by Jack Dey
Brett strode past his secretary on his way back to his office and when she prepared to recite a new set of appointments, Brett announced he was going out for some lunch and to reschedule any further meetings for later in the afternoon; but as he entered his office, Smiley was waiting for him.
“Smiley! How you doing?”
“Told you they would make you boss,” Smiley thrust out his hand and offered his congratulations.
“Yes, you’re still my numero uno if that is what you’re here for.”
“That’s wonderful to know, Boss,” Smiley broke into a huge grin.
“Listen, Smiley, I’m really hungry and I need to get out of here for an hour or so before the phone starts ringing again. Come and I’ll buy you lunch.”
Smiley’s grin widened. “Now you’re talking, Boss!”
By the time Brett pushed open the door to the small diner, the lunchtime crowd had dispersed, making it easy for he and Smiley to find a booth by the window at the furthest end of the restaurant. Shimmying into the wooden bench seats around a polished table and sitting at opposite sides, it wasn’t long before a bored waitress hovered around, urging the two men to make a meal choice with her unexcited body language.
Ordering then handing the menu books to the waitress, Smiley offered a question. “So, what’s it like to be boss?”
Brett took a moment to think before he answered. “To be honest, Smiley, I wasn’t expecting it to be so full-on. Old Roley made it look so easy and he never got flustered or lost his cool.”
Smiley laughed. “You obviously didn’t see him chewing out old Downey.”
“Really...?! Roley lost it with Downey?” Brett huffed incredulously and tried to visualise the scene.
“He sure did... you going to keep Downey?” Smiley’s chuckle disappeared and instead, an intense but expectant reporter’s gaze took its place.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to weigh it up against the rest of the news team.”
“So, you are going to do a shake up of the news team?!” Smiley’s reaction indicated he thought he was onto something.
“Fishing for info, is that what this is all about?” Brett teased, but he knew Smiley was working up to something.
Smiley’s grin returned. “Could be, Boss, could be.”
“Off the record, you can tell your fellow snoops that they can expect some form of shake up. Other than that, no comment and you can quote me!” Brett paused for a few more moments, staring at Smiley, watching him hedging around something. “You might as well just come out with it. You’ve been skirting around a question since I first saw you in my office this morning.”
Smiley grinned again. “You would’ve made a great snoop, Boss. Okay, it’s this Contention Island thing.”
Brett’s eyes widened, remembering the assignment he’d set Smiley weeks ago, bringing back to his mind the things he’d forgotten about and should have followed up but had got lost in the hectic pace of the new job.
Smiley appeared vulnerable, his reputation at stake with his new boss. “I told you if there was anything to it I’d sniff it out, right? But I guess I’ll have to admit it’s beaten me. There are a lot of islands in contention and a lot of contentious islands, but nothing named Contention Island. So I guess my leads have all led nowhere.”
Brett eyed Smiley for a long time, wondering whether he should make the reporter suffer before answering, but watching a myriad of concerned gestures flashing across his top newsman’s features and with Smiley in turn trying to read his boss’ expression, Brett decided to play it straight. “That’s interesting, Smiley. Maybe I need to give you the limited information I have, but this is confidential and personal, so I want you to respect that.”
“Sure, you know me, Boss,” Smiley’s grin returned, figuring he had a chance to redeem himself.
“My wife, Becky, suffers from recurring nightmares and these nightmares contain a woman named Katie and somehow she drifts in and out of Becky’s subconsciousness, scaring the life out of her. Neither Becky, nor her mum, have any idea who Katie is, but the nightmares have been happening all her life. I suspect her mother knows something of the intensity and the atmosphere to the dreams, but not the purpose; and the nightmares seem at their worst when Katie visits a place called Contention Island. Oh, and she sees something in the sky above the waves which causes her great trauma, and in turn that somehow scares the life out of Becky. I secretly tried to question Becky’s mum, but it has some kind of grip on her, too.”
