Titanoboa

by Victor Methos

  Mark looked through the front room window, but the blinds were drawn. He thought he might be able to see something out of the corners, but the only thing was a shovel leaned up against the wall.

  “Well, considering he’s gone, I don’t think he’d mind if we picked his lock.” Mark took out his lock pick kit and went to work. The kit consisted of several smooth keys and a long, thin access tool. He’d practiced a few times at home, and the ease of cracking open a lock surprised him.

  The trigger in the lock popped, and the door opened. Mark glanced over to Riki, whose face bore a combination of excitement and fear. He pushed open the door and said, “Ladies first.”

  She grimaced and brushed past him inside the home.

  The house was about as messy a place as Mark could’ve imagined. Garbage was piled up on the floors and overflowing from a bin in the kitchen. Crusted food pasted the few dishes spread throughout the front room. An overwhelming smell of something putrid hit them, like rotting meat wrapped in wet dog fur.

  Riki covered her nose with a Sani-wipe she pulled out of her purse, but Mark just breathed through his mouth. He wasn’t entirely certain what he was looking for, but if he could definitely cross Stanley off or add him to the list of missing persons, he would have one less thing to worry about. Then again, the government was paying by the hour, and he didn’t want it resolved too quickly.

  Riki began flipping through some files on a bookshelf. Mark crossed into the kitchen then the bedroom.

  The bed was nothing but a mattress, no blanket or pillow, and the mattress was filthy. In the closet were the few items of clothing Stanley owned that weren’t on his boat.

  “Hey, Mark?” Riki shouted.

  “Yeah?”

  “I found something.”

  Mark hurriedly left the bedroom and returned to the front room. Riki held an open file filled with photos. Mark looked at the photos as she flipped through them. They were all of women, younger women, perhaps fifteen to twenty, and all of different nationalities in different locations. All of them were dressed scantily. None of them looked frightened, which meant they were taking the photos willingly.

  “Well, I guess we figured out where Stanley would disappear to for months at a time,” he said.

  “Prostitutes? He lived in paradise but travelled around the world visiting prostitutes?”

  Mark grinned. “You’re not a man. I think that might be the dream of most men. In secret of course.” He scanned the rest of the front room. “I don’t think there’s anything here.”

  She closed the file and pushed it away. “What next?”

  “I have a meeting with the guy that reported Stanley’s boat. I can handle that alone.”

  “I’d like to come.”

  “Why?”

  “Because maybe I can help.”

  Mark exhaled. “Well, lunch is on you, then.”

  The veranda at the café was packed, but Mark spotted who he was looking for immediately. Miguel had said on the phone that he would be with the most stunning blond in the place, and he wasn’t kidding. She looked like she had been ripped from the pages of any fashion magazine.

  “Miguel?”

  “Yes.”

  He held out his hand, and Miguel took it. “Mark Whittaker. Thanks for meeting me.”

  “No problem.”

  The two of them sat down, and the blond immediately began eyeing Riki. Riki had a natural beauty about her that Mark found more appealing than the plastic exaggeration of the blond. Somehow, intuitively, the blond recognized this and saw Riki as a threat. She wasn’t friendly and in fact leaned away from Riki, folding her arms defensively but never taking her eyes off her.

  “I know the police didn’t have you fill out a witness statement,” Mark said, “so why don’t you just start at the beginning and tell me what you saw.”

  “Nothing much, really. We were out on my yacht, and I saw Stanley’s boat just drifting out there. I knew Stanley from a few interactions we’d had. So I went over and hopped aboard. The swells weren’t that bad. Um… then I looked around, didn’t find anything, and was about to go when I saw the blood. Like a stain. It had, like, pieces of meat on it. So I went back to call the police. That’s it.”

  “Did you see anyone around? Maybe another boat or something?”

  He shook his head. “No. No one.”

  “When was the last time you saw Stanley?”

  “Oh, man, months ago. Last time I was here. Maybe like last year.”

