by DAN MONTY
“Nice place you got here, Hans. A secret aquarium that ain’t on no map, nothing weird about that at all," he said with a cheeky grin. The others joined him at the table, one seat still empty. “We are still waiting on one more guest,” Hans said, checking his watch, “I’m quite sure Ray will escort him in post haste, so that is fine. To all of you, welcome to my Island. I’m quite sure you all have many questions, and I promise I will work to answer them all. For now, a lovely meal of fresh seafood is on its way for lunch. Feel free to talk about yourselves, I shall enjoy hearing of your exploits!” Hans exclaimed dramatically.
Jerry was reminded of something, snapping his fingers and looking at Abigale. “So, Abby? Lady Gaga; you met her right? What’s she like?” he asked and Abby seemed to feign boredom at the question. She’s very lovely... “ she began and Connor cleared his throat, “...he’s asking if she’s a lesbian," he said and Jerry thumped his arm, “Dumbass!” Jerry shot back, “she’s not a lesbian! You saw that flick where she was with Bradley Cooper! She’s definitely into guys!” he went on like a teenager.
Abigale rolled her eyes, and turned to Bo, who had had her attention ever since he strode into the room like a cowboy stepping into a saloon. “So, you’re that guy from the TV," she said, not asking but telling. Bo nodded his head and cleared his throat, “Yes maam," he answered politely, “...the one and same. And you’re that photographer that don’t use no camera,” he said. Abigale laughed, running fingers through her hair and soaking in his charm. “...From Australia, right? I did some TV episodes there. A show on crocodiles in Queensland, it’s a beautiful country,” he added, casual and cool. Abby pulled out her phone and placed it in front of her. “This is the only camera I ever needed," she nodded. The three guys looked at the android phone and exchanged glances. “What if you need to zoom in tight, though?” Jerry asked and Abby leaned in close, replying, “I get in tight," and Jerry rubbed his chin. “So, you get up close and... ” he began, and Abby finished his sentence, “personal..." she added as Jerry mopped sweat from his brow. Abigale laughed as she took a long sip of her wine. These guys weren’t so bad. Hell, she had certainly worked with worse.
The group’s conversation was interrupted when the steel doors opened and Ray entered with Jordan Reeves, the obsessive-compulsive author. He was rambling about not wanting to be touched, and chatting away in his New York accent. Ray left through the door he came in, and Jordan continued to the table, walking fast and seeming jittery.
“Fucking crazy! You know that guy is smoking the reefer, right? Smoking the reefer! Like Tommy-fucking-Chong! The whole staircase reeks of it! I flew in from JFK, I land and this guy picks me up in a car, and he’s completely stoned! He’s like Snoop-fucking-Dogg out there! That fucking guy! I’m sorry I’m late, I might’ve gotten a little high on the way. Can you die from second-hand smoke? ‘Cause, I gotta tell ya, I’m feeling a little light-headed. I have weak lungs, ya know? I get a whiff of chemicals and my brain turns to jello! Is there water? God I’m thirsty... “ Jordan went on, taking a seat at the table.
He looked around the room seeing the sharks and jellyfish out the glass windows. “...What the hell is this place? You know I’m scared of sharks, right? Terrified! I told you on the phone, I love marine life but sharks are where I draw the fuckin’ line, ya understand? I need some water here!” he exclaimed.
Jerry was in total shock. “Who the fuck is this guy?” he asked incredulously. Hans cleared his throat and, with a gentleman’s grin replied “...this is Jordan Reeves, the author. Like all of you I thought his talents might prove useful.” He poured Jordan a glass of water and offered it to him, Jordan grabbing the glass and drank it quickly. “Holy hell! Worst case of desert mouth I’ve ever had!” he moaned as there were chuckles from Abigale and Bo.
Lunch was brought in on a trolley and plates of fresh seafood were placed in front of the six chairs, dishes of lobster with fresh oysters, prawns, mussels, and garden salad.
Hans Strucker raised his glass and cleared his throat again, “A toast... ” he began, “...to a group of talented people, and the wonders we will discover together!” The group toasted glasses, sipping their wine and beginning lunch and conversation.