Smiley’s eyes widened in shock, turning over Brett’s revelation. ”I don’t mean to be offensive, Boss, but this sounds like a job for shrink, not a snoop.”
“Yeah, I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but if I could just get a clue, something to go on, I might be able to get to the bottom of it without all the psychology mumbo jumbo.”
“O... kay! I’ll do my best now I have more idea of what is going on, but you don’t make it easy for a man, Brett.”
“Numero uno... are you giving up the title?” Brett teased with a massive grin.
Smiley shook his head determinedly and peered past Brett for a moment, then spoke his swirling thoughts, “You know, Brett, when these tangled mysteries are unravelled, they can have devastating effects for those they are unravelled on. Sometimes things are better left alone.”
Brett considered Smiley’s words and then the contorted face of Becky suffering in the nightmares drifted into his memory. “Maybe you're right, Smiley, but I think I need to take a chance on this one.”
*~*~*~*
Chapter 9
Moving all the salvageable equipment from the old bakery to a building just down the road, it had been a busy time for Mr Lieberman and Majiv. Their new premises had been donated rent-free for a year by a local businessman, incensed at the destruction of the Liebermans' Fine Cakes and Bread. The callous act had defied the culprits’ intentions, uniting the neighbourhood in favour of the Liebermans, instead of the desired cultural division and expected forced eviction from the area. With the help of the local people, some of which Majiv had never seen before, the bakery reopened its doors in record time and was supplying fresh produce within a week. Warmed by the public effort to help the bakery succeed, Mr Lieberman offered his first day’s trading for free, a gesture that cemented their presence within the community for many years to come.
“See, Majiv, not all people seek to destroy a righteous man, with our God having His eye on the good and bad alike. The people who thought they destroyed our business sought to run us over with their avalanche of hatred, but yet God brought good out of a greater avalanche of love.”
Majiv considered the old man’s words in his heart and filed them away for future reference.
*~*~*~*
Majiv yawned and dragged his tired feet up the stairs to his room. The days were extremely busy since the fire had destroyed their bakery and an increase in customers kept him at the business premises for fourteen hours a day now. He pulled out his chair from the small desk in his room and flopped down, but it took his eyes many long moments to focus on the elegant cup containing his pens and pencils. With faltering determination, he opened the small notebook, turned to the inside back cover and stared down at the blank page.
Reaching for his favourite pen, the cup collided with a tired hand, sending the contents tumbling to the floor. Annoyed at his clumsy fingers, he dropped off the chair and onto his knees and chased the contents until he had retrieved his precious collection and replaced them into their correct place safe in the cup. Finding his seat at the desk again, he reached for his favourite pen, careful not to repeat his folly and with a tired scrawl he wrote, ‘Hatred starts as a snowflake and ends as an avalanche.’ Smiling down at the words and revitalised by the sight of the sentence, he flipped the notebook over and finding a clean new page, Majiv stared at the lined piece of paper, willing his tired mind to think. Hoping to gain inspiration with a small rest, he laid his head down across the desk for a moment, trying to tease
his thoughts, however, a fuzzy world of exhaustion pulled its dark curtain across the teen’s creativeness and his eyes slowly closed.
Disturbed by a gnawing pain in his neck, Majiv shifted his head and stiffly rubbed a tender spot, searching the darkness beyond the desk lamp. The old clock ticking from its pride of place above his bed chimed once, but the rest of the busy house was quiet with all of the activity strangely still. Mr and Mrs Lieberman’s schedule was as regular as the old clock ticking in his room, with the final sounds of the day dying out at eleven o’clock each night, giving old Mr Lieberman four hours sleep after which he would come and wake Majiv and their busy cycle of work would start again.
Fumbling in the dark, Majiv located his pen that had fallen from his grip and replaced it back in its home then felt for his notebook, tenderly rubbed the blank page and whispered, "I’m sorry, Mum and Dad. I will try again tomorrow night." Closing the notebook, Majiv quietly slipped the chair back from the desk, stretched out his frame and found his bed, yet it seemed only minutes had passed when Mr Lieberman shook him from his dreams.
