Across the Deep

by Lisa McGuinness

  “They’ll get him,” the officer said, just as the other two broke through the flimsy motel door.

  Grady. Claire noticed the name on his tag. Officer Grady.

  “Bang! Bang!” Suda said to him, pointing to Claire’s leg.

  “Were you shot?” he asked, seeing the torn pants and the blood.

  “Yes, and it hurts like a bitch,” Claire said, but smiled for the first time. “I jumped across a counter to try to stop him, but it turns out that wasn’t the best idea.”

  He spoke into his radio.

  “An ambulance will be here soon.”

  “We’ll need two, because I am not riding with him,” she said as she watched Aanwat being led out by the two officers.

  Suda sat down weakly, her legs no longer strong enough to hold her up.

  “Does she speak English?” the officer asked.

  “Only a little. She’s Thai, here visiting me,” Claire stammered, realizing Suda could get detained and deported. “We’re friends with Chai. Do you know him? He’s a cop.” She hoped dropping Chai’s name would keep them from asking too many questions about Suda. Claire gestured with her chin toward Aanwat. “He said he has Chai, and our other friend Simone, too.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, we told the hotel guy to tell the dispatcher. He has them somewhere, but I don’t know where.”

  Suda heard Simone and Chai’s names and understood that Claire was telling the officer that they had been taken, but she had no idea what the English word for “shipping container” was, so she pointed to herself.

  “Like I here.”

  “What?” Claire asked.

  “Like I,” Suda said again and mimed a box.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Suda frantically mimed a box and pointed to herself.

  “What’s she saying?” the officer asked.

  “I don’t know.” Claire stared at Suda intently, trying to understand.

  Finally Suda took Claire’s hand and brought her to the desk, grabbed a pen and paper, and drew a boat and a box on top.

  “A shipping container! A shipping container,” Claire yelled and turned to the officer. “He has them in a shipping container.”

  “Wait here,” he said and then strode to his car and spoke into the radio and to the other officers, gesticulating intently.

  It was then that the first ambulance arrived on the scene, and Aanwat, barely conscious from shock, was loaded in. An officer climbed in beside him, and they pulled away.

  The second ambulance arrived while Grady was conferring with the other three policemen on the scene. When it pulled up, two EMTs—one a beefy red-haired man and the other a ponytailed woman—jumped out of the cab and then, after a quick word with him, strode toward Claire and Suda, stretcher between them. They helped Claire onto the stretcher, gently unwrapped the flannel shirt Claire had tied around the wound, and then cut open the leg of her jeans to see what they were dealing with. It was jagged and covered in blood, which began flowing freely again once the makeshift bandage had been removed. Claire paled at the sight, and they laid her back and then loaded her into the ambulance.

  “She comes with me!” Claire insisted, taking Suda’s hand. She wasn’t about to leave her here to end up in police custody.

  “Of course,” the female helped Suda climb in and told her to sit on the small seat while the other EMT started an IV.

  “This will help,” he told Claire and reassuringly squeezed her arm. “Do you know whether you’re allergic to any medications?”

  “No pain meds!” Claire said, jerking her arm as if to rip out the IV.

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry. There are no painkillers in there. Just saline to get you hydrated and help with shock.”

  “Okay,” Claire relaxed and laid her head back. “I was addicted to Percocet,” she explained. “I can’t have anything with opioids.”

  The EMT noted it on a clipboard attached to the gurney.

  “Got it,” she smiled at Claire reassuringly. “You’re going to be fine. She leaned over Claire and looked closely at her nose but didn’t touch her face.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Got punched,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “I think we can safely say it’s broken, but they’ll fix you right up in the ER.”

  “Thanks,” Claire said and took Suda’s hand, but her mind was on Simone and Chai more than on her injuries. “But we have to help them find our friends.”

  “The police are on it now. You can rest,” she told her. “Just rest.”

  “She can rest soon,” Officer Grady said. Climbing into the ambulance, he sat next to Suda. “First, though, I need her statement. We can talk on the way to the hospital.”

  Claire took a moment to assess him to determine whether he was trustworthy. His short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair showed on the sides of his police cap, and he had deep smile lines around his eyes. But still, plenty of men she would have guessed were safe had picked her up and paid for her services. How could anyone tell anything about anybody? It was impossible. But Chai was a cop, and the officer who finally convinced her to get help from the police was a cop, so she decided to trust him, and she poured out the whole story, hoping she’d be in good hands.

  Simone and Chai

  “It’s amazing how slowly time passes when a person is stuck in a small dark space with nothing to do but fret,” Simone said and tried to stretch out her stiff legs. After hours of sitting on rigid steel, her butt hurt almost as much as her shoulder did, and her eyes hurt from trying to see in the dark.

  During the day, a hint of light had seeped through the crack encircling the large, swinging door, but now that it was night, darkness infused the space, entering into every inch—so much so that they couldn’t even see the faintest outline of each other.

  “But,” she continued after a pause, “there’s something good about entering into the suffering together. We’re still experiencing part of what’s happening with Suda—but from afar. Still, somehow being cold, being frightened, worrying about her—feels like we’re a part of it. Does that sound odd?”

