Judge Henderson takes his seat at the bench. "Be seated." the bailiff requests, and I take my seat at the defendant's table. My three attorneys take their seats beside me, and I glance back to Artie in the gallery. Artie returns my glance, but there is nothing to be read in his expression.

  Judge Henderson speaks to the bailiff, the prosecutor shuffles some papers quietly, yet I pay scant attention to all of this, my interest is in the verdict. I wait, mentally drumming my fingers. Finally the jury enters and they are seated.

  "Have you reached a verdict?"

  "We have your Honor."

  "Roger Delaney Morganroth, please stand and face the jury." I stand, hands at my sides, and face them. There is no emotion showing in any of their faces.

  The foreman runs through the counts, and my mind races ahead until all counts and all findings have been recited. "Guilty -- on all counts."

  Once again, I turn to Artie. This time, there is sadness, perhaps sympathy -- no more. Jerry, my lead attorney passes me a note I'll start the appeal. I nod absently, imagining the headline tomorrow in the Chronicle -- Corporate Raider Guilty of Cannibalism. How did this happen? My mind vainly struggles once again to answer that question.

~

  Jack London Square was cold and a fog was drifting in from San Francisco Bay, there was a faint smell of smoke in the air. I had made dinner reservations at The Elegant Farmer. It was eight o'clock in the evening, and I had arranged to meet Artie by the bronze statue of Jack London. Artie was waiting when I got there and we walked over to The Refectory. I took out my cell-phone and canceled my reservation at The Elegant Farmer. "Never can be too careful with the SEC."

  Artie nodded.

  The Refectory was about half full, and we made our way over to the table where my other guests had already arrived.

  The three men stood as we arrived at the table. "Gentlemen -- this is Arthur Lyonn. Artie this is -- "

  "First names only Del, the less I know the better." Artie interrupted.

  "Jack, Bob, and Fred." I continued, "And those aren't their real names."

  "Leg of Lamb is always a good bet." I offered as we all took our seats.

~

  After dinner we took my limo across the bay to my slip at the marina. I told the driver that I planned to return in ten days, but I would call him to pick me up. I also gave him the time off -- with pay.

  "Jolly Roger!" Jack exclaimed, "that seems appropriate."

  Bob and Fred laughed nervously. Artie coughed and looked around. Artie is perhaps even more careful than I am.

  "The name came with the boat, maybe that was what attracted me to it. That and its sixty-five foot length." I extended the gang-plank and we loaded our duffel bags aboard.

  A heavy bank of fog was looming just beyond the Golden Gate as I headed out towards the Farallons and set the autopilot. "Next stop will be San Diego. I'll put in there to top off the fuel tanks."

  I turned to the others seated in the main deck salon. Jack, Bob, and Fred had helped themselves to the bar and were talking shop -- money management; Artie was sitting over by himself. I went over to him and sat down. "How's your boy doing?"

  "Surviving. I got Ed Marston shadowing him, he hangs out in some biker bar. Be damn lucky if he doesn't get knifed or something -- damn fool!"

  "Sorry to hear that." I decided to change the subject. "Thanks for coming along on this trip, I'm glad you could rearrange your schedule. I have another takeover in the works and I need you to keep me out of court. I'll be working the details with these guys, but I'll keep you out of that part. What I need is, I give you a hypothetical and you tell me where the legal edges are; that way, I can stay clear of the SEC.

  "I got your stateroom set up as you requested, so you can keep your other clients happy. I even got you a video conferencing linkup if you need it."

~

  Midwestern Leasing was a company that had been public for ten years. They leased industrial equipment to manufacturing companies, mainly in the Midwestern United States. Recently they had expanded to include both the East and West coasts, and even some European contracts. They had used most of their earnings to increase the equipment inventory to cover this expansion. Consequently, the shareholder's dividend had been very small. That fact had driven the stock price very low, lower than the liquidation value per share. Quite a bit lower, and that was the reason for my interest in them.

  The idea was very simple, acquire controlling interest in the company, then liquidate it; cash it out, in this case at about three times the stock price. The problem of course was in gaining that controlling interest.

