhaled deeply. The air was heavy with the smell of the sea. In the full light of day, both men were reminded again of how quickly Little Tamtung had deteriorated from a prospective A-list tourist resort destination to just another moldy settlement on an insignificant island in the South China Sea.
It wasn’t much of a town, although a sincere effort and a lot of money had been expended to build one. On the harborside stretched a paradise of white sandy beach, leaning palm trees and a dark mangrove swamp. The village center itself was a sprawl of white prefab storefronts, souvenir shops and restaurants. Almost all of them were closed, the windows boarded up.
Water-filled holes pitted the narrow streets. Although most of the buildings were barely three years old, they seemed to have wilted at the edges, like the big decorative flowerbeds planted at all the intersections. In the tropics, decay was often swifter than growth. Overnight, mold bristled on a wet shoe, in a few hours, a body could rot, in a few weeks, a weak personality might fall apart.
Still, when Kavanaugh and Crowe had first seen the island, both men felt that no new city could have had a more picturesque setting. A narrow river flowed through the town, streaming down from the tropical uplands. Four red-lacquered Thai-style footbridges spanned it. The brightly colored bridges as well as the flowerbeds had been Bai Suzhen’s idea, as were the stone Chinese lanterns along the walks.
The waterfront area was still in reasonable repair. It extended outward into the bay on a green, grassy promontory. Beyond a cluster of tin-roofed houses on stilts, they saw Flitcroft’s big DHC-6 Otter twin-engine amphibian tethered to the end of a long concrete jetty. Men clustered around the rear fuselage, unloading boxes from the cargo hold. The jetty had been built to serve as a debarkation and customs terminal. It led to a four-story white stucco building, set in the center of a lawn adorned with royal palm trees.
Although the words Cryptozoica Enterprises & Horizons Unlimited were whitewashed over on the façade above the double doors, the letters could still be made out when a shaft of morning sunshine fell directly onto them.
The few people Kavanaugh and Crowe encountered along the waterfront
Kavanaugh gestured to the man’s fray-cuffed jeans, the tank top bearing the seal of Temple University Girl’s Volleyball Team and the fisherman’s cap. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
Crowe shrugged. His exposed arms and upper chest showed four puckered bullet scars, inflicted during his short career as a lieutenant in the Navy SEALs. Like Kavanaugh, the man bore other scars beneath his shirt and on the backside of his psyche.
“Uniform of the day,” Crowe drawled. “What’s your excuse except that a forty-two year old man still doesn’t know how to operate a washing machine?”
“Neither do you,” retorted Kavanaugh resentfully. “Mouzi does your laundry.”
Crowe snorted. “If she did, do you think I’d be wearing this rig?”
Assuming the question to be rhetorical, Kavanaugh did not answer.
Slipping on a pair of sunglasses, he moved toward the door, “Let’s go. Maybe Pendlebury will have made some coffee.”
The morning sky melted, pouring down heat. Crowe put on dark glasses as well. Wings flapped overhead and Kavanaugh glimpsed the green plumage of Huang Luan, the archeopteryx.
“That goddamn thing is stalking me,” he said bitterly.
Crowe squinted upward, shielding his eyes with his hands. “You’re crazy.”
Kavanaugh didn’t argue with the observation. “I got to get some money…got to get back to the world. Make it or borrow it so I can get the fuck out of here.”
“Borrow against what?”
Kavanaugh gestured behind him. “My house.”
“Nobody would want that shit shack.” Crowe shook his head in disgust. “You’re pathetic on top of being crazy.”
Kavanaugh inhaled deeply. The air was heavy with the smell of the sea. In the full light of day, both men were reminded again of how quickly Little Tamtung had deteriorated from a prospective A-list tourist resort destination to just another moldy settlement on an insignificant island in the South China Sea.
It wasn’t much of a town, although a sincere effort and a lot of money had been expended to build one. On the harborside stretched a paradise of white sandy beach, leaning palm trees and a dark mangrove swamp. The village center itself was a sprawl of white prefab storefronts, souvenir shops and restaurants. Almost all of them were closed, the windows boarded up.
Water-filled holes pitted the narrow streets. Although most of the buildings were barely three years old, they seemed to have wilted at the edges, like the big decorative flowerbeds planted at all the intersections. In the tropics, decay was often swifter than growth. Overnight, mold bristled on a wet shoe, in a few hours, a body could rot, in a few weeks, a weak personality might fall apart.
Still, when Kavanaugh and Crowe had first seen the island, both men felt that no new city could have had a more picturesque setting. A narrow river flowed through the town, streaming down from the tropical uplands. Four red-lacquered Thai-style footbridges spanned it. The brightly colored bridges as well as the flowerbeds had been Bai Suzhen’s idea, as were the stone Chinese lanterns along the walks.
The waterfront area was still in reasonable repair. It extended outward into the bay on a green, grassy promontory. Beyond a cluster of tin-roofed houses on stilts, they saw Flitcroft’s big DHC-6 Otter twin-engine amphibian tethered to the end of a long concrete jetty. Men clustered around the rear fuselage, unloading boxes from the cargo hold. The jetty had been built to serve as a debarkation and customs terminal. It led to a four-story white stucco building, set in the center of a lawn adorned with royal palm trees.
Although the words Cryptozoica Enterprises & Horizons Unlimited were whitewashed over on the façade above the double doors, the letters could still be made out when a shaft of morning sunshine fell directly onto them.
The few people Kavanaugh and Crowe encountered along the waterfront
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