"How do you know I'm not?"
"'Cause I can feel you're not."
Hannah smiled, but they were already past the guard. Beside her Billy sat stone still.
"You okay?" Hannah asked.
"Yeah. Sure," Billy said.
He was okay, but just okay. The first hurdle had been cleared and he knew better than any of them how many things could go wrong with this plan. They had to find the boat Miguel had secured, sail it past the Coast Guard cutters, and get on the Faret Vild. Somehow Hannah, Sparkle, and Jamal would have to distract whoever came to meet them long enough for Billy to get onboard unnoticed and disappear. Running into even one mate who recognized him would end this whole thing if the Coast Guard didn't get them first.
"Jamal? You all right?" Hannah asked.
"Doing good," came the answer, but the man sounded shaky.
When Hannah locked eyes with Billy, she saw the question in his. Hannah shook her head, which did nothing to address his concerns. There was no choice but to believe that Jamal was all in. He had been opposed to the idea that they could rescue Tala Reyes, signing on only when he couldn't come up with a better idea than having them all pose as a love boat crew. If the situation hadn't been so scary, Billy would have laughed. Now that they were here all he could do was pray.
"Do you know what you're looking for, Miguel?" Billy scooted forward and put his hand on the man's shoulder, peering through the front windshield, looking for any sign that they had drawn notice from the night workers. Miguel clicked on his brights.
"My buddy says it's tied up and ready to go. Look for a Boston Whaler."
The curtain behind Hannah opened, and Jamal peered out.
"That doesn't sound bad. A whaler's big, right? Right?"
Miguel drove around the night crew as they changed shifts, and veered off before he actually drove on to the pier where the Faret Vild had been docked only two days ago. In answer to Jamal's question, Miguel said:
"There. There it is."
He pulled to a stop. Doors opened and everyone piled out. Miguel went to the back and opened the double doors for Jamal.
"Thanks." Jamal put his hands on the small of his back and stretched out the kinks. "That's a tight fit, Miguel."
"It's meant to carry beer kegs not people."
"Damn it's cold." Jamal said. Hannah came and put her arms around him as he asked: "Where's this whaler boat?"
"There." Miguel pointed.
"Where?"
"There," Miguel pointed again. Jamal let go of Hannah, pulled back and then walked forward a few paces.
"That thing? That thing's hardly big enough for all of us. What kind of whale could you catch in that?"
Jamal went further afield, marking off the pier with his long strides, eyeing the boat that would take them to the Faret Vild. Miguel followed after, trying to keep pace with the big man.
"It's what I could get. Twenty-five feet, man. It's fine," Miguel insisted.
"Its name is Peanut. They painted the name Peanut on it." Jamal threw up his hands. "Oh my God, Hannah. Peanut."
She pulled at her hair and tucked it under the collar of her top so it wouldn't blow in the wind. Miguel gave her a shrug and got on the boat; there was no time to argue.
"Jamal, it's okay. Seriously," Hannah said. "You don't have to go."
She lowered her voice even though there was little chance the others would hear. Billy was helping Sparkle into the boat that was bumping against the pier. Sparkle made the leap smoothly and joined Miguel as he readied the whaler. Jamal took Hannah's arm.
"Just tell me what you want to do," Hannah said. "There isn't much time to debate the downside."
"Hannah, I want you to admit this is nuts," he said. "What are we thinking? We've already committed a crime because we lied our way in here, but now you want all of us to get in that boat, somehow get around the Coast Guard, and get onboard that . . . that. . ."
Jamal threw his arm out toward the ship on the horizon.
"You want to try to go get on that ship by pretending you're hookers and somehow find a woman that Billy says is hurt."
"She is hurt. She does need us. No one else is going to help."
"There must be someone else. Anyone else," Jamal said. "This is like some B-movie. What am I supposed to be?"
"Our pimp." Hannah's shoulders rose, not in a shrug of apology but in acknowledgement of reality. Jamal looked incredulous. "Oh come on, Jamal. You're the black guy. That's the way it would be in a movie."
