Island of the Sequined Love Nun

these people without the funds we've received for what we do. They would have no modern medical care at all."
    Tuck was thinking again, trying to measure what he could say and what he wasn't willing to reveal. He couldn't let them know that he knew anything at all about the Shark People, and, as Vincent had implied, he'd better find out more before he threw down the dog tags and Pardee's notebook. The doc was obviously stretched pretty tight by the situation, and Mrs. Curtis-well, Mrs. Curtis was just fucking scary. Play it chilly. They'd brought him here because they thought he was as twisted as they were. No sense in ruining his image.
    "I understand," Tuck said. "I wish you'd been a little more up front about it, but I think I get all the secrecy now. But what I want to know is: Why can't I drink if you guys do? I mean, if you guys can perform major surgery when you're half in the bag, then I can fly a plane."
    Beth said, "We wanted to help you with your substance abuse problem. We thought that if you weren't exposed to other drinkers that you'd relapse when you went back home."
    "Very thoughtful of you," Tuck said. "But when exactly am I supposed to go home?"
    "When we're finished," she said.
    The doctor nodded. "Yes, we were going to tell you, but we wanted you to become used to the routine. We wanted to see if you could handle the job first. We're going to do the operations until we have a hundred million, then we will invest it on behalf of the islanders. The proceeds will assure we can continue our work and that the Shark People will be taken care of as long as they are here."
    Tuck laughed. "Right. You're not taking anything for yourself. This is all a mercy mission."
    "No, we may leave, but there'll be enough to keep someone running this clinic and shipping in food and supplies forever. And then there's your bonus."
    "GO," Tuck said. "GO ahead."
    "The plane."
    Tuck raised an eyebrow. "The plane?"
    "If you stay until we finish our work, we will sign the plane over to you, plus your salary and any other bonuses you've accumulated. You can go anywhere in the world you want, start a charter business if you want, or just sell it and live comfortably for the rest of your life."
    Tuck shook his head. Of all the weirdness that had gone on so far, this seemed like the weirdest, if only because the doctor seemed so earnest. It might have had something to do with the fact that it was one of those things that a guy hopes all his life he is going to hear, but convinces himself that it's never going to happen. These people were going to give him his own Learjet.
    He didn't want to do it, he fought not to do it, he strained, but nevertheless, Tuck couldn't stop himself from asking. "Why?"
    "Because we can't do it without you, and this is something that you can't get any other way. And because we'd rather keep you than have to find another pilot and lose the time."
    "What if I say no?"
    "Then, you understand, we'd have to ask you to leave and you would keep the money that you've already earned."
    "And I can just go?"
    "Of course. As you know, you are not our first pilot. He decided to move on. But then again, we didn't make him this offer."
    "What was your first pilot's name?"
    The doctor shot a look at his wife. She said, "Giordano, he was Italian. Why?"
    "The aviation community is pretty small. I thought I might know him."
    "Do you?" she said and there was too much sincerity in the question for Tuck to believe that she didn't know the answer.
    "No."
    Sebastian Curtis cleared his throat and forced a smile. "So what do you think? How would you like to own your own Learjet, Mr. Case?"
    Tuck sat staring at the open wine bottle, measuring what he could say, what answer they not only wanted to hear, but had to hear if he was going to leave the island alive. He extended his hand for the doctor to shake. "I think you've got yourself a pilot. Let's drink to the deal."
    An electronic bell trilled from the bedroom and the doctor and his wife exchanged glances. "I'll take care of it," Beth Curtis said. She stood and put her napkin on the table.
    "Excuse me, Mr. Case, but we have a patient in the clinic who requires my attention." Then the whiplash mood swing from officious to acid. "She presses that buzzer so much you'd think it was attached to her clit."
    Sebastian Curtis looked at Tuck and shrugged apologetically.

44 – Revealed: The Perfect Couple
    Back at his bungalow, an argument went on in the still-sober brain of Tucker