by Frank Dorn
“And hard as it may be for you to comprehend, some of us world leaders could do without the sturm und drang associated with you and your hobbies.”
“My so called hobbies have higher net worth than most states, hell, most countries.”
“That says more about the sorry state of the world’s economies than it does about you.”
“As entertaining as your barbs and calumnies are, what is the actual point of this call?”
“You need to get out of the South American cocaine trade.”
“I am not now nor have I ever been involved in the drug trade. Not as a user, and certainly not as a distributor. You know that, but in the interest of wrapping up this foolish exchange, you may consider me retired. Have a nice day.”
“Not yet. You need to call off your dogs and don’t tell me they’re not involved. I have heard about The Jungle Has Teeth.”
“Believe it or not, that has nothing to do with me.”
“Oh really? Because I could swear you were on the television on one of your own networks just the other day, and you were talking about that very thing.”
“That was done as a favor to my secretary. If you wish to speak with her about it I will be happy to transfer you.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“I’ll ask once more, and then I am going to hang up. What do you want?”
“Just stop interfering in things about which you know next to nothing.”
“Wonderful. I will take that under advisement. Call again when you don’t have so much time to waste.”
“Earl I am serious. You’re putting lives at risk. Tens of thousands of them.”
“All right, I’ll try again because clearly you didn’t get the message. What do you want? Answer slowly, use small words, and be specific goddamit.”
“Don’t play games with me.”
“I assure you I am not playing. What in the name of all that is holy do you want?”
“Get Akhim and princess Lea away from Starbuck.”
“You want them to stop drinking coffee? Can ‘t they just switch to decaf?”
“Not Starbucks you idiot. Starbuck.”
“Battlestar Galactica Starbuck or Moby Dick Starbuck?”
“Now you’re just being ridicules.”
“Only because you’re being obtuse.”
Earl’s comment was met with silence. He had known Billy Nelson since they were in graduate school together. Billy was angry and he was counting silently until he got his temper under control. His voice was deadly calm, and his tone measured when he finally spoke. “If your people impede this operation any further I will hold you personally responsible. Is that clear enough for you?”
“Clear as mud and please, don’t try and make anything clearer. You’re really bad at it. I’ll get my people on it and figure out whatever it is you’re trying to tell me while simultaneously trying to keep it a secret. I expect it has something to do with a guy called Juan Valdez whose drug lord name is Starbuck.”
Earl hung up before President Nelson could respond, and buzzed Betty. Seconds later she was standing in his doorway, notepad in hand. Earl studied her for a moment. “The president wants us to stop interfering with South American drug dealers. He has indicated it has something to do with your fake movie project that I just killed, and that has consequently got our corporate brand trashed in the press. I want to know what is going on and why it is destroying my companies.”
Betty adjusted her glasses and studied her notepad. She didn’t answer.
“This is the point where you explain everything.”
“I can’t, at least not yet.”
“Because you don’t know?”
“Would you like some coffee?”
“I’d like a scotch.”
Betty smiled. “All right then.”
She left, returning moments later with two glasses and a half filled decanter. “I keep an emergency supply.” She poured two glasses, filling them nearly to the brim, before serving Earl and sitting down opposite him. She sipped her drink, set it down on his desk and folded her hands in her lap. “I’ll start from the beginning and tell you everything I know.”
An hour later the decanter and glasses were empty and Earl had learned about the three way con job that had blown up in the faces of his sometimes contractors. How three brilliant people had managed to mess up on such a colossal scale was beyond him.
At least he now knew that Starbuck was the nom de guerre of the world’s most powerful drug kingpin, and that Brandie, Akhim, and Charlie had been trying to destroy his business when things went south. Now all he needed to do was figure out how to rescue Brandie and Akhim, repair his company’s tarnished reputation, and bring down an international drug cartel operating out of a remote jungle hideout.
Earl leaned back and thought about his grandfather. He had retired when his father took over, and Earl had taken over after his father died. He would like to retire someday, but he lacked an heir to take over for him. “Do you ever think about retiring?” Earl suddenly asked his secretary.
Betty had to be nearly thirty years older than he was. Why hadn’t she retired? She blinked at him, surprised. “I’ve never thought about it. I like working. I like being in the center of the action. I would be bored to tears just sitting around watching the grass grow.”
“You live in a penthouse apartment.”
“With a view of the park.”
“So you can watch the grass grow.”
“And I can walk to work.”
