Page 66 of Wild Idol
After our 200-yard march, which took longer than anticipated, we held up at a tree line. The jungle gave way to another clearing.
That nagging feeling that I’d had since we’d gotten here came full circle. In that instant, I knew exactly what was going on here.
The blood-red blooms of a poppy field swayed in the breeze. The field of crimson was enormous.
The sickly sweet smell drifted through the humid air.
I surveyed the field with cautious eyes, looking for the origin of the gunshot. There was no doubt in my mind that Solomon had goons patrolling the field.
I was frustrated and relieved that I had uncovered the island’s secret. There was a part of me that wished I hadn’t discovered this. It would have made it easier to walk away.
Star gave me a sheepish look under the weight of my intense gaze. “This is what it’s all about?”
“It’s a means to an end,” she admitted. “This allows us to do what we do. This pays for the medication. It pays for materials and supplies.”
“It lines Solomon‘s pockets. That’s what it does.”
“No,“ she said in denial. “It’s helping us create paradise.”
“Make no mistake, Solomon’s getting rich.”
She frowned, not wanting to admit the truth.
“Does the rest of the congregation know about this?”
Star shook her head.
“Do you know where the stuff ends up? It ends up on the street, where it wreaks havoc on innocent lives. For everyone you save here, you’re killing a dozen back home. Maybe more.” It may have been a bit dramatic. Or perhaps not dramatic enough.
Heroin wasn’t a drug that most people could dabble with on a casual level. It was a slippery slope that led to a life of addiction and misery.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Star said. “I’m still not going back to my father. And there’s nothing you can do about this. What are you going to do? Leave here, tell the local authorities. They won’t do a damn thing. You think Solomon hasn’t taken care of them?”
I gave her a look of displeasure.
“If we weren’t doing this here, somebody else would be. At least we’re putting the money to good use.”
“It’s amazing the hoops people jump through to justify their own actions. Make no mistake about it. You’re killing people. People you won’t ever know. People you won’t ever see. But let me assure you, they’re dying with every bit of this you send back to the States.”
One of Solomon’s goons rounded the corner at the far end of the field, holding an AK-47 in the patrol-ready position.
We crouched low in the trees, holding still. I looked at Star, my eyes urging her to keep her mouth shut.
38
The goon with the AK drew closer.
We dare not move. Not now.
The goon’s head was on a swivel, scanning the field and the tree line. I figured they had encountered an intruder. That was, perhaps, what the gunshot was all about. There was probably someone lying dead in the field.
I whispered to Star. “How often do your people have to defend this territory?”
She didn’t answer. Star kept quiet for the time being, and that was fine with me.
The goon with the AK kept stalking closer. He’d see us if he got too close, but any movement now would draw his attention.
Another goon rounded the corner at the opposite end of the field. He shouted, his voice echoing over the poppies. “I don’t see any more!”
