“Thank you, Kabos,” she called over to him, as a group of men walked toward the truck. She turned on her heel and fled. She heard heavy footsteps as they ran after her.
“Fern! Fern, come back here!”
She ignored Kabos’s shouts and kept running. A car horn sounded as she rushed into the road and the car stopped. It had missed her. The driver got out and started shouting at the men who ran in front of his vehicle, following her. Amaranda dived into a dark shop doorway and watched the men. Some ran past her in the dark, others gave up sooner. She held her breath as they eventually made their way back toward the quay.
The road was almost deserted when she emerged from the doorway and made her way toward the coast again. She walked south of the quayside for quite a way before finding a few small boats moored up in a sheltered inlet. An old wreck stood in a dark corner on a patch of dry land. Amaranda crept over to it, climbing in. It was a small fishing vessel, though it looked like it must only be used for storage nowadays. A large hole in the side of the hull told her it wouldn’t be going anywhere. She clambered under a smelly old tarpaulin as she felt the first drops of rain. The moon was hidden behind dense cloud and there was nothing but blackness all around her. With a huge sigh, she curled up and prepared for another long night.
Amaranda woke after what seemed like an hour or two. It was still pitch black, and the rain was hammering against the boat. She was soaked through and her cotton dress clung to her skin. The tarpaulin had large holes in it and the rain came down in torrents. She guessed it must have been the sound of the rain that woke her, and she tried to make herself comfortable. It was impossible. She was shivering with cold and the smell of damp made her feel sick. With a sigh, she heaved the useless tarpaulin back off her and sat up. A hand covered her mouth and she stopped breathing. She felt the blood drain from her face. Eventually fear gave way to panic and she lashed out, kicking, biting, hitting, and trying to scream through the hand that threatened to suffocate her.
“It’s no good, Amaranda. You won’t get away this time, darlin’.”
She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice. She strained her eyes to see him through the dark, and stared up into his dark eyes.
He smirked, seeing the recognition in her face.
“That’s right, darlin’, it’s me. And look—your dress is all wet again!”
Chapter 14
Eban pushed his way through the throng of reporters and led Jerusha to the car. He sped down the highway until he reached the hospital. Abandoning the car, they ran into the emergency department. The place was rammed. There was a massive queue for enquiries.
“Eban!”
Pascal came rushing toward them. “Don’t worry, bro, her folks are with her.”
“What did she take? Was it an overdose?”
“Drugs—they don’t know what yet, they’re still pumping her out.”
“Oh my God!” Jerusha turned white.
“Don’t worry, the doc thinks we got her here in time. How about a seat?” Pascal led them to a row of chairs, which lined the corridor. He grabbed a cup of water from a machine and handed it to Jerusha.
“What happened?” Eban was stunned.
“Your mom told you about the rumors?”
“Yep.”
“Mitzi came to see me. She said she’d heard I was getting you a job and she didn’t want you going away to sea again. She did all this to win you back, bro, she can’t accept it’s over. She thinks with Amaranda out the way or in jail or whatever, she’s got another chance with you.”
“So where did she get all these ideas from for the rumors?”
“From you, Mr. Gal. You and your fiancée.” Detective Sergeant Blum had walked up to them unnoticed.
“What?”
“It’s all here, sir.” Det. Farache stood behind his boss, holding up Mitzi’s cell phone.
“What is?”
“A video recording of you and your fiancée discussing her being a Siren. Oh, and other subjects such as murder, carnage, and prostitution. Ring any bells, Gal?” Blum was loving his job tonight.
“If you wouldn’t mind accompanying us down the station, Mr. Gal, we have a few questions for you.” Farache went to usher him away but Eban stood firm.
“Have you found Amaranda yet?”
“Not yet, but we’re still looking.” Farache sounded sympathetic.
“You go, Eban, I’ll take care of your mom. I’ll ring if there’s any news.” Pascal reassured his friend.
Eban followed the detectives down the corridor and jumped into the squad car.