As they ate, Jerry spoke up with a mouthful of salad. “Okay, so I’m going to address the elephant in the room, I think we’d all like to know why we’re here. I mean, don’t get me wrong I know you’re paying us, and this is all outstanding but... “ and Hans could take a hint. He nodded and smiled knowingly, “Yes. I do suppose now would be as fine a time as any to let you in on some of my secrets. As you all know, my name is Hans Strucker,” he began, getting everyone’s full attention. “I am a wealthy industrialist, and marine life researcher. For the past 25 years, my research has involved mostly the rapid repair of shark DNA,” he began, pausing to take a sip of his wine.
“...Some of you would know that sharks hold the key to repairing the oceans ecosystem, and thus possibly aid in the fight against global warming. However, I believe that sharks hold the keys to a great many other things as well... “ Bo cut in with “...Like what?” looking suddenly very interested.
Hans pointed a finger at Bo and smiled knowingly. “Indeed. Like what? Well for one thing, with the use of shark stem cell research, we have discovered sharks may hold clues to helping us find the cures to illnesses. Cancer. Coronaviruses. Perhaps even the human immunodeficiency virus!” He said clapping his hands together. Jerry raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “HIV? Seriously? That would mean... ” and Hans nodded, “...The discovery of a lifetime. Sharks could also hold the key to younger looking skin. A perpetual fountain of youth! And they are swimming right in our oceans! These marvellous creatures could potentially cure alzheimers! I am basically telling you all, that the shark may be the key to the survival of the future of all mankind.”
The five other people at the table listened intently. Hans went on, “Sharks could teach us about teeth regrowth. Humans develop two sets of teeth in their lives, milk and adult. Shark teeth however are constantly replaced. I recently studied the key genes involved in tooth regeneration in a small species of shark known as Scyliorhinus canicula. Commonly known as a catshark, its eggs are collected and the embryos inside can be raised to show us the precise set of developing stages that tooth formation and regeneration goes through. I learned that within the epithelial cells that line the mouth of sharks, there are special sections... chambers of stem cells that are key to the continual regrowth of their teeth. It’s really quite extraordinary! This is why my research of sharks has become such an important part of my life. I believe that sharks have the answers to many of our greatest questions about our own survival.”
He paused, again sipping wine, “A cholesterol like compound called squalamine, found in the tissue of dogfish sharks has been found to treat several hard to treat viruses in humans. So, I’m talking about things like Hepatitis now. If my research proves conclusive, and I believe it will, the administration of medications made up of such compounds could in theory create antiretroviral treatments, the likes of which have never been seen. Imagine a world free of viruses. Free of disease and organ eating cancers. This is where you all come in," he continued, now having their undivided attention.
“I am conducting several experiments. Jordan? You will write of my experiments. Abigale, you will photograph. Bo, Jerry, and Connor will be my underwater shark behavioural observers and I will pay you all two million dollars each for keeping all of this quiet, as well as extra for travel expenses and whatever else you need. You will be my team but there will be rules... ” He paused, scooping up some salad and chewing in silence. The five people looked at him awkwardly, hanging on the edge of their seats, waiting for him to continue. Abby couldn’t wait any longer.
“What kind of rules?” Abigale asked and Hans swallowed, sipping his wine. “The lower level, we call it Level A is off limits. No matter what you hear, what captures your curiosity, you are never to enter those laboratories. There are no excuses,
and under no circumstances will disobedience be tolerated. You will all stay in the private rooms of the resort, and not mention to anyone that isn’t on this island what you have seen, or what goes on the here. Is that clear?” Hans’ tone had become suddenly cold and serious, chilling even. One by one the five nod their heads in agreement. Hans smiled, clapping his hands, “Ausgezeichnet!” he said (which is German for excellent). After a moment he looked around at each of the five chosen people and continued, “I would also like to add that whatever happens on the island, stays on the island. While you are here, you cannot leave. Your cell phones are permitted, but nothing is to be shared with anyone on the outside. Not even your families. If you are injured, we will treat you. If you get lost, we will find you. To simplify things, I run a tight ship on this island. I will cater to all of your needs. But from here on out, the outside world no longer exists. Agreed?” he put to the group with a gentle smile, feeding his face with more salad.