“Come, Majiv, the day has begun.”
Sleepily plodding the half hour trek along the dark sidewalk and in the company of Mr Lieberman, the two lonely figures walked toward the bakery. He noticed the seasons were changing and the warm balmy mornings were giving way to a brisk chilling bite, painting a rosy bloom into his cheeks. The first signs of chill were a reminder that his seventeenth birthday was only days away and that brought a sense of joy to the teen. Birthdays in the Lieberman household were a lavish affair and the birthday recipient was treated like royalty and the celebrations started early. Business was suspended for the day and joyous noise emanated from the Lieberman home with many invited guests, music and dancing.
Everyone looked forward to a birthday celebration, even if it wasn’t their own.
Mr Lieberman paused in front of the building proudly announcing in big letters above the door, Lieberman’s Bakery—Fine Cakes and Bread. Reaching into his coat pocket and finding his key, the lock gave way under the old man’s hand and as he twisted the handle, the door slowly creaked ajar. Pushed by the old man, the door swung open and for the first time Majiv noticed a sign written in Mr Lieberman’s handwriting, advertising the need for a junior shop assistant, pasted to the glass. He hadn’t seen the sign before and suspected Mr Lieberman had posted it as he was leaving the night before.
Once Majiv finished his baking duties, he spent the rest of his time in the busy shop front helping serve customers, receiving many generous tips from admiring females, but true to Majiv’s nature, he simply thanked each woman and placed the extra money in the till. Unwilling to consider the tip to be his own, Majiv struggled to understand why he was singled out for the particular attention and didn’t believe himself to be anything special; although Mr Lieberman theorised cakes and bread weren’t the only reason many of his customers made frequent visits to his shop. Now that business had boomed, Mr Lieberman could afford to return some of his good fortune back into the community by hiring a junior shop assistant and take some of the load off Majiv. Mr Lieberman knew the boy was tired, but Majiv had a thankful spirit and didn’t complain, simply shouldering the responsibility placed upon his young frame and kept going.
The dark building soon burst into life as Mr Lieberman switched on the lights and closed the circuit breaker, bringing to life the bakery ovens and mixers. With the front door firmly relocked to the early morning sidewalk, the bakers’ day had officially begun and there was plenty to do.
After the last customer had left the premises, Mr Lieberman collected the unsold items and placed them in a bag to take home, shut the shop and placed the closed sign into the front window. Glancing sideways to his young apprentice, the telltale signs of fatigue hung heavily across his handsome face and once again the day had been hectic, leaving Majiv exhausted. Waiting with Mr Lieberman on the sidewalk as he locked the front door, Majiv noticed the shop assistant wanted sign had been removed and a question formed in the young man’s eyes.
As if the older man had read a script attached to Majiv’s countenance, Mr Lieberman replied to the unspoken question. “We have a new helper, Majiv, and she will start on Monday. She is a sixteen year old local girl, offering us a chance to give back to the community by offering her work.”
Majiv nodded. He wasn’t sure of Mr Lieberman’s plan, but an extra pair of hands would certainly take some of the pressure off him.
*~*~*~*
Marguerite stood in front of her mirror and pulled back the curly blonde hair hiding parts of her usually pretty face and examined the new bruise around her eye. The news wasn’t welcome. After a clandestine night out, she’d managed to escape the gaze of her father by applying a heavy shield of makeup, but patting down her skirt over her stomach, she conceded hiding this would take more than makeup and it would only be a matter of time before her father noticed. Exhaling a long, nervous sigh, Marguerite was thankful winter was on its way, making concealment a viable possibility for at least a few more months and giving her time to plan her next move. She felt almost claustrophobic under the pressure of her father’s obsessiveness and racial hatred, dreading the year ahead, and if she was going to survive to see her seventeenth birthday, she had to provide an opportunity for herself and leave home before he found out. Marguerite knew her father would search relentlessly for her and when he found her... she shuddered. Now at least she had a plan of sorts and the rest she would make up as she went.
