Night of the Tustumena

by Arne Bue

  "I don't know, Elaine said. "All I know is the Captain's been ordered by Kelly in Juneau to watch Mr. Nakano. They think he's a possible drug runner, and he might be involved in Dick's murder. I don't agree, but Sewell doesn't want to fool around with the guy. Sewell wants to go ahead and bust him. But no, Troopers have control. They're calling the shots, and have ordered us to sit back, just observe."

  "Well, he's not going anywhere. He'll be aboard until we get back to Homer," Gary said. "All he does is draw and take pictures."

  "Right. But for now, we go for the Williams family. Three of them, all guy's. One's dressed up like a woman."

  "Dressed like a woman?"

  "Right," Elaine said. "You won't believe it."

  "You and me against the Williams family," Gary said. He seemed to swell with the thought.

  "Peter Toloff and I will be armed. Not supposed to be guns aboard, but we've got some personal weapons. Lots of them, as you well know. Plus, there's the mace, in case they want to get funny. They should be like little lambs."

  "You really believe that? Wanted by cops in Homer and in the Lower 48, and they're going to be like little lambs?"

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Mr. Nakano sought peace in his cabin through meditation. But images of his youth kept him from sleep, his thoughts drifting into the tunnel under the street in his old neighborhood where long ago he'd sought safety. What he'd done to Dick in fact was not a senseless waste, as was the killing of Jeffrey Johnson by Sugimoto: Killing for honor and love made sense, he told himself. The assassin Sugimoto killed for glory, not honor.

  I killed because of my love for my wife. I killed so my son could be honorable, Mr. Nakano repeated to himself.

  He nodded off to sleep.

  Later, a man's voice carried through Mr. Nakano's stateroom door, a microphone voice that echoed off the walls. Mr. Nakano opened his eyes and peered into the cape of darkness. Whoever cried out would eventually go away. He closed his eyes and took the silence into his heart and lungs, expecting to return to nothing.

  "Let go of me. I'll sue, you son of a bitch." Anger hung in the stateroom like chilled blood. The door shook. Half-asleep, Mr. Nakano lifted to an elbow.

  "Troopers...Dutch." Were among the snarls Mr. Nakano heard, worn and heavy gasps he recognized as from the Third Mate.

  Elaine Miller's voice quavered off in the passageway, garbled and electric. "You're had complaints..."

  The tumult ceased. Mr. Nakano pressed his ear to the door, felt the ship's heartbeat, nothing else, no voices, no footfalls. The disturbance reminded of the problem in Tokyo with crime boss Nishimoto's nephew, a lazy young man of no account who pilfered money from prostitutes, money that should have gone into the organization's accounts. Mr. Nakano had watched at the end of the alleyway as two of Shige Nishimoto's soldiers beat him.

  There was no education program at a university level under Nishimoto. How could Mr. Nakano's son, under such a man, expand his mind and look upon the world with honorable eyes?

  I taught myself. I am an accomplished bird-watcher, I have studied on my own, the biology of insects, birds, fish and marine mammals. But there is one thing they have never known. Although I have been loyal, I have never turned my essence over to them. Had I done that, I would no longer appreciate sunrises and sunsets, the beauty of the ocean, my deserved respites from Tokyo, from the gang of hoodlums, from the vile soldiers of Shige Nishimoto.

  So this is not such a surprise, is it? If my burning, inner self has never really been with them, then that ember has always been apart from them. I work for the love of my family. Let them come to me like the Deck Officers did to the errant one in the passageway. Let them come. See what happens.

  The ship no longer rolled. The Tustumena must have entered the protection of Dutch Harbor.

  He looked at his watch: 4:30 in the morning.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Sewell worked the bow thrusters, scanning the waters, docks, trawlers and container ships moored forward and aft of Ballyhoo Dock in Dutch Harbor.

  Lingenberry made out Trooper vehicles near a building fronted by a phone booth. Cars and trucks pulled behind the Troopers, who talked to the drivers. No one approached closer with their vehicles.

  "So the Williams family situation under control?"

  "Yes, sir. Real simple," Lingenberry said. "Elaine and Gary just go ahead and take them off soon as the gangway's lowered."

