by Matt Lincoln
“Hills, there you are!” Junior yelled as he reached me, bending down to grip the suspect by the arms and hoist him onto the deck. I sighed with relief as I was finally able to relax my arms, turning to pull myself heavily onto the deck beside them.
“I lost you in the crowd, and by the time I got sight of you again, you were jumping over the edge of the ferry,” he said, handing the suspect off to Hatzis and the other officers who swiftly placed him in cuffs. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lied quickly, pushing myself up on my feet. I was wearing a black shirt, and I knew that due to how soaking wet I was, he wouldn’t be able to see the blood that must be staining my shirt. It didn’t actually hurt, and there wasn’t any time to waste. The ship was still sinking, and we needed to make sure that everyone was safely off. We also needed to know why he’d sunk the ship in the first place, assuming it had been him, which, judging by the way he’d run in the opposite direction of the police and emergency personnel, I felt was likely.
“Illias Galanis?” I asked the suspect on a hunch, and my suspicions were confirmed when he began to laugh, his gnarled and yellow teeth on full display.
“You have nothing,” he said in a thick accent, his smile jeering and mean. “Even if you catch me, our family is powerful. I will be free soon. You will be able to prove nothing once everything is at the bottom of the ocean.” He turned to look at the boat, laughing once again as if taunting us.
I heard Junior gasp beside me, and in that instant, it clicked for me as well. Galanis must have somehow warned his cousin that we were on to them. Illias had deliberately crashed the ferry in order to get rid of the evidence by sinking whatever cargo was on the ferry.
The animals.
“We need to get them out before the boat sinks,” Junior said, turning to look between Hatzis and me.
“You can’t go back on that boat. It’s halfway sunken already!” Hatzis exclaimed. I understood his reasoning. By now, most of the passengers were off, and his primary objective had been to catch Galanis’s cousin. Technically, our job as agents was to find out who was importing the cats, so we had already fulfilled that part of our mission. Still, though, it seemed wrong to consign living creatures to a slow and awful death when it might not yet be too late.
“Hatzis, can you organize a team of officers to stand by at the edge of the dock?” I asked. “They’ll barely have to board the ferry. Junior and I will go below and retrieve the animals. All they’ll have to do is assist us in pulling them onto the dock.”
Hatzis looked at us incredulously, and I thought he was going to protest, but then he just exhaled and shook his head.
“Fine,” he said, turning to glance at the boat that was taking on more water every minute. “But if the boat becomes too unstable, I will have my men pull back. I won’t lose any officers needlessly.”
“That’s fair,” Junior said, shrugging off his suit jacket.
“Good luck, agents,” said Hatzis, and with that, we were off, running toward the bow of the ferry.
I thought it seemed easier to climb on this time and was surprised until I realized it was because the ship was significantly more tilted now. As a result, it was more difficult to move across the deck, as it now felt as if we were running along the edge of a steep hill. By now, everyone else was off the ferry, and I realized too late that we didn’t actually know the layout of this boat and didn’t have anyone around to help us like we had when we were on the cruise ship.
Thankfully, the ferry was much smaller and less complex than the cruise ship, so as long as we kept moving forward and down, we’d eventually make it to the cargo hold. Unfortunately, that also meant that the deeper we moved, the higher the water level. By the time we made it to the main door of the cargo hold, we were up to our waists in water.
“It’s sinking fast,” Junior needlessly pointed out, and I bit back the urge to say something sarcastic in response.
“Just help me get the door open,” I said instead, pulling on the handle as hard as I could. The pressure of the water was keeping it weighed down, and no matter how hard I pushed, it wouldn’t budge. Junior stepped up beside me and pressed himself against the door.
“On three,” he said, bracing himself to throw his entire weight against the door.
“One, two, three!” I yelled as I pushed hard on the door, a little surprised when it swung open, and Junior fell forward into the current of water.
