Previously On The Maya...
After Tuscon Sutton II discloses his $700 billion net worth, the guests at his table marvel at his wealth and the fact that he told them. He tells them he's been wealthy and he's been destitute, and that family is most important of all. Paloma Reyes asks how many family members there are, to which Lilith answers 115, plus 31 spouses.
Amara Barclay then follows up her question about worth with another, though hesitantly. With some encouragement from Lilith, Amara asks if it's true that the Suttons are 120 years old. While Sutton takes a moment to answer, music swells. It's the cue for the couple to take the first dance of the evening. They leave, followed by George Kirkegaard, Paloma, Lance Simmons and Haley Talford, leaving Amara with Eugenio Stavros, who began chiding her for her questions. Amara is not happy with the rebuke, but walks off to the dance floor, leaving Stavros staring momentarily at his empty hand.
The Maya—a living legend covert operative-for-hire that no one she encounters can remember.
George Kirkegaard—a former newspaper owner forced out of business by state government.
Eugenio Stavros—a shipping magnate on a trip to the mysterious Isle of Use to renegotiate a steel contract.
Amara Barclay—a savvy, independent multi-millionaire entrepreneur and socialite with unparalleled beauty.
Mr. Tic and Mr. Snake—two U.S. government officials running off-the-books dark ops involving The Maya.
And now...the next installment of The Maya.
Fortune was smiling upon her. Not only did The Maya's food allergy ploy go off without a hitch, the yacht's onboard medical doctor gave her business companion something for the reaction, as well as a sedative. He would be out for at least two hours, which meant The Maya was free to leave as she pleased. The yacht's captain was more than happy to relinquish a cabin for her companion to sleep in, and after everyone else was gone, The Maya slipped away, too. There was no one in the corridors as she made her way around the ship. Most everyone was in the ballroom, getting ready for the dance. It wasn't quite dark yet, however, so she took no chances. She didn't want to be seen, and until she could get the acrylic coating on her, she ran the risk.
She came out onto the side deck, and immediately got her bearings. She could see the tall bridge that led to the fertilizer plant coming closer. She wished there were a lower, less conspicuous place for her to disembark, but over the railing was her only option. She looked up and down the side deck, making sure she was still alone, then she stepped out of her dress and shoes, stowed them in a nearby supply compartment, and then ran and dove over the side.
Cleaving the water with barely a splash, something that was not heard or seen over the churn of the yacht's engines, The Maya swam underwater until she came to the bank. She then very slowly raised to the surface, watching the yacht forge onward until she was certain she could no longer be seen. She heaved herself onto dry land and walked into the shrubbery under the bridge. There, she found the container of equipment she had hidden the night before. After spraying herself with the acrylic, and placing the helmet, she put on a utility belt with several large pouches, and camouflaged it. When she was done, she started running down the drive to the fertilizer plant.
As expected, there were two guards stationed at the outside post. The Maya overheard them talking about how close they came to going to the banquet and ball tonight. She continued on across the parking lot and into the large open loading area. She ran into workers from the night shift as she rounded the corner. She then entered the main facility. A crew was filling up the large mixing chamber. She could see the worker from a couple of days ago keeping his eye on the hoses. Fortunately, The Maya had decided on a different plan, one that wouldn't be discovered so easily.
There was a lot of focus on maintaining the equipment at optimum levels. The same could be said about the structures, too, particularly the floors, windows, doors and whatever furniture there might be. Little attention, as one might reasonably expect, was given to the rafters, however. Given the efficiency of the workers, The Maya doubted the roof or the ceiling were never inspected, but neither were they top priority. She only needed an hour, at most, for no one to notice. Then, it would be too late.
Her plan was simple. She would weaken the beams with a similar chemical spray devised for the hoses, this one designed to work on wood. She would then place a very small charge, one that would create a large crack in the central beam, causing a chain reaction. The charge was such it would burn up without a trace, and leave no charred wood. As the roof fell in, heavy debris would undoubtedly strike flammable or fragile points in the equipment. The Maya's plan did not require a massive explosion, but her clients thought it would cause more of a stir, and lead to a greater cry of misdeeds.
The boots The Maya was wearing were able to cling to any surface. After calibrating them to walk up the wall, she stiffened her acrylic to sustain her weight and aid her muscles, and she started climbing. Moments later she was hanging upside down as she approached the beams. She started with the main load bearing beam and then fanned away, coming back to work the other side. She then primed the charge and put it on top of the main beam in a knot that was partially hollowed out. It fit perfectly. Sabotage complete, she came back down from the rafters, readjusted her boots and acrylic, and walked to where the workers were creating the fertilizer.
She waited for five minutes, to see if anyone might look up and find something strange about the overhead beams. No one did. All were intent on their labors. Satisfied she could make it back to the yacht to detonate the charge before anyone might discover the weakened beams or the explosive, The Maya jogged out of the buildings the same way she came in.
From the time she left the yacht to when she returned to the bridge, stowed her equipment and sent the compartment down river was twenty-seven minutes. It would take the yacht another thirty-nine minutes to make the return trip to the bridge. It was too early to wash off the acrylic. She would need it to get back on board the yacht undetected. Even so, she would be within her two hour window. All she could do was rest and wait.
'The Maya' publishes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Copyright © Glen Anthony Albrethsen, 2014-2018. All rights reserved.