WALKABOUT - Taking a Mulligan (131 - 136)

131

Peter and Archer were the first off the tour bus. Peter said, “Don’t let Mulligan out of your sight.”

“You reckon he’ll make his move here?”

Peter shrugged, “No way of knowin’, mate.”

“I say we separate him from the herd. Make him have an accident.” Archer nodded to a small pond with a walking bridge spanning its middle. “Fellow could fall in and drown, real easy.”

Guides are available free of charge to walk you through the grounds and put names to the flowers, but I’ve always preferred to be my own guide. I’d rather enjoy the beauty at my own pace, and if I don’t learn the names of everything, big deal, so what, who cares? So, for that same reason, I declined to accept Daniel the photographer’s invitation to join him and his fellow countrymen. Daniel seemed unphased by my decision, but I have to say I was more than a little surprised when the other two Australians who I’d met the evening before, tried to change my mind. The shorter one, Archer, seemed particularly disappointed that I wouldn’t be going along with them. I decided maybe I’d misjudged him, and he was probably a good guy after all.

I stuck to my plan of solitude, and enjoyed my walking meditation among the beautiful flowers.

All in all, it was a pretty good day. The only thing that threatened to spoil it was the wreck on the way back to port. I was snoozing at the time, so I didn’t see what happened. Apparently, something had hit the side of the tour bus, and we ran off the road, striking a tree which was the only thing keeping us from tumbling down the cliff and onto the jagged rocks where the ocean met the shore. I guess we were just lucky.

While we were all standing around, waiting for another bus to come collect us, I ventured over to the edge of the cliff to take some photos. I nudged a loose rock with the toe of my right shoe, counted ‘one thousand one, one thousand two . . .’ and watched as it fell . . . and fell . . . and fell to the rocks below. Five seconds. I made a mental note to Google how far a rock would fall in five seconds. It was a long way down, whatever the answer was. I noticed my shoelace was loose, and knelt down to tie it. There was a rustling sound just above my head. I had no idea what had caused it.

I stood upright, took one last photograph from the top of the cliff, and then walked over to the Aussies. “So,” I said, “Are we having fun yet?”

132

Jasmine

Rolling a tire down a hill had worked years ago, with Brian Gosnell. And again with the kids, back in Indiana. Not so today, on Fiji. It had hit the van, as planned. The van had run off the road, as planned. But the tree had prevented the van from plunging over the cliff and eliminating not only Mulligan, but the two Death Adders as well.

Standing at the top of the hill, concealed by the dense tropical growth, she saw them milling about with the other tourists, waiting for another van to arrive to deliver them back to the ship. To her surprise, Daniel Seton was with them. The instructions were to eliminate him only after leaving Fiji. So, perhaps it was just as well the attempt on Mulligan had failed.

Actually, Mulligan survived two attempts that day. As Mulligan was standing next to the edge of the cliff, another of the tourists grabbed a branch of a tree, pulled it back, and released it. Had Mulligan not knelt down to tie his shoe, it would have sent him plummeting to his death. Mulligan kept his cool, acted as if nothing had happened.

Jasmine could not help noticing, there was something different about Mulligan, the way he moved as he walked over to speak with the man who had a moment ago tried to kill him.

133

“I tell you, Peter, he’s screwin’ with us,” Archer said as they followed Daniel Seton up the gangplank. “Standin’ there, on the edge of the bluff, lookin’ down, darin’ us to make a move on ‘im.”

“I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I think you’re right, Archer,” Peter said. “He’s cool as a cucumber, that one.”

“Thought we had him, mate,” Archer said. “Standin’ there with his back to us. I pulled the tree branch back and let it go. Woulda sent him on his way to the rocks below if it’d hit him.”

“His timing was impeccable,” Peter said. “Kneeling like he did to tie his shoe just as the tree branch sailed over his head.”

“He’s good,” Archer said.

“Damned good,” Peter agreed. “I never said this before ‘bout no one, Peter,” Archer said, “but, this Mulligan, he scares me, mate. I nearly pissed myself when he walked over, asked if we was ‘avin’ fun yet. Nothin’ phases him.”

“Well, then, that settles it,” Peter replied. “We’ll just give up and tell Dexter Flynn that we were too scared to do our jobs. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Archer twisted his mouth, contemplating what Peter had just said. “Upon further review, I believe I’ll take my chances with Mulligan.”

“At least he’s alone,” Peter said. “I’d hate to think what we’d be facing if he had his partner with him.”

134

We got back to the ship late in the afternoon, and I spent the remainder of the day outlining my novel and napping. I have to admit, I was getting rather excited. I could see my story becoming a best-seller, maybe even being made into a movie. Not that I was making any predictions of that happening my first time out, but stranger things have happened. What would I do to protect my identity if that were to happen? Write the book first, I told myself, then worry about the details.

Fiji is a beautiful, peaceful place. I felt a sense of tranquility, like no other place I’ve ever been.

A couple of things I learned while in Fiji that I didn’t know or care about before (and still don’t) that maybe I can use someday in one of my stories:

A bure is what they call a bungalow, traditionally made of grass, but the term is also used to describe huts made of wood or straw.

One of the islands, Monuriki, was the main location for the film, Cast Away, with Tom Hanks.

135

Jared Mulligan

A note had been slipped under my door.

Hope you’re not still mad. Meet me at the masquerade ball tomorrow night at ten o’clock. Your costume will be delivered to your cabin tomorrow. I’ll be the pirate wench. Muah! xoxoxo

Bonnie? Courtney? Ailene? Passing notes rather than speaking to one another? And why would any of them think I was angry?

Beyond that, not only didn’t I know which of them might have left the note, I had no desire to dress up and go to a masquerade party.