The Arcturus Man

  “Stay on this course for a while. We don’t have any submerged banks to worry about for the next few hours. It should be very easy to program an autopilot for a boat using navigation charts and the GPS. I need to do that some time.”

  Jared made coffee and brought it up to Jenny. He went down to the aft deck and sat in the fighting chair. He could relax for a while. He thought about trying to fish but sport fishing really didn’t interest him, especially if the only goal is a trophy fish. Hunting and fishing had to be strictly for subsistence, never for sport. He never understood why it was called a sport. There was no sport in it. His mind wandered over dozens of thoughts, mainly how he would handle their persuers when they returned. It was all worked out. He cleared his head and tried to focus on other things. He swiveled the chair around so he could watch Jenny.

  “Isn’t it too hot for that blouse? Look at me! I’m very comfortable,” he said. She just smiled and gave him a very obvious insincere frown. Her eyes went back to watching the horizon. He swiveled aft again. He thought of something. He turned his chair back to Jenny.

  “Do you have your driver’s license with you?”

  “Yes, it’s in my purse,” she said.

  “Good. San Andres—that’s where we’re going—doesn’t require a visa from

  Americans and Canadians, but they do ask for a passport.”

  “I don’t have a passport. I had one when I went to Sweden once, but it expired

  quite some time ago,” she said.

  “I think your license will be enough, along with a twenty.”

  “Bribes are your department.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” He turned back to the sea. He was fascinated by the flying

  fish that popped out of their wake now and then. Sometimes they glided thirty or forty

  feet. They were amazing little fish.

  San Andres

  Jared and Jenny traded driving the boat the rest of the day. By early evening they were entering the waters of San Andres. They cruised past Sprat Bright, the main beach. He could see several luxury hotels in the distance. The small street off the beach was sprawling with small shops and bars. San Andres had changed a lot. It wasn’t at all as he remembered it. At least these weren’t American or international chains. Development had arrived to San Andres, but maybe the saving grace was that it was regionally inspired.

  Jared pulled into the receiving dock. No one was in a hurry. It took more than an hour for someone who claimed to be with immigration or customs or both—it was never clear—to board to inspect Jared’s papers. Jared was told that even though he was American, he didn’t have the proper papers. They couldn’t leave the boat and it might take several days for the proper papers to be prepared. Jared asked if this could be expedited if he reimbursed the local government for the cost and time to do so. Of course that was possible. After he paid $50 in U.S. currency, the matter was cleared up promptly and a blank sheet of paper was stamped with a rubber imprint of some kind that Jared was told must be kept on the boat as long as he was in San Andres. His papers were now in order.

  Inspector Ruis, the official claiming to be the proper official, was a local. He was born on the island. He said that this was all necessary because the islands were being overrun by Colombians. The government in Bogotá was virtually shipping people to the island to settle and things haven’t been the same since they began arriving about ten years ago. Jared asked whether it wasn’t true that the islands were part of Colombia.

  “Yes, of course it is true, but San Andres had always been self-governing. The people were hard working and honest. The homes were poor but clean and painted. Now the garbage is in the streets. The homes aren’t painted. There is too much drinking and there is too much petty crime. Too many live without working. Things have to return to order. Papers have to be in order,” said the inspector.

  Jared thanked Inspector Ruis and bid him a good evening.

  “Is he gone?” asked Jenny, calling up from their cabin.

  “All clear.”

  “It’s disgusting that everyone wants bribe money.”

  “I don’t know if it’s disgusting. Keep in mind that the concept of bribery is strictly a social construct. There are very few governments on this planet that consider bribery a corruption of governmental authority and of those that do see it that way, all of them are hypocritical,” said Jared.

  “It just not right,” replied Jenny.

  “It is relative.”

  “OK, it’s relative. But I don’t like it.”

  “You have cabin fever. Would you like to get away from tiny cabins, small beds,

  dinky showers and Spartan food?” he said.

  “Would I? Of course I would.”