"This isn't a movie. I said it was like a movie," he snapped as he grabbed her, pinning her arms to her side. "This isn't funny. That boat is small. The weather is bad. There are too many hurdles. We could get arrested. Worse, we could capsize, Hannah. I don't know about you, but I'm not Billy. I couldn't swim ten feet in this water much less three miles.
"I'm scared for you; I'm scared for all of us. These are good folks. None of us knows what we're going to find on that ship even if we manage to get there. Hannah, one man is dead already."
"We have to try," Hannah insisted.
"Why? Because Billy said so? There are four of us. We're talking about one woman. Is one woman worth this?"
For a flicker of an instant Hannah looked deep into Jamal's eyes. She saw everything: his fear and anger, his love for her and his hope that she would change her mind. But what she saw and what she heard wouldn't change her mind anymore than Billy not recognizing the picture on Tala's paperwork changed his.
"Yes, she's worth all this," Hannah said and walked away.
Jamal breathed deep. He put one hand on his hip. The wind blew his long, tight locks over his shoulder. He flipped them back and turned toward the van. His decision was made, too. He wouldn't, couldn’t, be a party to this. He was ashamed that he had come this far.
Before he got half way to the van, Jamal turned around, determined to try once more to talk some sense into Hannah, but once more it was too late. She stood on the dock while Billy braced himself on the boat. She took his outstretched hand and for a moment they swayed together to get the rhythm of water. Billy listed forward and then rocked back, gently pulling and pushing Hannah. When the time was right Hannah leapt and Billy guided her until she hit the deck. Just then there was a flash of dry lightening. It was brief and yet long enough for Jamal to see all he needed to see.
Billy and Hannah held onto one another with grace and surety, he protecting her and Hannah giving Billy confidence and courage. In the next instant, not even a blink of an eye, they were all motion. Sparkle stood by Miguel who was at the wheel. Hannah, looking wild with her hair flying in her face, stood at the stern and kept her eyes on the harbor and the big ship at anchor.
Billy jumped out of the boat, grabbed the rope, and started to unwind it from the cleat. Hannah called to him, Billy answered, but he wasn't looking at her. Billy was looking at Jamal. He understood what the man was going through: questioning his commitment to a plan where the cards were stacked against them, but not his love of Hannah.
Jamal set his jaw. He shook his head at Billy as if to say what the blond man already knew: they were a true ship of fools. For Billy and Hannah this was an errand of chivalry or duty or love. For Sparkle it was a way to claim her place in heaven. Miguel had been pulled out with the tide, eager to do something heroic in Sparkle's eyes. Jamal was there because Hannah was.
As Billy made to throw the rope onboard, Jamal sprinted down the dock and, as he leapt onboard the Peanut, he grasped Billy's shoulder; Billy took his arm and guided the big man down.
Jamal was in.
"Archer?"
He opened his eyes and pushed himself up in the chair, ignoring the crick in his neck, vaguely aware that his right leg was tingling because it had been tucked against the chair arm at an odd angle.
The hospital room was bathed in perpetual twilight. A blue light glowed and pulsed near Josie's right shoulder monitoring her heart. A white light above her head was bright enough for a nurse to see her clearly, but low enou
gh for Josie to sleep. A soft glow spread across the floor from under the bathroom door, but the door itself was closed. There was ambient light from the hallway and a glimmer from the fixtures above each room that signaled to the staff: red for emergency, yellow if the call button had been hit, green if all was well.
All this was just enough light for Archer to see his wife's face, pale and drawn. For the first time since he laid his eyes on her playing volleyball on the beach, Josie Bates looked vulnerable. He had seen her stand up to the most gruesome circumstances from her own kidnapping to her harrowing journey to find her mother, from their private moments as Max the Dog breathed his last and the anguished time when Hannah disappeared. Still Archer had never seen her defenseless. It frightened him to see her that way now because he didn't know how to protect her.
