Captain Coburg sat in a deckchair at the stern of the Coldfire Queen, focusing his binoculars. He saw Hyde drilling the tourists, imagining their unease at the strange little hermit’s antics.
‘Professor Hyde, did you ever find a Domino Cardinal?’ Zachary said.
The Professor spun on the spot, skipping away like a child, pumping his spear overhead, letting out a whoop of delight, the quartet unsure if they should follow. Zachary took two steps in his direction. Hyde sensed his approach, stopped and turned to face him. Wide-eyed and angry, he raised his spear to Zachary’s face, pushing the prongs against his cheek, a sharp hiss forcing spittle through his yellowed teeth. He glared for several seconds then lowered the spear and walked off with the four bottles of rum balanced in the crook of his arm.
‘Touched a raw nerve, Zach,’ Father Stephen said.
‘He’s hiding something.’
‘What now?’ Paris said.
‘How about afternoon tea back on the launch?’ Rachel said.
‘Not just yet,’ Zachary said, as a cool breeze started in from the southwest. ‘We can at least take a good walk over the rock, and look for a Cardinal without Hyde’s help. Let’s split up and head to the perimeters. Switch your radios to channel six.’
‘What about Hyde’s shack, Zachary? Rachel said.
‘Keep an eye out for the Professor. If we see him any distance away, I’ll try to locate the corridor and sneak a look.’
The quartet synchronised their radios, drank from their water flasks and fanned out across the island.
Paris headed in an easterly direction over the hard-volcanic ground, white with dried guano that crunched underfoot. She arrived at the edge of a cliff and gazed out at the waves sweeping in from the limitless ocean. To her great surprise, at the bottom of the cliff, standing on a flat rock was Professor Hyde, fishing rod in hand with a line stretching out into the sea, his spear nowhere in sight. She could not understand how he’d managed to get there and so quickly. Climbing down was treacherous if not impossible and no dinghy was moored nearby. She watched him retrieve his line and recast a bright pink lure across the stiffening breeze, then move out of sight against the base of the cliff with only the tip of his rod visible.
‘Zachary, the Professor is at the bottom of a cliff, fishing. I don’t know how he got down there but I can’t see him getting back up in a hurry. Where are you?’ Paris radioed.
‘I’m in the corridor leading to Hyde’s shack.
Rachel and Father Stephen listened in from their positions at the north and south poles of the iceless rock.
Hyde’s rod bent violently, shuddering under load. He stepped out onto the flat rock, right to the edge of the sea, winding vigorously. The rod curved impossibly. The line zigzagged through the water and Paris saw a flash of gold near the surface before the fish tried a last pull to the deep.
Hyde worked it up until it wallowed on its side. A shark broke the surface, severing the fish behind its gills, leaving a ragged crescent of flesh, and Hyde falling backwards at the loss of resistance. Paris sensed his disgust as he removed the lure from the shiny head and hurled the remains back into the sea.
Immediately, a posse of gulls swooped in, pecking at the head until the shark reappeared to reclaim its meal and sink away.
Paris saw Hyde recast his lure into the sea and retreat under the cliff’s overhang, the tip of his rod still visible. Her radio came to life.
‘Is Hyde still fishing, Paris?’ Zachary said.
‘Yes, Zachary.’
‘Keep me posted.’
Zachary followed the luge-like corridor. The smooth passage rose twice head-height, open to the sky, just wide enough to walk through. It wound back on itself in several places, ending in a narrow view of the ocean. Six steps chiselled out of the ancient lava-rock descended to a platform on which nestled Hyde’s shack.
Zachary spotted the Coldfire Queen at anchor, pointing into the breeze.
The shack’s corrugated tin roof was splattered with guano. It sloped down away from the cliff face to deflect any rain out over the ocean. Four steel poles supported the roof, shading a veranda of broad wooden slats. Zachary imagined sitting there in a rocking chair, smoking Cuban cigars and supping rum while scanning the waves for ships and spouting whales.
A rotting fish carcass lay on a well-worn filleting bench away from the shack. Flies sizzled over the putrefying skeleton, and fish-scale confetti littered the ground beneath.