“I’m fine, I’m okay,” he said as he stood back up, wiping the water away from his eyes. “Let’s go.”
We moved as quickly as we could through the icy water into the cargo area, which mostly held cars, some of which had slid or flipped over onto each other as the ferry continued to sink.
“There!” I heard Junior shout, and I turned to see him pointing toward a large stack of crates and boxes that were strapped down at one end of the cargo hold. I moved toward the area, sloshing through the cold water and doing my best to ignore the biting numbness that was beginning to overtake my hands. I made it to the crates and began to scan each one for the specific marking we’d seen on the other ones so far.
“Here, it’s right here,” I heard Junior say through chattering teeth, and I knew the cold water was starting to get to him as well. I moved to the other end of the stack where he was standing, and sure enough, right at eye level, there were two crates, each with the symbol burned into one corner.
“It’s lucky they weren’t placed lower to the ground,” Junior said, looking down toward the crates below them that were by now fully submerged in water.
“Yeah,” I said simply, too cold and sore to say much more. By now, my injury didn’t hurt at all, which I knew couldn’t be good, but I chose to ignore that in favor of finding a way to get the crates out.
“You think they’ll float?” Junior asked, nodding toward a few other similar crates that appeared to be floating on the surface of the water and might have actually floated away if they hadn’t been strapped down.
“I dunno, maybe,” I said, maneuvering myself so that Junior and I were standing opposite one another on either side of the first crate. “Let’s lift it and see.”
We moved as carefully but quickly as we could manage, not wanting to drop the crate but still needing to get out of there as quickly as possible. It didn’t float on its own, but the water did seem to aid us in carrying it, as it definitely seemed weightless as we pushed it through the water between us. We’d made it halfway through the cargo hold when we both froze at the sound of creaking metal and screeching tires. I turned toward the noise and caught a flash of red out of the corner of my eyes as one of the parked cars tilt toward us.
I dropped the end of the crate I was carrying and rushed forward, just barely managing to knock Junior to the side as the car careened toward us. It missed us by inches as it continued to flip until it crashed hard into the side of the ferry with a resounding slam.
We both came up from under the water at the same time, looking over to the car that was now a pile of twisted steel and rubber at the other end of the cargo hold. It seemed as though the force of the car had jostled something in the ferry, as it shook and made an ominously low grating sound before settling again.
“We need to go now,” Junior said, and I nodded silently in response.
The water level was up to our chests by the time we made it back to the galley where we’d entered the cargo hold from. The real challenge didn’t come until we reached the large set of stairs that would take us up to the main deck.
“How are we going to get it up there?” Junior asked just as the ferry groaned again.
“Lay it on its side,” I said, recalling the way I’d pushed that leather couch up the flight of stairs outside my apartment a week ago. The memory felt so surreal as if it was something that had happened years ago rather than just a few days. “If we keep it level, we should be able to slide it up the stairs.”
It was slow going, made worse by the stinging pain that was spreading thro
ugh every muscle in my body, no doubt a side effect from the cold temperature of the water. Eventually, we made it to the top of the stairway and onto the upper deck of the ferry. Unfortunately, without the aid of the water, the crate now felt much heavier than it had before, and we struggled for a few moments to pick it back up before ultimately deciding to just slide it across the deck. Between the two of us, we were able to shove it up the steep incline until we were close enough that Hatzis felt comfortable letting his officers climb aboard to assist us.
Right as they did, there was a loud noise like a clap of thunder, and the ferry shuddered violently. We made it onto the deck just as the boat began to tilt even more drastically, and I was about ready to collapse in relief when I turned to see Junior attempting to climb back onto the boat.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, pulling him back harshly by the arm.
“There’s still another one left! We have to go get it,” he said, attempting vainly to climb back onto the ferry.
“Junior, stop. It’s too late,” I said, feeling guilty even as I said it. “The boat is going down fast. We won’t even make it to the cargo hold before it’s underwater.”