  Mark glanced over Miguel’s shoulder. Two men were arguing about something, and one told the other to be quiet. Mark watched them a moment then leaned back in the seat. Miguel was a dead-end. Just someone that saw the boat after everything had already happened.

  “I appreciate you meeting me,” Mark said.

  He shrugged. “Sorry I couldn’t give you more.”

  “Not your fault,” he said, scanning the place for a server. “Maybe he’ll turn up on his own somewhere?”

  17

  After lunch, Mark thanked Miguel again for his time. The meal had been awkward. The blond didn’t say a single word and just stared at the two of them as if they were so far beneath her, they didn’t deserve her attention. Mark thought Riki would be just as combative, but she seemed completely oblivious. In fact, several times she tried to strike up polite conversation with the blond.

  As they walked out of the restaurant, Mark said, “What do you think her problem was?”

  “Whose?”

  “The blond.”

  “I thought she was fine.”

  They leaned against his car, watching the crowds pass by as they perused the various shops. An odd rush hit him, the rush of the hunt. He had felt the same thing as a detective, and it was coming back. But instead of embracing and running with it, he tried to push it down deep inside. That was the last thing he needed, to get obsessed with a case that seemed to be going nowhere.

  “Well,” she said, “what now?”

  “You mean you don’t have any suggestions?”

  “Sure I do. But you’re the one with all the connections.”

  “I don’t have any connections with VN Oil. And I’d sure like to talk to them. Maybe we can pop into this oil field of yours and verify if it actually exists or not?”

  “They wouldn’t let you within a mile of that place.”

  “Well, they had to hire workers on the island, right? I doubt they flew in hundreds of unioned, more expensive employees from the States. So how are the islanders getting in?”

  She grinned. “Only one way to find out.”

  Since everyone had signed non-disclosure agreements, Mark guessed few people would come out and say they were working for the oil company. But the island wasn’t a massive place. People held the same jobs for their lifetime. Friends and relatives would know if they were working somewhere new, and maybe they didn’t sign non-disclosure agreements.

  The bar, the type of place locals went when they didn’t want to go home after work, was packed. The tables were raucous as locals downed beer after beer, and the tourists drank fruity drinks with umbrellas.

  Four men sat at a table in the far corner. They were drinking in silence, each of them focusing on their own booze and occasionally looking around the bar. They appeared sullen and agitated. Mark knew them. Two were unemployed and the other two held part-time jobs as house painters. When he scanned them, he noticed something clipped to one of their belts. An ID badge. Mark was too far away to read it, but he was pretty certain the man had been unemployed for a while.

  He and Riki sat at the bar and ordered two beers. “What’s the plan?” Riki asked.

  “That man there is unemployed. I’m almost certain of it. But he’s got an ID badge on his belt. I think I’d like to chat with them a minute. After they’ve had a few more drinks. If they’re not responsive, I can always pop into their home and speak to their wives.”

  Riki looked over the men. Mark watched her as she did so. She didn’t look anything like h
is ex, which by itself made her more alluring.

  Mark’s divorce had been so bitter that it scarred them both for life. For months afterward, they couldn’t speak to each other. When an issue arose, they resolved it by text message, because the sound of the other person’s voice was too much. Eventually, they realized they would have to interact with each other because of their daughter. But those scars remained. The keloid built up and up, so thick they could never hide or remove it.

  “Can I ask you something?” Riki said. “Why here?”

  “Kalou?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s about as far as you can get from a major city. The lifestyle is completely laid back. Crime is almost non-existent. Money, except for bribes and the tourists, really isn’t that important. The politicians are still crazy, but politicians are crazy everywhere. I feel at peace here. Like the world just makes more sense.”