The shack was windowless. Zachary stepped onto the creaking veranda planks and through a flaking blue door into a room scattered with candles of various sizes. The white tin ceiling was black with soot. A small round table with a matching wooden chair were the only furnishings. The walls were bare, the adjoining room just as Spartan except for a bank of tall gas cylinders.
Zachary had preconceived a nutty professor busying himself amongst bubbling chemistry sets and cages of starving animals awaiting cruel experiments, but it was no Island of Doctor Moreau. There were no foul smells beyond the decaying fish, no bed for Hyde to sleep in, no shelving, cupboards, food or accumulation of objects to suggest Hyde had lived there for twenty-five years.
Zachary came out the door and off the veranda. He observed a section of the shack’s tin roof bent to direct rain into a large polycarbonate water tank. Except for the inevitable guano, the exterior of the building and its grounds were immaculately kept, for a place that otherwise seemed totally forsaken.
‘See anything, Zachary?’ Rachel radioed
‘I’m at Hyde’s shack. It’s as barren as the island.’
‘Hyde’s still fishing, Zachary,’ Paris said, on hearing Rachel’s voice.
‘I’m going to poke around some more,’ Zachary said.
Father Stephen interrupted. ‘We should take up Captain Coburg’s snorkelling offer. The ocean below me is teeming with life.’
‘We’ll see, Steve, but I won’t be satisfied until I find out what Hyde is really up to. Stay at your posts until I call in.’
Paris peered over the cliff, the tip of Hyde’s rod still visible. It had not moved.
Captain Coburg spotted Zachary through his binoculars. Hyde would not take kindly to him sniffing around. Two hours remained until he plucked his clients off the ladder and returned them to the launch.
Zachary re-entered the shack, sat on the chair, pulled his canteen and a red apple from his backpack and gazed out the doorway.
Paris, tired of spying on Hyde, wished Zachary would hurry. She felt they would gain nothing from the visit to the island. The rod still poked into the air.
The smell of the dead fish was pervasive. Zachary moved outside, peeled the carcass off the bench and flung it off the cliff, leaving a cloud of flies stranded in mid-air.
He heard a click, and cold steel fingered his neck.
‘You’re on private property,’ snarled an angry voice.
Zachary was annoyed more than scared. Why hadn’t Paris radioed a warning?
Professor Hyde lowered his pistol, unhooked Zachary’s radio off his belt, and lobbed it into the sea.
‘That was unnecessary.’
‘I don’t like people interfering. What’s your name?’
‘Zachary Smith. We aren’t here to interfere. We’re after a Domino Cardinal Tarantula.’
‘You’re not the only one.’
‘You too, Professor?’
‘Others came searching for the spider,’ Hyde said.
‘Who were they?’
‘Don’t know. Chased them off the island after they shot at the birds. Told me it was for scientific purposes - a few for the good of the colony. But I was having none of it. It’s one of the conditions. The Government of Ecuador has laws protecting the wildlife here.’
‘How many were there?’
‘Two dead pelicans.’
‘I mean people.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Hyde said.
‘What did they look like?’
‘Two wings as usual.’
Zachary smiled at the ground.
‘A man and woman in their sixties,’ Hyde said. ‘When they realised I couldn’t help them they shot a couple of harmless pelicans. That’s when I escorted them to the ladder for Captain Coburg to retrieve. The charter boat left the island that very afternoon.’
Paris radioed Zachary without response. She had not seen Hyde for half an hour, the sun was heading for the sea and Captain Coburg was due to pick them up.
‘Do the tarantulas survive on this island, Professor?’
‘Definitely not on the island,’ Hyde said.
‘Do you know if they survive anywhere at all?’
Professor Hyde ignored the question and pointed in the direction of the Coldfire Queen. A dinghy sped toward the ladder.
‘Get off my island.’
Hyde realised he’d been too forthcoming. He aimed his pistol at Zachary’s chest with a finger poised on the trigger. Without warning he tilted the weapon at the sky, firing off a round. The crack resounded off the cliff face so sea birds burst into the sky, cavorting wing over wing in panic.
