by Wesley Stein
“My name is Iago,” Yoggy said. “But only she calls me that. Juliet.”
“Juliet?” Rachel asked.
Yoggy hoped to answer only with a smile but the look of fear and sorrow in his eyes betrayed him. Rachel tilted her head in curiosity and pressed him with another look.
“You’ll meet her soon,” Yoggy said. “She won’t be happy there’s only two of you.”
“Are we in trouble?”
“I doubt it,” Yoggy replied. “A rich man like you doesn’t have to worry about any trouble from Juliet.”
Yoggy brought the boat to port with a kiss of the old car-tires that had been fashioned to the edge of the dock. Before Mark and Rachel could make it onto the dock, Yoggy had already hopped over and tied off the boat with a rope.
“The first boat we had was awful,” Yoggy said. “This one is much nicer. Follow me.”
The couple followed their guide up the boarded walkway from the dock to the village square. They turned to the east and started down a boardwalk toward the jungle.
“Where are we going?” Mark asked.
“I’m taking you to the fountain room,” Yoggy answered without turning his head. Rachel and Mark could see the steep mountain rising from the trees ahead.
“Where is everyone?” Mark asked. “Where’s all the fun, the action?”
Yoggy stopped and turned.
“The fun?” He asked with a frown. “The action?”
“Yeah,” Mark uttered. “You know? The party. Sex. Food and music.”
Yoggy stared at Mark’s eyes and then Rachel’s. He was trying to choose his next words, but chose none at all. Finally he smiled again.
“Right this way.”
They followed him into the trees where the boardwalk led to a cave at the base of the mountain. They stepped forward, beneath the shadow of the dormant volcano that had shaped the island.
Once inside, a large cavern room opened before them. It was wired with electricity. Light bulbs burned from their housings, bolted to the cavern ceiling. Yoggy led Mark and Rachel into the room and paused.
“This is the Crossing Cavern,” he said. “These passages will lead you to whichever part of the island you’d like to access.”
Rachel and Mark slowly spun in a circle. Every few feet across the circular room was a tunnel, each with a stone placard placed atop it. Some of the tunnels were dark, some were lighted. Some had wooden doors covering their openings, others did not. Standing in front of the passageways, Rachel and Mark could feel cool breezes emanating from some and warm gusts of steam coming from others.
“This way,” Yoggy led.
He took them through a tunnel marked with a stone placard carved into the symbol of a tree.
They emerged in another chamber, this one much smaller than the last. A wooden platform was situated high against the walls, a set of steps leading to the top of it.
At the top of the platform was another tunnel. Steam billowed from the opening and a wave of heat moved through the cavern.
“Juliet is waiting,” Yoggy said as they reached the top of the stairs. He waited as Rachel and Mark hesitantly moved into the passage and down.
The room was a tall cathedral, circular and bulbous. In the center was a fountain, springing water from the stone. A ribbon of nothingness encircled the fountain as a deep gash scarred the cave floor. The water from the fountain ran down into the ravine and soon rose again as steam. At the bottom of the gash was the molten rock at the heart of the mountain.
A wide bridge, made of wood and stone, spanned the ravine. On the other side of it, standing in front of the fountain, was a beautiful woman wearing only a thin silk robe. She turned and smiled at the couple. Her eyes were as green as the jungle.
“Welcome,” she said. “I am Juliet.”
Mark stepped forward, holding Rachel’s hand and almost pulling her along.
“I’m Mark,” he paused. “I’m sorry, I’m Claudius. This is Gertrude,” he said. “Thank you for having us.”
The woman didn’t respond except to smile. She took a moment to examine Mark’s eyes. Then she moved her attention to Rachel.
She studied Mark’s wife, encircling her to better look her up and down. She took some of Rachel’s hair between her fingers and tested its softness. She took the woman’s wrist in her hands and caressed the skin of Rachel’s forearm.
