Guam. At first, that book seems to be about the narrator, who is quite possibly the most vile, insipid, alpha male gym rat in history.
But he has a lot of insight as to what power does to human disposition; how humans can take the passenger seat in their own lives; and how global society has become immune to trashy, vile filth in the media and movies. That book has such an incredible and slowly developed sense of menace and spiraling insanity that the reader doesn't even realize it until they reach the end, which is exactly what happens to the narrator in the novel. I don't think I've ever had such a visceral reaction to a book before. And that trashy Guam book—that book took place in the time before smart phones. It was a time when the Internet was still fairly new. And my research proves that some of the characters in that book are real and all the government corruption was true. In real life, the characters from that book were nothing more than 15-minute celebrities whose crimes were soon forgotten and they returned to their lives of lies. As for the island itself, that author took a turbulent reality and made it seem like heaven on earth. Guam.
About three months ago, three months before this assignment lead me to Guam, there was a reading of that book at a small bookstore in the upper West side of New York City. The reader was an actor friend of mine named Thom. He was just practicing his narration skills, but the book was new, the title was titillating, and the story seemed interesting. Thom began by explaining that he was friends with the author of Gallivanting on Guam and he used finger quotes as he explained how that book was a work of "creative non-fiction". Thom continued to explain how no character in that book calls the narrator by name, suggesting that the narrator is not actually the author, but just another character. He also used finger quotes to explain that much of the story is "pure fiction." He best described it as a creative vilification of a vile isle.
At the end of his reading, Thom the actor suggested that maybe the author wasn't being cynical. The author himself was quoted as saying, "I really thought the Guam society I was a part of was ridiculous and it was vile and everyone was awful, and yet I wanted to fit in." Thom suggested that the moral of the story was that the local people on Guam have a wicked vulnerability to the continued cycle of corruption within the local government. But none of that mattered to anyone in a crowded bookstore in the upper West side , including me.
And now, tonight finds me here on Guam—“America in Asia", or so Mahina says as she pulls into the parking lot of a small hotel.
"Here we are, Agent Jones. So how long will you be staying? The agency is on high alert, because of North Korea. But I heard that you are here to investigate local corruption. Is that it? Are you here to help us with the local corruption?"
I pause for a moment before responding.
"Let's wait to discuss the assignment with the rest of the team tomorrow morning. For now, I can tell you that even though North Korea has a nuclear warhead aimed directly at Guam, and even though the North Korean dictator says that Guam is doomed, our purpose is not to thwart that threat. Our mission has nothing to do with North Korea. Thank you for the ride, Mahina. How will I get to the field office tomorrow?"
"Ai Adai! Agent Jones, I will come back to pick you up in the morning. Is seven-thirty too early?" she asks.
"No, seven-thirty will be fine. Goodnight," I say stoically.
"Goodnight, Agent Jones," and Mahina drove away.
Morning in Harmon:
Last night, as soon as my head hit the pillow, it put me into a deep sleep. In the daylight of morning, I can see that headquarters set me up with a room at the Harmon Biltmore Motel. At first glance, it seems like a joke. No toiletries available. There are strings of long, black hair all over the place (who knows from whom?), but no shampoo, no toothbrush, no toothpaste, no hairdryer, no coffee pot, and the worst part: no coffee. The bed feels substandard, but at least the sheets look clean. I check my phone for messages. There is a vague e-mail describing my mission: observe and report the activities of Guam's current governor, Cal Lakas and track down a man known only as eL Capitan. There are two attachments, one with more details about eL Capitan, but I’ll read that at the meeting. The other attachment contains information about my team for this mission:
Mahina Malia Cruz: a Chamorro/Hawaiian girl. She grew up in the Guam village of Barrigada and is known as the Barrigada Barbie. She was a former Miss Guam Universe, an Uno Magazine bikini model, and a graduate of the University of Hawaii. She is a forensic accountant.
Stella Emiko Taitique: a local girl of Chamorro, Japanese and European ancestry. Stella grew up as the only child of a single mother. She was raised in Ordot and attended Notre Dame High School before she joined the Navy and became an intelligence officer. Stella is the information collector.
Eddly Aguon: a local boy turned information technology technician also knows as a hacker. He graduated from Father Duenas High School and was educated in computer science at Stanford. He gained hacking experience in Silicon Valley. Intel describes him as a sometimes raving paranoiac, prone to fits of self-sabotage and sugar highs. He is obsessed with online assassination video games, especially, S.O.D. 2, or Spectre of Death 2: Iraq.
This is going to be an interesting experience. I close the message and plug the phone back into the charger. I shower, dress, and make my way to a nearby restaurant named Shirley's Coffee Shop. While I was showering, Mahina sent a text telling me that she and the rest of the Guam team want to welcome me to Guam and treat me to breakfast. I hope the coffee is strong.
23 Minutes Later
"Chamorro sausage, eggs, with fried rice, chorizo, eggs with fried rice—the Chamorro sausage is really tasty, you will like it" the waitress says, repeating the order. "And the Spam omelet and Chamorro sausage, eggs and fried rice."
"Shirley's is known for their fried rice and you should try the Spam with hot sauce," Mahina says to me. I nod in amusement as she orders some for me. Spam. She is not talking about the electronic kind. She is recommending the kind from Hormel Foods Corporation in Austin, Minnesota. Hormel reports that on average, each person on Guam consumes the equivalent of 16 cans of Spam each year. Partially because they can order Spam at restaurants like McDonald's and Shirley's Coffee Shop.
The conversation comes to a halt as the food arrives. This team is hungry and the food is good. As I finish a second cup of coffee, I can't help but think about Spam.
"Spam!" I say aloud and notice that all eyes are on me.
"You like the Spam? And the hot sauce?" Mahina asks with a cheerful tone and a wide smile.
"Yes. And I find it ironic since Spam is our mission" I say, looking at the curious faces. "Our mission involves Spam. Let's enjoy our breakfast and once we get to the office I will tell you about the Spam."
"Lovely spam, wonderful spam! Lovely spam, wonderful spam! Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, SPAM!" Eddly annoyingly sings that old Monty Python song.
Later that morning:
The team meeting is inside a non-descript office building in downtown Hagatna, complete with floors filled with cubicle jockeys, pretty receptionists, fake plants, and Muzak. But here on the third floor, behind guarded security gates, is GUAMCOMSEC, the computer security division of the Guam National Security Agency. Outside our meeting room, more than a dozen system administrators monitor remote tracking stations that provide tracking, telemetry and data retrieval services. Inside a small conference room, our team is seated around a table except for Stella who is standing at the head of the table, ready to begin her presentation.
