The Rebellious Tide

by Eddy Boudel Tan

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” Diya asked, shoving the skeleton key into Sebastien’s palm. “Athena awaits in cabin A66. You need to go.”

  “There’s been a change of plans,” Ilya said, “but it might help us in the end. Rosa and the Filipino Mafia have been staking out A Deck all day. They saw Athena get escorted out this afternoon. They know we’re coming.”

  “Where did they take her?”

  “They’re hiding her on Riviera Deck,” Sebastien said. “It’s a secret room at the end of the hall. It used to be a temple, but Nikos and I know it as the House of the Heel.”

  “That’s only one deck below us,” Diya said. “She’s so close.”

  “I walked past earlier today,” Sophie said, speaking for the first time since Diya arrived. She heard the tentative tone in her own voice, then cleared her throat to sound more confident. “A security guard was stationed outside the door. I passed it again ten minutes ago, and there was no one there. We need to go while it’s unguarded.”

  “You’re right,” Sebastien said, adjusting his cap. “It’s time.”

  Riviera Deck was quiet except for the faraway sounds of revelry that echoed across the atrium. The carpeted floor and papered walls absorbed the sounds of their footsteps. Sophie trailed behind Sebastien by several paces. Wearing a cobalt-blue cocktail dress and magenta heels, she would reprise her role as the innocent decoy if the double doors at the end of the hall were guarded. Once inside, Athena would recognize Sebastien as the man who had attempted to rescue her. They would escape through the hidden passageways behind the walls to their hideout in the spa. They estimated the operation would take less than eight minutes.

  Sebastien halted mid-stride in the middle of the hall at the sound of voices around the corner. He recognized the sharp, excitable pitch of Kristo’s voice. Alexis’s deep purr could be heard more loudly as it came nearer.

  Sebastien turned to Sophie with panic in his eyes. He put his finger to his lips and gestured for her to turn around. Sophie’s cabin door was within sight, but they wouldn’t have made it there in time before the Kourakis family turned the corner.

  The voices were near when Sophie pushed Sebastien against the wall. He was partially hidden behind a statue of a frozen Greek god. He could smell her buttery skin as their lips pressed together. His hands found the familiar ridges of her hips. He was pinned against the wall by every curve of her body.

  He barely noticed the voices pass, though he detected a girlish giggle. He peered at them from the corners of his eyes. Alexis held her son’s hand as they walked farther down the hall while Katerina trailed behind. Kristo craned his head around to get a better view of the two lovers. The impish smile on his face vanished when he saw who was hiding behind the statue.

  Sophie pulled herself away once the Kourakis family was no longer in sight, wiping her lips with the base of her palm before adjusting her dress.

  “It’s been a while since we’ve done that,” he whispered with a sly smile. She flashed him an impatient look and urged him on with a wave of the hands.

  They prowled down the hall and were relieved to see that the double doors at the end were unguarded. We fooled them, Sebastien thought. They’re either dealing with the casino mayhem or waiting for us on A Deck.

  “Let me do the talking,” he said to Sophie. “I think she trusts me.”

  He pulled the black skeleton key from his pocket. They slid past the doors and were bathed in the soft light that emanated from the glass panels on the walls. Sophie knew there was something wrong as soon as they stepped into the room, but it took a moment for Sebastien to understand what he was seeing among the white sheets. It looked like a ghost.

  Sebastien stepped forward, shielding Sophie behind him. His voice came out like a growl. “What did you do with her?”

  Palermo to Cannes

  NINETEEN

  Hotel Memoria

  Nikos stood in the middle of the room surrounded by vast sheets of fabric. He was almost camouflaged, though his uniform was a more lucid shade of white. His arms hung at his sides, a casual stance, but Sebastien sensed turbulence beneath the calm exterior.

  “I’m disappointed in you,” Nikos said. His voice was a gentle caress compared to the cold slap of Sebastien’s accusation.

  “Answer me. What did you do with her?”

