The Ultimate Aphrodisiac

by Robert G. Barrett

  ‘Hey, this is really nice,’ said Brian

  ‘Good. I’m glad you like it.’ Milne stood between the girls for a moment looking at Brian and the warm smile returned to his face. He came forward and firmly shook Brian’s hand. ‘It is good to see you, you know.’

  ‘It’s … good to be here, Ron,’ replied Brian.

  Milne looked at his watch. ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I’m expecting a phone call. Have a shower or whatever. And I’ll see you in my office in half an hour. We’ll have some lunch. Then we might go for a surf. You fancy a wave?’

  ‘Reckon.’ Brian stared at Milne for a moment. ‘Have you got surf on the island?’

  Milne winked. ‘I’ll see you in my office in half an hour.’

  Ebonee and Airu kissed Brian on the left cheek. ‘Goodbye, Takatau,’ they said.

  Keleu kissed him on his right cheek. ‘Bye bye, Takatau,’ she smiled.

  ‘Okay. See you later, girls,’ said Brian. ‘See you, Ron.’

  They left closing the door behind them. Brian hung the leis behind his bed then had a leak and checked out the bathroom. It was quite modern and done out in cream tiles. A big mirror sat over the sink and they’d left him four fluffy blue towels. Brian splashed some water over his face and went out onto the balcony to have a look around.

  There wasn’t much chance of him getting lost in Key Harbour. The main street ended in dirt road and trees just past the buildings on either side of the Presidential Palace. The view, however, was pristine. The harbour was ringed with a strip of beautiful white sand and Brian could never remember seeing water so blue or trees so green. It was nowhere near as hot and humid as Konipeau, either. Lan Laroi sure is an island paradise, thought Brian as a thick bank of white clouds floated lazily over the distant mountain range and a gentle zephyr drifting in off the harbour cooled his face.

  While Brian was taking in the view, several thoughts crossed the surf journalist’s mind. During the formalities at the jetty, he’d been studying Milne up close. As well as having hardly a wrinkle or a line in his body, there were no fillings in his teeth. They were one hundred per cent perfect; and they were all his own. Everybody has to get a filling at one time or another in their life. Not Milne. And what about Ebonee? Apart from being beautiful, how many thirty-year-old men had twenty-year-old daughters? And where was her mother?

  Brian picked absently at his chin as he watched Ohlo and the other soldiers grouped around the plane, checking out the bullet marks. Whoever President Milne was, he couldn’t possibly be the same man who had served in Vietnam with his father. He seemed like a genuinely decent person, and the welcome was something else. But somebody was having someone on here. And what was this ‘Takatau’? Brian tapped his fingers on the balustrade railing then looked at his watch. I’ll find out the answer to that in about twenty minutes, with a bit of luck. He stripped off and got under the shower.

  After he dried off, Brian unpacked his clothes and put them away, then sorted the rest of his stuff out and pondered what he should wear to the office for a meeting with the island’s President. He settled on a plain white T-shirt, his old green Stussy board shorts and a pair of thongs. He got the two CDs Milne asked him to buy, shut the door then walked down to the office and knocked. A voice called out to come in. Brian stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Ebonee and Keleu were working in their part of the office; as soon as Milne saw Brian he got up from behind his desk.

  ‘Grab a seat, Brian,’ he said, and pointed to the lounge in front of him.

  ‘Okay.’ Before he sat down, Brian placed the CDs on Milne’s desk. ‘There’s those two CDs you wanted, Ron.’

  ‘Oh, good on you. Thanks, Brian.’ Milne picked up the CDs. ‘Hat Town and Rules of the Road. You little ripper.’ He smiled at Brian. ‘So what can I get you, mate. Coffee, tea, a beer? A hot one? Name your poison.’

  ‘Just a mineral water will do, thanks. Sparkling if you’ve got it.’

  ‘If we’ve got it? We got it straight from the spring. Hey, Keleu,’ Milne called out. ‘Can you bring me out two glasses of mineral water. Ice and a slice.’

  Milne sat down and looked at his CDs while Brian took in the trappings of the President’s office. He particularly liked the dolphin mobile gently turning beneath the ceiling. A few moments later Keleu came out with two tall glasses of mineral water rattling with ice, a slice of pink grapefruit on top of each. She placed one on Milne’s desk, the other on the coffee table in front of Brian. Brian thanked her and took a swallow. It was delicious; slightly effervescent with a unique taste of its own.

  ‘You got this flowing on the island?’ asked Brian.