  “I think I understand. It’s what you do; right? You enter into the suffering that the women have been through. That way they’re not alone. You fight for them.”

  “You, too. You go down into the trenches to help get others out. It’s painful and difficult.”

  “And frustrating,” Chai added.

  “Sometimes it feels like rowing upstream,” Simone agreed.

  “Yeah, against the wind.”

  “I think we’ve both counted the cost and are willing to be in it. The suffering, the cost that comes with living life in the way we are. Weirdly enough if feels like a privilege, don’t you think?” Simone asked. “We get to live our lives with people who have been through so much, and we get to at least do a little bit to help.”

  Simone paused and was quiet for a moment, then continued. “And there’s joy, too. For sure,” she mused.

  “What do you find the most joyful part?” Chai asked.

  “The joy that comes from the hope, I think. The girls get to have hope for a different future. And that’s real. Not just daydreaming about a better life but getting tools to live it. And help; you know?”

  “Mmmmm,” Chai agreed. “It’s real. And the moments when you’re all around your dinner table—I see joy there. The bond between Claire and Suda. Did you notice how protective Claire was of Suda when I told the two of you about Aanwat?”

  “I did. She was right in it. Ready to fight for her although they have known each other for only a matter of months.”

  “She doesn’t even know it yet, but I think Claire has a heart of gold.”

  “Don’t tell her that. She would hate it and would probably just say something snide—and most likely profane, too,” Simone
said, but Chai could hear the smile in her voice.

  “It’s our secret for now.”

  “I’m starving, and I feel like a jerk for being hungry and bored. What if we never find her?”

  “Inhale and exhale. We’ll just be here for the moment. breathing and praying is all we can do.”

  “Yeah.” Simone shivered. The temperature was dropping. “But I actually suck at praying. It’s not my strength at all. I’m a doer, and praying takes a still mind.”

  “I get it. It’s difficult. I’m around so much ugliness and have thoughts that are no good and say stuff that’s no good that half the time I’m trying to pray, it consists of saying, “Sorry, God …

  sorry, God …”

  Simone laughed. “I do that sometimes, too. I’ll say, ‘shit,’ pause, and then add ‘Sorry, Lord!’ I like to think He’s got bigger fish to fry than my bad language.”

  “Let’s hope so, or I’m in serious trouble. But, hey, at least we’re in communication, right?”

  “Knowing that it’s okay to be flawed is such a gift; isn’t it?”

  “Huge.”

  “Here,” Chai took off his jacket, felt his way to her in the darkness, and then wrapped her in it. “In the meantime, at least we’ve gotten time to get to know each other better.”

  “That’s been nice,” Simone smiled in spite of herself and thanked him for the use of his jacket. “Tell me if you get too cold. We can trade off.”

  “Is it okay if I just tuck my hands in for a minute?”

  Simone opened the jacket, and he wrapped his arms around her, tucking his cold hands inside to warm them up. They rested that way for a long moment, each savoring the warmth and the comfort of each other.

  “What if she’s dead?” Simone said softly, her head resting against his chest.

  “We can’t think that way.”

  “You’re right,” Simone concurred. They both paused, listening to the silence for a moment “What time do you think it is now?”

  “I’m guessing somewhere between ten and midnight,” Chai shifted, trying to get comfortable.

  Simone jerked her head up and turned toward the door.

  “What?”

  “Did you hear something?” She thought she had heard a sound that didn’t fit in with the silence her ears had adjusted to as the dock noises had gradually receded with the light of day. She strained to hear beyond the layered quiet.

  Chai sat completely still and listened, trying to distinguish any distinct sound. “I don’t think …”

  “That,” Simone said, staring into the darkness of her surroundings, as if the sound itself would manifest. “It might be the crackle of a radio.”

  Chai listened again. And then he heard it, too, and then again, as it seemed to increase in volume as someone drew closer. He put his finger to his lips, which Simone could just make out in the inky surroundings.

  “Why?” Simone barely whispered.

  “Let’s see if we can figure out who it is before giving ourselves away.”

  Chai stood, walked quietly to the door and angled his ear toward it. The sound came again, this time accompanied by a voice.

  “Nothing seems out of the ordinary here,” he heard a man’s voice say.

  Who was it? Chai wondered. Something about the tone and the faint radio sounds made him think it was police, but he wanted to be sure before he banged on the door.

  “I see no signs of foul play, Sergeant,” the voice said, and that was enough for Chai to believe his instincts had been correct, so he raised his fists and began to pound.

  “We’re in here,” Chai yelled.

  “Help!” Simone shouted.

  Chai took off his heavy, black leather belt and used the solid metal buckle to create a clang that caught the attention of the man outside.

  “Grady,” they heard the voice say. “They’re in here!”

  “Chai?” Officer Grady yelled through the door.

  “Yeah, I’m here. Simone Williams is here with me.”

  “Hang tight. We’ve got bolt cutters,” he yelled.

  Time seemed to move in slow motion as they held their breath until a sharp snapping sound signaled their freedom, and then the door hinges creaked open, allowing a whisper of fog to enter the container.

