Christopher Moore - Island of the Sequined Love Nun

“So what did you think?”

“Pretty impressive, but I don’t get it. Why the whole show to bring in someone for surgery? Why not just send the guards?”

“We’re not taking their kidneys, Tucker. They’re giving them.”

Tuck didn’t want to give away what he had learned from Malink and Sepie about the “chosen.” He said, “Giving them to who? A naked white woman?”

She laughed, reached into her briefcase, and brought out an eight-by-ten color photograph. “To the Sky Priestess.” She held the photograph where Tuck could see it. He had to steer manually. If he hit the autopilot now, the plane would turn back toward Japan, the only preset in the nav computer. The photograph was in color but old. A flyer stood by the side of a B-26 bomber. On the side of the bomber was the painting of a voluptuous naked woman and the legend SKY PRIESTESS. It could have been a painting of Beth Curtis as she had looked when she arrived at Tuck’s bungalow. He recog-nized the flyer as well. It was the ghost flyer he’d been seeing all along. He felt his face flush, but he tried to stay cool. “So who’s that?”

“The flyer was a guy named Vincent Bennidetti,” Beth said. “The plane was named the Sky Priestess. All the bombers had nose art like that in World War II. We found the picture in the library in San Francisco.”

“So what’s that got to do with our operation? You’re dressing up like the picture on an airplane.”

“No, I am the Sky Priestess.”

“I’m sorry, Beth. I still don’t get it.”

“This is the pilot that the Shark People worship. The cargo cult that ’Bastian told you about.”

Tuck nodded and tried to look surprised, but he was watching his course without seeming to do so. If he had figured it right, they would be over Guam in fifteen minutes and the American military would force them down. The Air Force was very cranky about private jets flying though their airspace.

“The natives on Alualu worship this Vincent guy,” Beth said. “I speak for Vincent. They come to me when we play the music and I give them everything. In return, I choose one of them for the honor of the mark of Vincent, which, of course, is the scar they get from the operation.”

“Like I said, you’ve got armed guards. Why not just take what you want?”

She looked shocked that he would ask. “And get out of show business?” Then she smiled and reached over and gave his crotch a squeeze.

“When I met Sebastian in San Francisco, he was drunk and throwing money around. One minute he was so dignified and erudite, the next he was like a little native child. He told me about the cargo cult and I came up with the idea of not just doing this to support the clinic, but to get really filthy rich. We had to keep the

people happy if we were going to do this in big numbers.”

“So you thought all of this up?”

“It’s the reason I’m here.”

“But Sebastian said you were a”—Tuck caught himself before he said “stripper”—“surgical nurse.”

“I was. So what? Did I get any respect for that? Did I get any power? No. To the doctors I was just a piece of ass who could handle surgical instru-ments and close a patient when they needed to get to the golf course. Did Sebastian tell you I used to strip?”

“He mentioned something about it in passing.”

“Well, I did. And I was good.”

“I can imagine,” Tuck said. A few more minutes and they should be joined by an F-16.

She smiled. “Fuck nursing. I was just a piece of meat to the men I worked with, so I decided to go with it. I was pushing thirty and all single women my age were walking around with a desperate look in their eye and a bio-logical clock ticking so loud you thought it was the crocodile from Peter Pan . If I was going to be treated like meat, I was going to make money at it. And I did. Not enough, but a lot more than I would have made nursing.”

“Do tell,” Tuck said. He couldn’t remember ever saying “Do tell,” and it sounded a little strange hearing it.

She looked out the window as if she had fallen into some reverie. Then, without looking back, she said, “What’s that island?”

Tuck tensed. “I couldn’t say.”

She sighed. “Islands are amazing.”

“I always say that.”

She seemed to come out of her trance and looked at the instrument board. Tuck acted as if he was concentrating on flying the plane. He glanced at Beth Curtis. Her mouth had tightened into a line.

She reached into the briefcase and came out with the Walther automatic.

“What’s that for?” Tuck said.

“Get back on course.”

“I am on course.”

“Now!”

“But I am on course. Look.” He pointed to the nav computer, which still showed the coordinates of the airstrip in Japan, although it wasn’t engaged with the autopilot.

“No, you’re not.” She pointed to the compass. “You’re at least ninety degrees off course. Turn the plane to Japan now or I’ll shoot you.”

Tuck was tired of it. “Right. And you’ll fly the plane? There’s a difference between being able to read a compass and making a landing.”

“I didn’t say I would kill you. I’m good with this. You’ll still be able to fly with one testicle. Now that would be a shame for both of us. Please turn the plane.”

Tuck engaged the autopilot and let the Lear bring itself around to the course to Japan.

“Sebastian said you might try something like that,” she said. “I told him I could handle you. I can, can’t I? Handle you, I mean.”

Tuck was quiet for a minute, berating himself for overestimating the efficiency of the military. Then finally he said, “You are a nefarious, diabolical, and evil bitch.”

“And?”

“That’s all.”

“I’m impressed. ‘Nefarious’ has more than two syllables. I am a good influence on you.”

“Fuck you.”

“You will,” she said.

Back at the drinking circle, Malink opened a copy of People reverentially and read by kerosene lamp while the other men huddled to get a look at the pictures.

“Cher is worst-dressed,” Malink announced.

“Too skinny,” said Favo. “I like Lady Di.”

Malink cringed. In the picture Lady Di was wearing a string of pearls, obviously the reason for Favo’s preference. Malink turned the page.

“ Celestine Raptors of Madison County is number one movie in country,” Malink read.

“I want to see a movie,” Favo said. “You must tell the Sky Priestess to tell Vincent to bring a movie.”

“Many movies,” said Abo. “And many delicious light and healthy snacks with NutraSweet registered trademark,” he added in English. “Vincent will bring many snacks.”

Malink was turning to the moving story of a two-thousand-pound man who, after being forklifted out of his house, had dieted down to a svelte fourteen hundred when the sound of a machine gun rattled across the is-land. Malink put down the magazine and held up his hand to quiet the men. They waited and there was another burst of gunfire. A few seconds later they heard shouting and looked down the beach to see Sarapul running as fast as his spindly old legs would carry him.

“Come help!” he shouted. “They shot the navigator!”

The Uzi was pressed so hard into Tuck’s side that he felt as if his ribs were going to separate any second. The guard crouched behind him in the cockpit hatchway, while out on the tarmac Beth Curtis exchanged the cooler for another manila envelope. She seemed to be in a much better mood when she climbed back into the copilot’s seat.

“Home, James.”

Tuck tossed his head toward the back of the plane where the guard was taking his seat. “I guess you weren’t taking any chances about me taking off while you were out of the plane.”