by Matt Lincoln
“You did a damn fine job of landing her where you wanted,” Ben commented as Holm and I gathered our diving gear. “I couldn’t have done better.”
Holm laughed. “No, Dad, you couldn’t have.”
“Ah, shaddup.”
I felt a twinge of envy at the close relationship, but I let it go as quickly as it arose. Gramps and I had a lot of good years together after my father died, and I reminded myself of that each time that jealous snarl threatened to eat at me. Ben tried to make me feel like another son, and I appreciated it, but it wasn’t the same.
“How long do you boys plan to be down there?” Ben asked as we made ready to step into the water.
“Depends on what we find.” I adjusted my mask and tightened my harness. “As it is, we need to get back in time for that interview later, so it won’t be too long.” I popped the regulator in my mouth.
Ben nodded and pulled out a book he’d stashed under his seat. “Good luck and be safe.”
I nodded and turned forward. Holm and I stepped off the plane’s float and into the warm Bahaman water. After equalizing, I got my bearings on the mass uncovered by the killer hurricane from several months earlier. Mother Nature had taken her toll on the area. My excitement was tempered by the reality of the misery on the main island to the south.
Holm tapped my arm and pointed to the mast and then the ship. What did I want to see first? I lifted the small waterproof camera I’d brought and pointed to the mast and then the somewhat visible body of the ship. There was no way we’d have time to document the entire thing, but I planned to get in as much as I could.
I snapped a few shots down the length of the mast. It was easy to forget just how massive those beasts were on the large ships. Swimming above the remains, I imagined being a young sailor who had to shimmy up to help set sail. That was no small task.
Near the ship’s main body, the mast ended in a jagged split. In the months since the hurricane, reef life had already moved in to begin the process of claiming the ship’s remains for its own. As I snapped a few photos, a young moray eel stuck its small head out from between shafts of rotting wood. When my camera’s flash went off, the eel looked around in a daze and then vanished back into its crevice.
The bottom of the mast had to be under the sand, severed from its formerly proud upper section. Holm and I swam above the ship itself. The ninety-degree shape I saw from the plane appeared to be what was left of the forecastle. The rail was in ruins, with spindles rotted away in places.
Behind the forecastle, the deck dropped beneath the sand. The ship rested on its side, but at enough angle to leave most of it buried. The only evidence of the ship’s presence beyond the visible area were lumps in the sand that corresponded to the ship’s contours.
I took photos and then kicked toward the forecastle. In Grendel’s journal, which was in Hawaii for the time being, he’d mentioned that the Dragon’s Rogue had a series of engravings on a special plank on the foredeck. It had been taken from Grendel’s former ship and nailed somewhere up there. He never gave the exact spot, though.
A handful of spadefish darted past as I swam up to the rail spindles. Tiny coral polyps waved in the gentle current, and a small shrimp skittered along a row of them. For all the worries about ocean life, it was encouraging to see how eager it was to flourish.
Holm explored the center of the forecastle where another mast had broken off. At first, I wondered if the mast we’d found had been that one, but the angle led toward were the midship mast would have been. The forward mast had torn at the deck boards before rending itself apart from the ship.
Once I determined there was nothing more to see on the half-buried foredeck, I signaled Holm that I was going to look at the side. Some ships had portholes on the sides of the forecastle, and others did not. The drawing that a friend had found of the ship showed that the Dragon’s Rogue had a row of simple portholes, which suggested Grendel’s quarters were up front. This matched the description in the journal, although Grendel had been somewhat spare on that note.
There wasn’t much of the side above the sand. It was so close to where the portholes would have been on the Dragon’s Rogue, and I wanted that step toward confirmation of the ship’s identity. I weighed the urge to dig against ruining visibility in the area. A check of my watch showed we were low on time. I showed Holm that I wanted to move sand away, and he moved in close.
