Liz was mopping her plate with the last of her toast when Derek and Sarah appeared at the volleyball court, each carrying a plate of food.
"May we join you?" Sarah asked.
"They're having quite the serious breakfast meeting over there," Derek added.
James invited them. "Welcome to the peace and quiet of the volleyball court. Please, do have a seat."
Derek asked "What did you think of our Kenji Nakamura last night?"
"I can see what a powerful personality he is," James replied. "and why he's been such a success. But he's done. There's an air of resignation and defeat around him. I didn't research him before I came, was barely aware of him, but I know he's in legal trouble - over bribery, I think. What's the status of all that?"
"There's the threat of jail, but they won't lock up a man of his status or a man of his age. The main charges have to do with his paying bribes in third-world countries to secure his right to do business there. Little of it has to do with what he's done within Japan. Charges like that are new; Japan is bringing them only under international pressure. So their heart's not in it, and it may go off very easily for him. But if they decide they have to make an example of him, t could go very badly. It's a situation he can't control, and I know that weighs on him."
"Is he a refugee here?"
Derek was surprised by the thought. "No, he'll go back. It would be dishonorable to run away. When he invited us for this trip, he told me that he might never be here again - which of course he repeated to all of us last night. He's ready to let the place go."
"It's a shame," Sarah said, "after so many years, being forced to sell the island. It's been a wonderful retreat for him, for all of us."
For James, it was no retreat at all, but a business opportunity to analyze. It was hard for him to imagine lounging naked on the beach, taking it all for granted. But that experience, exactly that, was part of the place's value. He fell into the language of a travel brochure. "Yes, it's a unique experience, as far as you can get from the cares of home, in a beautiful setting with a welcoming climate." He saw the beauty of the sunsets in his mind's eye, but pulled himself back to practicality. "It's also a big project for someone to take on, if Nakamura leaves it behind. It would take someone like Peter Prost or Richard Branson to step in; there aren't many men with the means to pull it off. Derek, I see the feelers going out, but have you had anything concrete about the possibility of a sale?"
"No. Kenji plays close to the chest. I've wondered if he's invited us both here to maneuver us into bidding against each other."
"More likely just to increase the chances he can unload the place."
Liz had never heard James fall into businessman mode, and she didn't like it. Particularly because the men were talking about the island as if it were uninhabited real estate. With the tone of a reprimand, she interrupted. "There is nothing to sell." James gave her the floor. "What do you mean?"
"There is nothing to sell. Not the land, not the cabins, not the house. The island doesn't have private land titles; their national government wouldn't let them sell land even if they wanted to. The islanders treat Nakamura like a demigod and their economy depends on him, but he doesn't own any of it, not even the house he lives in. He's here because they want him here."
Derek was incredulous. "Who owns it, who's in charge? There must be some way."
"They all own it. The people in the village. Collectively. They decide together how to use it, how to live on it. Officially, they're a democracy; if things got really bad the national government would expect them to take a vote. But they never do; they just agree on things. With respect given to elders and traditional leaders. I've never spoken with the oldest of them, because they don't know English. But I've gotten to know a few people. If you want to talk to someone who's in charge, try Malia Obermeier. In her generation, she's the highest-ranking person here, or one of them, and people respect her."
"Queen of the Island." Derek was not being kind. Liz let the comment echo in a moment of silence. "Maybe two hundred years ago Westerners would have called her that. But she can't order people around; even back then she couldn't have. And if the people aren't comfortable with her, they'll just start looking to someone else. In the generation after her, that grew up in contact with the outside, it's probably Anjelo."
"Anjelo?" Derek did not know the name. Sarah reminded him. "The young fellow at the bar the other night." Derek felt the need to confirm this with James. "The bartender kid?" James addressed Derek's doubt. "Yes, the bartender kid. He's a nice guy, and smart, and has a serious side." Liz was relieved to hear James defend him. "Anjelo or one of his sisters," she said. "Malia thinks Anjelo has the right energy to be a leader. Look, I know she's concerned about what happens after Kenji Nakamura. James is right that it would take someone like your boss or his to step in if things are going to keep on the way they have been for most of her life. Why not go talk to her?"
Derek did not reply.