“But there’s still one left…” he muttered weakly with a distant and empty look in his eyes, but he stopped struggling then, so I allowed myself to relax.
All at once, all the fatigue and pain I’d been pushing aside crashed down on me, and I felt a powerful urge to crawl into the bed back at the hotel and sleep for a week.
Not yet, though, I thought to myself as I turned on my heel and moved through the crowd of officers and various first responders that had gathered by now. I found Hatzis standing a few yards from the now sunken ferry by a police cruiser. Through the window of the cruiser, I could see Illias.
“Agent Hills, you should see one of the paramedics,” Hatzis said as I approached him, taking in my disheveled appearance.
“I will in a minute. I need to talk to Illias,” I said, eyeing him through the window. He caught me looking and sneered back, flashing me that same jeering smile he’d given us before. “It won’t take long.”
Hatzis turned and said something to one of the officers standing with him, who then opened the door to the backseat of the car before pulling Illias out. He leaned back against the side of the police car in an attempt to appear confident and unbothered, although it was hard to appear nonchalant when you had your hands cuffed behind your back.
“Why don’t you look over there?” I said, moving to the side and pointing over to the edge of the dock where the crate was currently being watched over by a group of police officers while they waited for animal control to arrive. Illias’s grin fell as he realized what he was looking at, and he went pale for a minute before adopting a fake air of confidence.
“It does not matter,” he said, attempting to look nonplussed but failing when his voice shook. “My family is powerful. You won’t win!”
“Your family already betrayed you,” I bluffed. “How do you think we even knew you were transporting animals on this ferry? Your cousin Ezio told us. And we already have Xander, and Marcos, and Sabin, and all your other little friends and family.” I recited the aliases I could remember off the top of my head from the list of truck drivers Agent Gardner had compiled for us. I was lying, of course, and wasn’t even sure those names would have any effect on Illias, but my deceit paid off, as in the next moment, Illias went pale and began to stutter.
“Th-that is a lie! You’re lying!” he cried, his eyes brimming with hate as he stared me down.
“Well, you certainly know them better than I do,” I said, staring right back at him. “Ask yourself, are they the kind of people who would stab me in the back if it meant they’d benefit from it? Be honest with yourself here because I can assure you, they’re all looking out for themselves right now. You should probably do the same.”
Even if he didn’t believe me, I hoped that my words would be enough to plant seeds of doubt in his mind. Ultimately, there would be some truth in my words, even if I wasn’t right on the mark. As they say, there’s no honor among thieves. Within a family of career criminals, there was sure to be some amount of mistrust.
“That little weasel,” he said finally, his face growing red as he snarled in anger. “He called to tell me the feds were onto us. I thought he was warning me, but he was really just trying to use me as a distraction by having me crash the ferry and destroy the evidence, wasn’t he? Little snake!” He was rambling now, but I stopped listening. I had what I needed. He’d basically confessed, and now I knew that this was a family operation. I let Hatzis know that I had finished, and they placed Illias Galanis back into the patrol car.
“We will have him transported and booked into a jail here in Athens,” Hatzis said as we both walked back toward the crate. “You can interview him more there if you need to. Animal control should be here at any moment. I thought it would be best for them to open it as we do not know what is inside and surely will not know how to handle whatever is in there.”
He had a good point. Although I was anxious to get it open to ensure whatever was in there had survived, we really didn’t know what was inside or how it might react to being freed. I nodded and went to find a paramedic, hoping whatever damage I’d done to my injured side wasn’t too severe.
23
Junior
I didn’t notice when animal control had arrived, but it felt like they got here pretty fast. It was hard to tell since everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Everything was blurry, and for a moment, I felt like I was underwater again. All the lights were too bright, and even the tiniest movements felt heavy, like I was fighting against a current. Then, with a jolt, I came back to reality and remembered I wasn’t in the water anymore. Hills and I had made it out. We’d gotten the crate out.
