Lost Witness

by Rebecca Forster

  "Wait. The gangway." Billy pushed Tala behind him before he grabbed the terrified mate and forced him back to the bridge. "Put it down. Now."

  Nanda shook his head, his eyes darting past Billy, keeping an eye out for the captain and Bojan.

  "There's no time," Nanda said.

  Billy took the scalpel and held it to Nanda's neck. Unable to decide which was more terrifying — death at Billy's hands or Bianchi's — Nanda threw a lever, he pushed a button, putting the gangway in motion. It was all he could do as Adeano Bianchi burst onto the bridge like a mad man and Nanda fled. When Bianchi realized he was seeing Billy and Tala he released a fury such as Nanda had never seen.

  "You. You bastard," Adeano cried.

  He went for Billy who stood his ground, weapon in hand, only to have Bianchi drive through him. With lightening speed, the captain picked up the radio and called for crew to man the ship, start the seawater cooling, fire up the pumps.

  Bojan came onto the bridge with Nanda in hand, distracting Adeano Bianchi giving Billy just enough time to launch himself at the big man. He landed on his back, slicing Bianchi's shoulder with the scalpel. Blood soaked into his white shirt and the captain roared with indignation. He threw Billy off and turned on him like a wild animal.

  "Run! Run, Tala," Billy cried. "The gangway. Get to the gangway!"

  She hesitated no more than a second before she ran down the ladder and away from the bridge wing. There was nothing she could have done in the face of Bojan and Bianchi. Not then.

  "Oh God! Oh God!"

  Jamal paced right and left as he watched the gangway strain and struggle to open. It lowered an inch or two only to jerk to a stop.

  "Hey! Hey!"

  Hannah waved her hands above her head as she jumped up and down hoping to catch the eye of someone on the boat below. Sparkle ripped a piece of cloth off her shirt and waved her makeshift surrender flag.

  "Come on. Come on. See us. See us," Sparkle said over and over again.

  "Where's Miguel?" Jamal said. "Where's Billy?"

  "I don't know." Hannah pushed her hair away from her face, but the wind was too strong and blew it back over her eyes.

  "Now what? Now what?" Jamal leaned further over the railing only to fall back again. "Miguel's not there. Billy's not. . ."

  Suddenly Jamal went still. Hannah, who had turned to say something, fell silent too. Sparkle stopped waving her white flag. All three of them were looking at their feet. The deck was vibrating. They heard a growl from deep within the ship. Hannah, Jamal, and Sparkle looked at one another in disbelief. Hannah said:

  "Are we moving?"

  The engineer knew the captain wanted the ship moving at fifteen hundred hours so he had started preparations. The seawater cooling pumps were fired up already and he had two men working to manually open the secondary low-temp coolers, turning the gears to engage the vents, bringing the diesel generator online. But when he called the bridge, the captain wasn't responding for a test of the helm’s throttle.

  The engineer swore, but he stayed on task. He would get the engines ready and they would run, and when the run was done, the engineer would get off this ship and never get on another.

  "Yes. Yes. You heard me. That is an order."

  Bree Nelson was out of bed. Detective Armstrong was too. It had been fun while it lasted, but duty called. She was half dressed in her uniform, fielding the next call by the time Armstrong had his pants on.

  Bree was put through to her State Department contact. She called her commanding officer, and she called Andreeve. By the time she buttoned her jacket, resplendent with chest ribbons, everyone knew what she knew about the status of the Faret Vild.

  She and Armstrong were out of her house at the same time, opening the car doors at the same moment, slamming them shut simultaneously, moving like they had been partners for years. Bree started the car. If she hadn't been so focused, if Armstrong hadn't been so professional, they both might have had the fleeting thought that what they had here might be love.

  Instead, they kept their eyes forward as Bree sped toward the Port of Los Angeles where a war was about to break out.