Jordan raised his hand and Hans shook his finger, “Please, Mr Reeves, this isn’t junior high. Feel free to talk at any time." Hans assured. Jordan cleared his throat, “Um... I’m embarrassed to say, but I’m a bedwetter and I have all sorts of idiosyncrasies... “ But Hans stopped him there. “Mr. Reeves, I am well aware of your conditions and as I have said, I will be more than happy to cater to all of your needs individually as they come up. Have no fear, you will be well looked after in this is place. I promise.”
Jordan smiled, trusting the man... even feeling like he could trust this man, like he had never trusted anyone before in his life. It was a calm feeling oddly shared by them all, and Hans raised his glass again. “I chose you all because I wanted the best. The bravest. The boldest. So unless there’s one among you who does not agree to these terms, I propose a second toast... to the five! Welcome to the island! Here’s to saving the world!” he cheered and the six wine glasses chimed as they toasted.
◇◇◇◇
The waves danced on the shore of the beach, rolling in and rolling out again leaving a trace of shells and seaweed in their wake. Ray walked along the nearby jetty carrying a net full of fish over his shoulder.
It was approaching sunset, and the sun was kissing the ocean surface one last time before it was gone for another day. Bo Landers was having a cigarette by the docks and Ray greeted him again, all smiles as usual. “How are you enjoying the sunset, man?” he asked and Bo flicked his butt into the sea. “I never get tired of it. I was just thinking about when I was a kid, something my dad said. He said ‘the sun rises and sets on a world that couldn’t care less.’ He had a narrow view of mankind. I think he figured we’d all choke ourselves on pollution and eat ourselves alive. This guy Hans wants to cure some of the worlds biggest illnesses, yet he wants to keep it a secret. I don’t get that,” Bo said rubbing his chin.
“Hans is a Great man," Ray began, “The world out there? It’s not ready to hear what he has to say. They think he’s mad. They all said it for years. No-one wants to take a risk anymore unless they can be certain it will be profitable. But this research, Bo? You cannot put a price on the results he is hoping to find. Strucker is a great man, and maybe he is slightly mad, all great men are. But there is method to his madness. He will take risks. He knows risks get results.”
Ray's words hung in Bo's ears, though he couldn’t help but wonder if Strucker was sure. “I hope he knows what he’s doing on this island. Sharks are all he says, but they’re not just science pets. They’re predators too.” He winked at Ray, who only smiled, and as Bo walked off he shouted, “Give it time man! You’ll see! This man will change the world!” Bo Landers had lived long enough to see many men rise up to change the world. What bothered him was he had also seen how many of them had failed. He walked off towards the resort. He needed a drink.
4
Christopher Columbus came to Jamaica in 1494 in search of gold. Naming it Xaymaca, or ‘place of gold blessed.’ He was mistaken however, for there was no gold on the island, hardy-har-har! He named the island instead Santiago, using it as a mini-state for his family.
His sailors formed settlements on some of the nearby islands, one of those being Santa Maria. A fortress was erected on the island in 1510 and it was used as a settlement until 1520, though no-one knows much else aside from a vicious pirate raid bringing the settlement to its end. The pirates came seeking gold on Santa Maria, but instead found none and slaughtered every man on the island, except for two brothers who threw down their arms and surrendered.
Legend has it that the pirate that led his men to the islands assault, arrived on the infamous ship, the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and went by the name of Edward Teach. History would remember him later as Blackbeard.
Years later the island became naught but ghost stories, and the Haitians even had it taken off the maps as a warning to all sailors, that the island was overshadowed with darkness, and cursed with restless ghosts.
This didn’t stop Hans Strucker from purchasing this secret island in 2010 and spending eight years building an underwater science research facility that was out of sight, out of reach and out of the minds of the outside worlds prying eyes. Nobody fully understood what the island was used for, but the remnants of the Spanish fort remained behind there and had been converted and subtly reimagined into a five-star resort for the islands inhabitants whom didn’t live on site of the laboratories.