  “San Andres has a Decameron hotel called Aquarium. Do you see those round

  structures at the end of the beach?”

  “Let’s go.” She grabbed Jared by the arm and started to drag him off the boat. “Wait. Wait. Let’s make sure the boat is here when we get back.” Jared and Jenny locked up the boat and paid Inspector Ruis another expediting fee

  to make sure that the boat wasn’t looted while they were gone. They grabbed some basics and a change of clothes and walked down to Decameron Aquarium and checked in. They got the last room. The hotel was almost booked full.

  As with most of the languages that he spoke, Jared’s Spanish was at a native level. It was so good that it became a liability. Everyone assumed that he was a wealthy Colombian. They were polite, but distant. When they learned that he was American, there was general disbelief. A few of the locals thought that he was lying.

  They both took showers in the cavernous bathroom—cavernous compared to the cramped stalls on the boat. Jenny had become so accustomed to the rocking of their boat that it now felt that the room was slowly moving. It took her a while to lose that feeling. They dressed and went to dinner. Everything in life is relative to some context. It was a king’s dinner in the framework of the simple diet on the boat. After dinner they went out to the pool area for drinks. They both had the local favorite, Aquardiente, but then Jared had another idea when he learned that the hotel bar had Sebor Absinthe.

  “You want to try something different?” asked Jared.

  “Sure, what?”

  “They have Sebor Absinthe. It’s the drink that made—according to legend—

  artists and writers mad, like Van Gogh and Hemmingway. You may recall that Hemmingway committed suicide with a shot gun and Van Gogh cut off his own ear. I doubt that absinthe was the culprit, but it makes a good story.

  “I don’t know Jared. Is it dangerous?” she asked. “It could be, I suppose, if you spent most of your life drinking it. One evening is not going to do any harm. The experience may be interesting.”

  “Well, OK, I guess.”

  Jared called several waiters to their table and had them execute an unusual request. They took two of the iron patio chairs and carried them down to the shoreline and set them in the gulf in a shallow area. The seats were above water. It was almost 10:00 in the evening but the water and air were still very warm. The water was undulating; there were no real waves. The waiters set a small cast iron table between the chairs. When everything was ready, Jared and Jenny walked into the water and sat down. Underwater lights set around the bar that was constructed on stilts above the water gave this tiny portion of the Caribbean an emerald glow.

  “It is enchanting,” thought Jenny.

  “Tell me about what we are drinking,” she said. “I want to understand every little detail about the poison that I am putting into my body. Don’t leave anything out.” This time she was looking forward to Jared’s remarkable encyclopedic abilities.

  “The secret ingredient is wormwood. Actually, it’s a compound called Thujone, a neurotoxin. Wormwood is called artermisia absinthium. What is especially interesting is that the Greek word absinthion means undrinkable. Wormwood is very bitter. Extremely bitter. Absinthe lovers used to first pour it on a sugar cube i
n an absinthe spoon in order to counter the very bitter taste. The Czechs still make traditional absinthe but other distillers flavor it. Anise flavor and other herbs make it unnecessary to add sugar. It has a delightful taste, but the bitter after-flavor is still there.”

  “Are you sure we should be doing this?” she asked.

  “Not to worry. Besides, the only risk is the water. They have a vicious form of amoebic infection in the water supply. I am sure you noticed the signs above the sink in our room warning people to not drink from the tap. I made sure that our ice water was from imported bottled water.”

  “I was wondering why the sign was there.”

  Jared half-filled two glasses with absinthe. He then picked up a pitcher of ice water and filled the glasses to the brim. The green absinthe instantly louched to a radiant milky white.

  “Try it,” he said.

  Jenny sipped. “It tastes like licorice.”

  “Exactly.”

  The sea water lapped gently against their legs. They talked. Jared told her more about absinthe. They talked about San Blas and the Kuna people that Jared had come to know. They talked about their relationship and what they meant to one another. It was a very romantic evening for Jenny. When the glasses were again half full, Jared filled each glass with ice water.