  Tala had run as Billy instructed, she just didn't run to the gangway. Instead, she went to the emergency storage room. As was her way on any ship, she knew everything there was to know about her vessel twenty-four hours after signing on. She had rifled through every closet, found every hidden piece of contraband, knew all the secrets of the Faret Vild including what was hidden in this storage room. Her heart sank when she saw someone had beaten her to it.

  The door stood open. Half the life vests were gone; all the flares had been taken. All this was understandable since the emergency siren call had been the one designated to alert for a fire onboard.

  She had no idea how many crew were already at the lifeboats, ready to abandon ship and how many were left doing the captain's bidding. There must be enough crew left for that because she could feel the old ship strain with the effort of starting the engines too quickly.

  Hoping against hope that the thing she wanted was still there, Tala tossed aside a few lifejackets, put her foot on a shelf, pushed herself up, felt along the top, and found what she was looking for. She grabbed the black bag only to fall backward when the ship lurched. Sitting down on the floor, Tala opened the bag and prepared to save Billy one more time.

  34

  Day 3 2:05 A.M

  Tala carried three life jackets over her left arm to keep her right free. As she made her way back to the bridge, she had come upon the Albanian and the Chinaman, Guang. They were surprised when they saw her and the thing she carried, so both stepped out of her way.

  The siren had been turned off and the ship had gone quiet. She knew well that the engineer and the second engineer were engaging the vent to the air starter, closing the diesel generators and bringing the running gears online to test them. It wouldn't be long before they would start pumping fuel, but before they did that Tala was determined that all of them would be well clear of the ship.

  She didn't bother with stealth. Tala didn't care if Adeano Bianchi saw her crossing the deck or if Bojan came to the stairs to stop her. She had the upper hand. She knew it, and they would know it soon enough. But no one came to stop her as she crossed the deck, stormed up the ladder, and stepped onto the bridge wing. She heard the Coast Guard cutter hail the ship as she walked into the bridge and stood just inside the doorway.

  Nanda was slumped in a corner. Billy had curled into himself, to absorb the impact of Bojan's boot. Bianchi was just about to speak to engineering when he noticed Tala. Tala could hear the engineer objecting to something, screaming and despairing. She tilted her head and raised the gun as she said:

  "Bojan."

  The mate looked up, saw what was happening, looked at Bianchi, and backed off at the captain's order.

  "Nanda. Billy."

  Billy got to his feet and helped Nanda up. Tala threw them two life jackets, and then tossed her head, indicating that she wanted them off the bridge. When they moved, she spoke to Bianchi.

  "We're getting off this ship one way or another, and I don't care if we leave you alive or dead. Now, call the Coast Guard. Tell them three are coming off," Tala said. When Bianchi didn't move, she screamed, "Do it!"

  "You can't shoot us all," Bianchi said.

  "Try me."

  Tala pointed the gun at Bojan as she moved her finger to the trigger. That's when Bianchi smiled, and Billy didn't like that at all.

  Hannah, Jamal, and Sparkle were huddled together, out of the wind near a stack of containers. The gangway was stuck, Billy and Tala had not appeared and the Peanut was nowhere in sight.

  "We gotta do something," Sparkle said.

  "Get your phones," Jamal said. "That's what we were supposed to do. Signal Miguel."

  "We don't know if he's out there."

  "Even if Miguel isn't there, the Coast Guard is. It's better than doing nothing." Jamal raised a brow as if to ask for a better idea.

&nb
sp; "Yeah. Okay. Okay," Sparkle said as she fumbled with her phone, finally getting it out of her bag.

  Jamal held his screen against his leg when it lit up, as he checked Sparkle's phone. Hannah had hers out, but before she could turn on the flashlight a text from Archer popped up.

  Josie home tomorrow. Can you be there?

  Hannah didn't hesitate. She typed.

  Yes.

  Hannah activated her lantern, stood up, and said:

  "Time to go home."

  Adeano Bianchi smirked at Tala as he brought the radio to his mouth and gave an order to the engineer.

  "Introduce the fuel."