  Jack, Bob, and Fred were the answer to part of the problem. They were fund managers for three fairly large mutual funds. Under the right circumstances they could make the acquisitions that I needed to gain control of Midwestern; in ways that would not drive the price of the stock up. The other part of the problem was to stay out of jail while doing all of this, and Artie was my answer to that.

  An operation of this kind demanded security and privacy, which was the reason for this voyage. I planned to sail down to Puerto Vallarta, do some fishing as a cover and return to San Francisco with my newfound controlling interest in Midwestern -- there all along in my portfolio. It was up to Jack, Bob, and Fred to accomplish this little magic; while Artie kept us all out of trouble. For these services, I would reward them all very handsomely.

~

  One other reason for visiting Puerto Vallarta was Ameerah Pairaudeau. I had met Ameerah on my first visit to Puerto Vallarta. I had come to Puerto Vallarta to meet with a consortium that was forming to build a luxury resort -- the Vallarta del Pacifico. My intention was to invest in this venture. Things had gone well, I had transferred the funds, and I had some spare time to kill.

  I came to a river, just South of the city. A park was located on the North side of the river, next to a bridge that crossed it. From the bridge I could see children playing in the muddy waters that flowed out into the Pacific. A path lead from the park, under the bridge, and down to the riverbed. On the bank of the river I came to a museum which promised to have many interesting exhibits and artifacts.

  Whatever fate had drawn me to this place, I had visited the museum; then curious as to what else might be around, and preferring the coolness of the river to the hot humidity of the town, I chose to walk along the river.

  I had just reached the edge of the jungle where it had not been cleared, and I saw a makeshift shack. As I approached the shack, there stood Ameerah in the doorway. She was an ancient black woman dressed in a purple robe, and wearing no shoes. She was holding a stick with a monkey's paw attached to the end; she motioned to me with it. "Find the artifacts you wanted...no?"

  "They were all very interesting -- "

  "Found not what you wanted though! Many ancient things I have. Things not in that museum, no. Come in you look!"

  It was late afternoon, and I checked my watch. I wanted to return to the hotel before it rained; a rain I could count on at just about this time of day. "Maybe for a little bit." And I entered Ameerah's shack.

~

  I detected the smell of burnt charcoal. Strange to smell this so far from the shoreline. The Jolly Roger was ten miles off shore from Monterey and I had decided to take a break. I had worked all night with the fund managers, and Artie had briefed me on the disclosure provision of the Wilson Amendment. I had argued that my holdings would not exceed five percent on paper; But he was concerned about some detail of the requirements -- that I should consider filing my intentions anyway. While the others worked away at their computers, I had gone up to the deck for some fresh air.

  I turned aft, and there was thick black smoke rolling over the stern. "She be afire Cap'n," Khamsin calls to me.

  "Assemble yer the boardin' party then. An' hasten afore the powder blows." I yells back. A sudden lurch of the ship, an I rests me hand on the rat line fer a moment. It comes away coated with black oily soot; a remnant of the fire that near doomed us.

  I watches as Khamsin and ten o me bloody best bards the doomed vessel. They be shouts and screams, but the battle be short. Afore long Khamsin has the bootey, and four plump unhappy seaman all lined up along the gunnel. "That be the lot of it?" I asks.

  Khamsin grins an nods.

  "Then send 'er to the bottom!" I orders as I heads to me cabin to see Ameerah.

  Artie looked up as I entered the main salon.

  "I'm still thinking about that disclosure -- find me a way to get around it." I went into the head and washed the soot from my hand.

~

  As I entered the shack, it occurred to me that I knew Ameerah somehow. The shack was filled with strange objects. There were strangely disfigured dolls, sooty candles burning along the walls, and the smell of burnt charcoal in the air. The back wall was covered with antique weapons, muskets, a large cutlass, and an assortment of smaller knives and pistols.

  Ameerah waved her hand around the shack, "All these, very rare. For these were you looking? I make you a very good deal."

  I nodded as I looked around, "Very impressive." And I knew these were things that I wanted.