  “Now the absinthe is only a quarter as strong, and next time it will be an eighth, and so on,” he said.

  “I really like it Jared. I’m surprised, but I really like it,” she said.

  Each time the glass was half empty, he filled it with more ice water and the strength of the absinthe was again diluted by half. As Jenny’s head began to cloud, there was less and less absinthe in their drinks. The idea was that as the consumer began to feel the effects of the absinthe, the drink got weaker—allowing the drinker a longer time to enjoy the effects.

  Jenny’s mind began to drift. It was difficult to know if the effect the wormwood had on Jenny was the wormwood or her imagination.

  They might have sat there for several more hours. Their conversation was becoming pillow talk and Jenny wanted it to last longer, but the tide was coming in and the raucous music that just started at several of the beach clubs near the hotel was destroying the tranquility of their romantic interlude in what now seemed to Jenny to be happening in the middle of the Caribbean. She was adrift in the sea and she loved it.

  The other hotel guests around the swimming pool rolled their eyes as they watched the rich Colombian with his American girlfriend. The night life on San Andres didn’t start until about eleven in the evening, so couples around the pool slowly peeled off to go clubbing.

  Jared sensed danger. Without showing any signs of concern, he periodically scanned the guests in the area. Someone was watching them closely. It just wasn’t likely that they had been found this soon, but he couldn’t rule that out entirely. He wasn’t ready for the encounter. He and Jenny were at risk, especially Jenny. He looked through the crowd. He didn’t see Rubio. He probed deeper. It was only local criminals. Jared was relieved.

  Jenny and Jared left their chairs just after midnight and walked back into the hotel. Jenny was upright, but not at all lucid.

  “Just one minute. Wait here,” he told Jenny. She leaned against a counter. Her balance was a little shaky.

  Jared walked over to one of the armed security guards who were always in the guest lobby.

  “Do you see those two men standing near the swimming pool,” asked Jared in perfect Spanish.

  “Yes, Señor.”

  Jared pushed three twenty-dollar bills into the guard’s hand, discretely. The guard looked surprised.

  “A waiter told me that he overheard their conversation from a distance. They are going to break into our room tonight to rob us,” said Jared.

  “Which waiter told you this thing, Señor?”

  “That is not important. If you ensure that they are unable to do what they planned, I will give to the same amount in the morning.”

  “Be assured that it will be taken care of. You have nothing to be concerned about. We take care of our guests.”

  “Thank you, Señor,” said Jared. He slowly walked back to Jenny and they went to the elevator. He looked back. Both security guards had cornered the men at the pool. There was shouting. Then it became physical. The elevator door closed. “That should take care of that problem,” thought Jared.

  Next Morning

  Jenny was woken when the waiters wheeled in the breakfast cart. She hugged a pillow and pulled the sheet up to her chin. She glanced at the clock radio. It was half past eleven.

  Jared pushed the cart on to the balcony. Jenny kept her sheet around her and reformed it into a makeshift tunic. She walked out on the balcony and sat down. It was a breathtaking sight. Each of the hotel towers sat on a small peninsula completely surrounded by water. The bright green water sparkled as it reflected the late morning sun. The sun was harvesting diamonds again, just as it had done on their pond on Eagle’s Head Island. She looked down in the water and could see barracuda darting through the water.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Yes, but I’m still mad. You got me drunk.”

  “You may not remember, but last night you liked it very much.”

  “Ok then. Pour some coffee,” said Jenny.

  “The coffee is great. Obviously Colombian,” said Jared.

  “We slept so late. We lost a day. Can we afford it?”

  “We’ve been under a lot of stress for the past week. I think we deserve a break.” “When are we going to leave for San Blas?” she asked.

  “I thought we could do some shopping in town today. We need more clothes and

  there are a few things I need. We can leave San Andres this afternoon. We can’t get to El Porvenir tonight but if we start again in the morning, we should get there by early afternoon.”