“It’s my pleasure,” Juliet finally replied. “I appreciate all the work you’ve done for us.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Mark said. “I was happy to help.”
Juliet smiled at him then turned her attention back to Rachel.
“How old are you?” Juliet asked. Her accent was French and Mark found it very sexy.
Rachel was somewhat intimidated. She couldn’t think of the correct answer to Juliet’s question. Rachel had always told her friends she was thirty-nine and had almost forgotten her genuine age.
“I’m forty-four,” Rachel finally admitted.
“And I’m forty-five,” Mark added.
“Perfect,” Juliet replied as she stepped away from them and went to the fountain. “And where are the girls?”
Mark and Rachel dropped their heads. Juliet waited for one of them to answer. An eternity seemed to pass for Mark as he waited for Rachel to reply. But she never did, so Mark answered for her.
“We had to leave them,” Mark said. “We couldn’t bring them with us.”
“And why not?”
“They’re just kids,” he answered. “The youngest is only nine.”
Juliet’s eyes brightened.
With one hand and then the other dipped into the falling water Juliet explained the fountain’s origins and the power it held. She spoke of youth and beauty. She talked about ridiculous notions of everlasting life.
Mark and Rachel were skeptical, but then Juliet came over and put her wet fingers in each of their mouths.
She arrived between them and raised a wet hand to their faces, palming their respective cheeks. Then she slid a few fingers past their lips.
“Just one drop,” she said softly. “Will show you.”
Mark’s eyes rolled back in his head. Rachel’s eyes closed tightly. Juliet smiled and brought her face closer to them, now all three of their heads together.
“When you drink,” she whispered. “You will inherit a gift from God, your true birthright.”
Mark couldn’t resist. He leaned over and kissed Juliet. She didn’t stop him. Then he kissed Rachel, whose eyes were still clenched shut. Juliet pulled Rachel closer and tried to speak to her, but the woman was lost in a dream.
When she finally snapped out of it, there were tears in Rachel’s eyes.
“I’m a terrible mother,” she said. “I left my girls.”
Juliet seemed stunned. She stepped back and put a hand to her chest.
“I’ve never seen this before,” she said. “Your resistance to the water is strong, dear. Don’t you know what I just gave you?”
“I do,” Mark said. “And I want more.”
“In a moment,” Juliet waved at him then turned her attention back to Rachel. “Tell me, why didn’t you bring them?”
“They’re just kids,” Rachel muttered. “I couldn’t.”
“Then you have robbed them of a life grander than you could ever imagine,” Juliet said. “They must come. And you will bring them. The prophecy must be fulfilled.”
She grabbed Mark and Rachel’s hands and pulled them to the base of the spring.
“Drink,” she ordered.
Mark didn’t hesitate. He cupped his hands beneath the fountain and gulped from them. Rachel was not as quick, but eventually, put a hand under the water and brought it to her mouth. She sipped a few drops.
The power of the water began to take effect. Mark’s desires were carnal. But Rachel’s desires, heightened to peak by the water, were more natural and motherly. She still longed for youth and beauty but wanted to share it with her daughters. She’d made a mistake leaving them an
d she knew it now.
“Drink!” Juliet urged again.
Rachel drank more water and it made her feel better, less guilty. She suddenly felt more alive, more capable as a mother, and as a lover to Mark too.
“Enough.” Juliet finally stopped them. “You can drink again when you return with your daughters.”
“What?” Mark asked. His heart sank. He never wanted to leave this island again. This fountain felt like his true home.
“Iago!” Juliet called. In a moment, Yoggy appeared at the end of the passageway.
“Yes Juliet?”
“You have another mission,” she said.
Many miles away, across the deep blue sea, Consular Agent Robbins left the hotel feeling optimistic. He had a few new leads to chase.
He drove his old Honda sedan around the island from the hotel on the tourists’ side to his office on the locals’ side. He parked in front of the Pizza shop and went inside the plaza.
