Threads: The Island

"There was an article in Forbes earlier this year and they cited that there are over twelve hundred billionaires in the world now. When Mister Tripps died the number went down by one, but now it's gone up by three. As such you'll be a public figure and you'll be photographed by the paparazzi every time you go out in public." She shrugged. "At least for a while."

"Mister Crowler mentioned something about that," Kyle said, his tone distinctily unenthusiastic.

"So as a result we have to manage your image, make sure you look like what people would expect from the son of Danny Tripps. Someone confident, cool, smart. Stylists like Margaret will take care of what you wear, how your hair is styled, etc, but what kind of shape you're in will require some work."

"Eh?" Kyle frowned, wondering if he'd just been called fat. He was in pretty decent shape, wasn't overweight and played basketball a couple of night a week with his friends.

Patricia smiled. "I'm not trying to cause offence, Kyle. Right now if someone took your picture while you were sitting on a beach your stomach would look like it was all rolls of fat, even though it isn't. So we need to tone you up and quickly."

"Is there going to be press on the Island?"

"No, but there is going to be press when you get back. That's guaranteed, so let's make sure we control what pictures are taken and by whom, and lets make sure you look great in them. That's what I mean by improving your personal image."

"So hitting the gym then?"

"That's the start of it," She nodded. "There's a trainer on the Island called Julian. He'll work with you and get everything set up for fast results."

"Okay," Kyle said, not convinced but knowing arguing about it now wouldn't change anything until he talked to this trainer guy. "What else should I expect?"

"There'll be a lot of video conferences, lots of papers to read and decisions to make, and lots of work to do, so pretty much from the moment you get up until the moment you go to bed you'll be living life by my schedule."

"Oh." The idea of paradise seemed a lot less exciting the more he discovered about it.

"Now at some point it's going to get you pissed at me because I'll be hustling you to get things done. That's understandable and expected, so I'm explaining this right now so you understand why at times I'll seem like I'm bugging you."

"Sounds delightful," Kyle chuckled.

"If your schedule creeps, ten minute delays adding to other ten minute delays, and before you know it you're two hours late getting to your bed. That's two hours less sleep than you should be getting. With me so far?"

"Yeah, and if that goes on for a few days..."

"Exactly. By that point you're not thinking straight, your decision making is poor, you feel like shit and all because you feel a little uncomfortable skipping the small talk after meetings." Patricia looked very earnest. "Now, if it affects you like that, then it affects me more. I'm up before you in the morning and down after you at night, so it's important we try and stick to the schedule as much as possible."

"Okay," Kyle nodded. "I can't promise I won't get grumpy or anything, but I'll try and do my best."

"That's all I ask," She replied, giving him a dazzling smile. Kyle smiled back.

They watched a movie on the big TV and Patricia asked him all about his life, what it was like growing up, what was his life like yesterday and in the months previous. Did he have a girlfriend, what was life like at school, what hobbies did he have. Kyle felt at a couple of points that he was being mined for data and tried to turn the questions back on her to find out the same answers about her life, but Patricia skillfully turned the questions back on him, and did it in such a way that Kyle felt relaxed and open with her.

Around one in the morning Patricia suggested they should try and get some sleep and disappeared back to the bathroom to get changed. She reappeared a few minutes later wearing a pair of jogging pants and a white t-shirt that showed the form hidden beneath the business suit.

Wow, she's frickin hot," Kyle thought as he watched her lowering the leather chair into a bed. His eyes roamed over her tight ass, her flat stomach, her full breasts. "Don't be an asshole, Kyle! After today the last thing you should be doing is hitting on your new assistant, even if she is fine. Really fucking fine."

"Are you getting changed, Kyle?" She asked, interrupting his musings.

"What? Oh, all my clothes and stuff are in the luggage in the hold." Kyle wished he'd packed a daysack or something with his Kindle in it. At least then he could read something because he didn't feel like sleeping. There was too much going on in his brain.

"You can access the hold through here," She told him, leading him past the bathroom to a panel on the wall. She pushed against it and it clicked open. The hold was small but lined on the right with his bags, a stack of small metal flightcases lining the left side.

Kyle moved forward and had to open four bags before he found a pair of track pants and his favourite hooded jersey, and grabbing his Kindle he headed for the bathroom, got changed and then slumped in his seat to read for a while.