*~*~*~*
Monday morning was just another normal day at the bakery. It was 7:45 am and the shop would open in fifteen minutes, so Majiv hurried to stack a large tray of hot bread into display shelves and searched the cabinets, checking all was neat and tidy before an expected influx of customers arrived just after 8 am. As Majiv returned to the back of the shop to gather another tray of cakes, he heard the bell on the shop door and Mr Lieberman’s voice talking to someone.
“Majiv, come here, please!” Mr Lieberman called out.
Majiv obediently entered the shop front, only to be greeted by a young girl standing next to Mr Lieberman.
“Majiv, this is Marguerite.”
*~*~*~*
Chapter 10
Captain Lewis quickly lost sight of the strange cutter that had almost collided with the Riviera. He made notes on times and positions into his log, fully intending to give the proper authorities a rundown of the events and to seek a full restitution for such a dangerous act, expecting at the very least the offending cutter captain would be stripped of his master's certificate. Lewis had a good part of the offending vessel's name, hoping local knowledge could fill in any discrepancies, identify the scoundrel and give the outraged Lewis some compensation for taking unnecessary avoidance action and putting the pampered gentry at risk of spilling their tea.
Captain Lewis glanced up at the sound of the first mate’s voice. “Barrett Passage dead ahead, Captain.”
Lewis left his furious thoughts and reached for his telescope, scouring the jagged rocky walls of the looming passage and observed the channel was clearly defined and visible at low tide, allowing a safe sojourn through the narrow route. A quick check of the chart identified Contention Island and the Barrett Passage; everything was exactly where it should be. Navigation notes suggested keeping the northern tip of Contention Island over the point of the bow and in so doing, establish the vessel’s safe course in the centre of the waterway. A warning in bold black letters cautioned smaller vessels to steer away from the strong eddies of Black Dean and hug the rocky wall opposite.
“All ahead one third, Mr Cook. Steer the point of the bow to the northern tip of Contention Island!”
“Aye, sir!”
The vessel slowed as the luxury steamer picked its way through the Barrett Passage. Lewis could easily see how so many vessels would have come to grief attempting the passage at night or at high tide with the dangerous reef and canal nearly invisible. From the bridge, a gaping dark hole appear
ed across the channel as Lewis caught his first impressions of Black Dean. With the Riviera passing close to the passage wall, Captain Lewis felt a cold shiver run up and down his spine as he peered into the dark, swirling mass—life and death separated by only a few metres. The seething water seemed almost like a restrained monster bucking against its tether, daring the vessel to come close enough for it to sink its fangs into and drag the floundering machine deep into its lair far beneath the turbulent waters, like it had done so many times in the past. Momentarily drifting under the pull of Black Dean as it crossed the edge of the whirlpool, the Riviera slipped closer to the monster’s charm, causing the mate to anxiously correct their course, pulling hard on the wheel and then pulling hard in the opposite direction once they cleared the swirling mass.
Lewis had now witnessed the legend of Black Dean personally and it didn’t take much imagination to see how this eerie place could swallow up an unsuspecting or unprepared captain and his vessel.
*~*~*~*
“Lady Katrina, please! It won’t take long for your father to realise you’ve taken up residence in my cabin. Although the accommodation is fine for someone of my social standing, it certainly is not befitting for someone of yours and your father will hold me responsible.”
“You can take my cabin, Tess, and all the trappings of a lady. I have had enough,” Katrina sulked.
“Beg pardon, my lady, if I could change places with you, I would do so in a moment. You have no understanding of your privileged life and what great good your wealth could afford the lesser privileged people of the world.”
Katrina stared up at Tess from the bunk she’d settled onto, realising Tess had just berated her for being a spoilt brat. “Do you want to trade places with me, Tess?” Katrina’s stubborn jaw set.