  Nikos exhaled loudly, emphasizing his disappointment. “Did you really think I was stupid enough to move her here in the middle of the day? In front of all those people?” He cocked his head to the side and scratched his eyebrow. “Apparently yes, you did.”

  “It was a trap,” Sophie said, holding her hands against her stomach.

  “You don’t get to speak,” Nikos said sharply without even a glance in her direction.

  Sophie opened her mouth to respond, but she read the look that Sebastien flashed her.

  “Are you proud of yourself?” He stepped toward Nikos, his voice rough as gravel. “You fooled us. Now what? I get thrown off the ship tomorrow. Athena becomes someone’s possession. And you? You help them get away with it, again. Is that what you want?”

  Nikos shook his head as he adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. The superfluous movement betrayed his discomfort. “You really do think the world is against you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s what Kostas said yesterday on Sunset Deck. You blame everyone else for the hate inside you.” There was genuine sadness in the officer’s eyes, though it was unclear whether it was for Sebastien or himself. “He was right. You only see people as victims or villains. Right or wrong. Good or evil. It’s not that easy.”

  Sebastien could feel a tremor begin in his chest. It spread across his body until his fists trembled at the ends of his arms. “It’s true,” he said. “Athena is a victim. Kostas is the villain. That part’s easy. But what does that make you?”

  “She’s a troubled girl. Kostas is her imperfect but harmless uncle. I’m just a man trying to protect someone I care very deeply about.”

  “I suppose you’re talking about me.”

  “I am,” he said with an intensity in his eyes. “You can convince yourself I’m the bad guy, but I’m doing this to help you. Do you realize what could have happened if you had pulled off this stunt of yours? Kostas could have pressed charges. You’d have been in serious trouble.”

  “How do you explain the tattoo on the back of her neck?” Sebastien’s mouth felt dry as a desert. “Aphrodite’s flower. It’s the symbol of a trafficking ring. They brand their girls with it.”

  Nikos stared at him, silent. It looked like he would explode with laughter for a second, but he simply lowered his forehead. “Listen to yourself,” he said. “You aren’t making sense. I don’t know about this Aphrodite’s flower, but lots of people have tattoos. Even I have one, remember?”

  Sebastien pictured the elaborate black design behind the white uniform. The shield of Achilles. He found himself aching to run his fingers along the skin. “Kostas is lying.”

  Nikos stepped toward him until their faces were inches apart. “I know you want to believe that. I don’t blame you.” Nikos held him gently by the arms, tentatively at first, not knowing what the reaction would be to his touch. “You have so many reasons to hate Kostas. It’s easy to cast him as the enemy, especially when Pallas is so convincing.”

  Sebastien’s eyes sharpened. “What did you call her?”

  Nikos crinkled his brow, his mouth slightly open but silent.

  I was blinded by his kindness. Athena’s voice whispered the words into Sebastien’s ears.

  “Pallas. That’s what you called Athena just now.”

  I thought he was my friend.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You were the friend,” Sebastien said, taking a step backward. “A man brought her to the criminals when she needed money. She thought this man was her friend, that he was trying to help. He called her Pallas Athena, after the ancient goddess. It was you.”

 
; A forced laugh escaped Nikos, reverberating along the curved walls of the House of the Heel. “Now I’m really worried about you. You sound unhinged.”

  “You called her Pallas.” Every part of Sebastien shook. “Tell me, why would you call her that if you weren’t that same man?”

  Nikos was about to laugh again, but nothing came out his mouth. He threw his hands up in the air. “Everybody calls her that,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the ceiling. “It’s a common nickname for anyone with that name. It means ‘young woman,’ what the ancients called the goddess Athena.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Sebastien said. “Only someone obsessed with the ancient myths would call her that. Don’t you agree, Achilles?”

  “Careful.”

  “It was you all along.”

  “I’m trying to help, and you throw accusations at me.”

  “You sold her like a wild dog. Tell me, what did they give you in return?”

  “You’re not well.”