  Ameerah lit an incense stick using one of the candles, and placed it in a grotesque incense burner. The odor was pungent as I inhaled it, yet strangely compelling. The rain began to fall as I looked around the shack, thunder boomed in the late afternoon storm.

  I awoke in the early morning, about three according to the clock radio on the nightstand. I was back at the hotel. A cardboard box on the dresser contained the artifacts that I had acquired -- I was not sure how I had paid for them, or the price. I fell back asleep and dreamed. Ameerah crouched before a short crude table of rough wood. There was a dead rat on the table, and Ameerah had removed its organs. She carefully examined them for shape and content. She took the rat's heart and threw it to the table; then she carefully studied the pattern made by the blood. I awoke, not sure what was real and what was imagined.

~

  The fuel stop in San Diego was brief, and we did not go ashore. I took the boat back out past San Clemente Island, steering clear of the weapons range, and set the autopilot. "Next stop is Puerto Vallarta, we'll do a little sport fishing, spend a day in town. From what you say, things are going well, you all deserve some R&R."

  Things were going well, acquisitions were taking place quietly, and they were well hidden within the fund managers' resources. Artie hadn't liked it, but he had found a way around the disclosure clause of the Wilson Amendment. By the time we returned to San Francisco the takeover should be completed.

  Artie took a call on his cell-phone, and retired to his stateroom. I looked around to Jack, Fred, and Bob. "Good work guys! We are all going to be much wealthier."

  I turns to Ameerah, "What be ye larnin' from yer readin's?"

  Ameerah looks up to me from the poor rat what she cut up. Her full bosom glowin' warmly in the moonlight, an' I thanks the fates by which I found her.

  "Treasures you should seek toward..." Ameerah says the dyrection in her native tongue, not knowin' the compass poynts, and I tasks me mind to the interpretation. I notes the dyrection in me personal diary.

  "How many days?"

  "Three, but danger there is, I know not from what."

  "I be sure ye can divine it afore we catches 'em."

  I goes aft to the helmsman and gives him the new course. I sees the crew be pleased with the fresh meat an' how the cook done it up.

  Khamsin looks up from gnawin' a arm bone an grins. "Join us Cap'n? Make big feast!"

  I thinks on it, but it's not me cup o tea, asides Ameerah takes a dim view o eatin' manflesh, it be fady says she. "Mighty temptin', but me belly's full."

  "Yer Belly be full o Ameerah! And yer head too!" The crew breaks out in a laff at Khamsin's remark, an I laffs too.

~

  Puerto Vallarta loomed on the horizon. I took the Jolly Roger into the harbor, and tied up at my personal slip at the Vallarta del Pacifico. We carried our duffel bags up the walkway leading into the lobby and took the elevator to my penthouse suite.

  Artie had to fly back to Oakland, his son had been injured in an accident -- possibly serious. I drove him to the airport in my Jeep. "What happened to him?"

  Artie had not had a chance to talk about it until now, and being the professional that he was, he had made sure that he tied up all the loose ends that he saw in our project before he would leave.

  "Motorcycle. Damn fool got himself one of those Harley Davidson motorcycles. He was going through Niles Canyon outside of Hayward and this pickup came around a blind turn on the wrong side. They have him stabilized -- for now; but he may need a kidney -- one thing I can't buy, so I need to get back."

  "Tough break Artie." And I meant it. That kid had put Artie through some hell. Artie was hoping he would grow out of it, but now...

  "Good luck on your project, as if you need it. Just be careful OK."

  It was late afternoon by the time I saw Artie off, and I was eager to see Ameerah. I didn't know what to make of the strange events that had occurred in my life since I had first met her. Either I had begun having hallucinations, or I was living two lives; one of which I was not particularly fond of -- except when I was living it.

  I drove down the coast, through Puerto Vallarta, and to the small park above the river. I was just walking up to the shack when I saw Ameerah coming out of the jungle. She was carrying some bags that I was fairly sure contained the various plants and creatures that were the tools of her craft. She looked carefully at me, smiled, and hurried as quickly as her ancient legs would allow.