‘Get off my island and never come back.’
He waved the gun at the entrance to the corridor, and Zachary climbed the steps into the chute, following the circuitous route back to the top of the island.
The others heard the gunshot. Paris headed back to the ladder while trying to radio Zachary.
‘Is everyone okay?’ Rachel said.
‘I’m worried about Zach. It’s time to go. Captain Coburg should be on his way in.’ Father Stephen said.
Father Stephen took a last look into the green pool at the bottom of the cliff as a gleaming billfish launched from the depths and crashed back into the sea.
The quartet converged at the ladder simultaneously.
Zachary was livid. ‘Is Hyde still fishing, Paris?’
She was confused by the question. ‘When I left the cliff, he was.’
‘You saw him holding the rod?’
‘I saw the tip of the rod and the line in the water.’
‘Then he has an identical twin.’
‘I didn’t see him leave his fishing spot and I’m certain he didn’t swim or climb out.’
‘He appeared from nowhere with a gun at my neck.’
‘What about the gunshot, Zachary?’ Paris said
‘Just Hyde letting off steam.’
‘I’m glad you’re okay.’
Rachel abhorred Paris’ affectionate display.
Captain Coburg blew an air horn, signalling it was time to leave.
‘Let’s discuss this over dinner. Mind what you say in front of Captain Coburg. I’d prefer he didn’t know exactly why we’re here. You go down the ladder first,’ Zachary directed a nervous Paris.
Rachel rolled her eyes. There were plenty of things that frightened her but ladders were not one of them and she would never show fear in front of Zachary.
Zachary and Father Stephen held a hand each to help Paris down the first few rungs. She descended slowly, head up. Only when Captain Coburg told her she was near the water did she dare look past her feet. He nudged the boat next to the ladder with a slight rev of the motor and Paris stepped into the hull.
The others followed and the dinghy was soon back at the Coldfire Queen.
The breeze abated as the sun dissolved into the horizon. The scarlet sky turned pink then the electric lights on the rear deck took effect against the night.
Captain Coburg and the quartet ate from a large platter of fresh seafood.
‘Tomorrow you can dive in the waters around the arch. Hyde won’t bother you down there,’ Captain Coburg said.
‘We’re not sure, Captain. We’ll sleep on it and decide in the morning,’ Zachary said.
‘Please excuse me.’ Captain Coburg wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and dropped it onto his empty plate.
Zachary waited until he left then poured more red wine.
‘I propose a toast to Darwin in our quest to find a Domino Cardinal.’
They raised their drinks in a clash of crystal and chorused as one. ‘To Charles Darwin!’
‘The only way I imagine Professor Hyde escaping his fishing spot unnoticed is under the island,’ Rachel said.
‘It makes perfect sense, especially in light of the speed at which he made it back to the shack.’
‘Remember Captain Coburg saying the island is a remnant of a collapsed volcanic cone? There must be larva tubes threading through the interior,’ Father Stephen said.
‘As long as we’re anchored off the island, Hyde will be watching us. If he thinks we suspect something at his fishing spot, he’ll focus his surveillance there until we set sail for Isabela,’ Rachel said.
‘What if we go at night? He can’t see the fishing spot from his shack and is unlikely to be out spying in the dark,’ Paris said.
‘Steve and I will go alone.’
Rachel resisted the urge to argue and Paris was quietly happy to avoid another visit to the island.
‘You’ll need to persuade Captain Hook to take you,’ Paris said.
‘I bet an old sea dog like Captain Coburg knows the island’s coastline like the back of his hand,’ Zachary said.
‘When will you go?’ Rachel said.
‘Tonight, if Captain Coburg agrees.’
Captain Coburg sat on the bridge sucking on a cigar while admiring the palette of stars through the skylight. He welcomed Father Stephen and Zachary inside.
‘Ever wondered what’s up there in that never-ending firmament, Father?’ Is ours the only planet in God’s great cosmos, seeded with life?’ Captain Coburg said.
‘Indeed, Captain. No one’s proved to me otherwise.’
