The Siren's Code

Twenty five years earlier

Remi dragged himself out of bed, he ached, he always ached, the scar tissue on his stump felt too tight and the muscles that were not missing complained they were having to do double time, but today was the beginning of the rest of his life when he was going to say goodbye to Italy, and take ownership of an island off the coast of Nicaragua.

It sounded extravagant, unbelievable even, but in an earlier time – a different life – Nicaragua was a country where it was easy to get shot, islands were going cheap and Armel, his brother in arms, had bought one. The irony was, that they didn't get shot in Nicaragua, but mercenaries need war like bee's need honey. Yes, bees need it and they make it, just like us Loïc said to no one in particular, and then Armi died during a hopeless battle in a god forsaken desert in a country that meant nothing to either of them but that was the nature of their work – don't complain about flipping burgers if you've taken a job at McDonalds. But god did he miss his best friend Armel.

With the Sandinistas finally back in power Loïc was banking on Nicaragua having a period of peace – and he had insider knowledge of course. War is never simple, or fair, and the extended bloody revolution had involved the 'cat's paw' of larger players of the Cold War. Now that the Berlin wall had been dismantled nearly twenty years ago and the Cold War was a thing of the past, if it did raise its head again, and never say never, it would not be in Central America, with its American land grabs on one side and drug Cartels on the other. Central America was heavily protected, so his bet was on Nicaragua having a successful peace process under newly elected President Daniel Ortega and pulling itself together.

Sitting up in his bed, Loïc reached across to his bed side table, pulled his laptop over, flicking it up to take another look at his island - a remote jewel in the Caribbean sea.

Remi had kidded himself that he'd sensibly been waiting for peace, although actually he'd just been procrastinating. But now was crunch time; according to Nicaraguan law if title deeds to land belonging to a deceased person were not claimed by a rightful heir and changed within five years the land was reclaimed by the state - a hangover brought in to stop illegal land occupation during the volatile years. It had been almost five years since Armi died and he lost his foot, so it was now or never.

'It's going to be amazing, stupefacente, incroyable' he forced himself to say out loud. Loïc was fluent in several languages, although he and Armi had spoken a sort of Frenish; French-Spanish, with a heavy smattering of Creole. He'd have to iron that out a little in his new life but it wouldn't take long.

He used his crutch to help him to the bathroom, washed and shaved in the shower looking at himself in the foggy mirror, perched on an old stool he used to steady himself. I am the owner of an island, and on that island will be the most exquisite hotel, it will be rustic in style, self-sustaining – it has to be he chuckled, there's nothing else there to sustain it. Rustic does not have to be simple though, it will be 'boutique' whatever the hell that means, elegant and opulent, but personal and discreet. Its wealthy international guests will be able to recuperate, or party, or both, whilst reconnecting with nature. It will tap into one's 'sixth sense' and win awards in those industry magazines for its ecological foresight. For those waking up from their twentieth century excesses, looking for something grounding, I bring you the Sixth Sense Ecological Boutique Hotel, Isla de Blanca, Nicaragua, he swept into a bow to himself almost toppling as he laughed.

Stopping his James Bond meets Basil Fawlty impression Loïc dried himself off, retrieved his crutch and returned to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed he reached down to pick up his t-shirt from the floor shrugging it over his head, scooping up his boxers and shorts from the same pile, wrangled them on he reached for the draw containing his second skin. Checking for any last grains of sand that would irritate even more than it had to he rolled the skin over his stump. Picked up his fake foot, slid his stump into the socket and pulled it up snug 'til it moulded into place.