The other party answered without saying a word.
Malbo simply said, "Done." And put the phone back into his pocket.
In less than a minute, a full-size van appeared from the opposite direction on the dirt road and came to an abrupt stop a few feet from Malbo, the minivan, and the four bodies on the ground.
The back of the van opened and four early 30-ish persons, two men and two women dressed in tourist-wear, came out. They walked over to Malbo.
"Find their ship IDs," Malbo said with a stern tone. "Their bags are in the van."
The two couples searched the dead bodies, taking identifiable items and calmly deciding who would be who is this replacement scheme. They grabbed the travelers' bags from the minivan, and matched them up with their new personas as best as they could figure.
In the meantime, the driver of the large van -- a hulking presence -- emerged and clomped over to Malbo. Malbo simply said to the driver, "When they're done, dispose of them on the deep reef as we planned." The driver simply nodded in understanding.
When the replacements completed their identity swaps, one gave a simple thumbs up to the driver of the large van. One by one, the driver slid the dead bodies by their feet to the back of the large van, with their heads bouncing on the ruts and rocks in the dirt road -- in a macabre scene. Trickle trails of blood the only remnants of the dragged paths.
Once all four bodies were at the back of the large van, the driver simply hoisted them up, one at a time, and tossed these -- only moments ago, sparkling with life -- bodies into the back compartment. He then closed the van's door. He walked to the driver's compartment, got in, and as ordered, drove off.
Malbo kicked some dirt over the more-obvious blood trails, knowing that the weekly sunshowers in this tropical paradise would wash away all evidence of his deed.
The replacements entered the minivan. Malbo closed the sliding door and entered the driver's compartment. He closed his door. And, without any words being exchanged, they sped off.