  "Came back, I knew you would!"

  "How could you be so sure." I half taunted.

  "It was foretold, this thing I know."

  "Yes, well there are some things that I hope you can answer for me. Strange things have been happening to me. I have had these flashbacks. Once there was soot on my hand when I came back -- like part of the past was rubbing off on me."

  "You have seen my man. The Cap'n."

  I wasn't sure whether Ameerah had asked a question, or just stated a fact. "You know about that then?"

  Ameerah smiled. "Hope I had, that you were the one." She lit a blackened chunk of incense, and proceeded to tell me her story.

~

  Ameerah had been born in a village deep in the jungle. She thought it was either Africa or Madagascar but she had never known for sure. Her father was perhaps French or Belgian, though she did not know, and she had never seen him. Her mother had passed on to her the talents that she had practiced in their village. These talents were a mixture of black magic, voodoo, and other arts that had no names.

  A raiding party had come to her village and taken all the healthy villagers, killing the rest, and burning the village. They were forced to march to the coast, where they were loaded aboard a slave ship. In the dark hold of the ship, Ameerah and her fellow villagers suffered from poor food and seasickness. The ship rode roughly in the ocean and they were constantly tossed around.

  They were not alone in the hold, and Ameerah was able to supplement her diet and practice her talents' thanks to the plentiful supply of rats. Through magic, and some trickery with a member of the crew, Ameerah finally managed to free herself. There were many hiding places aboard the ship and eventually Ameerah managed to lower a boat into the water and escape the ship.

  This was where The Cap'n had found her, alone in the middle of the Indian Ocean. He took her aboard and the ship's surgeon brought her back to health. In return, Ameerah used her talents for locating treasure and danger -- very useful skills for this line of work. Things had gone very well for Ameerah, and for the Cap'n and his crew.

  Then somehow, Ameerah became separated from her man. This part of the story became very confused. All she knew was that there had been some sort of battle and she had awakened, washed up on the beach. She stared in stunned silence at the shattered remains of the ship just off the beach. Still dazed and weakened by the ordeal she wandered along the beach until she discovered Khamsin and the others all dead -- but she had not found the Cap'n.

  Untold years had passed by the time she arrived here at this shack; she had long before resolved against mortality to learn the fate of her man. Then I showed up and Ameerah had sensed that somehow I was the link that she had sought.

~

  The sun had long since set as Ameerah completed her story. I took a deep breath of the incense that she had just lit. "So you cast a spell on me? So you use me to find out what happened to him!" Of course I was angered to learn that she was using me.

  "That simple, it is not. I cast no spells, I am not mpamosavy! You are what you are -- and what he was too, one ambiroa I think.

  "Came you here by your own will? Did I force you to stay, to take my artifacts. No! I gave to you the ability to see what was already there, that is all."

  "I don't like what I see. Whatever you have done, I demand that you remove your curse!"

  "There is no curse!" she hissed.

  "Damn right there isn't!" I stormed out of the shack determined that this was over with.

  The next morning, despite a touch of flu or food poisoning that I had picked up, the four of us went sport fishing. Fred caught a four-hundred pound sailfish, and I caught a modest sized swordfish. Bob and Jack had to content themselves with a couple of Bonita each. The captain of the sport fisher gave me a Polaroid photo of the four of us together with our catch. Then we donated our catch to the restaurant at the Vallarta del Pacifico as none of us liked to eat fish.

~

  Halfway between Puerto Vallarta and San Diego, the managers completed all of their transactions. Fred then spoke for the three of them. "Your portfolio now contains fifty-three percent of Midwestern's stock. Give us thirty days or so to stabilize our accounts, then go ahead and do your liquidation."

  I thanked them for their accomplishment. Then we looked forward to kicking back for the remainder of the cruise.

  Then Artie called; "Del, I just received some troubling information. It looks like the SEC is watching you -- the word is they don't have anything specific, they are just interested. But don't leave them anything that they can use."

