by DV Berkom
“I’m looking for someone.”
Derek stared at Leine. “That’s why you were on the ship. You think the person you’re looking for was part of Wang’s shipment?”
“She is. I confirmed it before Wang sidelined me. She disappeared from a hostel in Bangkok. I received information linking her disappearance to Wang’s latest shipment. An associate set up a meeting, and I saw her inside the container.”
Derek crossed his arms. “Is there even an employer?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“So now we’re even. We both lied.”
“You can help me find her.”
“How do you know Wang isn’t going to just auction her off?”
“I don’t. But when you told me about Wang’s floating safari camp for wealthy hunters in Tanzania, it clicked.”
Derek shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. “And if I decide to help you, what’s in it for me?”
“Like I told you earlier, I can ensure safe passage anywhere you want to go.”
“Nah. You need to give me more than that. I’ll be risking my life getting that close to Wang’s people after fucking up his little plan to sell me off to the highest bidder.”
“I’m sure we can work something out.” Leine watched him closely. “The girl I’m searching for witnessed a drug dealer gun down her little brother. As if that weren’t enough, she’s been kidnapped and shipped halfway around the world, to be used as a slave. You know Wang and can find his camp. My gut tells me she’s being delivered as part of the entertainment.”
“Add in a hefty payment and I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Leine held out her hand.
After a brief hesitation, he extended his and they shook. “What the hell am I doing?” Derek let out a frustrated sigh before he got up and limped to the forward hatch.
“Mind if I open this for some fresh air?” he called back to Leine.
“Go ahead.”
Derek unlatched the cover and heaved open the hatch. Warm sea air and the sound of gently lapping waves filled the cabin. “I’ll be back to relieve you in a little while,” he said before climbing out through the opening.
Leine peered through the window at the brilliant stars, thousands of shimmering diamonds like the one Derek had given Kibwe.
She’d been so close to rescuing Kylie. She took a deep breath and let it go, feeling the weight of all the victims out there who needed help.
Needed her help.
Stop it, Leine. It’s not your job to save the world.
Didn’t Santa tell her that once? He was right, of course, but for Leine the weight of the guilt she felt—for all of the targets she hit, no matter who she’d killed, for all of the women and children she couldn’t save—that guilt clung to her like a massive anchor tied around her neck, dragging her under.
She’d have to tread carefully with Derek. Without him, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
Chapter 15
Kylie closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. For what seemed like months she’d been squashed inside the small space alongside the other women with barely enough food and water to stay alive. She’d lost all sense of time and place, only knew they were still at sea. She yearned for the sun on her skin, a good meal, and a soft bed. If it wasn’t for the filtered light that came through slits near the roof, the women would be in total darkness, unaware if it was day or night.
Sapphire had been singled out during the transfer from the van to the ship, and Kylie hadn’t seen her again. Nor had she seen the little boy, Jaidee, since he’d been taken from the cell. The only hope she’d had was days—weeks?—ago, when she thought she’d seen her mother’s friend, Leine. But no one had come for her. Leine would have found a way to rescue her; she was certain of it.
Now, she wasn’t sure whom or what she’d seen that night before leaving Bangkok.
Two dozen women of differing ages and ethnicities sat huddled together in the back of the container. The walls were covered in Styrofoam and other noise-canceling material, as was the plywood separating them from the rest of the shipment. Dirty, threadbare blankets, not nearly enough for all of them, had been neatly folded and stacked in the corner, waiting to be shared. The women had taken to sleeping in shifts, the small space and hard floor less than ideal but better than nothing. Several jugs of drinking water had been lashed to one side with bungee cords. The throb of the ship’s engines became the droning background music to their tiny world.
Modesty soon took a backseat to survival, especially when it came to the five-gallon bucket they were expected to use for relieving themselves. The days stretched on, unbearably hot and stagnant, filled with dull monotony punctuated by short, terror-filled moments.
Except for when someone tapped on the outside of the container. Certain it was a trick by one of the crew, none of the women had tapped back. After the third time, Kylie moved to the spot where it had come from and, heart in her throat, tapped back. Whoever it was had knocked again, once. Kylie tried a few more times, but there was no reply. Convinced it had been a cruel joke by a crewmember, she pushed it from her mind.
The women inside that small room had come together in solidarity in an attempt to buoy each other from the crushing degradation of being at the mercy of the crew. On countless occasions when one of them delivered their food or emptied the bucket, he would pick out a woman and drag her, screaming, from the small compartment, to be offered as entertainment to the rest of the crew. Kylie had been relieved to learn from another woman who spoke English that the crew’s interest did not extend to her, as she was considered an infidel, and they were afraid she carried HIV. Although beyond grateful for their ignorance, her heart broke each time they brought one of the women back, shoving her through the opening as though worth no more than her ripped and bloodied clothing, a vacant stare replacing the human being who had once live inside.