James stood with his empty plate and gathered Lizs. "Can I get you anything?" he offered to Derek and Sarah. "No, thank you," Sarah answered.
James took the dishes back to the pavilion and set them on the bar where Malia retrieved them to wash. Mark wast there, and Wolf, with a big breakfast in front of him. "I thought I might find Heather and Helen still arguing," James said. Mark shook his head with a smile. "Oh, theyre probably still arguing, for sure they were when they left."
James took a seat at the bar. With breakfast served, Malia was tidying up the kitchen. "Weve been talking to Derek Bradford, vague notions about the fate of the island. You know the man who owns his company already owns an island, right?"
Malia surprised him with her awareness of it. "I know. Necker Island, Caribbean. Mr. Branson make deal with British Virgin Islands for resort. Mr. Bradford say he want another resort?"
"He hasnt been so clear. But I think Dereks exploring the possibility, maybe at Bransons direction, maybe not. Liz tells me youre the person to go to about it."
"I talk to Liz about what happen if Mr. Nakamura go. I worry, she know. I talk to Mr. Bradford, sure. He come here many time but he not know island not too well. Maybe we take walk together. You want to come?"
"I can come if you think its appropriate."
"No secret here. Your boss, who know, he might want island, too. He by volleyball? We go ask."
Malia disappeared into the room behind the bar, and reappeared with a simple dress covering her shoulders and flowing to her calves, a floral print with a midnight-blue background. She startled James with this; hed never seen her dressed in anything but a waist wrap, and seldom that. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, chest out and head high, and when she exhaled she was taller. She walked to the ball court, James naked beside her. Liz, Derek, and Sarah looked up from their conversation, speechless at her appearance. James, aware that Derek barely knew here name, introduced Malia. "Malia, this is Derek Bradford. Derek, Malia Obermeier. Weve been discussing the fate of the island, and shes invited us to walk with her." Derek rose, Malia extended her hand. They accepted the introduction as if they had not been acquainted for years. This was a new start.
"Malia, thank you. I look forward to it," Derek said.
"You want to go now this morning? Any time you ready, Derek."
Liz, who still had never brought herself to address Derek by his first name, was struck by Malias deliberate assertiveness. Malia, she understood, was prepared to insist on a level relationship. She was acting the queen. "You guys should dress for the walk," Liz advised, disinviting herself, and Sarah. Malia was on this.
"What sort of investment are you looking for?" Derek asked. Elena answered. "Investment is not the right word. Investment implies an ownership stake, and that is something we cannot grant. The arrangement with Mr. Nakamura has never been formalized. We can't expect anyone to step into a situation like that. Nor would we want it. We might offer a lease medium term or long term or lifetime lease on the house he built and the land it stands on. We might include the resort area, or manage it ourselves. That would depend on the person. We would require that no outside labor be brought in without our permission knowing that that limits what can be done here."
James thought about the series of mining and trading and political entrepreneurs he'd worked with over the years, some of them difficult and dangerous. "Do you care what nationality any investor what shall I say leaseholder would be?"
"No. We have adopted English as our working language, because of the opportunities it opens up to us; we'd want to be able to deal with the person in English. Naturally we'd investigate any offer, and the person behind it. To the extent possible, we would also consult Mr. Nakamura. He's widely acquainted, and we would respect his opinion. This is his legacy, and we will treat it with respect."
James wondered, "How much of this have you discussed with Nakamura?"
Malia responded. "Mr. Nakamura concern with what happen to island. He have no child, he know island belong to us. He always ask, never tell us what to do."
"He's from a world of handshake agreements," Elena added. "He may wish that someone could just step in as he did decades ago. But he knows how the world works now."
"He must have thought that someone tied to one of our companies might step in," James offered.
"I'm sure. And what do you think?"
Derek answered. "I think first of Richard Branson. And frankly I doubt it. He doesn't operate in this part of the world, and he already has Necker, which he owns outright. But he knows a lot of people, and I know a few. Now that we understand what you are making available, we can spread the word."
"I have to give you the same answer," James said. "I spoke with Peter Prost the other day from here, and he didn't want to hear anything about the island; his interest was in Nakamura's art collection. But he knows a lot of people, too, we both do."