  ‘We’ve got all sorts of things on the island, Brian. Believe me.’ Milne had a drink then looked directly at Brian. ‘So what happened at Kahiap? Ohlo radioed in and said there was a bit of a drama.’

  ‘A bit of a drama,’ repeated Brian, and held up his arm. ‘I nearly got my bloody head blown off.’

  Milne shook his head. ‘Yeah, what was all that about? The boys are always armed when they fly out. But I wasn’t quite expecting the siege at Glenrowan.’

  Brian shrugged. ‘It was partly my fault, I suppose.’

  Brian told Milne what had happened. From being followed, meeting Gemma in the bar, going back to his room, handcuffing her and taking her back out to Steve. Then how the next morning she thundered out of the car on the wharf with guns blazing until Ohlo shot both her and Steve. Milne started laughing fit to bust. He was laughing that loud both girls came out of their office for a look then went back in again.

  Milne wiped a tear from his eye. ‘So you told that Seppo sheila you were coming over here to blow up a nuclear reactor. Then you threw her up in the air and handcuffed her. I’m proud of you. Proud of you. Christ! No wonder she had the shits.’

  ‘Yeah, okay, Ron,’ admitted Brian. ‘I suppose she was entitled to have the shits with me because of what I did. But what about the other bloke — Steve? “We’ve got orders to keep you out of Lan Laroi.” What was all that about?’

  Milne settled down then looked at Brian and the expression on his face hardened. ‘Have you seen an article about me in Time magazine?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ nodded Brian. ‘It’s in my room.’

  ‘That article was a complete fluke. No one ever gets a photo of me. I’m like Kurtz in Apocalypse Now. I just happened to be coming out of the Yank embassy and almost walked into this fuckin photographer who recognised me. He got one photo then pissed off on a motorbike before I could grab his camera. Later on he must have found out why I was there.’

  ‘Yeah. They’re low bludgers, photographers,’ said Brian. ‘Never have anything to do with them.’

  ‘You can say that again.’ Milne drummed his fingers on the desk for a second. ‘So apart from what you read in that article, do you know anything at all about Lan Laroi?’

  Brian shook his head. ‘Nothing. It’s almost like the place doesn’t exist.’

  ‘Okay. Here’s what’s going on. We grow Indian hemp and we manufacture the by-products. Oil, paper, chipboard, rope, cloth. Have a look around round the office. The curtains, the floor coverings, the flag, that coffee table — all made from Indian hemp. An island trader collects it and we sell it in Spain for the European market.’

  ‘By-products?’ said Brian. ‘What about the dreaded mara-joo-wana, Ron?’

  ‘The assassin of youth.’ Milne made a magnanimous gesture. ‘If a yacht calls in and wants twenty kilos or whatever of choice heads, no problem at all. But that’s only a sideline.’

  ‘Sounds like you’ve got a good thing going here, Ron,’ said Brian, taking another sip of water. ‘Sort of Holland with coconut trees.’

  ‘That’s a fair enough comparison,’ conceded Milne. ‘Except we’ve got the toughest drug laws going when it comes to the other shit. Possession of cocaine or heroin on Lan Laroi generally means the death penalty. The boys caught those fuckwits with a kilo of sentimental. They got tried, and now they’re goin
g to be executed a week from today. First full moon of the month. We feed them to the sharks.’

  Brian sat up in his chair. ‘You what?’

  ‘Did you notice all those sharks around everybody’s neck?’ Milne pulled a stone shark on a gold chain from under his T-shirt. ‘Even I got one. The natives are all shark worshippers, going back to … whenever. That’s how we bury our dead. And anything else we don’t want.’

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘Now the Yanks and the French are going to come in and take the prisoners. It gives me the absolute shits. But I went to Konipeau to try and strike some sort of deal and save a lot of agg. But the Yank ambassador wasn’t there. Now it’s too late. The chiefs always overrule me and they want the prisoners executed according to island law. To make an example.’

  ‘Why just not let them take the prisoners and … cop it sweet?’ suggested Brian. ‘Tell the chiefs there was nothing you could do.’

  ‘Yeah,’ nodded Milne. ‘Only the Yanks aren’t going to stop there. Once they’ve got the prisoners, they’re coming back to invade the island and arrest me as an international drug dealer. That ratbag President wants to make a big deal out of it so he can look like a hero.’

  Brian was startled. ‘You know this for sure, Ron?’

