Predator Island

by Douglas Cameron

  And indeed, the man had suspected and had his team in place for a day before Gerallt showed. One day was long enough for his team to blend into the neighborhood because, unlike Gerallt, they were Hispanic, and in Cartagena Gerallt stood out like a sore thumb. He knew that but had no choice. There were people in Cartagena, as there were most places in South America, sympathetic to Gerallt’s cause and willing to help only because if Gerallt was successful, the leader of one of the biggest drug cartels in the world would be removed. That wouldn't stop the drugs, but it would get rid of the slimy white bastard or “bastardo branco viscoso” as the natives of Brazil say. “Slimy” because Ramiro’s thick black hair was always coated with a handful of oil to hold it in place and additionally due to the fact that his business was considered to be one where the slime was involved. “White” because he always wore white – all white (well, if he wore underwear, it would be white but not too many people could profess to the type of underwear that Ramiro wore), shirt, tie, coat, pants, socks, shoes, watch band – hell, the entire watch except for the numbers and hands was white. “Bastard” – think about it. What else would you call such a man and in actuality he was.

  Gerallt knew Ramiro’s men were there. He didn’t know who they were, but he sensed that he was being watched and he was surprised that he was still alive. He figured that if he were ever lucky enough put a finger in the trigger guard, he himself was a dead man. He wouldn’t have minded if he had gotten the shot off, but he knew that he wouldn’t. What bothered him was “why am I alive?” The answer was “ainda não é tempo (it is not time yet)” Ramiro had said when one of his own men asked. And in his mind, Ramiro had already set the trap to catch Gerallt when the time was right and that was when the predators were ready to go to São Rochelle because Gerallt was to be the fourteenth predator (fifteenth if you count each of the coyotes separately.)

  Gerallt Cearrach was thirty-two years old. Two years before he had come home to Buillth Wells, Wales, to bury his mother. Three years before, it had been his father. Lying within the historic boundaries of Brecknockshire in mid-Wales, Buillth Wells sits at the confluence of the River Wye and the River Irfon in the Welsh section of the Wye Valley. It is a small town of less than three thousand and is situated closer to England than to the Irish Sea.

  Gerallt had no real allegiance to England or to Great Britain, but when he had completed his schooling the only thing that he could see in his future was the military. So he had joined the United Kingdom’s Special Forces and, because he was good with a rifle, they had made him a sniper. And he found that he didn’t mind killing another human. That said, it would be easier for him to kill Ramiro because he didn’t consider Ramiro to be human. No human could provide the drugs to other humans the way Ramiro did and not be at all concerned when or if they died. And that was what had happened when Gerallt had come home on emergency leave to bury his mother. He had walked into his parents’ house in the Buillth Wells and discovered that he was going to have to bury his younger brother Caradoc also. His brother had been born eight years after Gerallt, as much a surprise to his parents as Gerallt had been because, after ten years of marriage and no progeny, his parents had given up any hope of having heirs – not that there was much to leave them but a name and, if things didn’t go totally sour, a house. Then Gerallt had become a seed in his mother’s womb and eight years later Caradoc had joined the family. Gerallt had been a feisty lad which befit the meaning of his name “Rule of the Spear.” His brother had been the light in his mother’s eyes which fit the meaning of his name “dearly beloved.” But something had gone wrong with his brother and he had taken to drugs in his teens and the resultant loss of drive in his life had left him lethargic and impotent. He had become the burden that his parents didn’t need, and his attitude and disrespect of both his life and his parents’ had literally broken his father’s heart.

  Gerallt found his brother sprawled in a chair in the living room barely breathing as though he had been hanging on for Gerallt to come home. A call to 999, the emergency number, brought an ambulance and EMTs but by that time there was nothing they could do to save him. And so, two days later Gerallt buried his mother standing beside her grave in the cemetery with eleven of his parents’ friends and the minister. The next day, he and the minister were the only ones who showed up at the service for his brother and at the cemetery. Gerallt had asked for a discharge and had taken over his father’s hardware business but only so that he could sell it and the house. The proceeds were used to start the search for the man who had been the cause of his brother’s death – and most probably had hastened the deaths of his parents.

  The first stop had been the local supplier who had been easy to find. The supplier’s last words were the name of his supplier in Brecon, and the trail led from there to Abergavenny and thence to Cardiff. The last words that the Cardiff man had said led Gerallt to Bristol and thence to London. The trail there could have gone dark, cold, and ended except for a detective who had taken a liking to Gerallt and had told him after several pints (bought by Gerallt) that the majority of drugs came into England through a network of importers of the cartel run by a Brazilian drug lord Ramiro Esteves.

  And now, here he was, broke but not broken, watching many limousines, one taxi, and an Uber (or possibly just a private car belonging to a friend) picking up the members of the Bundle. The strange thing was there were ten vehicles and when the last one left, the hotel was dark. So there was nothing to do but to pack up and go home, get another job and wait for word from one of his contacts in Brazil on Esteves’ next journey to somewhere Gerallt could have a shot at him. The place he had been was left tidy and there was nothing there for Ramiro’s men to find although they did look. They knew how he came, how he left, and where he went. That was a start, but most importantly, they had pictures. Lots of pictures and unless he was a master of disguise, he would be easy to recognize in the future.