In other words: Bo, Abigale, Jerry, Jordan, and Connor each had their own fully paid luxurious suite, each room identically dressed and decorated.
There was a queen-size bed, a walk-in wardrobe and dresser, a desk and chair, big screen sixty-inch TV screen mounted onto the wall and an attached en suite.
The en suite was big enough to house a spa, toilet, and shower, all of which were a pristine eggshell white and the floor polished marble. The only difference between these huge rooms was the choice of artwork, but all five rooms featured (in one way or another) a painting of a ship at sea hung above the bed perfectly straight. The linens were changed daily, fresh towels placed at the foot of the beds. Complimentary bath robes and slippers were supplied, and yes there were even mints placed on the pillows.
There was a fully stocked kitchen with an espresso machine with matching white cups and saucers. A fully stocked bar, complimentary of course, and a small fridge and freezer.
The bedside glass door lead out to a communal balcony where guests could sit and relax on fold-out chairs. Jerry stood in his room, instantly eyeing the TV and reaching for the remote muttering, “Please have porno! Please have porno...!” He fiddled with the remote not noticing Abigale standing behind him. “Try channel 69, nimrod!” she offered. Startled, he spun around and sighed with relief.
“Jesus!” he shouted, “How did you get in here?” Abby rolled her eyes, “The patio, dufas! It connects our rooms. Try it! Channel 69 for real!” He did. A porno instantly came on and he smiled, turning to Abby. “How did you... “ he started but Abby held a finger over her lips. “Our little secret," she said, winking and stepping out the patio door. “You are an impertinent little monkey!” he called after her.
Jordan Reeves sat in his own room satisfied with the desk by which he sat now unfolding a laptop computer. He picked up his shoes from the floor, scrubbing the soles vigorously with a brush one at a time as he waited for his computer to load.
He had always preferred staying in hotels that were well-kept and cleaned regularly, unlike motels where the cleaning service was at best uncertain. He slipped into his complimentary slippers and relaxed at his computer. The New York skyline appeared on his monitor wallpaper and he smiled thinking There’s no place like home.
He got up and looked at the bed linen. “Fuck! Always with the white!” he muttered, already worried the sheets would be piss yellow the next morning. He pulled back the sheets and smiled. There was a plastic mattress protector sticking out just a little beneath the fitted sheet. “Well, they think of everything in this place!” he went on under his breath.
He walked
across the room to flip the light switch three times – off, on, off – then returned to the bed to catch some rest.
Back out on the porch it was growing dark and Abby stood by the balcony looking out towards the ocean. Bo Landers strolled up beside her and enjoyed the view with her. The waves could be heard crashing in the distance, the last light of sun vanishing over the horizon through the palm trees.
“You don’t belong here," he said, Abby turning to face him. “Do you mean on this island or on this balcony?” she asked quietly, raising a glass of bourbon with ice to her full, red lips. Bo grinned, that handsome grin creeping across his tanned face.
He liked Australian women, but this one was different. There was something in her eyes – mysterious. Longing, maybe? No. She was rebellious on the surface, but hid some unseen emotion. “I’ve known a lot of photographers,” he began, “...and Hans could have any one in the world, but he didn’t choose the wildlife photographer with the big zoom lenses and camera cases, he chose an Aussie girl who snaps selfies with a cell phone, now why is that?” he asked, only half-serious. Abigale just grinned, pressing her face close to his. She wasn’t taking shit from this shark hunting cowboy from California. “You’ve never seen my selfies," she shot back, stabbing at his ego with a sexy wink. “I’m serious" Bo said, “You don’t know a thing about sharks. You’re the only one of us that don’t fit. Jerry an’ Connor, I get those two. Jordan’s a freak, but he’s a damn good writer. Then there’s you, Aussie girl with a cell phone who snaps photos of fashion parades an’ movie stars, gets lucky once or twice with a few shots but has never been within 100 feet of wild life. All of a sudden, this guy’s asking you to be his personal photographer, an’ you don’t think that’s strange? Do you even realise what this place is? It’s not Graceland, sweetheart. This is an island of mad science. If you don’t know the terrain, you might get hurt.”