  "Oh my God," Billy breathed when he heard the captain’s directive.

  The engineer refused. It wasn't time. It was too soon. It was dangerous to introduce the fuel, but Bianchi didn't care.

  "Do it!" he screamed.

  "You fool." Tala shook her head, swung the gun up and pointed it at Adeano Bianchi's pretty face.

  Bree Nelson had driven less than a mile when she made a decision. Her crews deserved better than they were getting. She would deal with the politicians and businessmen later, but now it was time for her people to finish the job they started. Charles Armstrong smiled when she gave the order:

  "Take the Faret Vild."

  Just as the fuel started to flow, just as the big ship started to move in earnest. . .

  Just as Miguel saw what was happening and thanked his lucky stars that he had motored far out of the sphere of the Faret Vild. . .

  Just as Tala Reyes squeezed the trigger on the gun she had taken from the emergency equipment room where Bianchi had hidden it. . .

  Just as Nanda and Billy went to stop her. . .

  Just as Jamal, Sparkle, and Hannah stood at the rail near the gangway and raised their lanterns. . .

  The Vigilance opened fire.

  The first volley from the mounted machine gun went over the bow. When the Faret Vild continued to move forward, attempting to swing into a turn that would take it out to sea, they engaged the grenade launchers and confirmed their orders with Bree Nelson. The countdown was short. The grenades hit the hull at the precise point where the engines labored to crank to full speed and the fuel leaked through pipes that had not been properly air tested.

  The hull, old and fragile, broke apart like a ripe melon. The grenades slammed into the fuel pipes. The second engineer, who had been passing at exactly that moment, disappeared. When the authorities finally boarded the Faret Vild, they would find parts of the man's body strewn throughout the engine room. The engineer had been trying to reason with the captain on the intercom, and it took him a moment to realize that he was no longer holding the receiver. It had been blown clear across the room along with two of his fingers.

  Hannah and Sparkle fell hard to the deck, calling out as they crawled toward each other. They clasped hands and scurried toward the wall behind them. Jamal rushed to the railing and looked over. He turned toward the women and raised his voice.

  "They attacked us wi. . ."

  Before Jamal finish his sentence, before he could run from the railing to join Hannah and Sparkle, the fuel ignited. The engine room exploded in a ball of fire, rocking the Faret Vild, breaking the lashings, and sending containers toppling from their perches. Hannah and Sparkle hid their faces, wrapping their arms tight around each other as they screamed in terror. When the sound of the explosion was only an echo, Hannah opened her mouth to call for Jamal. She never spoke his name. Sparkle pushed her long hair off her face, gagging on the smoke as she, too, looked for Jamal, but all the women saw was a hole in the railing where he had been standing.

  That's when Hannah's screams turned to howls.

  * * *

  On the bridge, the glass walls that protected the crew from the weather and allowed them full view of the sea around them, shattered in a hundred million pieces, blowing inward with the concussion of the explosion. Those on the bridge threw up arms and hands to protect their faces even as they were blown backward and forward, thrown up and down. Billy hit hard onto something round and solid, something that crushed his vertebrae until it felt like his spine was up against his ribs. His skin popped as a shard of glass the size of a butcher knife embedded itself in the crook of his neck. His first thought was to pull the glass out and clamp down with both hands to stop the bleeding; which he would have done if he could have moved his arms. Lying beside him in a pool of blood was Tala Reyes, the gun still in her hand.

  "Tala," he whispered. "Tala?"

  Her eyes opened. She smiled at Billy.

  "Yes. Tala," she said and her eyes closed again. "Tell them my name."

  * * *

  On the pier, Gregor Andreeve and five hundred longshoremen stared at the red-hot fire that was burning in the hole in the side of the Faret Vild.

  35

  Tala, 6 Weeks Later

  MIRA LOMA DETENTION CENTER

  LANCASTER, CALIFORNIA

  5:00 P.M.

  "I've have reviewed form I-589, Ms. Reyes, and I must admit that I find the information you submitted compelling."

