WALKABOUT - Taking a Mulligan (Part 22)

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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 saw a lot of the world when I was flying, but I couldn’t remember anyplace more tranquil.

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.

136

Jasmine

Daniel Seton was never a problem for anyone. He was well liked, and never harmed anyone physically, emotionally, or financially. Daniel Seton paid his bills on time, and did a professional job as the ships photographer.

Dexter Flynn, the leader of the Death Adders motorcycle club of Australia was the real target. Unfortunately, Flynn was heavily armed, surrounded at all times by loyal bodyguards, and nearly impossible to get to.

Mulligan would know that Jasmine would be on the cruise, and he would be planning a very unpleasant reunion.  She had placed the note under Mulligan’s door. Like advancing King’s pawn to E4, it was the opening move, a bid to control the center of the board. She’d even provided a Zorro costume for him. She herself was Little Bo Peep. The pirate wench she had promised in the note was only to throw him off, keeping him at a disadvantage as he tried vainly to find her.

137

Jasmine

Daniel Seton would be working the masquerade party. Taking photographs. Mingling with the passengers.

She would need to get rid of the photographer with or without Mulligan’s help. It would be nice if Mulligan would let her explain, then proceed to work together with her again as a team on the Australian contract.

Like the zebra shot by the hunter to serve as bait for the lion, Daniel Seton would serve as bait for Flynn.

Placing aconite in the photographer’s drink had been easily accomplished. It would only be a matter of time, and his heart would stop. Seton’s body would be placed in the ship’s morgue. An autopsy would not detect the presence of the aconite, and there would be a funeral in Australia in a few days. Dexter Flynn would be there, and his bodyguards would not be standing next to him when he offered his condolences to Daniel Seton’s sister.

138

Jared Mulligan

A Zorro costume was delivered to my cabin early in the afternoon. At first, I wasn’t going to go to the masquerade party. But then, later in the day, I became curious as to how I would look in the costume.

It fit almost perfectly. No one would confuse me for Antonio Benderas, but I didn’t look half bad, in my opinion.

I kept the costume on all day, until the party. Kind of weird, I suppose, but hey, it was fun, and I wasn’t hurting anybody. And, I know this will sound strange, for some reason I felt more creative while in the costume, and was able to finish the outline for my novel.

Finally, the time came to go to the party, and I grabbed my plastic sword.

139

Jasmine

Sitting across the table from her, Daniel Seton had the drink in his hand. Zorro entered the room just as Seton was in the act of bringing the drink to his mouth. In less than an hour, he would be dead.

“Daniel,” the chief steward placed a hand on the photographer’s shoulder. “The Captain requests that you come to his table. Bring your camera.”

Seton placed the drink back on the table. “Be my pleasure, mate.”

Jasmine watched as her plan evaporated into thin air. ‘No problem,’ she thought, ‘I always enjoy a challenge.’  Zorro was now her main focus. Something was different. She knew the way Jared Mulligan moved, the way he carried himself. This was not Mulligan.

She crossed the room, got close enough to deliberately bump into him, spilling her drink on his shirt. “Oh excuse me,” she said. “I’m Little Bo Peep. I was looking for my lost sheep, and didn’t see you. I’m sorry.”

Zorro had not shown much reaction to her spilling the drink on him, but when she spoke, it seemed to momentarily unnerve him. He looked into her eyes, searching for something. Or someone. After a long, awkward moment, he said, “No problem.”

Jasmine went rigid. She had only spoken to the man a couple of times in her life, but she knew the voice of Ty Hamilton when she heard it. His presence on the ship answered a dozen questions, and presented a dozen more.

Zorro said, “I was looking for a friend who is coming as a pirate wench. I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Little Bo Peep smiled, curtsied, and wiggled her fingers like a child waving goodbye. She turned and walked away. When she looked over her shoulder, Zorro had vanished.

140

Jared Mulligan

There were more people than I had imagined. I guessed maybe three hundred of us in costume. There were Star Trek characters. One fellow came as Larry the Cable Guy. Kept going up to people and saying, “Gitter done!” I watched as he went up to a Captain Kirk and said, “You know how a roll of toilet paper’s like the Starship Enterprise?”

“No.”

“They’s both-a-travelin’ to Yer-Anus to wipe out the cling-ons!”

Kirk didn’t think it was funny, but I had to laugh.

There were nursery rhyme characters. One of them, Little Bo Peep, who spilled her drink on me, wore that perfume I liked. And, of course, there were movie characters. Indiana Jones, Lara Craft, Marge Gunderson—the cop in Fargo, Cat Woman; and me, Zorro, to name a few.

But the pirate wench was nowhere to be found. Just as well. I was never one to mingle in large crowds, so I decided to call it a night.

I had been enjoying being Jared Mulligan. But, the Ty Hamilton in me still kept asking, ‘Why?’

Why had I been targeted?

Why did Sheriff Bridges force me to dig what was to have been my own grave?

The answers had to be in the video. I decided it was finally time to have a look.

I accessed the internet on the desktop in my cabin. It was time to take a look at that e-mail I’d sent myself that day when the sheriff came for the camera.