The longer they were at sea the more terrified Kylie became, not knowing what would happen to her when they reached their destination. The English-speaking woman offered no insight. Unaware of the identity of her kidnappers, she’d been bundled into a van and driven away as she walked to the market for the day’s groceries. She didn’t know why she’d been targeted. According to her, most of the women’s stories were similar.
After several days, the taste and quality of the air changed, growing incrementally different than what she’d come to expect in Thailand. It felt drier, less verdant, although the briny sea air still overpowered everything else.
How far had they gone? Would she ever be able to return home? The last time she saw her father, they had a fight. He tried to forbid her from going on the trip by herself, citing her impulsiveness and politically liberal naiveté. After enumerating the myriad dangers that a young woman traveling alone in Southeast Asia would encounter, he stated bluntly he didn’t think she’d survive.
Like a pressure cooker at its limit she’d exploded, accusing him of failing to understand her, of telling her what to do, of his own bad judgement in choosing to eat at a restaurant in a bad section of town, where Brandon had been killed. The hurt in her father’s eyes still haunted her. What she wouldn’t give to take back the words she’d thrown at him. Yes, their views on politics and religion were vastly different, so much so that she often wondered whether she’d been adopted, but he’d been a good father, and she loved him in spite of it, as he did her. She missed her mother the most. Her calm demeanor and loving acceptance went a long way toward keeping the peace between them.
The women had finished their allotted bowls of rice when the ship’s engines slowed, followed by shouts from the crew. Kylie turned to her friend sitting next to her and asked what was happening.
“We’re stopping,” the woman said. “I think we are coming into port.”
Heart in her throat, Kylie crossed her arms and hugged herself. During the endless days and nights she had imagined every horrific scenario, which she tried to offset w
ith more positive ones, like meeting someone who could help, or Leine finding out where she was and swooping in to rescue her. What was it that her mother always told her? How nothing would ever be as bad as what she could imagine.
She hoped she was right.
Chapter 16
Kibwe had been partially right about the amount of fuel in the lifeboat. Twelve hours later the little craft’s engine sputtered, coughed once, and died. Leine was sitting outside on the bow in the relentless tropical sun when it happened. Land was still miles away, tantalizingly close yet too far to swim.
“Claire—” Derek called from inside. “I need your help.”
She dropped through the hatch. With no power, they’d be subject to the whims of the prevailing currents, drifting toward the busy shipping lanes leading to Dar es Salaam. Thankfully, the weather was cooperating with a slight wind from the northeast and calm seas.
Derek was near the stern. Oars from an equipment locker lay at his feet.
“Here,” he said, handing her one. “You prefer port or starboard?”
“Starboard.”
“I’ll take port.” He handed her several rations of water. “You’ll need these.”
Leine grabbed the compass from the steering station, and they both climbed through the hatch. Oar at the ready, she knelt on the right side of the bow. Derek did the same on the left.
“I’ll call the strokes,” he said, and waited until they’d both hydrated themselves. “Now row.”
Leine carved her oar into the water, matching his stroke.
They continued for twelve strokes, and then rested for a few moments before rowing another twelve. Leine relaxed into the rhythm of paddling followed by short rest periods. The lifeboat crept through the glare of sun on the water’s surface, headed for the shimmering continent.
They made landfall several hours later. Exhausted from the grueling workout, wind- and sunburned, they left the lifeboat where she ran aground. Checking on their supplies, Leine grabbed as much water as they could comfortably carry and shoved a couple of energy bars into her pockets. They bandaged the worst of their blisters before setting off down the white sand beach.
“We’re going to need money,” Derek said. “I’ve got a bit back at my place, but if the ship’s already in port, then Wang’s found out we escaped. It won’t be safe.”
She gazed at the lineup of ships on the water, waiting their turn to pull into port. “I assume his ships are able to bypass the line?”
Derek shrugged. “I wouldn’t doubt it. Grease the right palms…”
“I can send a message to my employer to wire funds.”
“You’ll need a passport.”
“Not if they wire the funds to you.” Leine figured Lou would be able to find her a passport, but it could take days. They didn’t have days. She could go to the embassy, fill out the paperwork to get an emergency passport, but she didn’t have time to go through the red tape and long lines, and Derek had mentioned that Wang had friends who worked there. She didn’t want to
Derek nodded. “All right, then. Cyber café it is.”
He hooked a sharp right and led the way through palm trees and heavy vegetation to a dirt road where they began to walk. The sun had just dropped below the horizon and everything was bathed in a dark orange hue. The dust of the road rose to greet them, settling on Leine’s skin like a fine talc.
Derek waved at an ancient, overloaded dala dala as it chugged past them. Its sole brake light blinked on and the rusty, derelict bus slowed to a stop. Derek jogged to the open door and spoke rapidly to the driver. He turned to Leine and nodded at the roof.
“He says we can ride into Dar on the top of the bus for free if I promise to help his cousin.”
Leine cocked her head but didn’t say anything. She grabbed hold of the metal bars on the open-air bus and climbed to the roof. Derek followed close behind, flopping onto his back on top of a large canvas bag.
“I have the feeling the man’s cousin is going to be disappointed,” Leine said.