They were opening the crate now, and I moved forward to take a closer look. Again, it felt like everything was moving so slowly. This was strange because I hadn’t felt this slow while I was on the ferry with Hills. At least, I didn’t think so. It was getting more difficult to remember.
I looked back at the crate, which was being carefully sawed open by a woman wearing dark blue cargo pants and a thick, long-sleeved jacket in the same material. She was wearing her hair in a ponytail, and the curly strands appeared to twist and undulate the same way the stone relief I’d seen at the hotel had earlier. I blinked hard in an attempt to get it to stop, and when I looked back, her hair looked normal again.
I looked back at the crate, which was now cut open, and watched as the woman gingerly reached forward and picked something up out of it. I heard her say something, but her voice sounded so far away and distorted that I couldn’t make it out. As she turned away from the crate and toward a large van parked just a few feet away, I could see that in her arms, she was cradling a fuzzy cub, its fur white and dotted with black spots.
It was a baby snow leopard. I’d seen them once on a television program about endangered animals. Native to Pakistan and Russia. It was a little strange that I could remember that random detail but couldn’t really remember what exactly had just happened on the ferry, but the more I thought about it, the more I started to freak out, so I pushed the thought away entirely.
I watched in a daze as the woman, and another man in a similar uniform, moved back and forth between the crate and the van, each time pulling out another cub until there were six total, all sitting in the back of the van on a pile of blankets. Most of them were asleep, probably drugged, but one of them was awake, and he looked around curiously as they pulled him from the crate. He looked over at me, and I made eye contact with him for just a second, his pale yellow eyes shiny against the white fur on his face.
I felt happy at that moment. I couldn’t really remember it, but I knew that Hills and I had rescued him and the rest of the cubs from the ferry. They would have died if it hadn’t been for us. I turned to Hills to tell him how happy I was, but when I looked at him, the expression on his face was
somber, and almost seemed angry.
I wondered what could have made him so upset until I turned to see what he was looking at and saw two divers in wetsuits pulling something behind them with bright orange straps.
Oh, right. The other crate.
A myriad of emotions suddenly seized me. I felt sadness and frustration that we hadn’t been able to get that second crate, but also fear over the fact that I had forgotten about it. Something was very wrong with me, but before I could open my mouth to say anything, the crate was already on the deck, being sawed open by the same woman as before.
A moment later, I heard her yell something, and there was a commotion among the officers that gathered around. Her voice sounded so faint and garbled that I couldn’t make out what she was saying. I grit my teeth in frustration, willing myself to snap out of whatever was happening and concentrate. Then, as if by magic, everything really did become clear. My vision came back into focus, the low thrum in my ears stopped, and I was able to hear again.
“It’s filled with water!” I heard the woman scream, and I understood now what the commotion was about. I watched as one of the officers ran toward the crate with a crowbar, wedging it into one corner and bracing himself against the side with one leg before pushing his weight into the bar. The side of the crate snapped off, and water came pouring out, soaking into the white concrete of the deck.
Laying at the bottom of the waterlogged crate was a large bundle of white, black, and yellow, and at first, I couldn’t tell what I was looking at. Then, as the woman gently scooped the animal up in her arms, I realized that the white and black lumps were actually the huge wings of a bird and that the yellow patch was its face.
A hush settled over the entire crowd as we all realized with horror that we’d been too late, but in my ears, I could hear a ringing as the world slowly began to slip back out of focus. I could hear Agent Hills screaming something, but when I turned to look at him, he had already gone, moving rapidly toward a police car at the other end of the dock. I tried to walk toward him to tell him not to yell at the police, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. They felt heavy and leaden, and when I tried to speak to alert someone, my tongue wouldn’t cooperate, either. It felt like thick cotton in my mouth. The last thing I could remember as I felt the ground shift beneath me was the edges of my vision fading black, fizzling away like static on a television.