  "Good."

  "Troopers take them away. Everything goes back to normal," Lingenberry said. But like the rest of the crew, Lingenberry knew everything wouldn't be normal, not until authorities brought Dick's killer to justice.

  Quinsen would relieve Lingenberry of his watch early, take the bridge from 5:30 a.m. until eight. Lingenberry and Quinsen had talked about this. Lingenberry's woman would be waiting. She'd meet him at the dock. He could hardly wait.

  Of late, he'd noticed a burning sensation and a discharge when he urinated. Been going on since a few days after he'd been with her the last time. Quinsen would know about such things. Lingenberry would mention it to him on the way to Akutan.

  The ship would leave around 8 a.m. That'd give Harry plenty of time to see the woman for more of the usual. Why shouldn't he get a little on the side. Cheryl was doing the same, wasn't she? He wished the Captain was a little quicker in his docking.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Across Iliuliuk Bay, past a spithead, lay a sheltered, deep water harbor where, Mr. Nakano heard a man say, a Dutch frigate anchored in the late 1700s. The Tustumena would dock there.

  A bridge joined Unalaska and Dutch Harbor. Canneries processed king and tanner crab, salmon and bottomfish, product bound for international and domestic markets. Ships from the world over made hundreds of port calls for this harvest.

  Mr. Nakano headed down the stairs past a few passengers, intending to step to the boarding area.

  "No, no, Mr. Nakano," he heard. Anna Knight reached to stop him in the foyer, but he stepped through the door onto the deck. Nakano quickly surveyed the situation.

  Quinsen prodded the barrel of a rifle against the ribs of the strange muscular gypsy woman. She leaned, her hands braced on the ship's side, and her feet apart.

  Seamen affixed uprights and rail-lines to the gangway.

  Elaine held a hand-gun pointed at the two others. The black-bearded man said something to the younger one, but Mr. Nakano did not understand his words.

  This is not a place for me, thought Mr. Nakano.

  He backed into the foyer, where the Purser grabbed his arm.

  "There's a problem, Mr. Nakano," Anna said. "For Heaven's sake stay in here. Billy! Guard this door so no one goes out until I say, OK?"

  Billy slipped around Mr. Nakano and closed his arms over his chest like a gate.

  Mr. Nakano climbed the stairs and gained the privacy of the top deck solarium.

  A light rain fell, the harbor flat and dimpled beneath chains of lights. A freighter's running lights reflected from the water.

  Anna made a harsh, metallic announcement.

  Please do not start or move your vehicles until directed to do so by a crew member. All foot passengers will be using the gangway, which will be in place in just a few minutes. But you are instructed not to leave the foyer for the time being. Until I say so. Let me repeat that. Passengers are to stay in the foyer until I give permission to leave. Passengers and all crew members: scheduled departure from Dutch Harbor is 8 a.m. this morning.

  Mr. Nakano looked out past Ballyhoo Dock where a mountain rose straight from the sea. A stream cut into its sheer dark face. He felt the work of the orange coils of the overhead heaters on his face. Below, a sign animated a building nuzzled against the mountain.

  Mr. Nakano watched Elaine Miller below in green raingear side-step down the gangway, the gun in her hand.

  The frumpy woman and the two men followed, picking their way along the foot-rises.

  Quinsen stayed back a few feet. Mr. Nakano glimpsed the stock and
pointing barrel of his rifle shedding rain.

  Elaine stood off as the three gypsies steadied themselves on the wet boards of the wharf.

  She looked up at Quinsen, a signal. He marched the gangway and stood ready behind the three detainees. In the near distance, rain-slickered Troopers drew firearms.

  A sorrow for these hapless ones rose in Mr. Nakano's throat. They were as he. They were standing alone on the dock, homeless ones, wanderers.

  The life of a homeless brother is not an easy one. One ought not to undertake it if he can not keep his mind free from greed and anger or if he can not control his mind or his five senses. They were foolish men. When foolish men's misconduct is pointed out, they not only disregard advice but rather repeat the same errors.

  The black-bearded one moved quickly to Elaine and shoved her. She had no time to raise her handgun, and fell back on her rump.