  Ramiro Esteves

  Waldo Emerson

  Harvey Gladstone

  Phillip Parmelee

  Gloria Mitchell

  Monica Bartlett

  Issaack Kincaid

  Symon Sheetz

  Stefaan Declercq

  Carmen Domingo

  Hansel

  Gretel

  Horus

  Theater

  Drone Lab

  Computer lab

  HVAC

  Dining Room and Kitchen

  Gym

  Siegfried Schmidt

  Battery storage

  Solar Panel Lab

  Monica Bartlett 2

  Gloria Mitchell 2

  Siegfried Schmidt

  Chapter 17

  As most days on the island, it was a cloudless sky that greeted the helicopter bearing the six members of the Billionaire Bundle as São Rochelle came into view.

  “My god,” Harvey Gladstone said. “It looks like Eden.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Monica said. “I would like to build a house here when this is over.”

  “‘Fraid you can’t do that,” Phil said, “Unless you want to give it up quickly. Remember this is a ten-year lease. The locals get it back at the end of the lease with all the improvements.”

  “Zey may not want it back,” Ramiro said. “When zey hear what haz happen here zey may not want ze ... how you say, the notar...”

  “Notoriety,” Gloria said. “That’s like being famous, but it has a bad connotation ... bad meaning.”

  “Sim, zat iz what I mean.”

  “Well said but they will be getting a lot of improvements, especially the new dock and electricity, water lines, living quarters. It will be like paradise. I certainly would put up with a little notoriety for that,” Waldo chimed in.

  The helicopter in which they rode was an Airbus Helicopters H145 and was extremely quiet which enabled them to converse without having to yell.

  “We’re going to circle the island before landing at the headquarters,” the pilot broke in.

  “In t
he volcano?” Monica said.

  “Yes.”

  “Blinding,” Monica said. “I can hardly wait.”

  “Is that the Prometheus’s …,” Gloria said. “Oh, yes, I can see the waterfall. That’s where the second dozer almost bit it.” She had seen it before but with the snake bite and the rush back to the mainland, her memory was hazy.

  “Yes, that driver saved us a lot of money. Not only by not having to buy another dozer and drop it but by not having to retrieve that one from the pool of water,” Phil said.

  “Why bother,” Harvey Gladstone said. “Just leave it there.”

  “Pollution,” Phil said. “You wouldn’t help pollute the world’s oceans, would you?”

  “One dozer isn’t going to make a difference,” Harvey Gladstone countered.

  “One dozer here, an airplane there, a train, an oil tanker... It all adds up.” Phil said.

  Harvey Gladstone didn’t counter. He knew it was useless, but then he was not a big environmentalist. To him, green space was a big waste of valuable property.

  “There’s the pier,” Waldo said. “Now that’s impressive.”

  And it was. A U-shaped dock with the base of the U a one hundred fifty foot-long fifty feet wide pile of stone and each of the arms one hundred feet long and thirty feet wide. The tops were made smooth and walkable by the pouring of gravel which was then packed down by a steamroller.

  “It would take a mega pounding to tear that apart,” Waldo said. “When the barge comes the day after tomorrow with the animals, we will see how fantastic it is.”

  “I can hardly wait,” Monica said. “I want to see that white tiger they got. I hear she is beautiful.”

  The chopper flew over the dock and then started circling the volcano.

  “Look at all those solar panels!” Gloria said.

  “Yes, all sides of the mountain are covered so that no matter what the time of year or time of day, energy is being collected and stored,” Phil said.

  “Everything is electrical here,” Monica said.

  Phil was uncertain if that was a question or a statement.

  “Indeed it is,” Waldo said in agreement. “Now that everything is made, the machines that did the big excavation and construction are gone and only electric vehicles remain. In that manner, the island is energy independent.”

  “And with proper agriculture and animal husbandry to accompany the fishing, it will be food independent also,” Phil said.

  Ramiro said nothing, just taking it all in and smiling.

  After circling the volcano at a height about halfway up, the helicopter rose and crossed over the lip of the volcano’s crater. Below them was the island headquarters’ complex.

  “There’s our home for the next week or so,” Waldo said.

  “Hope it’s Five Star,” Gloria said.

  “We have been assured that it is that at least,” Waldo said. “And from the reports, it is a Six Star Hotel.”

  The helicopter set down on an indicated landing spot near the building. The entire side of the building they saw was glass and, in fact, all the outer sides were glass that served as solar panels and there were also solar panels on the roof.

  When the blades of the helicopter stopped spinning, a panel in the glass wall slid open and Issaack Kincaid came out waving to them. The copilot had gotten out and opened the door and the six billionaires descended a small set of steps and, for most of them, set foot on the floor of the volcano for the first time. It was sandy, but firm and there was no problem walking.