  “I could see that. A neighbor of mine had their house broken into a few months ago. And I’m not rich, but I don’t live in the projects, either. So someone breaks into their house and robs them when they weren’t home. Well, they ended up arresting the guy when he tried to pawn some of her stuff. Turns out the guy was a serial rapist. He was breaking into people’s houses and raping the wives while he tied up the husbands and made them watch. That’s what he had planned for my neighbors, but he didn’t realize they weren’t home. They were visiting relatives in San Francisco. This happened in a good neighborhood. I think L.A. is like that. No one’s safe.”

  “Everywhere is like that.” He took a sip of his beer. The four men rose and walked out. Mark set his beer down. “Wait here,” he said and followed them out.

  Mark had seen the one with the ID badge several times before. He’d asked Mark if he had any odd jobs he could do. Mark once had him clean his rain gutters. They didn’t really need cleaning, but Mark could tell the man was too proud to take a handout. So Mark had him do some work before giving him some cash.

  “Hey,” Mark said, “um, Dil, right?”

  “Yes.” The man grinned. “How are you, Mark?”

  “Good. Listen, I had kind of a request. I’ve heard some people have been picking up good work farther inland. Something to do with the oil company, and, well, I’m interested in applying. How would I do that?”

  “You want to work for VN?”

  Mark nodded. “I don’t have a lot of clients right now. It’d be some good supplemental income.”

  The man glanced back to the other three men, who were piling into a single car. “You don’t want to work there,” he said quietly. “Find somewhere else.”

  “I’ve heard the pay is great.”

  “It is. But it’s not worth it. Believe me, find somewhere else.”

  “Let’s say there is nowhere else. How would I go about applying?”

  The man was quiet a moment, understanding he wasn’t going to sway Mark from what he wanted. “There’s a man in town hiring. His name is Tom. I don’t know his last name. He’s staying at the Venetian Suites. You just need to ask for him.”

  “Tom at the Venetian Suites? Okay, I really appreciate that, Dil. You have yourself a good night.”

  The man didn’t say anything as he headed to the car. He climbed into the back and the car pulled away, disappearing farther down the road.

  Mark checked the clock on his phone. Now was as good a time as any.

  18

  The Venetian Suites, consisting of buildings spread out over a five-acre lot, were probably the nicest rooms on the entire island. Each unit was a separate home from every other unit. The homes were far enough away that residents couldn’t hear their neighbors but close enough to provide a sense that they weren’t completely alone in the jungle.

  Mark had been there once before. He didn’t rent a room, just had a look around because he’d heard about its luxury. He remembered staring at the homes and seeing the couples inside and wondering why he wasn’t in one of those.

  It was a brief flash of the way he used to think. As a beat cop and then a detective, he saw fancy homes, and jealousy wrung his guts. The fact that he risked his life every day for a pittance and people trading stocks made a hundred times what he did weighed heavily on him. On every cop.

  Then he moved to the island, and all that faded away. Everyone was treated relatively equally, whether they lived in a shack on the beach or a mansion hidden away in the jungle. Only now, standing at these suites, did the old envy claw its way out again. He tried to push it from his mind as he walked to the administration building.

  A front desk clerk in a suit busied himself on a computer. He was staring at the screen as if it was upsetting him.

  “Hi,” Mark said. “I’m, ah, looking for Tom.”

  The man glanced up from his computer. “Do you have an appointment with him?”

  “No, um… no, I wasn’t told I needed one.”

  The man sighed. “Well, have a seat, and I will call him and let him know you are here.”

  Mark sat in a plush chair against the wall. The side table next to him looked like something made hundreds of years ago. Vivid, bright artwork decorated the walls. Even the armrests of the chair he sat in had been cleaned. No detail escaped them.

  The man picked up a phone and said, “Sorry to bother you, but you have another one waiting to speak with you… okay.” The man hung up. “You can go in now,” he shouted.

  “Which room again?”

  “Down the hall to your left.” The man didn’t raise his eyes from the screen.

  The hotel’s typical patrons did not use the narrow hallway. It almost appeared cordoned off, as if they didn’t want anyone back there. The doors all had thick locks, and the carpets appeared brand new.