“Can we get this over with, I really need to search for my fiancée,” Eban asked when they were sat in the interview room of the local police station.
“All in good time.” Blum could be a patronizing son of a bitch when he wanted to be.
“We may not have much time. She’ll be lost. She doesn’t know anyone or anywhere. Anything could happen to her.” Eban was getting desperate.
“Let’s have a look at the evidence, shall we?” Blum pressed a button on a remote control and the video played on a screen attached to the wall. Modern technology even provided subtitles.
Eban gaped as he watched himself and Amaranda having the fight in the garden. Mitzi must have arrived just after his mom left. She got everything from Amaranda protesting her innocence and reminding him that she was a virgin when they got together right up to him telling her she was nothing like those other Sirens, that they were whores and she could never murder anyone. Fuck!
Amaranda had been right. She was totally innocent. She had done nothing to deserve any of this. Her name had been dragged through the mud and now even her homeland was under threat. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Blum stopped the tape and turned to him with a supercilious grin on his face. He looked years younger when he was this happy.
“So, Mr. Gal. It looks like you won’t be getting the ‘fiancé-of-the-year award’ anytime soon. And perhaps you would like to explain to us about these murdering whores you spoke about, the ones who are so unlike your fiancée?”
Eban felt like shit.
“Would a glass of water help, Mr. Gal?” Farache offered him a drink, which he swallowed before answering.
“I found some of the women on the island a little—loose.” Eban chose his words carefully.
“That will be the whores, the women who were forced into prostitution, will it?”
Eban felt the undying urge to rip Blum’s head off and serve it on a pole for breakfast! “I didn’t feel that they all really wanted to act as they did. They appeared to me to be doing what was expected of them.” He spoke slowly and deliberately.
“Expected of them? As in coerced, Mr. Gal?”
“No, maybe peer pressure. Young girls often do what their friends do. It’s their choice but maybe not the right choice for them.”
“Hmm. And what about the murder and carnage that your fiancée watched them do? Explain that, if you would.”
Eban searched his brain for the correct words.
“I believe—if you check your transcript—that what I said was that Amaranda was not a murderer. I would like to think that would be true of most citizens, would it not?”
It was Farache’s turn to smirk.
Blum was not happy. He read the transcript of the video again.
“So what about—and I quote—‘I saw how you reacted to all that death and carnage.’ Unquote. Whose death and who was doing the killing, Mr. Gal?”
Oh, that supercilious look again! Eban took a deep breath, frowning at Blum. “Whose? I think you mean what’s, detective. That was referring to the killing of some sea creatures, which they did in a rather unforgiving manner for my liking. You see, they don’t have the same tools or weapons as we do, it’s all rather primitive out there.”
Blum’s face was bright red. Anger must have boiled in his blood. He evidently knew damn well he had no proof of what Gal was saying one way or the other, and there was nothing here that he coul
d hang on him.
“That will be all for now, Mr. Gal. But you should know that we have detectives out on Refrainia right now, and they will be reporting back their findings. You are not permitted to leave this area until this case is closed, do you understand?”
“I do.” Eban allowed the chair to scrape across the bare floor as he stood up slowly.
“I’ll give you a ride back to the hospital, Mr. Gal,” Farache offered, much to Blum’s obvious annoyance. “I want to see how the girl’s doing anyway.”
“Thank you, detective.” Eban graciously accepted his offer and they sped back to the infirmary.
Jerusha met them by the entrance. “She’s come round, she’s going to be OK.”
“Thank God.” Eban relaxed slightly. “What did she say?”
A call came over Farache’s radio and he immediately left.
“Come on, bro, I’ll explain on the way.” Pascal ran over to them and almost scooped Jerusha up in his hurry to get to the car. She climbed in the back and Pascal sped down the road in the same direction as the detective. It was dark and beginning to rain.
“Taneli’s been supplying drugs. He got really pissed with you because that pal of his, Greenberg, had been collecting them from Eastland for him. He didn’t think it was fair that you lived while his little enterprise died with this guy.” Pascal expertly maneuvered through the traffic as he spoke. “It was drugs, not drink, he and Mitzi have been into.”
