The Maya 1.52
Previously On The Maya...
Amara Barclay and Eugenio Stavros finish their boating tour of the island and return to the main harbor where they find The Morning Star. It is a large and stately yacht, and it happens to be the place where the dinner hosted by Tuscon Sutton II will be held. With an hour left, Amara tells Stavros she needs to get ready.
Meanwhile, aboard the huge yacht, Secret Service Agent Lance Simmons escorts the President's daughter (Isle of Use) where he meets Sutton in the reception line.
The Maya—a living legend covert operative-for-hire that no one she encounters can remember.
George Kirkegaard—a former newspaper owner forced out of business by state government.
Eugenio Stavros—a shipping magnate on a trip to the mysterious Isle of Use to renegotiate a steel contract.
Amara Barclay—a savvy, independent multi-millionaire entrepreneur and socialite with unparalleled beauty.
Mr. Tic and Mr. Snake—two U.S. government officials running off-the-books dark ops involving The Maya.
And now...the next installment of The Maya.
"Well, this is unprecedented," Sutton said, when Simmons told him who he was. "As far as I know, you're the first," meaning Simmons was the first Secret Service officer to come through the reception line.
"I was invited by the IFB," Simmons said, as if he needed to justify his existence to Sutton.
"Oh, they're always up to something," Sutton said with a half-smile. "Perhaps we can talk later," he added, as Simmons and Haley were walking away.
"I'm at your disposal," Simmons offered.
"That went well," Haley said.
"Was there a chance it wouldn't?" Simmons asked. He'd been eyeing the staircase since their arrival and made his move towards it.
"Oh, probably not," Haley said. "Mr. Sutton is a very nice person. I just know it's taken some time for him to get use to not knowing everything about every little thing that happens on the island."
Simmons considered her words as they mounted the stairs.
Over half an hour later, still perched overhead, Simmons was actually hoping a conversation with Sutton would materialize. Especially since his debriefing with Secretary Burke, and his subsequent visit with President Talford. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the information they had given him, and the purpose for it. Both insisted he was under no obligation, and he believed them, but there was something in him, a sense of fairness, his service training, which made him feel obligated to reciprocate in kind. He knew Talford wanted him to make informal inquiries when he got back to DC, see what he could dig up, but the island's security force was going to act on the information it had, regardless of what Simmons did with it.
Aside from helping him to clear his head, and get away from the throngs congregating below, their perch allowed Simmons to observe the guests, as well as the security in place. To his surprise, Simmons was only able to account for three officers, with the possibility of two more, but they're patterns were so erratic, they could of as well been guests. Haley asked him if he had it figured out yet, to which Simmons shook his head.
"They're good," he said. "I'm impressed."
"Dad will be glad to hear that."
Simmons' gaze had returned to the guests, specifically the newest ones coming through the reception line, when he spotted the woman. Tall, dark, full-figured and tanned, she seemed to scream for attention, relative to everyone else in the room. While other women wore gowns similar to hers, theirs were more muted, subdued, while her dress clung to every ample curve. As Simmons watched her advance through the line, though, he found himself modifying his original perception. She wasn't trying to draw attention to herself. Like a force of nature, she just did.
"We should probably join the others," Haley said.
Simmons nodded. "Thanks for indulging me."
"My pleasure. I might just have to go into security after all of this."
"Believe me, it's much more fun on the party side of it."
"Not after a hundred of them," Haley countered.
That brought a smile to Simmons face, and he nodded in agreement.
Once on the ground level, Haley took point, winding them through the mingling guests, introducing Simmons to some as they politely made their way to their table. They were the last to join their group, which included President Talford, his wife, their oldest daughter and her husband, and Burke who was accompanied by his wife.
"I was wondering if you might stay up in the rafters," Burke said as Simmons held out a chair for Haley, then sat down.
"Old habit," Simmons said, subdued. "I'm out of my element down here."
"Soon, we all will be," President Talford said, glancing over at the podium in front of them. After dinner was served, Sutton would be the keynote speaker. Apparently Talford thought none of them were in Sutton's league. It was a refreshing sense of humility coming from a national leader, though Simmons reminded himself it wasn't his place to judge.
Simmons was now well enough acquainted with the people at the table, having spent the night at the President's home that he was comfortable listening in on the chit chat and making comments when prompted. Otherwise, he continued to survey the room. It was nearing the time for dinner to begin, and on cue, the last of the guests were trickling in. Simmons was trying to locate the security officers he'd identified overhead, but did not find them at the posts they'd previously staked out. Thinking that was odd, he began searching around for them in other spots where he might place men. He'd yet to find them when there was a commotion across the way.
"Why can't we sit by them?" a woman was asking in a raised voice. Simmons turned seventy degrees to see the woman he'd identified up top, no less beautiful now that she was animated, contending with a duo of ushers over her seating arrangements. A man, presumably her companion, was trying to smooth things over, but she was insisting things be done her way. Another couple was standing nearby, the man equally embarrassed while enjoying the outburst, as his companion radiated warmth and serenity. Simmons found the last woman to be the most out of place, given the circumstances, but he didn't have a chance to dwell on her before a hushed silence fell over the crowd.
'The Maya' publishes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Copyright © Glen Anthony Albrethsen, 2014-2018. All rights reserved.