He grinned at their fellow passengers and winked.
“Fuck it. It’s Africa.”
***
Traffic in Dar es Salaam was purported to be some of the worst in the world, and that evening’s slow crawl into the city did not disappoint. It didn’t take long before Leine had enough of diesel exhaust and sweat, mixed with the steady honking of impatient and hostile drivers. As soon as she spotted a sign advertising Internet access, she signaled to Derek she was getting off. He followed her into the small store, complaining loudly that she had gotten off too soon.
“I’m done, Derek. I can’t take the slow pace. We can walk faster than that. Besides,” she said, indicating the crowded café, “this should work nicely.”
“And just how the hell are we going to pay for access? Did you happen to pick up a few shillings?”
Leine glanced at his backside and arched an eyebrow. Derek shook his head and stepped away.
“Oh no, no, no. There’s nothing left back there. I gave Kibwe all I had.”
Leine shrugged. “You’ll figure it out,” she said, heading to a recently vacated computer. “Use your charm.”
Still grumbling, Derek walked to the counter and engaged the clerk in conversation. A few minutes later, he was back and handed her a slip of paper.
“Here’s the code. You’ve got twenty minutes.”
“Let me guess. You’re going to help his sister?”
“Just send your message. Use this bank.” Derek scribbled a name on a piece of paper.
Leine logged into a secure chat room and sent a message to Lou, detailing that she’d found Kylie, what had happened since Bangkok, and why he hadn’t heard from her, adding a line asking about April. It was before dawn back in LA, but Lou was an early riser and tended to check his email first thing. Then, she sent a note to Santa, letting him know she was all right and not to worry.
Yeah, she thought, that’s gonna happen. The man sitting at the computer to her left stood and walked out of the café, his screen showing several minutes remaining. Then the woman to her right scowled at her and did the same. Leine scanned the room, searching for the reason they’d left, but didn’t notice anything unusual. Was it something she said?
A few minutes later, Lou replied, confirming the amount and the bank’s address. He added that one of his old contacts in the city should be able to get her a passport quickly. His answer regarding April was frustratingly vague. Leine glanced at the clock on the wall behind them to see how much time they had left. Five minutes. Derek walked over to speak with the clerk in order to give her some privacy.
Deciding to pursue Lou’s non-answer about her daughter once she had more time and resources, she replied that she’d lost Kylie, who was now most likely on her way to Wang’s camp somewhere in Tanzania. She sketched out her plan to use Derek’s help to find the camp, mentioned that he asked for payment, and that she’d offered to get him out of the country. She waited for a reply, but Lou didn’t respond right away. Derek returned and now it was his turn to get antsy. He started agitating for her to end the session since their time had almost run out. Leine ignored him.
“He’ll reply,” she said, hoping she was right. Every time she cut off communication with her handlers in her former profession, it was like severing an umbilical cord. Once she broke contact she was literally on her own, and if she fucked up, anyone associated with her or her mission would disavow all knowledge.
Granted, this time wasn’t quite the same, but it was still like being cut loose.
Another glance at the clock told her they had less than a minute remaining. The clerk was giving them a dirty look. Derek crossed his arms and tapped his foot. Leine moved the cursor to close out of the chat room when a message from Lou popped up on the screen. She allowed herself a sigh of relief and read it.
“He says a passport can be expedited. It’ll be ready tomorrow afternoon.”
Derek whistled. “He’s got some kind of connections.
That usually takes days.”
“Former life,” she said, by way of explanation. Lou also gave her the go-ahead to track the container and pay Derek. He added that he’d contact Kylie’s parents with an update.
She wrote down the address where she was to pick up the passport and logged out of the program. “Where do you suggest we spend the night?” she asked, standing. “Your place won’t be safe, and neither of us has any money.”
“I know just the spot,” Derek said.
Chapter 17
Leine followed Derek up three flights of stairs in the well-lit block building, then down a long hallway to the third door on the right. Although it was obvious that he’d been there before, perhaps many times, there was no number or letter signifying that it was a separate residence.
Derek rapped on the door two times, followed by three short knocks. Leine stepped back in an attempt to get downwind of him, but then sniffed her own underarms.
And gagged.
Jesus. No wonder the people at the cyber café had gotten up to leave.
The door opened and a stylish, statuesque woman who would have looked at home on the cover of Jet or Vogue appeared, expectation bright in her dark eyes, a delighted smile on her full lips. The smile dissolved when she caught sight of Leine. With a frown, she pushed the door open with her foot and stood aside, arms crossed. Ignoring her scowl, Derek walked into the apartment and leaned in for a peck on the cheek. She sniffed and waved at the air. Wary of the woman’s displeasure, Leine followed him in.
The clean, sparsely furnished apartment had been decorated in bright colors: a cheery yellow print covered a futon resting against one wall. A brilliant red and black tablecloth covered a wooden dining table with matching chairs next to the small kitchen area. Similarly bright fabric had been used as wall hangings. All in all a cheerful place—and in direct contrast to the woman’s current mood.