  The strange woman stepped toward her, and ripped the gun from her hand and spun around toward Quinsen.

  Quinsen dropped to one knee and aimed. Mr. Nakano surmised from the way the gypsy cocked her head that Quinsen said something.

  The gun dropped to the dock.

  Elaine Miller retrieved her gun.

  The Troopers leveled on the black-bearded one. They shouted a command that Mr. Nakano could not hear clearly.

  Quinsen and Miller distanced themselves from the three men, to either side of them. The family, all three, raised their arms. A Trooper shouted again.

  The strange woman touched her print dress and pointed to the black sky, and gestured to the wet dock.

  The Trooper howled out a command and crouched. Mr. Nakano heard the Trooper behind the car next to the van bellowing.

  The burly woman kneeled, and lay forward onto the dock. The hem of the dress flowed and settled. The younger man in the blue pullover kneeled, lay down, reached his hands out and positioned them behind his head. The bearded one put a hand in his brown overcoat pocket, but the Trooper shouted a warning. The big man raised his hands and looked to the ship, his mouth moving. Mr. Nakano guessed this man was arguing for rights, perhaps saying he had a ticket, that he belonged there aboard the ship from the way he stomped his foot and angrily spat upon the gleaming black dock.

  Elaine Miller shouted at him. Third Mate Gary Quinsen talked to the man and raised his rifle.

  The Troopers shouted.

  The big man looked about, at the weapons. The two lying on the dock must have been talking to him, the way he looked down at them. The big man's knees caved upon the wet boards, and he lay down upon his belly, hands behind his neck.

  Handcuffs appeared. The Troopers moved hands behind backs, snapped the cuffs.

  A Trooper helped the burly woman climb into the back seat of the Trooper's vehicle, minding the ducking head.

  ***

  Mr. Nakano sat down in the solarium after viewing this arrest.

  And in the warmth, the diesels thrumming, Mr. Nakano's father appeared in the muted reflection of the foggy plexiglass surrounding the solarium.

  "You hurry too much," his father said.

  "I want to see the world. I must do this now, while I'm young," a young Kenso said.

  "Prepare yourself first."

  "I am prepared!"

  And in this reflective memory, his father said, "A foolish man was once boiling honey. His friend suddenly appeared and the foolish man wanted to offer him some honey, but it was too hot, and so without removing it from the fire he fanned it to make it cool. In like manner, it is impossible to get the honey of cool wisdom without first removing it from the fire of worldly passions."

  "That's nonsense," Kenso had said.

  He wished no more to speak to this father of this, so he put on a fierce face and left the home and walked about the neighborhood filled with impatience and anger until he encountered the bully, Shige Nishimoto, who emerged from the shade of night.

  "Where are you going so late?" Nishimoto asked.

  "To sea. I'm going to get a job and get out of here."

  "Come with me. I can help you."

  "How?

  "The oyabun will fix it," Nishimoto said.

  Mr. Nakano heard rain like the scampering feet of birds, and felt a throb of sadness. Why do such memories return now? Why does my father not return to his rest and leave me alone? Why must I again see the young bully Nishimoto and hear him lure me again? I am in control of my five senses! I keep my mind free from greed and anger! I am not a foolish man! I am careful. I have the honey of cool wisdom. And I would never kill another except when absolutely necessary!

  Mr. Nakano saw no taxis waiting on the road off in the distance this time of the morning, only a few trucks and cars here to meet the ferry. The tourist season over, there were not enough passengers to attract taxis.

  The stern's car lift swung into operation. Local passengers offloaded luggage and gear, and headed down the gangway. Mr. Nakano disembarked with the rest. No Deck Officers watched from the bridge, so he adapted the appearance of a meanderer, a tourist with camera and bag in hand, and walked off the dock, away from the small group, toward the dark rising mountain.

  A "Latitude 54" sign lighted the front of a spreading single-story with seven bays, a corrugated structure almost against the mountain. No lights on in the offices. An empty F150 Ford XL with "City of Unalaska Harbormaster" blazoned on the door sat alone in front, no one inside.

  Off to his right a bulky figure stepped from one of the bays, sparse light catching a long red beard.