  Josie chanced a glance at Tala, noting the physical toll the last weeks had taken on her. There was an indentation under her right eye and a scar running along her neck. Her hands and the upper left side of her head and face had been burned in the explosion on the Faret Vild, but all were healing. Her long hair had been shaved in the burn unit. It was growing out again but Josie could still see the stitches that ran across the top of her skull. The second thing she noticed was that Tala was not reacting to what the woman behind the desk was saying.

  Tala sat comfortably, her expression unreadable, while she kept her eyes on Cheryl Harper, asylum officer. The woman hadn't quite reached middle age, but she'd been around the block when it came to her work. Nothing was going to get by her now that asylum claims had become a buzz word for every person wanting into the U.S. It was Cheryl's job to weed out the ones who gave lip service to the need for protection and the ones who were desperately in need of it. She believed Tala Reyes was the latter, but it was hard to tell from her demeanor.

  "Beyond compelling," Josie said when Tala didn't respond. "In fact, I would venture to say this is one of those rare instances where the application is a no brainer."

  Reluctantly Cheryl engaged Josie. She would have preferred to talk to Tala, but it was her right to have counsel and this counsel was not shy.

  "I would venture to say her application is almost unbelievable," Cheryl said.

  "Not if you consider the politics of the Philippines," Josie said. "The brutality of the death squads is well documented. As you can see from Tala's statement, it would be impossible for her to be returned to that country even though she acted in self defense when she killed Mr. Talaningo. Given his status with the Philippine government, repatriation would be a death sentence. Since she did not enter this country after inspection when the Faret Vild docked, she should be eligible for a special immigration court hearing reserved for ship's crew. Remember, it was the U.S. who removed her from the vessel."

  Cheryl tapped her cheek with one finger as her eyes went back and forth between Tala and Josie. Everything Josie Bates was saying was right, but that didn't make it legal according to the U.S. Immigration rules. Cheryl clasped her hands on her desk, her shoulders hunched, her eyes were sharp on Tala.

  "What is your real name?"

  "I am Tala Reyes."

  "I understand you prefer to be called that. As I have explained before, it is not a crime to use any name you wish. The problem is that you have presented this government with legal documents that identify you as Tala Reyes, and that is a crime in our country. Do you have your documents? The ones with your given name? It would go a long way if you had your passport, and could show good faith by identifying yourself."

  "Have you ever been to the Philippines? Have you ever seen how poor people live?" Tala didn't smirk as much as offer a sad little smile when the women remained silent. "I didn't think so.

&nbs
p; "My mother was a prostitute. She didn't know that I knew, but I did. She had many children. I never saw a birth certificate for me or my brothers. I never had a passport or a permit to work. I have no way of identifying myself.

  "I knew I would probably end up like her, pimped out by someone like Ceasar. But then I met Tala and I was happy. I was lucky to have her as my friend; she died because she was my friend."

  Tala blinked, but she showed no sign this caused her pain. It was the memories that were hurting her.

  "If I hadn't let her stay at my house, she would be alive and I would be dead. The only way her memory lives is through me. I live for her. I am her."

  Tala pulled back her shoulders. She raised her chin. It was clear she would make no apologies for anything she had done.

  "Tala wanted to go to sea, so I studied and became more than I ever thought I could be. I couldn't work on the fancy cruise ships because they would want my fingerprints, but I did honorable work. I believe Tala somehow knows that I did what she would have done."

  Cheryl pulled her lips together. Josie averted her eyes. She had talked to Tala every week, visiting her in the detention center with the reluctant blessing of her doctor in the last two weeks, and going over Tala's story in preparation for the asylum process. Each time Josie's heart broke when she heard what had happened in that small apartment in the Philippines. Tala was so much like Billy and Hannah, never thinking of the consequences when it came to doing right by the ones they loved.

  "Would Tala have killed a man?" Cheryl asked.

  "Don't answer that." Josie said. "No charges have been brought."