“Contact Petty, send the Rupert Ames to the northwest coast of South America. Have him take a helicopter. See if you can get some GPS coordinates for Akhim and Brandie. Start spreading rumors that The Jungle Has Teeth is looking for alternative financing and distribution. Put out a rumor that Lea Kalani is considered too lightweight to carry the film and Lucy Liu is in consideration to replace her.”
“Brandie won’t like that.”
“I’ll apologize once she’s back. Put out some rumors about the leading ladies from Crazy Rich Asians too.”
Earl leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. His PR man in Hollywood was shuffling their release schedule to release a movie with strong box office projections in two weeks rather than two months, and gearing up for Oscar season, promoting a string of films. A blockbuster and some solid award nominations would quell the current speculations.
In another month everything would be back to normal. He hoped.
~*~
It wasn’t just that it was hot, and it wasn’t just that it was humid. The buzzing, biting insects, the smell of decay mixed with cloyingly sweet scented flowers, the sticky dust that got into everything, all of that wasn’t what bothered Akhim the most.
He had spent his summers in India when he was growing up. The noise, the crowds, the deadly creatures that were always underfoot, dealing with those things was second nature to him.
But the eerie silences that descended on the South American jungles terrified him. When he found himself alone and the animals fell silent, he grew anxious. The longer the quiet lasted, the more anxious he became.
Especially when he was alone up a tree in the middle of a million mile swamp. Still, the cellphone reception was good. Now if he could only get Charlie to pick up.
The phone rang and rang until finally he heard it being answered.
“Hello? Charlie?”
“Charlie’s not here.”
What the hell? “Who is this?”
“Jim. Who’s this?”
“Akhim. Akhim Gudan. I’ve worked with Charlie in the past.”
“You into computers?”
“Yes. No. I’m more of a creative who dabbles in administration. Right now I’m in a bit of a situation and I could really use Charlie’s assistance.”
“Are you that director guy? He’s really pissed off at you and that girl.”
“Yes, well, that girl and I are not entirely thrilled with him, either. None the less we need to make trav
el arrangements as quickly as possible.”
“Have you tried any of the travel websites?”
“Just – Jim – just tell Charlie that we need to talk. Soon.”
“Will do. And he really is a nice guy, you know.”
“Are we talking about Charlie Marinova?”
“Is that his last name? Cool. Yeah. He’s helping my dad and brother and I even though we tried to rob him.”
Interesting. “I didn’t know that but I am heartened to hear it worked out well for all of you.”
“Me too. I’ll tell Charlie you called.”
Akhim hung up. In the distance a large cat roared. Birds started singing. He started the long climb down.
16. 16
General Flores didn’t stagger as he walked, but he did weave and wobble a bit. Perhaps they shouldn’t have finished off both the scotch and the bourbon. Not to mention the glasses of locally produced chicha beer. At least he knew enough to stay away from the bast bark snuff. The native passing it out had worn feathers in his hair and tied around his waist – and that was all. Clearly a native shaman. Whatever he was sharing would blow his head off.
Akhim had not been that wise. When the old man came around offering a bowl he had tried it. Then he had looked at his phone and gone completely white. After that he had wandered off.
Looking at his own phone, Flores could understand why Akhim had been upset. The president of Graham Entertainment gave an interview explaining why Akhim and Lea’s movie had been canceled. The pair had traveled all the way to the ass end of South America only to find out they were unemployed.
He did a web news search for The Jungle Has Teeth and read a string of more than a dozen snarky insulting headlines. The articles trashed Graham Entertainment, Earl Graham, Akhim, and Lea. They were vicious and unrelenting, reminding Flores of army ants on the march, or a school of hungry piranha. Alone they were puny and easily dealt with, but working like a mob, they would strip a carcass bare in minutes if not seconds.
Starbuck needed to know but that wasn’t his problem. He was still angry with the man. Yes, he did pay them, and quite handsomely too, but more soldiers had died in the morning’s kerfuffle than his guards and workers and yet Starbuck blamed him.
So let Starbuck find out on his own. He needed to find that fool nephew of his and get him to make sense of this.
~*~
Akhim had just reached the ground when the snuff kicked in. The world around him pulsed. Trees swelled and shrank, colors took on their own odor, and sounds… the sounds.
He was shrinking. He was an ant. The size of an ant. His face was pressed against the dead leaves on the jungle floor. The leaves were dry and brown, brittle, fragile things, but they were damp too. He could feel the moisture seeping into his skin.