  I thanked Artie and hung up. I looked at the three; fortunately we had been very careful not to leave any trail. The only thing I knew about them was their Swiss Account numbers. Now it looked like the cruise would end sooner for them than we had planned.

  Khamsin shouts "Cap'n...thar, on the horyzon -- see 'er?"

  I looks the way he be pointin' an' I sees her right where Ameerah had conjured her to be. Bein' the best sea artist abard, I grabs the helm an' starts a course to overtake the ship. Mindful o Ameerah's other conjurin', I looks fer the danger she spoke of, but thar be none to see.

  We chases her fer two days, an' on the third she starts takin' evasive actions. All fer naught, me bein' more familiar with the currents an' the winds in this sea, an' on the fourth day we overtakes her. The battle be short, but the bootey be a grand one, and the crew be once again eatin' well. Ameerah casts another readin', an' conjurs up thar be a warship over the horyzon; so takin' no chances we makes haste fer Abd al Kuri which be conveniently nearby.

  Takin' shelter in a small cove I decides it be time to hide the gathered plunder, so I takes Khamsin an' ten o me most trusted an' we forms a shore party. It be a day's walk into the jungle 'til we finds a suitable place. There we buries it all, an' conceals the diggin' well.

  On the returnin' we spies a warship anchored just outside the cove. It be flyin' the colors o France, an' I be havin' no pact with them. We makes haste to the launch, but afore we breaks clear o the jungle, we spots a party o three seamen guardin' the launch. We stops an' I commences to form a plan.

  It be a desperate plan, but these be desperate times. So I studies the cove well, impartin' the particulars to me memory. Methinks we be returnin' to the ship when it be sundown, an' we makes a run fer it in the black o night. But afore we be doin' that, we has ter overcome the party guardin' the launch.

  Me, Khamsin, an' the biggest o' the others makes quietly to the edge of the jungle, then the remainder o' me party lets out a yell. We manages to jump the guards in their surprise, but afore I can stop him, one o' 'em gets off a warnin' shot into the air. I separates the pistol from his hand as Khamsin separates him from his head.

  I examined the pistol in my hand, I might have been able to discount the soot on my hand for a variety of reasons, but there was no way to discount the pistol, I quickly hid it behind the cushion where I sat. Then I discussed Artie's call with Jack, Fred, and Bob; and we decided to part ways in San Diego. I reasoned that the SEC might be watching in San Francisco, but they would not know I was stopping in San Diego. Being cautious, I left them off at a marina in Coronado and headed for Catalina Island to top off the fuel tanks.

  Under way again, and fifteen miles out to sea, I sanitized the Jolly Roger. I removed all of the communications equipment, all of the computers, and everything else that I had so carefully installed. I even removed the specialized antennae and satellite dishes from the superstructure. In all, I threw about three fourths of a million dollars worth of equipment overboard. Extreme maybe, but it had served its purpose very well. I was taking no chances; there was too much at stake. In two days I would be back to San Francisco; Jack, Fred, and Bob would have returned to wherever they lived; and I would start planning the liquidation of Midwestern Leasing.

  Now, with the adrenaline of the past week subsiding, I became aware of how exhausted I had become. I felt feverish and dehydrated so I went to my stateroom to rest; the autopilot would take care of the Jolly Roger for me.

  In tormented and restless sleep, I dreamt of Ameerah. She was crouched over her table examining entrails when she looked up in surprise. Quickly she rose to her feet and with catlike ease made her way to the porthole.

  Seeing whatever she had seen, she ran above deck to call out an alarm. But she was too late, and I watched as she was struck in the back of her head and fell overboard.

~

  Thar be a tremendous blast comin' from me ship an' I thinks o' the poor devils I left abard; especially I thinks o Ameerah. With a fire in me heart an' a curse on me lips I lunges to the nearest guard, grabbin' his arm I pulls him around to face me. He raises a dagger in the other hand an' leans back to strike mightily. I holds tight to his arm, an' Khamsin equally angered as me brings down his cutlass.

  I be holdin' the arm, an' the guard be on the ground kickin' an' screamin'. Khamsin quickly be dispatchin' the other guard as I stands there.