“Shit!”
He heard his mother tut from the backseat.
“When Mitzi walked in on you and Amaranda having a fight she recorded it. At first just because she was pleased you two were having a row, then, as things progressed, because she was intending to take it up with Tan for coming onto Amaranda when he’s supposed to be with her. Of course, Tan was more interested in the second half of the tape, the bit about life on that island. Mitzi told him she was done with him and wanted to get back with you. Tan talked her into blackmailing Amaranda to leave you or she’d go public with the tape. She told her it would kill your dad if he ever found out, and you and your mom would hate her.”
“As if!” Jerusha shook her head.
“That’s why she left me! But then Mitzi double-crossed her with the tape anyway. The bitch!” Eban slammed his fist on the dashboard.
“No. Mitzi came to see me today to ask me not to get you a job, right? She was hoping to get back with you. I told her there was no way you’d give up Amaranda. She got depressed and went back to Taneli, thinking he’d still have her anyway. He was already high and gave her some of his drugs. It was Tan who leaked the tape to the cops and the press to make trouble for you ‘cos in his warped mind it was your fault Greenberg died and not you. He sees it that you cost him his little scam, which lost him his home and Mitzi. Things weren’t right with them from the minute his income dropped!”
“Taneli was so high on drugs himself that he gave Mitzi too much, that’s why she ended up in the ER,” Jerusha explained.
“Taneli called the ambulance?”
“No, I did. I knew she was depressed when she left me and went back to Taneli. I went over to make sure she was OK. I guessed he’d reject her. When I got there Tan had gone. She was off her head.”
“So where’s Amaranda and where’s Taneli?” Eban’s face was fierce as they pulled up outside a scruffy apartment block.
As he yanked open the car door he saw Farache running back toward the squad car.
“Taneli’s gone!” Farache yelled to another car that came screaming up behind his.
Both squad cars headed off down the road, with Pascal doing well to keep up.
* * * *
Rechavia and Aitan watched with interest as a flotilla arrived from Eastland just after midday. The police were greeted at the jetty, which now had its own proper harbor, by Kalliope and Ligia, both sporting their skimpiest bikinis. Members of the press followed, snapping as many photos as they could. Some of the other young ladies from the island offered them some Refrainian hospitality, too, complete with coy smiles and swaying hips.
“Who is in charge here?” asked a Detective Inspector, trying desperately not to be distracted by Ligia’s long legs.
“Why, sir, we’re a democracy here. No one tells us what to do. Didn’t you know? We don’t even answer to your government. No offence intended.” She offered him a bright smile of complete innocence.
“Is there a problem here, officer?” Rechavia strolled nonchalantly down toward the crowd. More photos.
“We’ve had some reports about some strange activities on this island and we’re here to investigate. Should I talk to you?” the D.I. asked, eyeing up this deeply tanned “Man Friday” a little incredulously.
“You can talk to anyone you want, Officer.” Rechavia flashed him a winning smile.
“Hmm, then you’ll do, I suppose,” he said with a dubious glance at the rest of the throng.
“I’d be most happy to oblige, sir.” Rech relished his opportunity to get into character.
“I am Detective Inspector Davin Benabu,” he announced, taking out his electronic notebook.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, sir—oh, wait, you mean that’s your name? Sorry, I thought you meant something else. My name is Rechavia, but you can call me Rech if you prefer.”
The D.I. growled. “Rechavia, we have heard reports that there are Sirens living on this island. Can you confirm this?”
“Well, officer, I don’t rightly know what you mean by Sirens, see? If you mean beautiful women, well we’ve got loads of those, just look around you.”
“Yes, I can see them, thank you.” D.I. Benabu tried to look elsewhere as Kalliope came over and wiggled her ass in front of him, just to prove the point.
“What I’m talking about is, well, prostitutes, Rechavia.” The D.I. flushed like a nun as he said the words.