Elena flashed anger. "We are not happy that he brought that collection here."
"He invited Heather Green to come this week, didn't he?"
"Everyone. Yes."
"Do you know that she's with the Eisenthal Institute? Here specifically to investigate the collection?"
"No, I didn't know that."
"Last I saw, she and Helen were in an intense discussion about it. Liz thinks that Nakamura wanted that discussion to happen, and I agree. Just as I think Nakamura intended our discussion to happen. He may not tell you what to do, but he's been aggressive in opening possibilities."
Derek jumped in. "The success of a party is in the guest list."
Left alone, Liz went to the pavilion to see that Wolf was there, his empty breakfast plate still in front of him, a few unwashed dishes on the bar, the last of a pot of coffee on a warmer. She offered coffee to Wolf, and poured away the rest. Malia had plainly turned to other priorities. Liz drained cold dishwater from the sink and set about finishing with breakfast cleanup. Wolf wandered into the sun with his coffee to see Anjelo coming his way at a trot. They came into the pavilion together. Anjelo offered to take over the dishwashing. Wolf took a seat at the bar. Momentarily, Afitu followed his son into the kitchen. Afitu wore a waist wrap which he removed and tucked away when he arrived. Anjelo had arrived naked.
"We want to talk to Nakamura." It was Heather, Helen just behind her. Suddenly the pavilion was full, but this was no lunch crowd. Afitu responded to Heather's abruptness in kind. "Soon?" "As soon as we can." Anjelo looked to his father for guidance. Afitu gave him brief instructions in the local language, and Anjelo was off, running naked and barefoot into the sun. "We ask," Afitu told the women. Take seat. I get you anything?"
Liz watched Anjelo dash out of view. In a man's body, this was one of the naked children scampering about the village, running for the joy of running. He came back wet, panting. He'd swum the channel that lay between the resort and Mr. Nakamura's house. He relayed a message to Afitu. Afitu then let Heather and Helen know "Canoe ready. Mr. Nakamura see you now."
There was little breeze, and there were few clouds. The view across the lagoon and to the ocean horizon was clear. Behind Liz and James, afternoon clouds were forming in the island's daily updraft. Birds circled in the updraft. Large, black gliders with long, narrow wings bent sharply in the middle for streamlining. Their striking profiles circled lazily over the lagoon, and occasionally back into the rising cloud. Smaller white shorebirds dotted the ground and the air, and added their calls to the sound of the gentle, lagoon-side surf.
Suddenly, one of the dark profiles above sharpened and dove, swooping to the surface of the water to snatch up some small creature, succeeding without so much as a splash to swoop back up into the rising air. The waves lapped the sand, and occasionally one lap would exceed all that had come before. The tide was coming in, making work more difficult for the shorebirds, some of which began to retire from foraging.
A small powerboat, conspicuously laden with fishing gear and bearing two figures, eased across the reef into the lagoon and made its way to the village.
Then all was quiet, the quiet of lapping water, joined soon by the sound of rain, watering the village gardens while the shore lay in sunshine. The shore breeze grew stronger; the leaves of the coconuts began to rattle with a sound very much like rain.
Was it time for lunch, or for dinner? They stood to go.
It was nearly dinnertime. Afitu was tending the kitchen and bar. Mark was in the pavilion when Liz and James arrived, drinking a Coke out of the can. Heather came in soon after, and sat with Mark. "He's given us access to the whole catalog. Today and tomorrow I'll physically verify that all the art here is included and well described." Mark wondered, "Why?" "Because he doesn't want to be on the black market with the stuff. Either we find a reason to give a piece back to somebody, or we tacitly bless its sale on the open market, where it's more valuable. He's sincerely looking for a way to get unhooked from the whole mess."
Mark asked, "If he just want to get unhooked from it, why is he thinking about its value?"
"He's not going to profit from it. He's not planning to, which makes our work easier. He'll be giving the collection away. Part to Eisenthal, for our trouble with all this -which our board will probably refuse, but he's made the offer - part to a trust to benefit the islanders here." Turning to Afitu, who had not appeared to be listening, "And this is not a secret. He's committed to complete transparency over this. Part of the deal. We are not going to keep his secrets."