I went as forward as I felt reasonable and brushed at the sand that had piled up against the centuries-old hull. A thrill passed through me as I placed my palm on the sea-worn wood. If this was her, if this was Dragon’s Rogue, damn, it wasn’t often a man got to see a dream come true like this.
As expected, the sand cloud reduced visibility. Fortunately, that soft current happened to run at an angle that swept the worst of it away. Holm shined his flashlight close to where I worked. I wished for a shovel, but we hadn’t brought one.
I was working my way along the section when I ran into something hard. Even with the light, or especially because of it, I couldn’t see enough to tell what I’d found. It was time to go back up not because of air supply, but so we could get back in time for work. I just need to see what I’d found, if anything. It could be a porthole, or it could be a rock.
Holm blinked the light and tapped his watch. The sand was beginning to settle. I pointed to where my other hand remained on the hard spot. He aimed his light, and I took photos with my free hand. A thin layer of sand had blanketed itself on my hand. Slowly and with great care, I cupped the hand that I had on the ship and pulled away enough sand to see it.
A glimmer of metal, possibly brass, peeked up from the hollow I’d made. I snapped as many photos as I could before the sand fell back in to hide the discovery.
My inner child screamed with joy. On the outside, I remained calm and gave the thumbs-up sign to ascend to the plane. Since we were no more than twenty feet deep, we surfaced at the plan in short order. I didn’t wait to get out of the water. Holm and I whooped and high-fived as Ben watched from the plane’s float.
“Is it the Rogue?” He sounded as boyish as I felt.
“It’s too soon to know, but there’s a good chance,” I called back.
“It’s gotta be,” Holm assured me. “You were looking for a port, yeah?”
I climbed up on the float and lent Holm a hand to join me. Ben was already back in the cabin.
“That’s what I found.” I couldn’t stop grinning. Gramps had to be looking down from Heaven with the biggest shit-eater grin ever. “It’s so close, Robbie. It’s gotta be her. Everything lines up.”
“Let’s move along, boys,” Ben reminded us. Sometimes he seemed to forget we weren’t kids, but at that moment, I couldn’t have cared less. “We have to get back to town.”
I recorded the exact location before we took off, and then I made one last pass over the site. The forecastle was less visible with the sun’s early afternoon angle. If other people were looking, they’d find it, but if they weren’t, it would be easy to miss.
“As soon as we get back to the office, I’m putting in the claim on the wreck,” I told the Holms. “It’s in international waters.”
As long as nobody else had laid claim, the ship was mine.
CHAPTER 25
Pete Patrone’s hotel room was several miles from where the Dragon Tide had been. It was also two stars down from Dragon Tide’s level.
“Welcome to my somewhat humble abode,” he said as we entered.
The air conditioning unit beneath the window creaked and hummed, and the toilet ran in the tiny bathroom. Patrone moved a bag off of the desk chair and shoved his laptop case and an infant car seat over on the second bed. A Pack ’n Play crowded the space between the beds.
“Pardon the mess,” Patrone said as he sat on his imperfectly made bed. “My wife and daughter got in late yesterday from New York. It’s been a long night.”
“I bet.” I gestured to the portable crib. “How old is your daughter?”
&nb
sp; “Four months.” Patrone’s mouth thinned. “It feels more like four years. That little girl has been through more than any little kid ever should.”
Holm raised his brows. “Yeah?”
“She’s had two surgeries and might have to have one more,” the young dad told us. “She has Hirschsprung disease.”
I glanced over and saw Holm blink. Neither of us was familiar with the condition. We had, however, known people to do shady things to benefit their children.
“What is ‘her-sprung’ disease?” Holm asked.
“It’s more like ‘her-shprung,’” Patrone corrected with a tired smile. “The easiest way to explain is that she was missing nerve cells that told her colon to poop. The first surgery removed half of her colon, and they tried to make it so she can have a normal bowel movement. It didn’t go well, so now she has an ostomy bag.”
“Damn.” I shook my head. “That had to be terrifying.”