‘Maybe we haven’t seen far enough into space to find out for sure. You can never be certain of these things. I’ll bet there are undiscovered species swimming around below us right now. Just because we haven’t seen them yet doesn’t mean they don’t exist.’
‘It’s an unwinnable argument from each of our perspectives, Captain.’
‘I see you are a diplomat, Father, an attribute keenly sought in the tinderbox situation the world now finds itself. China is going to land soldiers in Afghanistan. There will be another war there if the Americans don’t leave. How quickly the worm turns.’
‘The only way we can help from here is to say our prayers, Captain.’
‘Perhaps you are right, Father. Cigars, gentlemen?’ Captain Coburg proffered his Cuban Chest. Zachary took out a thick perfecto sealed in plastic, peeled off the wrapping and accepted the Captain’s lighter, drawing the cigar’s tip into a glowing ember.
‘Captain, Father Stephen and I want to revisit the island tonight. At the eastern end is a flat rock jutting from the base of a cliff. Hyde used it as a fishing platform today.’
‘I know the spot. It’s the only safe place below the cliffs where you can wet a line in good weather. I’ve landed clients there and pulled some decent fish out of the deep drop-off. How Hyde got to it without a boat is a mystery.’
‘That’s why we want to look around. There might be a tunnel linking his shack. At night, we have a better chance of avoiding him.’
Captain Coburg rubbed his unshaven jaw. The outboard is too noisy. We’ll have to row.’
‘Then you agree to take us, Captain?’ Zachary said.
‘When do you want to leave?’
‘Soon as possible.’
‘It’s a half-hour trip. I’ll get torches and radios and meet you on the bottom deck.’
Rachel and Paris untied the dinghy and pushed it away from the launch. With Zachary in the bow and Father Stephen at the stern, Captain Coburg took the oars, settling into a steady rhythm. The dinghy slipped quietly through the sea. Without navigation lamps to betray their passage, Father Stephen felt uneasy in the darkness. He held tightly to the seat, fearing a whale might upend them into the drink. At the same time, he marvelled at Captain Coburg’s sense of direction.
‘How much further, Captain?’
Father Stephen said.
‘Father, we are nearly there.’
Captain Coburg dipped an oar to turn the dinghy. Father Stephen heard the waves against the island, and the second the dinghy’s hull grated against rock, the cliff wall loomed up in front of them.
‘It’s safe to use the torches now but avoid flashing them out to sea or into the sky,’ Captain Coburg said.
Zachary and Father Stephen stepped out of the dinghy onto the natural landing.
‘I’ll anchor out a way and wait. Radio me when you’re ready to leave.’
A knot tightened in Father Stephen’s stomach. Zachary directed his beam over the cliff face, sending bright red crabs scuttling in all directions. Father Stephen suddenly noticed the smell of the ocean, and envisioned a mountainous tsunami rolling toward the island.
Zachary interrupted his nightmare. ‘See anything, Steve?’
Father Stephen waved his torch mindlessly, preoccupied by his unfounded worries.
‘Only crabs, Zach, how about you?’
‘Not a thing.’
Zachary traced a line up the cliff face with his torchlight, careful not to shoot the beam beyond the lip into the sky. The reverse slope of the cliff presented a difficult ascent for the most experienced climber, let alone an elderly man. Zachary walked the length of the rocky landing. His torchlight disturbed a bat hanging on the wall and it flapped away into the night.
Captain Coburg watched the erratic play of the torch beams then sank down in the bottom of the dinghy, resting his head on a piece of foam. He checked the radio and closed his eyes.
Zachary could not find a single crack in the cliff face. Father Stephen stood away to his right, gazing up at a spiralling tower of lava-rock.
‘Zach, you could climb that,’ Father Stephen said, running his torchlight over the glassy surface.
Without answering, Zachary removed his boots and socks and surveyed the challenge. He felt the smoothness of the rock, gripped the tower and inched upwards. As his muscles burned, Zachary experienced some of the self-doubt he imagined Paris felt on the ladder earlier in the day.
The Jesus Germ Page 34