Read Online The Island by Peter Benchley - Free Book Online Page A

“Do you ever think about it?”
    “Sometimes. When I was young, I wanted to be bionic, but now I’m not so sure.”
    As soon as they landed in Miami, Maynard dispatched Justin to buy some comic books and an evening paper. He was hoping there would be details about the missing New Jersey couples. Meanwhile, he went to a counter labeled “Courtesy Desk.” An ebullient young woman—with dyed blond hair, a Barbie Doll face, and aspirations to a Dolly Parton figure—smiled at him and announced, “Hi! I’m Ginny! How can I help you?”
    “Can you tell me how to get to the Caicos?”
    “Yes, sir! Is that on the Beach?”
    “No, ma’am. It’s a country. The Turks and Caicos Islands.”
    “Oh sure! Let’s just have a look.” She opened her airline guide and thumbed through the T’s. “Golly, sir, I guess there isn’t any.”
    “Isn’t any what?”
    “Turks or Caicoses.”
    “I see. Would you try Navidad for me?”
    “Sure thing.” She flipped through the pages. “Here we are! Navidad. You can’t get there from here.”
    “Right. Then where can I get there from?”
    “Nowhere, I guess. See?” She turned the book around so Maynard could see the listing. “Air Sunrise: canceled. Out-Island Air: annulled. Air Eden: discontinued.”
    Maynard said, “But people do get there.”
    “Yes, sir. If you say so.”
    “But how?”
    The girl shook her head. “Isn’t that something?”
    “Perhaps somebody charters?”
    “Could be. You could ask Reliable.” She pointed to the Reliable desk at the end of the corridor.
    “Thanks for your help.”
    “It’s been my pleasure, sir. Come see us again.”
    Maynard waited for Justin, who scurried toward him with an armful of comic books. Together they walked to the Reliable desk.
    A thin, leather-faced man behind the desk was filling out ticket forms, writing as slowly and carefully as a calligrapher. After every word, he licked the tip of his ball-point pen and held his breath before attacking the next syllable. His tongue was smeared with blue. Maynard guessed that the man was on the edge of illiteracy.
    He waited for the man to complete a ticket, and then said, “Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to Turks and Caicos?”
    “There’s no lights on the runways. Try to find the goddamn place at night, you’re like to end up in Africa.”
    “How about tomorrow?”
    “If they feel like flying.”
    “Who’s ‘they’?”
    “Tropic Airaway. T and A, for short.” The man smiled. “That’s a joke.”
    “Reliable doesn’t go down there any more?”
    “Gov’ment pitched us out. Claimed we weren’t givin’ ’em regular service. How the hell you’re supposed to be regular when half the runways is full of potholes and the other half is underwater, well, that beats me.”
    “D’you charter?”
    “Sure. I’ll take you down there myself. Seven hundred and fifty bucks. Twin Beech.”
    “Where’s the Tropic Airaway office?”
    “Ain’t one. Fella does his business out of the bar.”
    “What’s he look like?”
    “Can’t miss him.” The man sniggered. “Unless he’s on his back on the floor by now.”
    The bar was crowded and dark, but the white T-shirt with ‘TROPIC AIRAWAY’ stenciled on the back was clearly visible from the doorway. Maynard parked Justin in an empty seat beside the T-shirt and ordered him a Coke. Justin angled his Archie comic so that it caught the pinpoint of ceiling light, and started to read.
    Maynard leaned forward, over Justin’s shoulder, and spoke to the Tropic Airaway man. “Pardon me. I gather you fly down to the Caicos.”
    “Uh-huh.” He glanced at Maynard and returned to his piña colada.
    “When’s the next flight?”
    “I got a food plane going down tomorrow.”
    “Can I book a couple of seats?”
    “Nope.”
    “Oh. You’re full?”
    “Can’t take passengers. Only pilot rated for passengers goes on Wednesdays. Or Thursdays. Depending.”
    “Oh.” Maynard thought, to hell with it. He said to