"I'm here, Jo."
Archer took her hand in his, but her fingers didn't curl to hold him tight. For a moment she didn't move at all, and then her eyelids fluttered. With the greatest effort, she opened her eyes, and Archer gave her a small smile.
"What time?" she asked.
The anesthesia had dried her out and the words were formed with difficulty. Archer poured a fresh cup of water from the bedside pitcher and put the bended straw to her lips.
"Better?" he asked after she managed a few sips.
She nodded. He took her hand again.
"Time?"
"A little after eleven at night," Archer said.
"What happened?"
"You had some internal bleeding. Doc Piers fixed you up. You'll be good as new," he said, unsure of how much to tell her, hoping she had not heard the catch in his voice.
Josie smiled dreamily, the way people will whose minds are neither quite here nor there. He knew she heard him. He knew she was comforted. She tried hard to focus on him.
"Why?" she asked, but before he could answer she said: "Hannah? Billy?"
"Shh, they're fine. They're okay. They went to Jamal's."
Her head rolled over the pillow a little. She pulled her legs up, but Archer put a hand on her knee.
"Try not to move, babe. You've got stitches," he said.
"What happened?" she asked again.
"We'll talk about it later—"
"What?" she insisted.
Her grasp was feeble, but her need to know was strong. Still Archer hesitated. He wanted to be on equal footing when he told her, but now it seemed there was no choice.
"You were pregnant, Josie," Archer said.
"Pregnant?"
"Not the real kind. Not. . ." Archer put a hand to her hair and petted her head. "I mean, not viable. It was ectopic, you know. Outside."
"Baby?" she whispered.
"No, Jo. No," Archer assured her. "Just a medical problem. That's all. There wouldn't have been a baby."
Archer said the right words, but in the wrong way. His voice cracked and he choked on the last word when he saw that Josie understood all too well. Her eyes filled with tears, but there was no way to tell what caused them: the pain, the word baby, or just her weariness. He bent over the high bed and kissed her head as she began to cry. For the first time in their relationship, Archer was at a loss. His strength couldn't fix this. His intelligence couldn't explain it. His heart couldn't heal hers.
His lips lingered and then he rested his forehead against hers. Brow-to-brow, he shushed Josie, and rocked her until she stopped crying, and fell into her dreamless sleep once more.
When he was sure Josie wouldn't wake Archer went to the waiting room, took out his phone, looked at the time, and wondered if it was too late to call Hannah. He intended to update her, tell her that Josie had been awake, but what he really wanted was to hear Hannah's voice.
He dialed and held the phone to his ear. When no one answered, he went back to Josie's room and settled in the chair again. A nurse came in and smiled at him as she noted Josie's vitals. Unable to settle, Archer went to the window and drew aside the curtain. He looked out onto the quiet boulevard outside the hospital and at the night-lights on the warehouse stores that surrounded it. Then his eyes wandered even further: north to downtown where Jamal lived, west to the port, and finally he looked back at Josie in her bed.
Nothing felt right. Absolutely nothing.
28
Day 2 @11:30
Captain Adeano Bianchi was in the crew mess sitting on an old sofa while the five men in whom he had confided played cards. They did not play for money; they played for a job that no one wanted. The loser would be the one to kill Tala Reyes.
They had scoured the ship and not been able to find any contraband cargo that the dead man had brought aboard. They found only cosmetics in the containers that Adeano knew about. If there were others, there was no way of knowing which they were. If the authorities boarded and found Tala Reyes as she was, with the tale she could tell about the abuse she had suffered at Adeano's hands, that would be even worse for him than finding contraband. One way or the other she must be taken off the ship and the only way to do that was to drop her dead in the sea as the ship started its run. The Americans would be surprised by the move and pay no attention to something dumped overboard. Now the only question was who would end her life.
"I raise," Bojan said.
Lito was beginning to sweat. His sharp little eyes darted to Adeano. He was about to say something when the door opened.
"Captain?"
