Ch 13 - Fearless

— Inaccessible Island? Do you have any idea

why it is called that? — asked the man before me. Sitting

upright in a comfortable recliner, a use for which it had

probably never been used, he looked imposing and full

of himself. The huge room we were in now only added

to the heavy atmosphere, despite all the glass panes,

which allowed sunlight in, making the already luxurious

surroundings much brighter, with the long mahogany

table, elaborately detailed chairs, and an incredible

amount of crystal and porcelain, all topped by a glorious

chandelier of genuine crystal. Directly below it was my

conversation partner. His carefully combed hair grew in

waves, which were always kept short, and the huge grey

cat lounging on his lap looked as frightening as its

owner. In his hands was a mug of the strongest coffee I

had ever had the displeasure of tasting. Sitting beside

me, Lucy focused on the huge porcelain mug that had

been served to her, and from it, she sipped the dark

liquid that some would say contained poison, so potent

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was it. Absorbed in her task, she did not take sides,

leaving me alone to deal with the subject, to whom I now

answered:

— I understand, Dr. Keene, but all the evidence

points to that island.

Jacob Keene shook his head from side to side,

disapproving of my reasoning before I even introduced

it. With one last sip, he finished his horrendous drink and

gave me permission to prove my theory.

— Very well, then. Explain yourself, — he said,

in the voice of someone who had said the same thing a

thousand times to students who needed to support their

theses and to colleagues whose theories he had attacked.

— Thank you. You see, Eric Newby was a

maritime traveler and the author of The Last Grain Race,

where he described his long voyage from Ireland to

Australia and… — I paused to create a dramatic effect,

handing him the card while I finished reasoning:

— Inaccessible Island was the first place spotted

by the crew of the Moshulu. In addition to that, President

Frost went to South Africa, from where it is possible to

sail to the Tristan da Cunha archipelago.

— Or...he's gone summering. Don't you find this

alternative somewhat plausible?

— Yes, it is possible, I admit. Still, I believe that

there is something else going on and that the President

was trying to tell me that this is the place where the

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samples should go. There is a plane leaving at 6:45,

which means that we can still go tonight if we hurry.

— And why wouldn't he just tell you all this?

— I am not sure, but if the message was in code,

the idea was probably that not everyone should

understand it.

Another shake of his head and he asked:

— You've been reading a lot, haven't you? You

spend your days in the library. Those books are inflating

your imagination, Kevin.

— But... Doctor...

— How does Frost know that you've read this

book? Isn't it because you have already checked it out

from the university library and it is now listed under

your name, on a card as thick as a notebook that'd be

large enough to contain all the other students' names? —

he scolded, almost in a rage.

— Doesn't that prove his theory? — We both

turned to Lucy, who had left her coffee for a second to

support me. With a somewhat annoyed expression,

Keene leaned back in his chair and continued talking:

— Well. This sounds more like a conspiracy

theory, but there is some sense in his reasoning. I'm

willing to go; better yet, I think I should go alone.

— Sir? — I asked, surprised by the sudden

change.

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— Yeah...you two should stay this time. It might

be a dangerous place. Besides... you have a wake to

prepare for.

— Very kind, — Lucy replied, not hiding the

irony in her voice and eyes, — but the last resting place

of these samples might also be a good place to learn

something about my father's past, about the time when

even you and Kevin were absent and unable to inform

me about.

— Wouldn't that be the time that Frost was the

expedition companion? — Keene asked, forcing his

voice, — As far as I know, he was your tutor for several

years before I replaced him...don't tell me he didn't

inform you about Anthony's past?

— Not really, — replied Lucy, lowering her face.

— Why, but that is a heinous crime, — hissed the

Briton. — I'll do better than him — if it's to the last

resting place you want to go...there I'll take you. Meet

me at the Tweed at 4.