  “Grady,” Chai started speaking before the door was all the way opened, “there’s a possible abduction in progress. A woman, Asian, slight, about five feet, maybe a hundred pounds. Long, bleached hair. Brown eyes.” Chai was rattling off Suda’s stats in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Suda Hwan? It’s okay; we’ve got her.”

  “You’ve got her?” Simone asked. Her fear and stress felt like it blew out of her body, leaving her feeling limp.

  “She’s fine. Her associate was shot in the leg and has a broken nose, though. She was taken by ambulance to San Francisco General.”

  “Who?” Simone frantically asked. “Who got shot?”

  “A young woman named Claire,” Officer Grady said, remembering only Claire’s first name. “She was amazing. Single-

  handedly took out the perp. Stabbed him in the eye with the handle end of a toothbrush.”

  “A toothbrush?” Chai asked.

  “She stabbed him in the eye?” Simone asked, grimacing. They had moved outside the container and were huddled against the wind coming off the bay.

  “She told us that she read it was the easiest way to kill a person in some novel.”

  “Is he dead?” Simone asked, shocked.

  “Not dead. At the hospital in police custody.”

  “That’s so Claire. Only she would learn the best way to kill someone in a book,” Simone said, attempting but failing to stop herself from inappropriately laughing. “Sorry,” she mumbled, embarrassed, and covered her mouth. “I don’t know why I’m laughing. It’s horrible.”

  “Don’t worry,” Chai squeezed her shoulder. “You’re just reacting to the shock. It’s not uncommon.”

  “It was a smart move, actually,” Grady said. “It may have saved both of their lives.”

  “Listen, Grady,” Chai said. “We’ve got to get Simone to a hospital, too. Either her shoulder is dislocated or her clavicle is broken, I can’t tell which. She needs an x-ray.”

  “I see that,” he said, taking in the way Simone was cradling her arm. “Ambulance or a ride in the back seat of our patrol car?” he asked Simone.

  “Back seat would be fine. Thank you,” she said gratefully.

  “C’mon,” he said and steered them both toward the black-and-white SUV while he spoke quickly into the radio attached to his shirt at the shoulder.

  Chai helped Simone get into the back seat and then slid in next to her.

  Once they were in, Grady passed back two bottles of water. Chai opened Simone’s first, handed it to her, and then drank deeply from his own.

  “They’re safe,” Simone said to Chai. “Thank God.”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s going to happen now?” Simone whispered.

  “I’m not sure.” He turned to her and said softly, “It depends on whether they’ve realized that Suda isn’t here legally.”

  “They won’t deport her; will they?” Simone whispered.

  “Not if I can help it,” he said.

  Simone reached for Chai’s hand, entwined her fingers with his, and leaned her head against the back of the seat, eyes closed. The SUV’s heater combined with the relief of being out of the container had infused her body with warmth. Suda was safe. Claire was safe. She would soon know what had happened, but the details almost didn’t matter. What mattered was that they had stopped Aanwat from taking her. She wondered about the rest of the organization Chai was working in and whether they would give up and leave Suda alone now, but she would have to find out about that later. For now, she would happily put herself in t
he hands of a competent doctor, but first she wanted to call Grace.

  Grady passed his phone back to Simone so she could make the call.

  “Grace! It’s me,” she said when Grace picked up.

  “Simone!” Grace shrieked, hearing the familiar voice. “Where are you? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Simone said, although Chai heard a wave of emotion in her voice now that she really was fine and talking with Grace. “A little banged up, but nothing too bad. The police found us. I’m with Chai. We’re on the way to the hospital.”

  “I’m at the hospital with Claire and Suda. Call me when you get here, and I’ll meet you.”

  “Yes, I will.” Simone said and paused. “Grace …”

  “Yeah, Sy?”

  “Nothing. I’m just … I can’t believe this all happened.” Simone felt heat behind her eyes but pushed her fingers against her lids, refusing to give in to crying again.

  “I know. It’s going to be all right, though. Everyone is okay.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. See you soon,” she said and then hung up, inhaled shakily, and passed the phone forward. She thought of Claire and Suda safely together with Grace and whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Chai

  “We suspect your cover’s been blown, but there’s a bright spot,” the captain told Chai the next morning, after calling him into her office and closing the door. Chai sat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs that faced her desk, which was barely visible under stacks of paper. The morning sun slanted through cheap metal window blinds, leaving a striped patch of sun on the industrial light green wall of the office. It felt good to Chai to be at the precinct. It had been months since he had been in, and it felt like coming home.

  “What’s that?” he asked, his face giving no indication of his feelings about the matter.

  “We have Aanwat in custody, and I’m thinking we can flip him.” She ran her fingers through her short brown hair—flecks of gray beginning to add streaks through it. She had a frank, no-nonsense face, neither pretty nor unattractive, old nor young, but intelligent, animated. Her shrewd eyes penetrating and watchful. “We send him back with the caveat that he reports in regularly. A member of our counterpart in Chiang Rai will be designated to be his handler and voilá—our combined task force will have a man on the inside. We basically swap him for you. That could give us the breakthrough we need.”