  Mark continued down the hallway until he reached an open door. A man was sitting on a bed with a laptop open in front of him. He looked up when he saw Mark. “Come in and shut the door behind you, please.”

  Mark did as instructed.

  “Have a seat,” the man said.

  A chair sat about three feet in front of the man. Mark sat down and crossed his legs, placing his interlaced fingers on his knee. It was about the most professional pose he could pull. He thought it appeared both interested, formal, and relaxed at the same time, though he felt none of those things.

  “Have you previously filled out an application?”

  “No.”

  “Any experience in the oil industry or security?”

  “No. I worked for five summers at a quarry by my house, though.”

  “Quarry’s not an oil field.”

  “No, sir,” he said. “Quarry’s much harder.”

  A brief flash of something between anger and confusion appeared on his face, then it faded away, and the man chuckled. “Good one.” He set the papers in his hand down and leaned back, staring Mark in the eyes. “Why do you want to work here?”

  “Supplemental income,” Mark lied. “Times are tough all over, and it seems like a good company.”

  “Okay,” the man said. “First, tell me what headhunter asked you here.”

  “Um, no headhunter. It was a personal referral.”

  The man was quiet a moment. “Personal referral?” He reached for his phone and typed something. “Personal referral from who? All of our employees sign non-disclosure agreements.”

  “Yeah, I know. But—”

  Just then, the door behind him opened, and two men stepped through. Both wore tight shirts that showed off their muscles. Though it was night, wrap-around Ray-Ban sunglasses dangled from their necks. Both were chewing gum like horses chewed hay, which would have been comical if not for the pistols in their shoulder holsters.

  “I’m going to ask you again,” the man said, “personal referral from who?”

  Mark looked from the two men to the man on the bed. He had overplayed his hand. He should have done more digging around before coming here. Some research. Instead of preparing properly, he had rushed in like an amateur, and he wasn’t sure why.
<
br />   “Listen, fellas…” The two men were much bigger than he was and could clearly take him in a scrap. His only chance was surprise then run like hell.

  Mark leapt from the bed and swung wildly with a haymaker. He connected with one of the men’s jaw and sent him stumbling back. Mark ran for the door, hoping to avoid the second man altogether. But the big man wrapped his arm around him as if grabbing a baby.

  Tightness gripped his chest, as though his organs were being compacted. The big man had him in a bear hug. Mark’s lower back was on fire. He leaned his head back then thrust it forward, butting his forehead into the man’s nose. The man’s grip didn’t loosen.

  Damn, that sure as hell works in the movies.

  The other man had recovered and pulled something out of his waistband. It was a sap, short, thick, and black. Mark didn’t even see him swing. He just felt a thwap behind his ear, and he was down.

  The air was cool, a sea breeze scented with brine and wet sand. Mark had loved that smell as a kid. Growing up in an apartment near the beach in L.A., he remembered cutting school and going down to shoot crabs with a BB gun. They would swarm the beaches, hundreds of them, like an invading red army. He would pretend he was defending his city. The BBs never really did anything other than occasionally annoying them enough to flee in some other direction.

  He thought of those crabs as his eyes flicked open. Above him, a fan twirled lightly from a gray ceiling. He saw a table with a man at it. The man was rough looking, with scruff on his face and a thick hunting knife in his hand. He was whittling a good size chunk of wood into the shape of what appeared to be a stake.

  “Didn’t know there were any vampires on the island,” Mark said, sitting up with a groan. His vision still wasn’t stable, and he felt dizzy. He closed his eyes a moment then opened them again, taking in the room.

  “Not for vampires, brother.”

  The man was about Mark’s size, not like the gargantuan that had knocked him out and stuck him here, but something about the man was menacing. The calm, maybe. He was in a stressful situation for both parties, but the man remained perfectly calm. Like he was lying on the beach soaking in the sun.