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Rustling beside me. I jerk around, expecting to discover myself busted by one of the bodyguards. Instead, it’s Tannis, the landscape architect. She holds a finger to her lips to silence me. Has she been here all along, also eavesdropping, or is she new to the party? Now is not the time to ask, but her presence proves Vaughn’s point. Forget work. Trying to sort out the latest developments in this unfolding drama will become everyone’s full-time job.
“Plane stays. Conversation over.”
More noise. MacManus descends the front steps. Belatedly, I pull back; Tannis as well. We hustle to the path and fall in step as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, just two campmates out for a stroll. Tannis doesn’t turn to the right, however, and head back toward the mess hall. She takes a left instead, leading us deeper into the row of crew cabins.
“Do you really think Charlie is a threat?” she asks the moment we’re out of hearing.
“I’m not sure. You’ve known him longer than I have.”
“He’s always been nice. Goofy maybe, but when something breaks—and around here something is always breaking—he’s the one you want. I can’t believe…” She sounds shocked, a sentiment I’m sure many share.
“You ever notice his accent coming and going?”
Tannis eyes me warily. “He’s… got an interesting way of speaking. But he travels all over. I figured it was the chicken soup of it all.”
“Maybe.” I hedge my bets. “MacManus seems to think there’s a problem with Charlie’s backstory—his time at McMurdo.”
Clearly Tannis had heard as much as I did, because she immediately counters with: “But to Charlie’s point, his checks from here are signed by MacManus, and yet how often do we see the guy?”
“How often do you see the guy?”
“Since I’ve been here, maybe a couple times a quarter, tops. And never for long. He flies in, flies out. We’re the worker bees. He’s the queen, if you can forgive the analogy.”
“I kinda like it. Okay, worker bee. I have a question for you. I hear a single-person drug-smuggling sub washed ashore somewhere on the atoll. Can you show me where?”
“I can do better than that,” Tannis assures me. “I can bring you to the sub.”
TURNS OUT, THERE’S a whole labyrinth of trails around the base camp I had known nothing about. Tannis leads me past Vaughn’s cabin, which I always assumed was the end of the line, to a small break in the bordering wall of underbrush. Two steps in, and we’re on a thin, muddy trail that seems to curve around in an endless arc until, lo and behold, we’re back on the main pathway, halfway between the bathhouse to our left and the landing strip to our right. Tannis heads toward the camp, then forks left onto another muddy path. This one is much wider, cleared enough for the UTVs to traverse, but not beautified like the main pathways, maybe a testimony to its more utilitarian role.
I follow her around muddy ruts and interconnecting puddles, fattened from yesterday’s storm. No hermit crabs bustle before us, but the thick green brush on both sides rustles loudly as we pass. Shortly, I spy a huge concrete structure, cube shaped and at least two stories tall.
“The water cistern,” Tannis informs me as she mucks past it.
“That’s our fresh water supply?”
“Yes.” It’s impressively large, which I find reassuring. Then: “I heard it sprung a leak that Charlie had to fix?”
“A crack developed near the base. Charlie filled it with caulking. When that didn’t hold, he used some of the fiberglass he has for boat repair. Ingenious, really.”
I have to scramble to catch up. Caulking and fiberglass. Charlie may be lying about some things, but apparently the man can truly engineer.
“Is it common for a structure that solid to develop a crack? I mean, isn’t it new?”
Before me, Tannis shrugs. “Even the best structures can fail, but common would be a strong word. I don’t really know, to tell the truth. The cistern was installed before I arrived. Vaughn might be able to tell you more.”
We come to a fork in the muddy path. I note the sign to the right and immediately halt in my tracks. A brightly painted red crab holds a banner declaring Crab Town—where, according to Trudy, crabs can strip anything or anyone down to bones.
“Uhh, we’re not going that way, right?” I point to the sign.
“You haven’t been to Crab Town yet?” Tannis draws up short.
“No.”
“Fascinating operation. That’s where all the food scraps go. Between herbivore and omnivore crabs it disappears in a matter of hours, significantly reducing our waste footprint. It will be a critical component of the eco-lodge. I can’t decide if it should remain here, out of sight, or perhaps be incorporated closer to the lodge with a viewing platform. It’s genuinely mesmerizing to watch hundreds of crabs crawling over each other in a feeding frenzy. And an excellent example of how to use the local crustacean population to our advantage.”
“Hundreds of crabs?”
Tannis pins me with her bright-blue eyes. “Want to see?”