  I awakened from my disturbed and feverish dream. I was disoriented, and weakened from hunger; I suppose that I had slept for at least a day.

  Weak and trembling I went to the galley to find something to eat. I wanted something that would be easy on my stomach because I felt very nauseous, so I took the leg of lamb that I was carrying and put it into the freezer. Instead, I managed to get down some bread and milk, and then I went back to sleeping.

  The next day, I felt somewhat better. I was one day out of San Francisco, and I decided to turn off the autopilot and do my own navigation. Towards sundown, I reached the Farallons and turned towards the Golden Gate. I had sanitized the Jolly Roger thoroughly, and I had little concern about the SEC, even if they decided to search my boat. Then I remembered the picture that I had of the fishing trip. I quickly pulled it from my shirt pocket and threw it overboard. I breathed a sigh of relief as it soaked up the seawater and sank.

~

  "Ian agreed to go back to school -- once he recovers enough." Artie went on. "Says the accident made him think -- you know, about mortality, that kind of thing. And the kidney, he feels like he owes me for that."

  "No shit Artie, you had to donate a kidney?" I had returned to the marina the previous evening, and spent a good night's sleep in my own bed at home. The next day I decided to visit Artie, no particular reason, I just wanted to see how he was doing.

  "Here's the scar to prove it." Artie pulled up his shirt.

  My pager started to vibrate. "That looks mean, how you holding up? Any bad effects?"

  "Not really, it looks good huh?" Artie laughed, "I still got both kidneys -- Ian doesn't know that though, he had so much surgery, they could have put anything in him."

  I checked the number in the pager. "So you faked a kidney transplant?" I pulled out my cell phone. "Is he going to give up on writing?" I dialed the number.

  "That's what he promised -- but hell, he's lied to me before."

  "That was the marina, Customs is at the boat, they want me back there."

  "You get the boat sanitized?" Artie frowned.

  "Clean as a baby's bottom."

~

  I arrived back at the Jolly Roger where a Customs Inspector was waiting. He introduced my to the Special Agent in Charge for the SEC Divison of Enforcement. They wished to search the boat, and presented me with a search warrant.

  I didn't bother with any protests or acting surprised. There was nothing they were going to find, so I treated them very cordially and unlocked the boat. I waited at the slip while they entered and began their search.

  Suddenly a dozen seamen surrounds me an Khamsin, they be holding us fast whilst two o them tends to the poor one armed blighter on the ground. "They cut off me arm." He screams.

  Then with a terrible shout that makes me proud, the rest o me crew bursts from the jungle. Unfortunately the battle be short, the adversary bein' armed with musket an pistol. Soon I stands alone, even Khamsin dead on the ground. They puts me abard the Adventure Galley an' I expects I be on me way to the gallows.

  Then I heard approaching police sirens as the Customs inspector placed me under arrest. I waited two hours in the back of a hot police car with my hands handcuffed behind my back. I watched as all sorts of officials gathered around the Jolly Roger and I wondered what I had overlooked. When I found out, it was not at all what I had imagined.

~

  The trial had lasted eight months, and most of the evidence was circumstantial. I had been seen in Puerto Vallarta with three men whom I had taken fishing. These three men were seen boarding the Jolly Roger with me when I left Puerto Vallarta. They were not aboard when I arrived in San Francisco; and I was unable to locate them, we had covered the trail well.

  Unfortunately, the bloody arm in the freezer was not circumstantial, and I had no rational explanation for what it was doing there -- no one would believe that I had brought it back with me from the past. They did a thorough forensic inspection of the Jolly Roger, even to an analysis of the holding tank. They found DNA evidence that at least three, maybe four or five people had been on board -- and records showed that I had the holding tank flushed prior to leaving San Francisco. I was strangely amused, thinking of Ameerah examining rat entrails; much like they were examining my holding tank.

  The SEC had been alerted to me through phone calls placed from the Vallarta del Pacifico. The calls were placed to a phone that was being tapped by the SEC for reasons unrelated to me; Fred had not been as careful as he should have been. Fred's conversation had suggested some sort of securities fraud, and that there were computers aboard the Jolly Roger which contained some evidence of the fraud.