Patrone nodded. “Her belly swelled up, and she got impacted within a couple days of birth. It’s taken a lot of time and way too many doctor visits, but she’s doing great.” His mouth took on a wry twist. “Except last night. She didn’t like being away from home, I guess.”
“Can’t blame her,” I chuckled. “I like sleeping in my own room, too.”
“So, how can I help you guys?” Patrone held out his hands in a welcoming gesture. “I’m sure you want to know what I experienced with Alice the day her grandfather died.”
“Let’s go earlier than that.” I started my phone’s voice recorder, to which Patrone nodded. “I’m sure you heard by now that this has turned into a homicide investigation.”
“Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Liu called me after they found out.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I still can’t believe it. If someone was going to kill Mr. Liu, the older Mr. Liu, that is, why go to all that trouble?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I told him as I took a seat on the half-cleared second bed. Holm leaned against the room’s dresser. “I can’t say that I’ve seen anything like it.” I hadn’t, at least not in the civilian sector.
“I’m happy to offer any help I can give you.” Patrone leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “What do you want to know?”
“How far back did you go with John Liu?” I had a rough idea but no exact dates thus far. Warner hadn’t found anything definite, either.
“I worked for him for five… no, six years.” Patrone removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “We were acquainted, though, for a few years before that. I couldn’t tell you exactly when, though.”
“How were you acquainted?” Holm asked. He leveled his gaze on the man.
Patrone hesitated and seemed to choose his words with care. “I worked for Mr. Zhu after I graduated from college with my business degree. After a year or two, I met Mr. Liu during a meeting. The two eventually used me as a go-between when they couldn’t meet in person.”
“What led you to switch employers?” I asked.
Patrone’s cheeks reddened. “It’s kind of stupid,” he muttered. “I had a crush on Alice. Mr. Liu thought it was sweet, and he offered a trade to Mr. Zhu. In exchange for my contract, he would send over one of his people to take over my duties. Her name is Louise Chen.”
“We met her. That one is very business-like.” I refrained from asking about Alice for the moment. The idea of someone’s employment being changed on the whim of an old man who wanted to matchmaker for his granddaughter was less than comfortable, especially since it was Alice.
Patrone nodded. “I can’t tell if she is happy or furious some days. Either way, she does her job better than anyone.”
“What happened with you and Alice?” Holm asked as he gave me a warning glance. I couldn’t imagine why he thought it was necessary.
“She wasn’t interested,” Patrone said in a firm tone. “My mom didn’t teach me much, but she taught me to respect women’s boundaries. Ever since I approached the subject, Alice has always said that she cares for me as if I was her brother.”
“So you have a bond, but not romantically,” I observed. “How did you meet your wife?”
A soft grin spread across his face, and the emotion glinted in his eyes. “Alice introduced me to Maria a few years ago, and that’s when I forgot I ever had a crush on Alice.”
“How did Maria feel about marrying someone involved in the Liu family’s business?” Holm kept his tone friendly, but there was no way to soften the meaning.
Patrone took time to formulate his answer. “Maria’s father was a member of a Latino gang in the city. He died in a drive-by shooting that injured her mother. The gang made sure Maria and her mom had enough to eat until she healed and was able to find work. Some of the girls helped watch her when her mom couldn’t afford a sitter.”
“That’s a tough beginning,” I mused. “How did she meet Alice?”
“Maria’s mom worked for the Lius for a while. Mr. John heard that Sofia had a young child and talked Mr. Ken into letting her bring Maria to play with Alice during days off from school. Those two have been best friends ever since.”
“I get it,” I told him. “The sense of family sure is attractive. I suppose if anything happened to you, the Lius would help Maria.”
Patrone nodded and looked at the floor. “Mr. Ken and his wife helped a lot when Penelope had her surgeries. I don’t know if my marriage would’ve survived the stress without their support.” He looked up. “I love Maria with everything I’ve got, but damn, that was hard.”