No matter how tired Kyle felt, he couldn't seem to shut his brain down and his usual trick of reading it into unconsciousness didn't work. He was quite surprised when Captain Oates re-appeared to wake Patricia and let them know they'd be landing in thirty minutes.

"Did you get any sleep?" She asked as she sat up and rolled her neck, easing out the kinks.

"Nope," Kyle said, tapping the side of his head. "Too much going on up here."

"Make sure you let me know when you feel tired and I'll see if I can get you an hour or two," Patricia replied. She yawned. "Mind if I dive in the shower first?"

"Sure." Kyle turned back to his book but then changed his mind and went to the galley to brew some coffee. By the time he'd got it figured out Patricia re-appeared, dressed now in a pair of beige linen trousers and a white vest top with a white linen shirt over the top.

"Is that coffee I can smell?" She asked, rubbing her hair with a towel.

"Yeah, I think I've figured the machine out," Kyle grinned. "Want a latte or something?"

"Espresso, if you can manage that?"

Kyle nodded and got to work while Patricia finished towelling her hair dry. By the time he'd got his own latte sorted out and an espresso for Patricia she'd hung the towel up and opened a box of danish, muffins and scones and piled them all on a plate.

"Breakfast sorted," She announced, heading back into the cabin.

As Kyle sat with her, picking at a cherry muffin he realised how weird this was. Here he was sitting in the cabin of a private jet with a really hot blonde who was fresh from the shower, checking her emails on her phone with one hand while eating her breakfast with the other.

"I guess the surreal didn't stop with yesterday," he murmured.

"Sorry, Kyle. Didn't catch you there."

"Nothing. Just thinking out loud."

By the time he'd eaten something and drunk his coffee he barely had time for a quick shower. When he emerged, Patricia had laid out some clothes for him, a pair of dark blue denim jeans, a pair of black boots and a loose black shirt, along with a leather belt and a pair of shades.

He shrugged and went into the bathroom, got dressed and then took his seat again.

"Good timing. We're about to land," Patricia told him, still flicking away at her phone. Her hair was straightened and tied in a neat ponytail behind her, her minimal makeup was re-applied and everything was neatly packed away in the cabin.

Kyle fastened his seatbelt, suffering a nicotine craving. "Looking forward to getting off the aircraft so I can have a smoke."

Patricia laughed. "You should have just had one, Kyle. It's a private jet. You can do what you want."

"Yeah, but you don't smoke, and the whole passive smoking thing is not good," He pointed out.

"When I'm out partying I chain smoke," Patricia admitted. "Go for it. It's fine."

Kyle shrugged and lit up. He looked out the window as the aircraft descended into the clouds. He turned back to see Patricia still flicking through information on her phone.

He frowned as her words of the night before came back to him. Don't lie, tell the truth, talk to me about anything, trust in me. He wondered how much he could trust in her, specifically could he tell her about Sahara/Kara and Katie/Katarina. Did he have the courage to tell someone that he had carnal knowledge of his sisters, even if he didn't know they were his sisters at the time.

The thought of the five other people knowing swam to the fore, and he bit his lip as he considered what would happen if it ever came out.

"Patricia," He said hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Her gaze lifted up from her phone, turning to a frown as she saw his serious expression.

"Remember how you told me I should trust you, and that you needed to know about things before they became a problem so you could take action?"

"Yes."

"Well, there's something I'm going to tell you, and..."

"Kyle, whatever you tell me and whatever we talk about is between you and I," She said firmly. "Is it something bad?"

"It's kinda fucked up," He said after a moment.

"Go ahead," Patricia said, placing her phone in her lap and twisting to face him.

"Three years ago I was on spring break in Myrtle Beach. Ed, Casey and I met these girls, four of them, and we hit it off. We agreed to meet them later for drinks, but before we did we headed for a strip club, mostly because Ed's a raging pervert, but whatever."

Patricia nodded. "Okay."

"Well, I spotted this stripper that looked a lot like the girl I was chatting to earlier, one of the four, right?"

"Go on."

"So I got a lapdance from her, and it was... memorable."

"What happened?" Patricia asked.

"Oh, nothing bad. It was just... an exceptionally good lapdance," Kyle explained and blushed a little.