Nanda stepped into the mess, but Adeano rose, signaling to the men to continue as he ushered the first mate back into the hall.
"What?" Adeano said.
"Reporting, captain. There is one watch on each boat on our stern. That one is smoking and sitting, he doesn't seem concerned. The one at the our bow is more attentive," Nanda said.
"Do they still have their lights on us?"
"No spotlights," he said. "That doesn't mean they aren't watching."
"I know," Adeano answered. "But it's a good sign. They are losing interest. Everyone on shore has gone to sleep. They probably won't receive orders before dawn."
"Not unless we run. If we do that—"
"We will do that," Adeano snapped. "If there has been no aggression at this point, it means they don't have permission."
"But—" Nanda began to object. Adeano cut him off.
"They will follow us into international waters, but we will be gone. There is nothing two boats can do without an attack, and I'm willing to take that chance. Now go back to the bridge. Only a few more hours. When we're away, you can rest. For now, I need you to do your job."
"Yes, captain." Nanda said.
Adeano looked at him more closely, sensing the first mate's displeasure, but Nanda only reiterated his affirmation and took his leave. As he did so there was a cry from Lito and the captain forgot about his first mate as he rushed back into the mess.
"He cheated," Lito cried, pointing at Bojan. "He is a coward. He cheated.'
Adeano was quick to order him to silence, but Lito did not want to kill a woman and he said so at the top of his lungs. He was the least capable of such a thing and yet he was the one with the losing hand, so the captain ruled the matter settled. By the time Adeano was done talking, Lito understood well that he would kill Tala Reyes or he would stand by and watch it done. Either way, he would be as complicit as whoever did the deed.
While Adeano Bianchi spoke to the crew in the mess, Nanda listened in the hall, waiting to hear what the crew would say to this. Then someone closed the door and Nanda heard nothing at all. Now he had no choice but to go back to the bridge and try to forget that he knew that soon there would be another murder aboard the Faret Vild.
TALA REYES
THE PHILIPPINES
SIX WEEK EARLIER
* * *
Billy lay in bed watching Tala Reyes reach behind her back and under the fall of blue/black hair to hook her bra. He could just make out the nip of her waist, he admired the flare of her hips and was amused that she wore lace panties under her work clothes. She reached for a t-shirt, pants, socks,
and boots, dressing as if she were alone. He had watched like this for two weeks and only now, in the last few days, was he well enough to appreciate the woman and the ritual. The woman was small, lean, and sturdy. Her eyes were almond shaped and wide, her jaw square, her cheekbones high, and her face full. She braided her hair and pinned the braids into a tight coil at the back of her head. The bulky pants would go on, the heavy boots and then she would pull on her t-shirt and a work shirt over that, she just wasn't fast enough to hide the scar high up on her back, the one that puckered like his own. Billy was sure a bullet had made that scar; someday he would ask her about it.
The room they shared in the hostel was expensive because they were the only two in it. Billy would have preferred not to spend the money, but he had no choice in the matter. When he woke up the first day after Tala found him in that field, she introduced herself and told him she had taken his money to pay for the room, food, and medicine. She made no apology, explaining that money was a small price to pay for being alive. She was right, but he hated being reminded that she had found him near death, jumped by a gang. Those thugs had taken days of his life and that just ticked Billy off. He had thought he'd given enough of those in Alaska, but Mama Cecilia's spirits disagreed. Now there was nothing to do but bear whatever was in store for him.
"I'm going to see what ships are in."
Tala announced this as she buttoned up her shirt. When she was done, she turned toward him, and Billy smiled. Question marks were not in her vocabulary, she decided what to do and did it. Tala Reyes was every woman Billy had ever loved: Hannah, Josie, and his sister all wrapped into one. Funny that he should find someone like her half a world away from Hermosa Beach and another half a world away from Albania. He threw off the light blanket she insisted on putting over him despite the suffocating heat of the day.
"I'll come too," he said.
"You've got a broken rib. Maybe more than one." Tala put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down. He pushed back.
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