She emerged from the trees only ten yards from where Tucker lay. She was wearing a purple lavalava, which she unwrapped and dropped on the sand.
Tuck stopped breathing. She walked by him, only a few feet away, her body oiled and shining in the moonlight, her long black hair playing behind her in the breeze. He risked lifting his head and watched her walk into the water up to her knees and begin washing, splashing water on her thighs and bottom.
From the time he had left Houston he had carried images in his head of what it would be like to live on a tropical island. Those images had been buried by cuts and scrapes, typhoons and humidity, sharks and ninjas and enigmatic missionaries. This was why he had come: a naked island girl washing her mocha thighs on a warm moonlit beach.
He felt a stirring under him and almost leaped to his feet, thinking he was lying on some sea creature. Then he realized that the stirring came from within. It had been so long since he’d felt signs of an erection that he didn’t recognize it at first. He almost burst out laughing. It still worked. He was still a man. Hell, he was more than just a man, he was Tucker Case, secret agent, and for the first time in months, he was packing wood.
The girl walked out of the water and Tuck ducked his head as she passed. He watched her wrap the lavalava around her hips and disappear into the trees. He waited until she was gone, then followed her, enjoying the tension in his trunks as he crept into the trees.
Malink looked up from pouring tuba for the men at the drinking circle to see Sepie coming down from the village. This was an outrage and an em-barrassment. No women were allowed near the drinking circle. It was a place for men.
“Go home, Sepie!” Malink barked. “You are not to be here.”
Sepie ignored him and kept coming, her hips swaying. Several of the young married men looked away, feeling regret that they wouldn’t be bedding down in the bachelors’ house tonight. “There’s a white man following me.”
Malink stood. “You talk nonsense. Now go home or you’ll have another week away from the ocean.” He noticed that the ends of her hair were wet and drops ran off her legs. She’d already broken her punishment for talking with the Japanese guards.
“Fine,” Sepie said. “I don’t care if a white man is sneaking around in the bushes. I just though you would want to know.”
She flipped her hair as she turned and made her way back up the beach. As she passed the tree that Tuck had ducked behind, she said in English, “The fat loud one is chief. You go talk to him. He tell you who I am.” And she walked on, head high, without looking back.
Tuck felt his face flush and his ego deflate along with the swelling in his pants. Busted. She’d known he was there all along. Some secret agent. He’d be lucky to get back into the compound without getting caught.
He watched the men on the beach passing around the communal cup. From the way they moved he could see that some of them were pretty drunk. He remembered the warning of Jefferson Pardee about not drinking with these latent warriors, but they looked harmless, even a little silly with their loincloths and shark tattoos. One young man reached to take the cup from the old guy who was pouring and fell on his face in the sand. That did it. Tuck stepped out from behind his tree and started toward the circle. Whatever was being poured from those jugs was probably not gin and tonic, but it would definitely get you fucked up, and getting fucked up sounded pretty good right now.
“Jambo,” Tuck said, using a greeting he’d heard in a Tarzan movie.
The whole group looked up. One man actually let out an abbreviated scream. The fat old guy stood up, a fire in his eyes that cooled as Tuck moved out of the shadows.
Mary Jean had always said, “Doesn’t matter if it’s a senator or a doorman. No one is immune to a warm smile and a firm handshake.”
Tuck held out his hand and smiled. “Tucker Case. Pleased to meet you.”
Malink allowed the white man to shake his hand. As the others looked on, still stunned, Malink said, “You are looking better than the last time I saw you. The Sorcerer made you well.”
Tuck’s eyes were trained on the three-gallon jugs of milky liquid at the center of the circle. “Yeah, I’m feeling on top of the world. You guys think you could spare a sip of that jungle juice?”
“Sit,” Malink said, and he waved the young men aside to make space for Tuck on one of the sitting logs. Tuck stepped in and sat as Favo handed him the coconut shell cup. Tuck downed the contents in one gulp and fought to keep from gagging. It tasted of sulfur, sugar, and a tint of ammo-nia, but the alcohol was there, and the familiar warmth was coursing through him before he’d even stopped shuddering from the taste.
“Good. Very good.” Tuck smiled and nodded around the circle. The Shark men smiled and nodded back.
Malink sat beside him. “We thought you died.”
“So did I. How about another belt?”
Malink looked embarrassed. “The cup must come around again.”
“Fine, fine. Drink up, boys,” Tuck said, smiling and nodding like a madman.
“How you come here?” Malink asked.
“A little stroll, a little swim. I wanted to get out and meet some people. You know, get to know the local customs. Gets pretty boring up at the clinic.”
Malink frowned. “You are the pilot. We see you fly the plane.”
“That’s me.”
“Vincent said you would come.”
“Who’s Vincent?”
The men, who had been whispering among themselves, fell si lent. The pouring and drinking stopped as they waited for Malink’s reply.
“Vincent is pilot too. He come long time ago, bringing cargo. He send the Sky Priestess until he come back. You see her with the Sorcerer. At hospital. She have yellow hair like yours.”
Tuck nodded, as if he had any idea what the chief was talking about. Right now he just wanted to see the cup finish its lap and get back to him. “Yeah, right. I’ve seen her. She’s the doctor’s wife.”
Abo, who was drunk and for once not angry, laughed and said, “She is nobody’s wife, you fuckin’ mook. She’s the Sky Priestess.”
Tuck froze. A plane crash and a talking bat rose like demons, ruining his oncoming buzz.
Malink looked apologetic. “He is young and drunk and stupid. You not fuckin’ mook.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Tuck asked. “Where’d you hear ‘fuckin’ mook’?”
“Vincent say that. We all say that.”
“Vincent? What’s Vincent look like?”
The young men looked to Favo and Malink. Favo spoke. “He is American. Have dark hair like us, but his nose point. Young. Maybe as old as you.”
“And he’s a pilot? What’s he wear?”
“He wear gray suit, sometimes a jacket with fur here.” Favo mimed a collar and lapels.
“A bomber jacket.”
Malink smiled. “Yes, Sky Priestess is bomber.”
Tuck snatched the cup from one of the Johns and drained it, then handed it back. “Sorry. Emergency.” He looked at Malink. “And this Vincent said I was coming?”
Malink nodded. “He tell me in a dream. Then Sarapul find you and your friend on the reef.”
“My friend? Is he around?”
“We no see him now. He go to live with Sarapul on other side of island.”
“Take me to him.”
“We drink tuba now. Go in morning?”
“I have to be back before morning. And you can’t tell anyone that I was here.”
“One more,” Malink said. “The tuba is good tonight.”
“Okay, one more,” Tuck said.
39
Showtime
The Sky Priestess rolled over in bed and slapped the beeping intercom as