Robert Walker - Darkest Instinct

Ja momentarily thought of his children, what their adult lives would be like on the island. No more living off sunshine and air and sea. The island economy was in a horrid state of affairs. His children were likely to turn into chambermaids and waiters in the casinos. There was so little opportunity for a native-born child. What would be the fate of his children? What kind of changes were coming with the trade winds?

He locked up his vehicle now and joined his cousin Henri, who had fired up his second, more aged and battered, whirlybird. Shouting over the rotor blades, he said, “Let’s go, brother!”

“ What do you hope to gain, Ja?” asked his cousin.

Ja spoke in his native tongue, saying, “I want to be in a position to see what transpires, when it transpires and where it-”

“ Happens, yes, but if they are taking care of this business…” Henri fell quickly and easily into their home language as well, adding with a quick wave of his hand, as if disgusted by and dismissing his prominent cousin, “It has always been just the way with you, since the day of your birth, Ja.” He finished with a laugh as both men clambered aboard the triple-bladed, battered island helicopter, found their seat belts and put on their headphones, and readied for takeoff. “What do you mean, since my birthday?”

Henri was some eight years older than Ja. He now smiled and shook his head, and placing Ja Okinleye’s fist over the stick control of the chopper, he said, “You always must be with your hands here!” shouted Henri, grinning from ear to ear, his stained white teeth in need of capping. Henri’s meaning came clear to Ja.

“ I suppose you’re right, but sometimes it is a curse.”

“ How well the family knows this.”

They were about to lift off the tarmac when what appeared to be a madman ran out in front of them, waving his arms and hands, a brilliantly shiny gold badge held high over his head, proclaiming the American-looking, well- dressed man as some important official.

“ Damnit to hell!” cursed Ja. “Who is it?” asked his cousin. “More FBI, no doubt. Cut the engines.”

Ja popped the door and leaned out, taking the tall, good- looking American’s hand in his own and giving it a vigorous shake. The man introduced himself, but Ja was unable to catch the name beneath the rotor blades as they wound down. Ja caught only the badge and a quick glimpse at the ID, which told Ja only what he had suspected. Obviously, the FBI had sent additional agents to the island to back Jessica Coran’s move. Jessica, no doubt, had alerted Peter Kylie, the resident undercover FBI operative whom everyone on the island knew, a man who lived the good life here while ostensibly on the lookout for bad guys. Now there was no telling how many other FBI agents were crawling about the island. This man standing before Ja could hardly be heard above the still whirring rotors, but after introductions, he made himself quite clear. He was desperately seeking Jessica, wanting to know her whereabouts. Something about information that could not wait.

Ja breathed deeply and realized that this could be a stroke of good fortune. After all, with an American agent aboard with him, when the sailing vessel carrying the Night Crawler came within Cayman’s watery jurisdiction, the FBI’s own agent could attest to the fact that the monster- who had murdered young women on the islands as well as in the U.S.-was, technically speaking, a prisoner of the Cayman Island government, and so he would become the bargaining tool with which Ja could further his own personal and professional ambitions and help his community in the bargain. This tack might lose him some favor with Jessica and the FBI, but it could gain commerce, industry, money for the islands and his people-legitimate money. After all, it seemed the U.S. wanted this bastard badly enough to make some assurances…

Using the Night Crawler in this fashion seemed the preeminent path to take. It could open economic doors now closed to his island nation; it could mean more import/export trade, perhaps reduced tariffs. There was no end to what it could mean for the Caymans, and it would all be due to his excellent investigatory work.

And as for a witness to this, who better than the tall, suntanned American whom he now invited along with him- Mr. Upstanding American Police Officer.

“ We are following Dr. Coran’s footprints now. You are fortunate. Please, take a seat aboard.” Ja indicated the back hatch and the grateful agent climbed aboard.

Through their headphones, as the chopper lifted and took off, Ja and his pilot cousin spoke in their Dutch-French tongue. “If they take the Night Crawler in our waters, we can claim him as our prisoner,” Ja confided.

“ Do you want this scum to dirty your prison cells?”

“ It would mean great things for us, Cousin. Trust me…”

Ja’s cousin pursed his lips and nodded, accepting his kinsman’s words as gospel. Ja had never guided him wrong. “But I thought these people-the Americans-were your friends.”

“ Friendship is important, not to be denied, but so too is blood; besides, I do not make the laws in Cayman. I can only enforce them.”

“ Ahhhh,” the other man said, nodding, smiling as they made their way north across the emerald mirror below them. James Parry, fresh out of Miami, where he had jetted to from Hawaii in search of Jessica, had gotten as comfortable as his tall frame would allow in the small rear section of the cockpit. Seeing that the other two men were talking, Parry donned headphones. He only caught the tail end of the conversation, but he knew enough Dutch and French and innuendo to make out the tenor of what was being discussed.

He wondered where Jessica was at this moment. He’d come halfway around the world to find her, to take her in his arms and to profess his love for her. In Miami the morning before, he’d been told that she and Santiva had left for Grand Cayman on a small plane. He’d managed to book a jetliner for the next morning, the flight requiring only seventy minutes. He had been in Cayman for hours, but had been unable to locate Jessica. He had tried the various hotels when finally he called the authorities, who had informed him that she and Santiva and their pilot had stayed overnight with the chief of the police department here, a man Jessica had spoken highly of-and here he was, Ja Okinleye, plotting to rip Jessica’s prisoner out from under her. What a guy, what a friend, James thought now.

“ How far out are they?” Parry asked over the headphones.

“ We are not sure. Be patient, Mr., ahhhh…” Okinle- ye’s voice trailed off. “I am most sorry. Did not catch your name over the noise of the helicopter. You are?”

“ Agent Parry, Chief Okinleye.” Okinleye’s neck almost came off as he twisted to look at the stranger once again. “Parry? Jim Parry of… of…”

“ FBI’s Honolulu bureau chief, Hawaii.”

“ Yes… yes, I have heard from Jessica of you.” He was in a state of shock. “Did she know you were coming?” Okinleye’s mind raced. This meant Parry had likely come alone, that he was on a lover’s quest and cared little or nothing about the Night Crawler case. “Does she know you have traveled here?”

“ No, no, she hasn’t any idea.”

“ Aaaa… But she had to know you were in Miami? You flew in from Miami?”

He nodded, saying, “Yes, but she didn’t know I was in Miami. Our paths crossed there yesterday, but I missed her, so here I am.”

“ It is a strange thing to imagine…”

“ What’s that?” Parry was confused.

“ Imagine: Jessica Coran without a clue.” Ja laughed good-naturedly, even clapping his hands like a small boy who has learned a naughty secret. His laughter and enthusiasm was infectious, and the pilot caught the giggles, too. As for Parry, the contagion only brought on his bright smile.