There was a reception area but no receptionist. No budget for that. Most of Robbins’ budget went toward his salary, which was modest. But despite the financial shortcomings, this post was one of the most fought for among junior ambassadors at the State Department.
Robbins had hit the assignment lottery a few years back and was now living the proverbial dream. His wife was too, spending most of her time with a young parasailing instructor named Luis. Robbins didn’t mind anymore. He was in love with the sea. He rented a boat on weekends while he saved up to purchase one of his own. He also had the use of a small plane, owned by his government, that had been commissioned in the late 1960s.
At his desk, Robbins fired up his computer and began to perform a myriad of searches through the files on the agency hard drive. He wanted to know about any recent shipping heists and modern piracy practices in the South Pacific. He scanned file names for shipping companies and found maps of cargo carrier lanes.
He was led to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room. He had barely opened it since he’d been posted. He scanned the tabs and pulled a few dusty files.
He learned about several incidents in the past, starting in 1969. According to an agency report, a construction company was ordering supplies to build a resort hotel. But the shipments arrived half-full and the company made insurance claims for piracy. But the hotels were never constructed, never broke ground.
Robbins scratched his head and read on. The report said that authorities did an investigation but no charges were ever filed. The hotel company folded in 1972 and its owners fled back to the United States. Consular Agent Robbins recognized the name of the agent who’d signed the report.
Robbins picked up the phone and made a call. The man who had held his office under Nixon was a seventy-one-year-old cowboy living well in the mountains of Wyoming.
Robbins had met Agent Burkhalter a few times at various diplomatic conferences. They’d always gotten along well despite not having much in common.
The old man answered the phone after a long while and Robbins introduced himself. After they’d exchanged pleasantries and caught up on State Department gossip, Robbins dove in. He told the story of the abandoned sisters and asked Burkhalter about the incidents of piracy in the past.
“Those bastards were embezzling,” Burkhalter said with a gravelly voice. “They were stealing from themselves then claiming it on their insurance.”
“So it wasn’t pirates?”
“Sure it was pirates,” Burkhalter laughed with a gruff. “It was their pirates.”
“So how’d they get away with it?”
“No evidence,” former agent Burkhalter said. “They’d dump the cargo into the ocean, I suppose. As long as they arrived with empty containers, no one had any choice but to believe them.”
“Did they pay-off the authorities?”
“Of course they did.”
“The company was owned by two men,” Agent Robbins said. “Pace and Tompkins, according to your report.”
“That sounds right,” Burkhalter said. “But I looked into it. They’re not the guys you're looking for.”
“Who is?”
“His name is Romeo,” the cowboy said over the crackling phone line.
“Romeo?” Robbins asked as he jotted the name down.
“Yeah,” Burkhalter confirmed. “But if you go looking for him, you’ll want his real name. Andy Stahl.”
“Got it.” Robbins wrote down the name. “Any idea where I should start?”
“When I left in seventy-four,” the old man said, “he was in the Alps. He was only in his late forties, but he moved into an assisted living facility there.”
“What happened to him?” Robbins asked. “Was he injured?”
“I don’t know,” Burkhalter replied. “Must have been. Hell I’m over seventy and I’m still out here ranching cattle.”
“I’m sure you are Burk,” Robbins laughed.
“Good luck finding those girls’ parents, Agent,” Burkhalter offered.
“Thank you.”
Robbins cradled the phone receiver and stood. He rubbed his temples and thought of his next move. He wondered how much it would cost the US State Department to fly him to the French Alps.
When Claudius and Gertrude arrived back at the resort where they’d left their daughters, Iago was with them. They’d anchored the boat far from the island and motored to shore in a small dinghy they’d towed along. Under the cover of darkness, they arrived on the local’s side of the island and snuck across the jungle.
When they found the over-the-water cabin where they’d left the girls the night before, it was empty.
“Dammit,” Claudius said. “Where are they?”