Holm swallowed hard. He had to be thinking about the stress between his parents caused by his sister’s absence. That was worse for Linda than worrying that a goon squad from New York might arrive at their home at any time in the future. If the goons cared enough to track their movements. That was why we’d made sure the new house was registered to a trust.
“How is your relationship with Ken and Mei Liu now?” I asked.
“Good. We’ll see how it goes from here.” He opened his mouth but closed it and shook his head.
“What were you going to say just now?” Holm sounded understanding, trustworthy. He nodded at me, and I turned the recording off. “This is purely off the record. If you know something that could help, we need to know.”
Patrone’s jaw tightened, and he clenched his hands together as if in fierce prayer. He took a long breath. I couldn’t be entirely sure, but I thought it sounded shaky, questioning.
“You swear this doesn’t come from me?” he asked in an uneven tone.
“I don’t know a damn thing,” I told him. “Partner?”
“What’s that? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Holm answered with a wink at Patrone.
Holm’s good-natured response seemed to help Patrone relax. The man’s jaw muscles loosened, and his shoulders dropped.
“It’s Mrs. Liu.” He spoke barely above a whisper as if afraid of being overheard. It wasn’t an impossibility, but I saw it as highly unlikely. “She’s been arguing with Mr. Ken for weeks. He doesn’t please her with how he delegates his, um, duties. Word got out that Mr. John might not leave Mr. Ken leadership of the family.”
“How is leadership passed down?” Holm asked as he moved to the desk chair.
“It’s like most of the old world, from father to oldest son.” Patrone snorted. “Very medieval, but it’s their way. Mrs. Liu married Mr. Ken with the belief that she’d be like a queen when her husband ascended to lead the Bamboo Dragons.”
“You said that Mei doesn’t like how much delegation Ken uses,” I brought up. “We’ve heard that from talking with other people, too. Delegation is an important leadership skill. Why is everyone so pissed about Ken’s use of it?”
Patrone laughed. “There’s delegation for efficiency, and then there’s delegation out of laziness. Mr. Ken has acted out of pure laziness since he was old enough to work for his father. There is no task he can’t push off onto someone else. I don’t blame Mrs. Liu for being angry with him.”
“She gets delegated to run a lot of his meetings, for one thing.” Patrone held up a hand and started counting. “She does the networking and advises him on the things that need to be done.”
He narrowed his eyes a little as he mentioned the last bit. I could only imagine. It looked like Mei Liu was the de facto leader when John Liu was away, which was half the year.
“Is there any chance that John Liu would’ve handed the leadership to Mei?” Although I knew the answer, I wanted to see Patrone’s take on it.
“Never,” he said with finality. “Not as long as there was someone related by blood who could represent the Liu family.”
“The closest person is Alice,” Holm pointed out. “It’s widely known that she wants nothing to do with the Bamboo Dragons.”
“I know.”
Patrone thought for a minute, and we let him take his time. Pushing on this wouldn’t serve our interests. He stood and walked over to the window where he stared out at a marvelous view of a busy street.
“I don’t know for sure, but I think Mr. Liu was going to try to convince Alice it was the right thing to do.” Patrone turned to us. “Not many people know this, but in the past few years, Mr. Liu was trying to put more emphasis on honest business interests. Real estate, hotels, things like that. He also started a food pantry in New York’s Chinatown.”
I stood and face Patrone. “He was trying to go good?”
Patrone frowned. “In a sense, I guess. He shut down some of the, um, some of the worst aspects of the family’s trades. Mr. Liu told me that he knew he was going to reach the end someday, and he wanted a better balance on his soul before he left.”
“How many people knew of this?” Holm asked.
“Officially? Me. Maybe Mr. Zhu. Unofficially, I think some people might suspect.” Patrone went back to the bed where he’d been sitting. “Some cousins like the idea, but others were against some of the projects, like the LGBT teen center Thelma Liu was proposing.” He shrugged. “It’s all moot now. The elders will choose someone if Alice doesn’t accept, and things will go back to the way they were.”