"Oh, okay. So was there a problem?"

"I'm coming to that. Anyway, we went and met the girls, and me and this girl who called herself Julietta hit it off. The four of them and the three of us ended up back at their place and I spent the night with Julietta."

"Alright. Was there some police involvement or something?"

"No, nothing like that. It was a great night, probably the best night of my life," Kyle continued. "Here's the problem."

Patricia sat waiting patiently for Kyle to continue, really not sure where he was going with it.

"Yesterday Mister Crowler showed me two photographs of two...."

Her hand flew to her mouth. "No fucking way," She blurted.

Kyle nodded, his expression frozen. "The stripper was named Sahara, but her real name is Kara, and the girl I spent the night with, Julietta was actually called Katie. Her full name is Katarina."

"And you didn't know?"

"Not a fucking clue," Kyle replied. "I just went on vacation, got lapdances from two strippers, spent the night with a hot chick I met at a waterpark and now I find out three years later that...." His voice trailed off.

"Okay," Patricia said after a moments thought. "Alright, I appreciate you trusting me with this Kyle." She shook her head as she thought about it, her eyes distant. "Talk about bad fucking luck."

"Tell me about it." He agreed immediately.

"Your friends know." It wasn't a question. "And so do hers."

"Yep," Kyle nodded. "And if we hit the papers they'll all realise at the same fucking instant that we've got.... history."

"Okay, we can deal with this," Patricia said quickly. "There's things we can do to ensure they stay quiet, make it in their best interests to keep this to themselves."

"Hey, I don't want anything bad to happen to them," Kyle said quickly.

"It's not like that," Patricia replied. "Positive reinforcement. We reward them for doing the right thing. If they agree to keep quiet then we can make sure they have a nice life, maybe a nice vacation every year or scholarships for any children they may have. We can remove any records of you having ever been to Myrtle Beach, things like that."

"Oh. Okay. Can it all be done quietly?"

"Very discretely," she nodded. "So run me through this again. You were with your friends, Casey and Ed?"

"Yes."

"And Katarina was...."

"Katie," Kyle said. "She told me she goes by Katie."

"Okay, Katie was with three friends?"

"Yes."

"Do you know their names?"

"I think they were fake names, but there was Margarita. She was hispanic, kinda looked a bit like Jennifer Lopez, and her and Katie seemed quite tight. There was a black girl called Shanice, I think, and Jessica was the blonde one. Really skinny," He added.

"And you don't know if these names were real or fake?"

He shrugged. "I think they were fake names, but the four of them seemed like close friends, so you might be able to get the information from Katie."

"I can find out who they are," She said firmly.

"Oh, and they all went to Business School together. In New York. I don't remember which one."

Patricia nodded. "Okay, I have to make a call, set some wheels in motion. Don't worry about this for now. It'll all be handled discretely, and nothing has been decided yet as to any courses of action. Right now it's about getting information and time is of the essence."

Kyle nodded and sank into his seat. It was almost like a bit of relief he felt, having told someone about it finally and their reaction wasn't horror or revulsion or disgust as he feared. He still knew deep down that he wasn't to know who they were, but a part of him felt sickened about it, mostly because he knew they were his favourite masturbation memories and the thought of seeing them again in the flesh gave him a tingle of excitement.

"Hi, it's Patricia," He heard her say, her phone pressed to her ear. "Yes, I've got an urgent tasking for you, personal investigations on three people, reports every twelve hours..... New York, attended Berkeley Business School between one year and four years ago... friends with Katarina Lawhead, aged 23. She dropped out two to three years ago.... Names are aliases, but they were friends with Miss Lawhead. Subject one is a hispanic female, twenty three years old, named Margarita, possibly an alias.... Yes, Subject Two is a black female, twenty three years old, named Shanice, possibly an alias.... Okay, Subject Three is a white female, twenty three years old named Jessica, possibly an alias. Blonde hair, very skinny..... No, that's all I've got."

Kyle watched her head tilted to the side, her expression intense as she listened to the person on the other end of the line.

"Okay, that's good.... Right, yes... Yes, please. Send me their files right through, no redactions." She saw Kyle looking at her and gave him a smile, and Kyle wondered what the hell was going on. How on earth they could track anyone down with as little information as that was insane, but it appeared that something was happening.