  ‘I got contacts in the Oz consulate on Konipeau,’ nodded Milne. ‘And elsewhere. Clooney’s going to announce something soon. That’s the reason they were following you around on Konipeau. Being a journalist, the Yanks wouldn’t want you over here while they bombed the shit out of the place and shot up the population. Not before the Pentagon could put their spin on it and make Clooney look like a superstar. The FBI probably would have just detained you for your own safety. Then sent you home. Only you had to go and get one their agents pissed and give her a gigantic porking, then almost get two of my men killed.’

  ‘Sorry about that, Ron,’ apologised Brian. ‘I don’t know what got into me.’

  ‘Ahh fuck ’em anyway,’ cursed Milne. ‘Serves ’em right if they want to take on my boys.’

  ‘Yes. Ohlo certainly knows how to handle himself in a casual manner,’ said Brian. He studied Milne for a moment. ‘But what I can’t figure out, Ron, is why all this froth and bubble in the first place. You’re just a little island in the middle of nowhere, doing your own thing. You’re not really causing anybody any trouble.’

  ‘Yeah I know,’ nodded Milne. ‘But I’ve been a pain in the DEA’s arse for ages. They don’t like to think somebody’s getting away with anything out of the norm. And the head DEA agent we’ve taken prisoner is a real prick. His name’s Lee Britt. I hit him on the chin in Konipeau years ago and knocked out his front teeth. When he went to pull a gun on me I kicked all his ribs in. He couldn’t do anything because I had diplomatic immunity and he’s been after my arse ever since. So he’s come in here with two other dills posing as buyers and hid himself on a yacht with a video to try and make out we’re dealing coke. That way he could come back with a task force and pinch me. But it all backfired on him. Bad luck it had to happen just as Looney Clooney got elected President. If it hadn’t been for that, I doubt if the Yanks would have bothered. Even they know Lee Britt’s a dill. The French sheila’s only an old cracker he’s been throwing up in the air. And the other bloke’s a complete Dubbo. He got conned into tagging along, thinking he was going to get a promotion.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Brian. ‘But you have to admit, Ron, feeding people to sharks is a bit drastic.’

  ‘No worse than shoving them in an electric chair or cutting their heads off. And we fill them full of kesi first, so they’re out to it anyway. The sharks just finish them off.’

  ‘Kesi? What’s kesi?’ asked Brian.

  ‘The local version of kava. Except ours is more potent. It’s not a bad buzz. But too much in one go will sit you right on your arse. We use it for ceremonial occasions.’

  Brian drank some water and shook his head in genuine sympathy. ‘I don’t know what do say, Ron. You’re in a real predicament. That’s a proper shithouse.’

  ‘Yeah. Just when we got a good thing going. Now this boofhead in the White House is going to invade the place. Or in military speak, free the hostages. Then liberate Lan Laroi in the name of freedom and democracy.’

  ‘And mom’s apple pie,’ added Brian.

  ‘Exactly.’ Milne jerked a thumb to the balcony behind him. ‘So take a look at beautiful Key Harbour while you can, Brian. As soon as the napalm clears it’ll be a giant parking lot, there’ll be a Diabetes-Burger on the corner, I’ll be in the nick and all my people’ll be making gymboots for forty cents an hour.’

  ‘What a bastard. And I had to arrive right in the middle of it.’

  ‘Yeah. Bad luck mate. I should have written to you sooner.’

  ‘Hey, what happens if I want to get back to Australia?’ asked Brian. ‘How am I going to show my face in Konipeau?’

  ‘No worries,’ replied Milne. ‘I’ll ring the Oz consulate and arrange diplomatic immunity.’

  ‘Diplomatic immunity,’ echoed Brian. ‘So I’m not trapped here?’

  Milne shook his head. ‘You can leave any time you like.’

  ‘Yeah. Back through those bloody wind shears.’

  ‘The boys’ll run you over there in the tug if that’s all that worries you,’ smiled Milne.

  ‘They worry me all right.’ Brian’s face suddenly brightened up. ‘But it’s good to know I can get home if I want to. I was a bit worried.’

  ‘Don’t be. But strike me hooray, you’re good mate,’ said Milne. ‘You’re not here a day and you want to go home already.’

  Brian gestured defensively. ‘I’m sorry, Ron. I didn’t mean it like that,’ he said. ‘So what are you going to do? There must be something. The United Nations …?’

  Milne leant back and laced his hands behind his head. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘But I’m working on something.’ He smiled at Brian. ‘Anyway, it’s not your problem. You’re our special guest. Leave it to good old Sawi. He’ll figure it out.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Brian. ‘Who or what’s Sawi?’