Anjelo appeared, from the gathering dusk to extend an invitation to James. "Mr. Nakamura has invited you share an aperitif with him before our dinner. Would you care to join him?" "I would like that. Is the invitation for just myself, or for the two of us?" It was a rude and difficult question, but James trusted Anjelo with it, and Anjelo trusted James with his answer. "Just for yourself."
Anjelo led James into the dark central hallway of the house. An open door led into a sitting room, windows open but curtained against the growing darkness. Mr. Nakamura did not stand. "Welcome. Please, have a seat. What would you like?" James took a seat opposite a small table from his host and asked for the martini which had become his daily habit on this trip. Anjelo disappeared, and shortly a server brought James' drink. Mr. Nakamura picked up his own, something dark in a whiskey glass, and raised it "to this island."
"You had a good talk with Malia and Elena today." James agreed, a question in his look: What had Nakamura heard?
Nakamura saw the question. "I spoke with Derek earlier, and I have been speaking frequently with Malia. I want to add one thing. This is probably the last time I will be here. Perhaps by force of circumstance. But if not that, then to take myself out of the way, whenever the islanders make a fresh arrangement. For the rest of my life, I have enough to attend to at home."
"Malia trusts you to understand the island's needs, well enough to begin a conversation if someone you or Peter know might be interested in negotiating with her. I don't believe Peter would be the right person to step in, and I don't believe he would want to."
"That's true," James answered.
"Peter cared more taking on the burden of my and my father's collection from Germany. In the way too many people have thought I cared for it, an illicit bargain, a compromise. Maybe I thought of it that way once. I've made many compromises over my life. When the only way to open a factory in a country was to make generous gifts to its leaders, I have done that. Even when the leaders were not good people. Even when it was done in secret. That is how business was done. I've had a long career, but I have outlived that time. I do not belong in today's world, and today's world has noticed. But Peter does business that old way, too, and he is a generation younger than I am. If he had come here, I would have warned him myself. If you can ever speak to him of these things, pass along the advice of an old man, will you? You understand."
James did understand. He could not imagine such a conversation with Peter.
Anjelo reappeared to lead James away the moment the men had finished their drinks.
Anjelo, the barefoot messenger, the bartender kid, leader to be. As they went to the landing, James chose to address the leader. "He is ready to leave." "He is," Angelo answered. "He is leaving tomorrow morning. You are here for several more days. Please, be our guest. Lie on the beach, take it easy."
It's been over twenty years since Liz and James first visited the island.
Mr. Nakamura lost his ownership stake and leadership position in Matsumoto Industrial, spending time in house arrest while that was decided. He spent the rest of his life comfortably in Japan. Peter Prost sold much of his ownership share in Haverford on learning that its mines in Kandara were going to be seized, and before that news had spread. An insider-trading crime for which he forfeited his own position and gains, and spent several years in jail. Richard Branson was knighted by the Queen, and remains in possession of Necker island, on good terms with its government.
The staff in the concrete house now wear clothes, the preference of the new lessee. The wooden buildings of the resort were washed away. There are fewer buildings now, raised on cinderblock foundations. The village itself is still plywood and coconut leaves.
Angelo earned an MBA in California. He and Hiva have three children. He now manages the resort, and greets visiting dignitaries.
Elena went back to Aukland for her law degree once she'd nursed her last. She works for her national government, but spends as much time on her home island as she can. And she drives a careful bargain.
Malia watches children, and gives advice when she's asked. This happens more and more with each passing year.
The island never did install telephones. They have cell phones now, and the best satellite uplink available, but they still send their children running with messages.
Mr. Nakamura's trust holds most of his art collection, and money from the sale of his house in Japan. Helen and Elena are its trustees.
James stepped up a notch at Haverford after Peter's departure, and is now Vice President for Development. He and his wife live in Connecticut, but he still manages to visit the island. He helped them rebuild after the storm.
Liz found work as HR manager of a packaging plant in Long Beach, and love among the crowd at one of Mark and Wolf's stage pieces. She and her husband have a house in west Los Angeles, with a yard and a pool, where Liz can sit naked under a palm tree, without a care in the world.
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