  “El Porvenir? Where’s that,” she asked.

  “That is the seat of the Kuna territory.”

  “OK”

  They packed up the few belongings they brought and checked out of the hotel.

  Jared found the security guards from last night and paid them for taking care of the problem. They were very appreciative and told Jared that they would remember his name. Jenny and Jared went into town and did some shopping. Except for some clothing, everything would be delivered to the boat within the hour. Jared bought a bottle of Sebor Absinthe and two boxes of Cuban Romeo y Julieta cigars. Jared went to the office of Inspector Ruis and paid him another expediting fee for watching the boat and gave him a box of cigars. It is important to make sure that the relationship is healthy. Jared knew that he would be returning to San Andres some day. Inspector Ruis told Jared that he would remember his name. That is the way things work in the Caribbean.

  They cast off and headed south. StarWind was fueled and all stores were restocked. It was now three in the afternoon. They could go almost a hundred miles before they would anchor for the night.

  Jared intended to go for about four more hours before anchoring for the night, but after a little more than three hours he found a beautiful coral reef. The water was exceptionally clear and fairly shallow. He found a spot to drop anchor that didn’t endanger the coral. The sun was low on the horizon and colors were changing around them as the sun set. The gold shimmered as far as the eye could see.

  “I’m going to snorkel for a while to see what we can find for dinner. Pompano would be nice. Trachinotus Carolinas. Grab your gear and bring along the spear gun,” he said.

  “I can’t, or at least I shouldn’t. My period might be starting. “I’m a little late. I’m just spotting right now, but I remember what you told me about the reef sharks. Where did you put the Tampax you bought in Newport?” asked Jenny.

  “It’s in with the canned goods, just above the sink.”

  “Canned goods? I’m sure that is where I would have looked first.” “How long do your periods usually last?” he asked.

  “It changes, you know. They’re usual
ly about four days but sometimes it’s a

  week. Stress makes them last longer.” Jared pulled the spear gun out of the diving chest, fixed his mask and snorkel, and rolled over the side.

  “No shark games this time! PROMISE?” she yelled out.

  “Promise!”

  The water was clearer than he had ever seen it before. Jared hyperventilated and then dove. He used slow, leisurely thrusts with his flippers, keeping his arms close to his sides. At this pace he could easily stay down ten minutes without straining. Jenny glanced into the water. She could easily see Jared gliding toward the reef. She wasn’t going to worry. She knew that Jared could hold his breathe longer than anyone she had ever heard about. She might not see him surface for many minutes. She wasn’t going to worry this time. Still, she decided to go into the galley and get dinner ready. She didn’t want to watch. If there was pompano, Jared would bring back pompano. There was a silent and sensed comfort in the moment that was nameless but palpable to Jenny. So it had been for hundreds of thousands of years as men hunted and the clan waited and so it was now. She was beginning to understand what Jared was talking about when he discussed primordial memories in the hearts of all people. She was beginning to feel like she had come home.

  As Jared neared the reef, he could see a dozen white tip sharks patrolling, maybe more. They were four to five feet in length. They were herding a school of blue jacks. Nothing to worry about! He spotted a large grouper. Too much fish for dinner! An even larger tarpon swam within shooting distance. He saw red snapper and snook. Too much preparation required for snapper. Finally, he spotted a pompano. He aimed the spear gun and shot. It was a perfect hit. Jared pulled in the line as the pompano struggled to get free from the barbed spear. “Not this time,” thought Jared. He reloaded the gun.

  The reef sharks instantly sensed the fish’s blood in the water. They began to dart toward Jared, and veer off at the last second. Jared spread out his arms and legs, making him look as large as possible. They kept their distance, circling around Jared and the pompano. Jared shot a jack, quickly pulled it from the spear and let it flow free. As he backed off, one of the sharks flashed in and snatched the jack as it was slowly settling in the water. The other sharks followed the first one. They were all gone in less than a minute. Jared swam back to the boat.