⬫⬫⬫

Having barely had lunch and now being ordered

to hurry, we dashed to Lucy's house and begged our

favorite truck driver for one more freight, to which the

ever-cheerful Dave immediately agreed. Ten minutes

after we called, we were back to embarrassing ourselves

before the angry neighbors; there were no more curious

onlookers among them. We then set out to load the same

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truck we had unloaded earlier, which was more

frustrating than tiresome, and the three of us set off for

the New Haven's Tweed Airport in our bright yellow

truck. During the trip, already away from the mansion,

Lucy asked me almost in a whisper, as we didn't want

Dave to hear too much of the fact:

— Why did you go straight to talk to that man?

He humiliates us with a look!

— I know, I know, okay? I don't love his

personality either, but I have spent my last dime on this

freight; we need someone to pay the fares.

— And this is not an official expedition, which

Frost would not pay for even if we could contact him, —

she said, complementing my answer.

— Precisely. This means we don't have many

options, really. — Saying this, I looked up and realized

that we were already arriving at the Tweed, where our

benefactor was waiting for us. Always very punctual, we

found him already standing by the counter, finalizing the

files.

— Dr. Keene, — I hurried to tell him, — we

brought the samples as you ordered, and they are on a

truck waiting to be shipped.

— I see. I believe you have this trucker's number

on a card, right?

— Yes, sir, here it is, — I showed him without a

second thought.

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— I'll take this. It is already too late to ship a

large load, we will have to take this flight and arrange

with the airline to get the load on the next one.

— Well, all right, I guess.

— And you guess well, young man. Leave

everything to me and the trip won't have any major

problems.

After the tedious process of going through

security, we still had to face the large crowd that was

forming to have their passports checked, and then we

were free to board after all. While the elderly were being

organized first, we saw in front of us a wide scalp that

looked familiar.

— Hey! — whispered Lucy, nudging me lightly

and pointing forward. When I understood what she was

showing me, I exclaimed:

— Is that...Mr. Frost? Look at that, Doctor, we'll

be on the same flight as the president!

— Well, what a nice...coincidence, isn't it? —

Lucy then condemned me with her eyes, something I

didn't understand at the time, but I comprehended that I

had made a mistake.

We exchanged a few more signs and glances, but

it was evident that neither of us was fluent in sign

language. It was now our turn to board, and since we had

no hand luggage, the whole process was speeded up

considerably. I tried hard to find the president's bald

head, but the crowd refused to sit down, until, one by

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one, everyone found their seat. I remembered the

Ambungi herd and how their movements in a group were

so smooth and delicate that they seemed to be a single

being. In contrast, here was the "superior species",

pushing each other and taking their time to settle down

— definitely something to call a "herd". To my right,

Lucy contributed to the chaos by asking the flight

attendant about the free snacks, to which she politely

asked Lucy to wait while we prepared for take-off. This

last process, by the way, is always painful and once

again it was, as we rolled down the runway and lifted the

front half of the large aircraft. When I opened my eyes

again, I realized that I was squeezing Lucy's hand and

that I was doing so with some force, but she was holding

on without complaint. I thanked her for this act, which I

could not remember anyone else ever doing for me, even

those who knew about my phobia, such as Dr.

Lane...Well, I better get back to looking for the

president. Finally, with my stomach back in its place, my

ability to think had also returned and I spotted, a few

rows ahead, the old dean. For a few minutes I wondered

how to get his attention, but fortunately, the man himself

solved the question. Seeing a girl get up to go to the

bathroom in the front half of the plane, the old man

remembered that he also felt the same urge and, getting

up, he came towards us. We leaned to the right, to attract

his attention, but Lucy still had to hold his arm as he

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passed by. His little eyes opened in surprise and he

greeted us enthusiastically:

— Lucy, Kevin, you've come!

— How do you do, Mr. Frost? — we replied in

chorus. But he looked around and his expression

changed to one of dread as if he had seen one of Amge's

horrors.

— Excuse me, kids, we can talk as soon as we

land. — Saying this, he disappeared into the bathroom

cubicle and locked the door.

— What the hell was that? — asked Lucy,

turning to me. I couldn't know and didn't know right

away, because as soon as he left the toilet, he hurried to

his seat again, giving me no opportunity to speak to him.

At times I noticed that he looked back from his

seat to see something — or someone. The trip that

followed was excellent, and by that I mean we did not go

hungry on the way to Cape Town. Lucy's snacks really

came in handy.