  ‘Sawi,’ replied Milne. ‘Sawi means divine teacher and leader. The immortal one who knows the way.’

  ‘The immortal one. So you’re a sort of a — Godhead around here, Ron?’

  ‘You could say that,’ nodded Milne.

  ‘And who’s Takatau? What’s his story?’

  ‘Takatau means immanent helper. The celestial one who helps save all. Like a saviour.’

  ‘A saviour,’ smiled Brian. ‘So I’m sort of playing Jesus to your Godhead.’

  Milne smiled enigmatically. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

  ‘That’s not a bad rap,’ said Brian. ‘Though I can’t say I’ve ever fancied myself as Jesus. Not even when I grew my hair down to my shoulders after I left school and got a job in an advertising agency.’

  ‘No matter what happens, Brian, you’ll still go down in Lan Laroian history as Takatau. The helper. Great friend of Sawi.’

  ‘That’s really nice. Thanks.’ Knowing he could get back home if he wanted, Brian was feeling more relaxed now. He finished his mineral water and put the glass down. ‘All jokes aside, Ron. If I can help you in any way while I’m here, let me know. Maybe I can write a story on the invasion. Take photos. Do something.’

  ‘Thanks, Brian. I’ll keep that in mind.’

  ‘Shit! It’s the least I can do.’ Brian paused for a moment then looked straight at Milne. ‘Ron,’ he said tentatively. ‘There’s something I have to ask you.’

  ‘Go for your life, Brian.’

  ‘For someone who grew up with my parents at Bondi and served with my father in Vietnam, how come you look so young?’

  Milne smiled, held his arms up and flexed his biceps. ‘Not in bad shape for an old Vietnam vet bombed out on agent orange, am I?’ he said proudly.

  ‘Absolutely bloody remarkable is the word,’ said Brian.

  ‘And you know why?’ Milne pointed to the empty glass on
the coffee table. ‘That water. The island air. And the food.’ Milne rubbed his hands together. ‘And talking about food, Brian. You like baked tuna in papaya and ginger?’

  Brian looked up as Ebonee and Keleu placed two trays on the coffee table and Milne rose from behind his desk.

  ‘I’ve never tried it,’ said Brian. ‘But it certainly smells good.’

  Milne joined Brian at the coffee table; and if the food smelled good, it tasted even better. Thick slabs of delicately cooked tuna, pink in the middle, wrapped in banana leaves and served with fried breadfruit, rice and salad and washed down with blended banana and pineapple juice. While they ate, Milne told Brian some more about himself and Lan Laroi.

  He drifted in on a yacht with a surfboard and a dope dealer named Owen just after he got out of the army. After Vietnam, all Ron wanted was to get away from everything. And the further the better. So he sailed the remote Pacific on Owen’s yacht. The island was a dump when they sailed in. The natives were in bad way, some were dying. He and Owen found the cause: drums of radioactive waste, and one was leaking. There wasn’t all that much. But enough to make some of the natives sick, and it would get a lot worse. Between the two of them, they worked out a way to make the Americans and the French compensate the natives for leaving it there. The result was one and a quarter million dollars compensation for the natives, removal of the radioactive waste and independence. The US and French military couldn’t pay the money and get Lan Laroi out of their hair quick enough, even if it did burn their arses a bit. Owen’s whack was the quarter of a million dollars. Owen hung around while Milne bought the tugboat and got things going, then he sailed off leaving Milne and the Lan Laroians with the best part of a million dollars and a bag of seeds. Milne organised the hemp business with the chiefs, fell in love with the island, fell in love with a native girl named Ieuli and got himself elected President.

  Unfortunately Ieuli was one of the islanders with radioactive poisoning in her genes and died giving birth to Ebonee. The birth rate on the island was still a hit and miss affair. But it was improving all the time. They burnt all the old homes and built new ones. Built a school and hospital and got a doctor in till everybody’s health improved and they could train their own nurses. The hemp grew like mad on the island and business took off. They put in solar panels and wind and tidal generators. There was short-wave and two-way radio and they got thirty hours of TV a week through a European satellite system; mainly the ABC and SBS out of Australia, and an American news network. There was a direct line from Milne’s office to the Australian consulate on Konipeau in case of emergencies, and a phone and TV link-up to the people and the outside world via the satellite dish on the balcony. It was a complicated business which often played up, especially if there was any solar activity.