Capítulo 3: IN-FLIGHT ENTERTAINMENT [2]
Sam, a white wine spritzer for herself. When the drinks arrived, she said, 'So, Mr. Carter?'
Logan squinted at her. 'What are you, a cop?'
'Used to be,' she admitted.
'That figures.' He took a small sip of his drink – having poured the scotch into a plastic cup this time – and said to Sam, 'I guess, like you, I was young and stupid. Unlike you, though, I had it all. I was a football star in high school and college, so I was … protected.'
'Spoiled, you mean?' said the girl.
Logan scowled. 'Look, who's telling this story? Me or you?'
The girl held up her hands, as if allowing him the floor.
Still scowling, Logan said, 'We don't even know who you are.'
Shrugging as if it was no big deal, the girl said, 'My name's Purna.'
'Purna?' repeated Logan. 'What kind of a name's that?'
'It's Australian,' said the girl. 'Aborigine actually.'
'You're an Aborigine?' said Sam, interested.
'Half – on my mother's side.' She turned her attention back to Logan – and suddenly smiled. Sam almost gasped. Her smile was every bit as radiant as he'd imagined, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. 'You were saying, Mr. Carter?'
For a moment Logan looked bemused, as if he'd been bewitched by her smile too. Then he nodded briefly and said, 'So … er, yeah. Like I say, I was protected. I had pretty much whatever I wanted – fame, money, women, fast cars.' He grimaced. 'That last one was my downfall. Well … those last two, I guess. I shoulda looked after myself more, but well … there were a lot of parties back then. A lot of parties. Anyway, this one night, I'd had too much to drink, snorted some coke … you know how it is. And this one guy, he started ragging me about my car, calling it a piece of shit, all that.'
'What kind of car was it?' Sam asked.
'Porsche Spyder. Like James Dean used to drive. Classy car, man …' For a moment Logan's face softened and he looked almost as if he was going to cry.
Sam nodded brusquely. 'Sure thing. So what happened?'
Logan took a deep breath. 'I challenged him to a race. His messed-up old Buick against my Spyder. I mean, he had no chance, but the dumb fuck took me on.' He shrugged. 'I wanted to teach him a lesson. Not just beat him, but really beat him, you know.'
'But you ended up beating yourself, didn't you?' said Purna softly.
Logan snorted a laugh, but it was hard, without humor. 'You could say that. Took a bend too quickly. Lost control. Hit a wall at … I dunno … eighty, ninety miles an hour?' He shuddered, took a drink. 'Shattered my knee. End of my career. But that wasn't the worst part.'
Sam glanced at Purna, and then back at Logan. 'The girl?' he asked.
Logan nodded. 'Her name was Drew Peters. She came along for the ride. She took the full impact …'
'But you got off,' said Purna, her voice unreadable.
Logan nodded and glanced at her, his face almost defiant. 'Yeah, I got off. What can I say? I had a good lawyer.'
'Money talks,' she said, and this time there was a definite bitterness to her tone.
'It's what makes the world go round, baby,' Logan murmured. 'Always has, always will.'
Before Purna could respond, there was a crackle from the intercom, and the voice of their pilot, who had introduced himself earlier as Captain Avery, announced, 'Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be beginning our descent to Banoi Island airport. Could you please now return to your seats, put on your seatbelts, and return your tables to the upright position. It's a beautiful day on the island today, with temperatures in the region of 27 degrees Celsius, that's 80 degrees Fahrenheit, and the local time there is currently 11.52 a.m. In a few moments, we will be descending through cloud cover, whereupon those of you on the right-hand side of the plane will be able to see the island as we begin our approach. I hope that you have all had a pleasant flight, and on behalf of New Guinea International Airlines, I thank you for flying with us today.'
The pilot's voice clicked off, and a few seconds later, the engines began to rise in pitch. Purna, Logan, and Sam strapped themselves in, Sam gripping the arms of his seat and looking out of the window as wispy white clouds billowed past the aircraft. He was not a nervous flyer, but he was anxious about what awaited him on the island. The gig at Banoi's top resort hotel, the Royal Palm, had fallen into his lap like manna from heaven, and he was determined not to blow it. This could be his last chance to prove he was not a joke, maybe his only chance to showcase his new material in front of a sizable audience. And who knew, if even one or two of the record executives his manager had informed about the gig made the effort to turn up, it could even lead to a new record deal, his first in over six years. He was desperate to show the world he was not a one-hit wonder, that there was far more to him than 'Who Do You Voodoo, Bitch'. He swallowed to clear the pressure in his ears as the plane swooped towards the ground, but his mouth was dry.
'Hey, would you look at that!' said Logan beside him, craning forward as far as his seatbelt would allow. Sam followed his gaze and saw a lush tropical paradise below, surrounded by an ocean so placid and clear it seemed to sparkle like a plain of blue-white diamonds. On the near side of the island was the resort area – hotels, restaurants, bars, and stores clustered around a vast beach of pristine white sand. Beyond that, covering a good seventy per cent of Banoi, was dense tropical jungle, which eventually gave way, on the far side of the island, to a bare and jagged mountain range, rising up from the greenery like the gnarled back of some prehistoric beast.
'Looks like paradise, all right,' Sam said, though he still couldn't quell the nerves in his belly.
Logan pointed to the right of the island. 'What's that?'
Maybe a couple of miles offshore was a much smaller island, little more than a rock maybe half a mile in circumference, with a grey rectangular building situated on a plateau in the center. The building resembled a huge but grim-looking office block and was dominated by a flat-roofed tower at one end that jabbed up into the glorious blue sky like an accusatory finger.
'Looks like a prison,' Sam mused, noting the high electrified fence that encircled
the building.
Purna's face appeared in the gap between the seats. 'It's Banoi high-security prison,' she confirmed. 'Full of psychos and terrorists. The locals call it … well, I can't remember the actual word, but it translates as "hell in heaven".'
'How come you know so much?' Logan said.
'I read a lot,' replied Purna. 'You should try it.'
The prison wheeled away from them as the plane banked slightly on its final approach to the island. Logan looked at Sam with eyes a little bleary from drink.
'Welcome to paradise,' he said.
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