"Yes, please. Email them directly to me.... There's another two taskings for you too.... Kyle Watson's friends, Ed and Casey..... Yes, please. To my email too..... Thanks. Speak to you in a few hours." She ended the call and turned to Kyle.

"Okay, we've got the names of the three girls. The one called Margarita was actually her real name but the other two were fakes," She explained simply.

"How the hell did you do that so quickly?" Kyle blurted. "You were only on the phone for five minutes."

"Oh, the investigator I was on the call with looked up Katie's facebook photos for her spring break vacation and looked at the tags on the names."

"Oh," Kyle said, feeling a bit stupid. "As simple as that?"

"Sometimes that's all it takes," Patricia shrugged. "Anyway, they're going to start sending me information through to find out how we can get some leverage on them."

"Shit," Kyle breathed, almost frightened at the lethal efficiency he'd just seen.

Patricia looked out the window and turned back to Kyle with a smile on her face. "Welcome to Guadeloupe, Kyle."

He looked out the window, seeing the jet about to touch down on a runway. To the right he could see a small housing estate and beyond that the blue waters of the Caribbean sea. The sun was just starting to come up and it cast everything on the ground in amazing shadows.

"Wow."

"Exactly," She replied.

With a gentle bump the jet touched down and after a couple of minutes it pulled up at a small building where a black four by four waited with a couple of serious men in suits outside it. A local official waited to one side, probably to check their passports.

"That's our ride," Patricia told him. "They'll take us to the boat."

"Boat?"

"Yeah, it'll take us to the Island," She explained. "It's very cool."

Kyle shook hands with Captain Oates and thanked him for the flight, then followed Patricia across the tarmac to the waiting vehicle. Two aircrew retrieved their bags and put them in the trunk under the supervision of the two security guys while the official checked their passports, and within minutes they were off.

Kyle looked out the windows at what he expected to be an amazing sight, a whole new culture, but most of it was still asleep and it ended up being little more than mostly deserted streets. Five minutes later they took a turn onto a harbour and Kyle smiled. The view of the water looked amazing and dozens of fishing boats lined the piers at the small port.

The vehicle drove to the end quay and the Security guys got out and opened the doors for them. Kyle shook his head at how odd it seemed. He'd never had anyone guarding him before and these guys were grim and silent.

"Ah, there's Captain Wales," Patricia said. Kyle followed her gaze down the quay to where a portly man in faded jeans and a partially buttoned white shirt approached.

"Patricia," He boomed, his voice deep and strong.

"Morning, Captain. Are we ready to go?"

"As soon as you're on board," He replied. His gaze turned to Kyle and he looked him up and down. "This him? The resemblance is there."

"Kyle Watson," He said, thrusting out a hand to the Captain.

"Bart Wales," The man said, crushing Kyle's hand in a fearsome grip. "Follow me, lad."

As soon as his back was turned Kyle massaged his hand and caught Patricia grinning at him. She nodded with her head and they followed the Captain down the pier. As they neared the end Kyle caught sight of a boat in the water, unlike any he'd seen before.

He could see it was a double-hulled Catamaran, but it wasn't a sailboat. It was like two speedboats welded together then given to Ferrari to turn into something fast and cool. A large cabin sat astride the two hulls with angled windows, topped by a small seating area upstairs, and the entire ship was coated in a kind of metallic charcoal colour. It looked fast, predatory and dangerous.

"This is the Betsy," Captain Wales announced and Kyle chuckled. "Something funny, lad?"

"Not at all, Captain," He replied quickly. "I just expected her to be named Dagger or Razor or something sharp and deadly. It's a really cool boat."

"You never knew my Betsy," He winked.

Patricia led him on board and the two Security guys appeared a couple of minutes later with their bags. The other two members of the crew carried them into the cabin and stowed them out the way while Kyle and Patricia sat down.

"Do you get seasick, Kyle?"

"No idea," He replied. "I've never been at sea before."

"Okay, take one of these pills," Patricia replied, taking a bottle from her bag. She took one of the pills out and popped it in her own mouth then handed the bottle to Kyle. "They're anti-nausea medication."

"They're yours?"

"Yes," She nodded. "I have to take them everytime I come on the boat."