  Eventually the SEC had determined that this lead was a dead end -- there was no evidence; so they withdrew their investigation; I was home free on the Midwestern deal.

  The prosecutor presented his case very well, and concluded that I was some sort of millionaire devil worshiper. A devil worshiper who had murdered at least three men and eaten them. And now the jury had weighed the evidence and agreed with him.

~

  Judge Henderson thanks and excuses the jury, then he instructs the attorneys on some legal matters. "I am scheduling the sentencing phase of this trial in three months." Jerry writes down the date. "And due to the seriousness of your crimes, I am revoking your bail." Judge Henderson instructs the bailiff to take me into custody. I will spend the next three months in jail. After that, I am not sure -- except that I will not likely go free. I consider whether I would prefer a life sentence or death.

  My cell is not as bad as I had imagined it would be, yet it is certainly not in any sense enjoyable. There is no way to imagine what freedom really means until you have lost it. I have always been a person in charge of my destiny, and now I have to depend on others for the merest of things. I find that I look forward to visits from Jerry to discuss my appeal; not that I see any hope for it, just that Jerry represents the outside world. There is not much to base an appeal on, the prosecutor has been very careful.

  I spend my nights in restless sleep, and I spend my days pacing back and forth.

  I stares upwards to the cell window, I be givin' everything fer a chance to look out, but I be bound with heavy chains. The beautiful blue o' the piece o' sky I can see taunts me soul. An' more to me torment is the loss o' Ameerah an' even Khamsin who was like a brother to me. But the only one I be seein' be that one armed man who come daily to mock me once he recovered, an' that be a miracle considerin' the blood he spilled thar in the sand.

  "You be hanging for your crimes, and I be there to watch your neck snap!" He laughs with an evil in his voice to make me blood curdle, an' it be some evil to do that.

  I need to know the name of that man, I thinks in words that comes strangely soundin' to me. Mayhaps I be losin' me mind in these surroundins'. I shakes me head to get me thinkin' clear. "I'll see yer in hell, then we be seein' who's neck snaps." I yells an' the chain rattles on me chest.

  "What would happen," I ask Jerry, "if the person who lost that arm didn't die?"

  Jerry looks at me with a puzzled look on his face. "We tried to find those three guys you said you dropped off in San Diego."

  "It wasn't one of their arms. Look, I know this is weird, the whole damn mess is weird. But I don't think the guy who lost that arm died." I know I am sounding desperate to Jerry.

  "Well, if we could prove that -- it would be a key piece of evidence, it might change things. How are you going to get me that information?"

  "I don't know."

~

  Artie just looks at me in disbelief, if anyone is a pragmatist, it is Artie. I had explained what had happened with all of the visions, Ameerah, everything that I could remember. Finally Artie says "So, you want to claim that you somehow slipped over into a past life, and that you just sort of brought back some things. Like a freshly severed arm that you put in the freezer? I don't know what you are getting at, an insanity plea?"

  "I have a line on the guy who lost the arm, I need to know who he was, and what happened to him. If I can get that information for you, will you be able to help me? I know that you have that investigator who works for you, maybe you could put him on it."

  "That bastard quit a while back, got soft on Ian. I never lined up a new guy, my practice hasn't required many investigations lately." Artie thinks, "He went to the Bahamas I think, maybe if you had something -- a name or something. Get me something and I'll give it a try OK?"

~

  The gallows be standin' high o'er Execution Dock as the cart rumbles along the streets. Thar be crowds gathered to see me swingin' in the breeze. An' I be takin' in me final look at the world. The breeze make a good feelin' on me face after bein' subjected to the stench o prison, and I be savorin' these last moments.

  Then me final thoughts be once again assailed by strange words comin' into me head. Who is the one armed man? Where am I, what is the date? I shakes me head attemptin' to clear the intrusion. They leads me to the gallows an throws the rope around me neck.