  Sebastien’s lungs smouldered as he reached out and grabbed Nikos by the jacket, clutching the stiff fabric in his uneasy fists. His breath rushed past his lips like a humid wind.

  “What are you going to do?” Nikos’s voice was soft, almost tender. “Hit me? Or kiss me?”

  Sebastien didn’t know the answer. He stood there, frozen, the jacket clenched in his hands.

  A melodic voice punctured the silence. “Break it up, you two,” Sophie said. She stepped between them, placing one palm against each man’s chest. Nikos pushed her away the moment they touched. The thrust of his arm was so forceful that she fell backward over a bench, tangling herself in the white sheet that covered it.

  Sebastien ran to her side. “Are you okay?” he asked, holding her hand. She pulled herself upright and gave him a dazed nod.

  His eyes shot up at Nikos. “Why did you do that?”

  “I told her. She doesn’t get to speak.”

  With a snarl, Sebastien charged forward and tackled Nikos to the floor. Their hands clawed at each other, grasping clothes and limbs as they rolled across the ground in a barrel of bodies. They knocked against the furniture, white sheets draped around them like angel wings.

  Nikos was stronger. He held Sebastien against the floor, straddling his groin. It was a familiar position in unfamiliar circumstances. He leaned down until Sebastien could smell the sweat on his skin.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice unsteady between heavy breaths. “You forced me to do this, you know. You gave me no choice.”

  “You always have a choice.” Sebastien could barely breathe with the weight of the man on top of him. He relaxed his muscles and let his resistance slip away. “You don’t owe Kostas anything. You think he saved you from your miserable life, but that doesn’t mean he owns you.”

  “You don’t know anything.” The words fell out of his mouth like raindrops.

  “I know who you are now,” Sebastien said. His vision drifted to the vaulted ceiling above them. The constellations looked different than they did their first night in this room. So much was different now.

  Nikos heard the faintest creak of floorboards from behind. He turned around to see Sophie holding a ceramic vase above her head. She yelped as he bolted to his feet and pushed the vase from her hands. It shattered loudly, scattering fragments across the floor.

  His two-way radio hummed alive as he held the transceiver to his mouth. “I need backup in the abandoned temple, forward portside Riviera Deck. I have two violent perps that must be detained.”

  Sebastien remained still as he stared up at the painted sky. There was no use in moving or resisting. He had already surrendered.

  It was an unseasonably hot spring in Petit Géant the year after Sebastien Goh assaulted Marcel Lamoureux. Most of the spectators that day had gone on to university, far from the spiteful town that was now an obscure memory to them. Even the victim of the beating had fled to begin a new life in the emerald hills of Vietnam. It was a different story for Sebastien.

  The heat in his bedroom was stifling. Warm air streamed toward him from the old electric fan that oscillated on its post of chipped metal. He lay glued to his mattress, wearing nothing but a pair of paper-thin running shorts.

  The year had been unkind. One lapse of control on a grassy field had snuffed out all hope of pulling himself out of the pit where he had been born. Perhaps he was foolish to think he could amount to anything above his station. That wasn’t how society worked. It was designed to keep the top at the top and the bottom at the bottom.

  His actions on graduation day the previous year were meant to protect his mother. He had recited the story so many times — to the police, to lawyers, to reporters — he began to believe the heroism implied more confidently in each retelling. When it was over, when there was no one else to persuade, he could no longer deny the truth. Hidden inside him was violence and rage and hatred.

  The familiar knock of his mother’s bony knuckles against his bedroom door pulled him out of his stupor. “Come in,” he said in a creaky voice, barely audible.

  Ruby’s face appeared in the crack of the open door. The lines in her face had become more defined over recent months. What were once gentle trails had eroded into ridges. A permanent crease had been carved above her eyebrows. Her skin had taken on a slightly deeper tone.

  But her hair remained as black as the night sky, flowing behind her.

  “You have a visitor,” she said, lingering at the door to see his reaction.

  He crinkled his face. “A visitor?”

  She forced an uncertain smile before stepping aside.