“They left, Mark!” Rachel barked. “Obviously. Why would they stay here?”
“Calm down, both of you,” Yoggy offered. “I’m sure they’re close by.”
The three of them skirted around the cabins and snuck to the side of the nearby hotel.
“If we go in there,” Claudius said, “They’ll recognize us.”
“That’s good,” Yoggy said. “If your girls are in there, they should hand them over. They’re your kids.”
“We’ll have to answer for leaving them.”
“We have to bring them back with us,” Yoggy reminded Mark.
Before either of them noticed, Gertrude had sprung across the manicured lawn of the hotel and into the front doors.
“Shit,” Claudius said.
“Just wait,” Yoggy assured him.
They watched through the window-paned doors as Rachel went to the reception desk and began speaking with the clerk. After a moment she was led away to the elevator bank.
“She’s in,” Mark said with a smile.
“Let’s see what happens.”
Inside the hotel, the elevator doors opened onto the floor where the sisters shared a room.
The concierge led Rachel down the hallway and turned the corner, just steps from where her daughters lay sleeping. But then they encountered a woman.
She was dark-skinned with beautiful black eyes. Her curly black hair was long and shiny. She seemed startled to see Rachel.
Tuahine had just checked on the girls and was headed into her room next door when she’d bumped into them. She only recognized Rachel because the woman shared a resemblance to Joanna and Jacey.
Tuahine froze at her door when she saw the Rachel approaching with the hotel concierge.
“Madame Tuahine,” the concierge began, “this woman says she knows the girls.”
“Is that right?” Tuahine asked skeptically. “How so?”
“They’re my nieces,” the woman answered with a complete lack of confidence. “Which room is it?”
The concierge began to answer, but Tuahine cut her off.
“What'd you say your name was?”
The woman did not answer. She fumbled for a reply but came up empty. Tuahine nodded at the concierge.
“Phone the police,” she said to her. The concierge turned and rounded the corner to th
e elevator bank. Tuahine was left in the hallway with the terrible mother.
“Rachel is it?” Tuahine asked. The woman narrowed her brow.
“You can’t keep them from me,” Gertrude answered. “Where are they?”
“You left them alone for twenty-four hours,” Tuahine said. “What happened?”
“It’s none of your concern!”
“If you don’t tell me,” Tuahine protested. “I can’t trust you won’t harm them.”
“Harm them!” Rachel looked indignant. “I wanted to keep them from harm, that’s why I left them behind.”
“And now you’re taking them?” Tuahine asked. “Where?”
Rachel didn’t answer but tried to step around the shorter woman. Tuahine matched Rachel’s movement and blocked her path down the hallway.
“Get out of my way,” Rachel said as she shoved Tuahine aside with a forearm to her shoulder. Tuahine was pushed against the wall, and the woman went by.
She stepped quickly to the end of the hallway as Tuahine pursued her. She made it to the stairwell and began down.
“Stop!”
Gertrude ignored Tuahine’s commands as they spiraled down the stairs together, their footfalls in a syncopated rhythm. Tuahine couldn’t imagine trying to stop the woman physically, but she knew she needed to stay with her until the police arrived. When they reached the lobby floor, Gertrude burst out the door and sprinted across the hotel lobby.
As she pushed open the set of doors to exit, Tuahine was right on her tail, calling back to the concierge.
“Police?”
“They’re on their way,” the desk clerk said with a phone receiver still on her shoulder.
“Shit,” Tuahine said. “Stop!”
Yoggy and Mark could see Rachel coming across the lawn inside of the hotel's cul-de-sac valet loop. A local woman was chasing her.
“That doesn’t look good,” Mark said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Yoggy agreed. “Come on!”
They waited for Gertrude to catch up to them and then the three of them sprinted back around the hotel, to the beach. As fast as their legs could carry them, they ran down the hard-packed sand, close to the water, until they were putting distance between themselves and the young woman pursuing them.