  I sees him afore me, that one sleeve blown' in the breeze. I spits in his dyrection, an' he laffs. I closes me eyes an lets me life drift past, an' I prepares meself fer meetin' the devil. For God's sake, who is he, where am I, what is the date? I shakes me head, an the rough rope makes an evil scratchin' on me neck. Find out! For Ameerah, do it for Ameerah -- she lives!

  "What be the date?" I asks the hangman.

  "What be it to you, facin' eternity it shouldn't be of no concern."

  "Tells me!" I pleads.

  He gives me the date, an' I thanks him. Where am I? I be in London at Execution Dock o course. I looks at the one armed man "What be yer name?"

  He looks to me and he whispers "Snap!" an' laffs.

  "What be yer name?" I roars, an I hears the openin' o the trap door beneath me feet. I sees him laff again.

  "Alexander Selkirk!" he laffs out as the noose tightens on me neck.

  My ears ring as the snap echoes throughout my brain; the crowd cheers as ancient thoughts fade from my mind. At one level, I feel as though I have been freed.

~

  Finally, a year after my arrest I am a free man, once again in charge of my destiny. Artie located his former investigator who was now living in the Bahamas, and for my sake Artie employed him for this strange task.

  Alexander Selkirk had died two hundred forty three years ago, killed in a duel of all things. He had been buried in his family cemetery, and for the right amount of money we were able to exhume his body. Amazingly, the end of the bone in the stump of his arm, although quite a bit more decomposed, matched the end of the broken end of the bone in the 'leg of lamb' that I had so deliriously returned to the freezer. In addition, DNA comparisons showed a perfect match between his remains and the arm.

  This new evidence, strongly protested by the prosecutor, was sufficient to raise that elusive shadow of a doubt and my conviction was overturned. The newspapers had a field day with that event, but nonetheless I went free.

  During this episode, I had been unable to do anything with my Midwestern stock. By the time I was able to do anything about it, the window of opportunity had closed. Midwestern Leasing is now showing a profit on its expanded operations, and the stock value has soared well beyond the liquidation value. And well beyond what I paid for it, so I guess I will have to be satisfied with the huge profits I made on buying the stock -- sometimes you never know. I kept my word and made the deposits to those three Swiss accounts -- although I docked Fred $100,000 for his stupidity.

~

  As I enter the shack, I see that Ameerah is not around. Candles are burning along the walls so I decide to wait. Perhaps I should have let this part go, after all none of this would have happened without her curse or whatever it was. Yet, there is something stronger than feelings at work here, and certainly there was a bond between her and the Cap'n, and apparently me as well.

  It is late afternoon and once again the rains have begun to fall, I pick up one of the strangely carved figures as Ameerah enters the shack. Just then thunder echoes out from the mountains. "You are returned! This time you have a tale for me?"

  "I have a tale for you. A tale of your Cap'n."

  "Then your tale I must hear." Ameerah lights another chunk of incense. She indicates that I should sit before a small wooden table, and she sits at the opposite side. Taking both my hands in hers, she closes her eyes. "So tell me."

  I recount to her all that I can remember, all of the visions, and all of the dreams. The incense smolders as I gaze into it and breath in the pungent smoke. Finally, I have come to the end of the story, and I look up. Ameerah is not there before me, and I look to my hands. There, her hands have been replaced by two monkey paws on sticks. There is a brilliant flash of lightning and the crash of thunder rattles the artifacts in the shack. I involuntarily shiver even though it is quite warm and humid.

~

  There is not much left to do, I am sure that Ameerah will not be returning. I look around the shack, thinking for a moment of the artifacts, and whether I should take some more of them. I decide not to as I lean the candles against the walls of the shack.

  I pull my collar tightly around my neck and walk up the path towards the park. The rain is soaking my hair and running down my face. I hear the crackle of fire behind me as the shack quickly erupts into flame. I hope that any remaining link to the past will disappear along with the shack.

  Perhaps this would be a good time for me to return to a more normal life. However there is one more thing that I have decided to do. Abd al Kuri Island intrigues me, particularly since I remember clearly where the Cap'n buried all of his plunder.

The End

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