CHAPTER TEN

 

 

 

Wednesday, June 13

St. Julian’s, Malta

 

 

Their peace would last less than a day, but neither Payne nor Jones knew that when they woke up for a late breakfast at the Corinthia Hotel St. George’s Bay.

The luxury hotel was located in St. Julian’s, a seaside town a few miles northwest of the shopping mall in Sliema. The view from their neighboring suites was nearly as spectacular as the panorama near the pedestrian bridge, but instead of the cityscape of Valetta, they were treated to the crystal blue water of the pool below and the turquoise water of the sea beyond.

Wearing a bathrobe and boxer shorts, Payne was sprawled on a lounge chair on his private balcony. He was soaking in the sun and relishing the gentle breeze when he heard the glass door behind him open. Much to his surprise, Jones stepped onto the deck. He was carrying several plates of food, each covered by a stackable silver dome.

“I brought breakfast,” Jones announced as he placed the tray on a nearby table. He was dressed in a T-shirt, shorts, and tennis shoes. “I took the liberty of ordering everything on the menu and charging it to your room. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Why should I mind? You made our reservations, so the charge will appear on your credit card, not mine.”

Jones laughed. “Yeah, like I used my credit card to book a luxury hotel. That’s funny.”

Payne rolled his eyes. “One of these days, we need to have a talk about boundaries…. Make that another talk about boundaries.”

“You mean like telling our driver that cornbread makes me constipated?”

“No, I mean like breaking into my hotel room even though the do-not-disturb sign was on the door and the chain lock was engaged.”

“In my defense, I thought you were challenging me. Not that it was much of a challenge. I got the chain off in less than ten seconds. It would’ve been less, but I was carrying food.”

“Actually, the sign was out and the chain was on to give me some privacy.”

“For what?” Jones asked. “I don’t see any tissues or Vaseline.”

Payne growled softly. He loved his best friend like a brother, but sometimes he was a handful. “Believe it or not, I occasionally like to be left alone—especially early in the day. You know how I am before breakfast.”

“Which is why I brought breakfast. Duh!”

Payne shook his head. This was a conversation he wasn’t going to win.

“Besides,” Jones said, “we’re a little pressed for time.”

Payne walked over to the table and picked up the first dome. Underneath was a plate of scrambled eggs, white toast, and a side order of bacon. “For what?”

“I know how you swabbies get a boner for boats, so I called around and found a place that will rent us one. Yachts, sailboats, jet skis, whatever. I figured a day on the water might do you some good.”

Payne didn’t even bother to sit down. He just grabbed some silverware and started eating. “That sounds like fun,” he said between bites. “I wonder how long it would take to circumnavigate Malta. Do you think we could do it in a day?”

“Beats the hell out of me, but I’m willing to give it a try. Or we can take our time and visit the other two islands. I hear Gozo and Comino are quite different than Malta.”

“How so?” he wondered as he continued to shovel in food.

Payne was blessed/cursed with a hyperactive metabolism that forced him to eat almost constantly. Back when he was in the military, doctors made sure he didn’t have hyperthyroidism or some other condition that would explain this phenomenon, but all of their tests came back clean. Not only was he as healthy as a horse, but he could undoubtedly eat one.

Jones was fully aware of Payne’s appetite and realized if he didn’t sit down and stake his claim to some food, his friend would empty every plate on the table. So he pulled up a chair, grabbed an order of waffles, and defended them with a knife and fork.

“According to the front desk,” Jones said, “Gozo is much more rural than Malta and has some beautiful rolling hills. Supposedly it’s the island home of the nymph Calypso from Homer’s Odyssey.”

“No shit,” Payne said as he used his toast to clean his first plate. “I was obsessed with that book back in high school. It was one of the reasons I joined the Navy—to find adventure on the open seas. If I remember correctly, Calypso fell in love with Odysseus and held him captive there for many years before allowing him to sail home.”

Payne pushed his empty plate aside and picked up the next silver dome. This one revealed an egg white omelet with ham and cheese and sliced tomatoes. “But unless I’m mistaken, the island in Homer’s epic poem was called Ogygia, not Gozo.”

Jones shrugged. “Maybe the Greeks called it a different name back then. Or maybe, just maybe, the guy at the front desk didn’t major in Ancient Literature.”

Payne laughed. “Either way, I’d like to visit it.”

“Me, too.”

“And what about Comino?”

“It’s the middle island,” Jones said as he quickly made a map of the archipelago with his waffles. “Gozo is the island to the north, and Malta is the big island to the south. And if you focus on my sea of syrup, Comino is this little island right here.”

“How big is it?”

Jones pointed at his plate. “My food is cut to scale.”

Payne jabbed his fork into the center island, then swallowed it whole.

“What the fuck. You just ate Comino.”

“It tasted good, too. We should definitely swing by.”

Undeterred by the kaiju attack on his waffle kingdom, Jones sliced off a tiny chunk of Malta and used it to replace the eaten island. “As I was saying, Comino isn’t very big. It’s less than two square miles and has a population of three people.”

“Really?”

Jones nodded. “There used to be four, but one of them died.”

Payne frowned. “Is it worth visiting?”

“According to my source, it is.”

“Which source is that?”

“The guy at the front desk. Try to keep up.”

“Sorry. I was eating.”

“I see that, Jon. It’s kind of hard to miss.”

Payne shrugged but continued to chew.

“Anyway,” Jones said, “Comino has a scenic bay called the Blue Lagoon that I’m told we shouldn’t miss. It’s where they filmed the movie.”

“Which movie?”

“The Blue Lagoon. The one with Brooke Shields.”

“Will she be there?”

“I doubt it, but we can certainly check. There’s only three people.”

Payne took a large gulp of orange juice to wash everything down. “Wait. Are you being serious? The island only has three people?”

Jones nodded. “According to the front desk, Comino has three permanent residents. But the numbers swell during the day when a policeman and a priest commute from Gozo.”

Payne laughed at the absurdity of the statement. “Come on. That has to be a joke. The guy was obviously messing with you.”

“Not according to my second source.”

“And who is that?”

“The maid who unlocked your door for me before I removed the chain.”

Payne smiled. “Yeah, like she’s trustworthy.”

“That reminds me,” Jones said. “I told her I’d give her a big tip for helping me break into your room, so please remember to do that.”

“It’s at the top of my list.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m not.”

“I can tell.”

“So,” Payne said as he made a breakfast sandwich by putting half of his omelet on a piece of toast and adding a slice of tomato, “when do we have to leave?”

“For what?”

“Our boat trip.”

“Oh, we can leave whenever we want.”

Payne growled at his friend. “Then why did you tell me we were pressed for time?”

“When did I do that?”

“When you first came in! Why else would I be standing here like a farm animal at a feeding trough?”

Jones shrugged. “Because you’re a giant pig who has to eat his bodyweight in swill or else you’ll magically disappear?”

“No, I’m standing here because you led me to believe we were in a hurry.”

“Well, if you think about it, technically we are in a hurry because the big boats are rented by the day, so the longer we take here, the less time we have on the water.”

Payne wiped his mouth. “Well, I can leave whenever.”

“Not me,” Jones said as he casually nibbled on Gozo. “I prefer to take my time when I eat.”