A small lizard eyed him like he was its next meal. An ant crawled onto his hand. It weighed a ton. The lizard’s tongue flicked out and captured it. Would he be next?
More ants crawled onto him. He picked one off and ate it. It tasted bitter, then the sensation morphed into sweetness. Sugar sweet and crunchy! He ate more ants. The lizard scampered away, growing six more pair of legs as it ran.
And then he grew. He stood up, stood tall, swelled and expanded until he was taller than the tallest trees. He looked down on the canopy, an endless expanse teeming with life and death and he surveyed it all. The birds flew, plumage bright, past his face, calling to him, commanding he go back to earth.
And then he fell. Shrinking and falling. Either that or the trees and the beasts within them grew large once more. He couldn’t tell. He landed on his knees. The lizard was back, only it was larger now, and wearing a black tuxedo and a monocle.
“You can’t go on like this” said the lizard.
Okay maybe it wasn’t the same lizard as before.
“Why not?”
“This is a jungle. Something will eat you.”
“So you don’t think things die outside of the jungle? You need to get out more.”
“Certainly wherever there is life there is death but you my friend are tempting death. You’re not paying attention to the giant six legged saber tooth tiger that is about to pounce are you?”
Akhim leaped to his feet, searching the trees and the ground, trying to spy the beast.
“Made you look.”
He sat down again, resting his arms on his knees and letting his hands dangle between them. “That’s not funny.”
“Would it be funnier if there really had been a tiger?”
“No. Fear is never, well, hardly ever funny.”
“Don’t you find that, after a moment of terror, when you’re still alive and in one piece, there is a release? For a transitory moment life seems safe and good and dare I add happy.”
“Maybe in your life.”
“Oh I am not alive. At least not in any way you think of it.”
“So… I am talking to a hallucination?”
“Maybe. Then again, maybe not. You’re in no condition to judge.”
Akhim watched as his hands grew extra thumbs. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean about my existence or your condition?”
“Both, I suppose, but lets start with my condition.”
“Do you remember the Yanomami shaman?”
“Yana what now?”
“The guy in the feathers. He gave you some snuff and you took it.”
“Oh. Yeah. I did do that. I was just being polite.”
“Oh please. You were half foxed already and would have taken anything to get your full buzz on.”
“That, sir, may be an exaggeration.”
“I’m not a sir. I’m not a ma’am, either. I’m androgynous or more precisely asexual. Back to the question at hand: you took a powerful hallucinogen.”
“And therefore I get to talk to you.”
“Or I get to talk to you. A matter of perspective, I suppose, but remember your perspective is at present very suspect.”
Akhim looked around. Suddenly everything looked the same and there was no path back to the village and the banquet. “I don’t suppose you’d know the way back to the party.”
The lizard laughed. “You know the answer already. The direction home is inside you.”
The lizard started to shrink. It’s clothes stayed the same size, however, and the animal slowly disappeared inside the suit. When it was gone, Akhim tried to pick up the jacket but somehow he could never quite get hold of it. He gave up in frustration, looked around, and started walking. He hoped it was in the right direction.
But he stopped before he had traveled twenty feet and took out his cellphone. Maybe he could get a satellite picture that would show where he was and where the village was. Somehow he doubted he could ask for directions, especially since he didn’t even know the name of the village, or indeed if it even had a name.
But looking first was a good idea. Yeah, he would research, plan, and find his way back.
Ten minutes later he was sitting beneath the tree he’d climbed earlier. The lizard clothes were gone. All he found in the satellite images of his location were photos of the treetops. If he could reach Charlie, he could fiddle with the images and probably pinpoint him and the village in seconds.
And if he had some ham he could have a ham and cheese sandwich if he had some cheese. And some bread.
Sighing he tried his last best chance. He called Brandie.
She picked up on the sixth ring. “Hello Lea, this is Akhim.”
“I know. Where are you?”
“I don’t know. I have some bad news.”
“You mean you’re being lost isn’t the bad news?”
“Yes, it is bad, and I made the mistake of ingesting some local snuff. Hallucinogenic snuff.”
“How hallucinogenic?”
“I’ve turned into a lizard, eaten ants, and spent the last half hour talking to a giant lizard dressed in a tuxedo. I am the lizard man.”
“That bad.”<
br />
“But my news is worse.”
“Mother of God Akhim what the hell is wrong?”
“Graham entertainment has canceled our movie. The Jungle Has Teeth is no more.”
“Would a rewrite help?”
“Brandie we do not actually have a script.”