  Mr. Nakano approached.

  Redbeard stood in front of Petro Marine Services, the fourth bay. Water dripped from the metal roofing. Mr. Nakano smelled wet hard ground, the moist, fading Amaknak Island vegetation of October, the dark cold brine of the harbor. Warily, he looked behind at the ship and up the roadway leading from the dock.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Third Mate Gary Quinsen had almost shot the man dressed as a woman. No one, he said to himself, was going to mess with a Deck Officer. No one. And the seconds following the show-down seemed to pass in slow-motion, the commands from the Troopers, his own commands. Gary Quinsen had the man dressed as a woman in his sights. He didn't remember what he'd shouted, only that the .45 had dropped and the man's hands went up.

  And now all three of them lay on the dock, the so-called Williams family. He and Elaine guarded them as the Troopers cuffed them and read them their rights. At some point Gary remembered he'd said to the Troopers, "We're turning them over to you now."

  The Troopers gave Gary and Elaine some folded papers.

  Aboard, Captain Sewell said in the Master's Quarters, "Well done, Gary. Well done." The whole thing was going by like one of those damn dreams.

  And Gary said, "If you don't mind, Captain, I'd like to take the watch, give Harry a break. He's got some personal business and I d like to be back on watch while she's docked. Give me a chance to settle down after all this."

  Captain Sewell said, "Fine. Anything you want, Gary," or words to that effect because Quinsen wasn't hearing so well, the adrenaline pumping his heart, sound mixing in his mind, and the scene on the dock replaying right before his eyes. He wanted the quiet of the bridge. As he headed there he considered how safe he felt on the quarterdeck of the ship. In a way he wished he could talk to the girl in Guam that was going to have his baby. He'd, tell her all about what had happened.

  Quinsen stood out on the wing and let the wet sky come to him. He looked down at Ballyhoo Dock and saw Harry moving down the gangway and scurrying off to meet the woman.

  Over at the Latitude 54 building a lone man limped along by one of the bays. The man stopped and began talking to another man.

  Gary Quinsen got his binoculars.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  In the distance, Mr. Nakano saw a figure come onto the bridge. And quite near on the roadway, he recognized Second Mate Harry Lingenberry scurrying. The Mate looked over at Mr. Nakano and Redbeard. A dirty cream Toyota pulled up, and Lingenberry got in. The interior of
the car illuminated as the door opened. The driver was a woman, but Mr. Nakano could not see her features from the distance. The car door closed. Although the ceiling bulb inside the car had gone out, dock lights revealed the outlines of their heads coming together.

  The Toyota sped off.

  Not here," Redbeard said, watching the Toyota, looking over at the bridge of the ship.

  Mr. Nakano followed down the road toward the white fuel storage tanks. A metal building separated the dock from the roadway and tanks. A phone booth stood lighted in front of the building. Stacked pallets and cargo containers blocked the view of the ship and passengers. Redbeard's minivan waited, a clean white Voyager.

  They got in.

  "Did you rent this vehicle?" Mr. Nakano asked. He was not used to a generous per diem from his oyabun. He would never think of renting a minivan, pay such an amount. This vehicle was pretentious, too flashy, attracting the eyes of the curious, cleaner than most other vehicles.

  "Course I did. Sweet Holy Jesus, Troopers! What's going on?" Redbeard asked. Mr. Nakano had already opened his duffel. He was stuffing shabu into Redbeard's vinyl suitcase in the back of the van. His insides did not feel healthy for some reason.

  Mr. Nakano said, "The wandering people were frightening passengers. They are common thieves. Arrested by Deck Officers."

  Redbeard shoved stacks of hundred dollar bills into Nakano's duffel.

  Almost done, good, Mr. Nakano thought.

  "Wandering people? Who the fuck are wandering people?" Redbeard asked.

  "They are gypsies. Foolish ones who have not learned from their mistakes," Mr. Nakano said.

  "I was going to take off. Thought you was busted," Redbeard said.

  "No. This route is perfect!" Mr. Nakano shouted.

  "Not any more, it isn't. There was an execution."

  "A most unfortunate occurrence."