“Now you look here.” Rechavia stretched his massive torso and towered over the D.I. like King Kong. “That there’s my partner you’re talking about. Are you calling her a prostitute?”
“What’s up, Rech?” Aitan called over from his photographic posing as he heard Rechavia raise his voice.
“This here cop seems to be calling my woman a prostitute!” Rech shouted for everyone to hear and the whole island turned to uproar. The islanders rounded on the visitors, who suddenly looked very vulnerable.
“No, no, that isn’t what I meant at all!” Benabu protested. “I simply asked if you knew of any prostitutes on the island!”
“I hope you got that quote for your papers, gentlemen, “Aitan goaded. The members of the press muttered and scribbled while photographers snapped pictures of the hapless D.I. from every angle.
“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong!” The D.I. became even more indignant and flustered. “I’m not interested in women!”
Aitan raised his eyebrows and turned back to the members of the press, “I hope you’re getting these quotations for those wonderful newspapers of yours, gentlemen.”
The members of the press had no difficulty in quoting the D.I. verbatim, and chuckled as they made their notes.
“Was there anything else you’d like to ask me about, Detective Inspector?” Rechavia looked down on him menacingly.
“Yes, actually there is.” Benabu was becoming angrier now. “We have heard reports of deaths on the island. Murder and carnage. Can you enlighten me on any of these subjects, Rechavia?” His voice was stern and he jutted out his chin obstinately.
“Nope,” Rech replied simply.
“Has anyone been murdered on the island, that you know of, sir?”
“Nope. Anyone know anyone who’s been murdered?” Rech called out to the islanders.
They shook their heads en masse, muttering in the negative.
“I think that’s a no, sir.” Rechavia tried to look innocent, but the D.I. regarded him with narrowed eyes.
“Do you know of any carnage on the island?”
“Carnage, as in cutting things up?” Rech clari
fied.
“Yes, sir, as in cutting things up,” the D.I. said wearily.
“Well…” Rechavia looked round thoughtfully. “We do have a rather large vegetable garden out back. We tend to cut them up quite roughly, don’t we, folks?”
“Oh, yeah—brutal we are, Officer,” Aitan shouted over while the rest agreed vigorously.
“I can see I’m not getting very far here!” The D.I. gave up the fight and made his way through the crowd, back to his ship.
Quite a few of the press members wandered around the island snapping photographs, while the police went around closely examining things and making notes. The D.I. and his crew set off for the mainland immediately.
Rechavia and Aitan hugged their women and laughed as they made their way back up the island, until suddenly Rech noticed something that made him stop in his tracks. He pointed to Destiny Rock, the little outcrop off the main island. Groups of men in heavy scuba diving gear were jumping into the water near the sunken shipwrecks.
Chapter 15
Taneli grabbed Amaranda, twisting her arm around her back, and shoved her over the side of the fishing boat. His other hand was still across her mouth. She was shivering, partly from cold, partly from fear. The rain continued to lash against them as he hauled her over to one of the larger boats moored in the inlet.
“Right, darlin’, I’m going to take my hand away and you’re going to climb on board without a sound, d’you hear me? One peep out of that pretty mouth of yours and you can stay out here in the cold and wet, tied up and gagged. You gonna be a good girl and do as you’re told now?”
She could feel the chill in her bones, and her teeth were chattering. She nodded, staring up at him.
“Good choice.”
He slowly removed his hand from her mouth and pushed her over the stern of the other boat, still gripping her arm in a vice-hold behind her back. He kicked open the door which led into the dark wheelhouse and pushed her inside. It wasn’t much warmer but at least it was dry. It smelled damp and musty.
“Sit down.” He shoved her to one side and she felt a padded bench seat against her leg. She sat down, trembling, grateful for the comfort. He had let go of her arm, which now hurt badly. She hugged herself tight. There was a scratching sound as he struck a match and lit some candles. She guessed he didn’t want to draw attention to them by switching on the light. Either that or the battery was flat and they had no electrics. He sat next to her on the couch, after placing the matchbox carefully in his pocket. Damn!
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