  A different hand knocked on the door, the sound more tentative than the one before. Sebastien rolled onto his side, peeling his skin from the sweat-drenched bedsheet. He knew exactly who it was by the scent of her skin.

  “Sophie?”

  The young woman stepped into the room and closed the door quietly behind her. The sweet, frivolous nature that Sebastien had once loved about her had hardened into an abrupt maturity. The giggles and playful spontaneity that used to flow freely were now contained within a well. She wore blue linen shorts and a simple crepe blouse the colour of almond milk. A cardboard box was held in her hands.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

  Their clumsy exploration of love and lust had ended the afternoon he attacked her father. The days that followed had been baffling for Sophie. She hadn’t known what to believe about the two dearest men in her life. She didn’t know who to hate and who to love. Eventually she felt hate and love for them both. As the people of Petit Géant argued about who was victim and who was villain, she knew they were all wrong. The truth was Sebastien and Marcel were neither victim nor villain. They were simply men — imperfect, impulsive, helpless men. That didn’t mean they deserved to be pardoned, though.

  Her mother had insisted that Sophie attend university in Montréal in the fall, as planned, despite her objections. “I’ll be fine,” her mother had said. “I’m a strong woman, like you.” Sophie threw herself into her studies, finding refuge in textbooks, searching for peace in the aisles of the library. She needed logic to overcome the emotion.

  “I wanted to bring you something,” she said, taking a seat on Sebastien’s bed. He sat upright, suddenly aware of his appearance. He ran his fingers through his unwashed hair.

  “You haven’t spoken to me in months,” he said. There was so much he wanted to say.

  “I wasn’t ready.” She pursed her lips and looked down at the ragged nails of her fingers. “I saw you at the courthouse last week.”

  “I was surprised you were there,” he said, his chin lowered against his bare chest.

  “The timing worked out. It was the day after my last exam.” She paused. “I think the verdict was fair.”

  “I guess a psychiatrist’s office should be more comfortable than a cell.” He attempted a weak laugh. “At least, I’ll find out soon enough.”

  Sophie looked aroun
d the humid room. It was less tidy than it used to be. Wrinkled clothes spilled out of the hamper. Loose papers and torn envelopes littered the surface of his desk.

  “I’m so sorry.” The words burst out of Sebastien’s mouth. His eyes were glassy. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

  Sophie moved closer, putting her arms around his shoulders. He nestled his head into the curve of her neck. “I forgive you,” she said, her tone decisive.

  He pulled back to see her face. “How can you forgive me?”

  “We’re all human. Illogical beings. We make mistakes. But we can also make our own decisions. I can choose to hate you, or to be afraid of you, or I can choose to forgive.”

  Sebastien found no words. He felt more awake than he had in a long time.

  “You also have a choice, you know.” Sophie’s face was calm and cool. There wasn’t sympathy in her eyes, but something more powerful. “You can choose to lock yourself in your bedroom, hating yourself, replaying everything you could have done differently, knowing it won’t make a difference. Or you can choose to get on with life.” She picked up the cube-shaped box beside her and placed it on her lap. “You can surrender, or you can eat cake with me.”

  She opened the box. It wasn’t a perfectly iced dessert fit for the cover of a magazine, like the ones Sophie liked to create. On her lap was Sebastien’s favourite, the cheap kind made from a mix from the supermarket.

  “Happy twentieth birthday, Sebastien Goh.”

  The waves of the Tyrrhenian Sea were coloured like ink when the Glacier rounded the western tip of Sicily in the early morning. The sun was just beginning to peek over the mountains surrounding Palermo as the ship pulled into the narrow harbour. Mount Pellegrino stood watch over the sleeping city like an enormous citadel, its stone walls and jagged battlements impossible to breach. The clifftops were cloaked in a tapestry of green.

  The staff and crew of the Glacier would have to admire it from the docked ship. Posters throughout Hades announced that the security checkpoints would be closed for the entire day. Nobody would be disembarking in Palermo besides guests and officers. Exceptions would be made for permanent departures, of course.