  “Welcome to Vulcan’s Roost,” Issaack said. “I’ll have someone collect your bags and get them to your room. But first I promised you that you would meet the person behind this entire setup, so please follow me.”

  He turned and headed back toward the building, raising his right arm into the air and then bringing it down pointing to the building and indicating they should follow him. They did and upon entering the building found it to be deliciously cool. The walls were painted a cool yet vividly bright red tone with flecks of yellow and the floor was white tile which surprisingly did not make any noise as they walked.

  The hallway walls of the entire building were sides of cargo containers that had been used to bring supplies to the island during the construction with the rooms then made putting roofing and flooring between the containers.

  “All the rain that falls on the building is collected by a system of pipes and fed into our purification system,” Issaack said.

  If anyone had been keeping track they would have noticed they were headed for the center of the complex. Issaack stopped in front of what appeared at the moment to be an opaque glass door. When they had all caught up, Issaack placed his hand in a frosted rectangle in the middle of the door and said, “This is what you’ve waited for,” and slide the panel aside and they stepped inside.

  What they saw surprised them all. The room was nineteen feet by nineteen feet square, with walls eight feet tall. Everything was stark white except the ceiling which looked to be crystal. Filling the room were rows and rows of servers.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Horus.”

  They were stunned.

  “Horus is a computer?” Monica said.

  “No computer can be that human,” Phil said. “It’s impossible.”

  “No, it’s not,” a voice said from the right side of the room. They turned in that direction and saw a man who must have been at least six feet four inches in his stocking feet and probably weighed nor more than two hundred pounds. He had flaming red hair, a face covered with red freckles to match, and a hawk-like nose set between two grey-green eyes that seemed to flash. Under the nose was a broad mouth that was almost constantly spread in a smile revealing dazzling white teeth. The one fault with his facial features were the ears that stuck out from the side. Gloria thought that she wouldn’t be surprised if his next words were “What? Me worry?”

  “I’m Siegfried Schmidt,” the man said by way of introduction. “My friends, and I include you among them, call me Red. Issaack and I are the creators of Horus who is a computing machine of artificial intelligence. Issaack is the programmer and I created the computer.”

  “What kind of computer?” asked Gloria.

  “Biological,” Siegfried said.

  “Rubbish,” Harvey said. “It’s not possible.”

  “Yes, it is,” Siegfried said. “It is constantly growing and replacing the old cells without loss of data. At the present time half of these servers are in use as storage and the others are simply waiting for Horus to learn more and need them.”

  “And, other than serving as the host of our original meeting, what purpose does this Horus have?” Phil asked.

  “He runs everything on this island,” Issaack said, “Don’t you, Horus?”

  “Yes, Issaack. That has been my purpose since I was brought here a year ago.” Horus’s voice seemed to come from all sides of the room although it was not too loud.

  “When they say you run everything, what does that mean?” Monica asked.

  “I monitor the water quality and the pipes that carry the water to the village to ensure that everything it safe. I monitor the solar panels and their storage units to ensure that we always have sufficient power. I run all the cameras that are spread around the island, I fly and maintain the drones we use to keep track of the island’s wildlife and the island’s security.”

  “You do that all at once?” Waldo said.

  “Yes, and more, Mr. Emerson,” Horus said.

  “How did you know that was me?”

  “I recorded your voice pattern during the initial meeting and analyzed it when you just spoke.”

  “Do you know where I am standing?”

  “Yes, sir. You are precisely two feet four point five seven inches in front of Lab Panel 37 and three feet point six four five inches to the left of Ms. Mitchell.”

  “How did you know zat?” Ramiro said, speaking up for the first time.

  “He has the membership ca
rd in the left breast pocket of his shirt.”

  Waldo took the card out of his pocket, handed it to Gloria and stepped forward two steps.

  “Giving her your card, doesn’t make you invisible, Mr. Emerson,” Horus said. “You are now six feet four point zero seven two inches from panel Lab 37 and...”

  “How did you know that?” Waldo said.

  “There are cameras everywhere,” Horus said. But that was not the reason. He wouldn’t tell anyone that the real reason was that the floor tiles, among many of their attributes, were weight sensitive.

  “Even in our loos?” Monica asked.

  “Yes, but they are not turned on unless I sense some kind of security breach.”

  “How you determine a zecurity breach?” queried Ramiro.

  “You do not have security clearance for that knowledge,” Horus answered.

  “Who doez?”

  “You do not have security clearance for that knowledge.”

  “Okay, enough trying to figure out Horus,” Siegfried said. “He is a very secretive personage and keeps a secret better than anyone I know.”

  “I know you are going to ask, Monica,” Issaack said. “Siegfried was upstairs during the initial meeting and was playing a part – he was feeding Horus answers to questions that Horus wasn’t prepared for.”

  “I knew there was something going on,” Monica said.

  “So now that you have met Horus as much as anyone can meet Horus, let me show you to your rooms. While you have been in here, the luggage you brought has been taken from the helicopter to your room. You first, Monica. Step outside into the hallway.”

  Monica walked to the entrance panel which slid open for her.