"That's your rainy day fund now," he told her.
Later, when she decided to move to Shanghai on the offer of work by several Chinese businessmen that frequented Manila and came often to hear her sing, it was Steven that poked around. He found that one of the people with an offer was not being truthful and that if Julia took the job from him she would likely end up beholden to him forever and be a sort of indentured servant. However, the other offer was fully legit and was made by the Chinese manager for two of the most highly regarded clubs in the reopened city. He had the means and integrity to offer her a pathway to singing prowess if she had the ability. She eventually made her own decision, but considered Steven's advice and made a good choice. She didn't need seed money this time, but she still needed a friend she could trust and Steven organized his sailor jobs in order to see her as often as possible in Shanghai from the beginning.
As with all the children in Gilberto's family, Steven and Julia thought they were invulnerable. They were the keepers of each other’s secrets and futures. Julia never asked her dad to do anything more that write her letters and host her visits home. In fact, Gilberto never set foot in China while Julia was there.
And now it would be Steven who had to tell Gilberto of the death of his youngest child.
With a heavy rap on the door the captain entered. "Steven, am I intruding? I'd like to have a word, if I could."
"Sure, no problem, Captain, please." He waved him into the tiny double compartment. The boat’s cabins were built for two crew members and were tight, but comfortable enough for what was expected of them. They were a bit tunnel like, with a door on one end and a 'window' on the other above a small side-by-side double desk made for writing or reading. On either side of the cabin were bunks. Only the lower beds were occupied on this trip, as with most, but the upper could be used if a larger crew was required. There were built-in storage units for personal goods at the foot of the bunks. The rooms were reasonably lit, but drab because of all the continuous painting that went on and the apparent abundance of gunmetal grey paint.
Steven had been lying on his bunk, his mind crowded with the plethora of questions he had about Julia and the impossibility of ever getting good answers for them. When the captain came in he offered one chair to him and took the other for himself.
"Steven, I can imagine the questions you have racing through your mind now," the captain said.
"I was going to see her when we landed in Shanghai," Steven replied.
"Yes, I figured as much, son. I wanted to relay to you again my deepest sympathies and let you know that I received very little information about your sister’s death. I brought the message we received. You may have it." He handed a half sheet of paper to Steven for him to read.
To: Captain Villanueva - The Sea Wolf
Re: Steven Ramos - Death in the family
It is with regret that we must ask you to inform one of your crewmen, Seaman Steven Ramos, that his sister, Julia Sorenson Ramos, has passed away from a drug overdose sustained in her apartment. Her personal effects can be retained at Police Headquarters prior to viewing and beginning death exportation paperwork.
The address was in Chinese.
Steven again felt like he had been struck. The air leaving his lungs like a knife slashed tire. He was dumb-struck, reading and rereading the part of the note that said "from a drug overdose sustained in her apartment.”
"How could that be? It is not possible. What am I supposed to tell papa?"
"Again, I’m sorry, Steven. It must be a very difficult thing to hear about someone you thought you knew.”
Steven didn’t reply. There was no adequate response to express his disdain for the jump the captain made between the text of the message and the assumption his statement conveyed.
Continuing, Captain Villanueva said, “I almost sent a note back myself, but thought better of asking questions that are really yours to ask and require answers of. If you would like to send a note back to them, the communications officer has their contact information and I've told him to let you send what you deem necessary."
"Thank you, Captain. I'll have to think a bit first, but I will be sending a response. I appreciate your offer." He didn't even want to think about the next request, but it would have to be done. "I will of course need to send something to my father as well. Will that be okay?"
"Of course, Steven, do what is needed." The captain looked around the cabin for a minute and finally asked, "We can make it without you for the remainder of the voyage, if you need to take time to process?"
"No. I'll have some things to take care of, but I don't want to sit and process this for the next week. It will be at the back of my mind enough as it is," Steven replied.
That was part of what worried the captain, but he could deal with that. He would make sure that Steven wasn't charged with the most critical duties prior to getting to Shanghai, that's all. "Okay, report to Morales when you're ready for your next assignment." He gave a casual salute and headed back out the door. Once outside he turned to say, one final time, "I'm sorry for your loss, Steven." That would be the last time the captain would mention it other than as business needs required. That's just how he was.
#
Right after Julia's death, Manny was able to get a message to Boris to stay out of Shanghai for a while. The warning served to spare Boris’ life, but made it impossible for him to get close enough to anyone in Shanghai to uncover any leads on what really happened. He relied on information provided by Steven, who had his own contacts and methods of getting information.
Business Picks Up for Boris 1985
After Julia died, Boris again upgraded boats, avoided China and threw himself into smuggling to the east and south of the Philippines. The newest boat was sixty-five feet long. It was twenty years old, but had a steel hull, twin diesels that would potentially propel it a solid forty-five knots per hour, a cargo capacity of two and a half tons and greatly improved ship to shore communication.
Boris doubled its fuel capacity, added to the crew carrying capacity and placed some strategic, hidden weaponry. He created storage spaces that were essentially invisible to inspection and added reinforcements in the bow for ramming and armor plate in the stern for safer running. His final touches had been to upgrade the two diesels in order to add twenty-five percent more horsepower and improve the bow and stern thrusters for better maneuverability.
He was using it extensively around the islands of the Philippines between Malaysia and Indonesia. He learned via Manny that the Chinese police suspected the killing was related to a sour drug deal. He knew Julia lost her life because of her involvement with Orlando. He really knew very little about who or what Orlando had been involved with and never gave strong credence to the possibility he himself had been the trigger element.
Steven complained bitterly to Boris about being subjected to extensive questioning by the Chinese authorities. It seemed that Captain Cho had fingered both Boris and Steven as potential suspects, only withdrawing Steven’s name after days of official complaints and intervention by Captain Villanueva. After that, Steven stopped communicating with Boris.
The successful run prior to his sister’s death and the entire lack of concrete information after it left Boris to come to his own conclusions. Because they had been the one new wild card, he figured that somehow the Indonesians were involved. Hence his intense interest in traffic around the southern Philippines. Sulu and Davao in the Philippines and Manado in Indonesia all fit in his plan to get back at whoever was responsible for his sister’s death.
Mayor’s Associate 1985
Staying out of the way of Chinese officials wasn’t that difficult, but Boris was still looking for information. Steven went quiet so he called someone else he knew with excellent hearing.
"Mayor's office, Renz."
Renz's official title was 'internal affairs coordinator'. The truth was he seldom did anything remotely related to the government. Well, that wasn't totally truthful, he did thi
ngs relating to the government, but they were not things that he or the mayor ever wanted tied to the current administration or to themselves.
Boris had been ready to leave a message, but this was better. "Renz, Boris Ramos. I was wondering if I could buy you a beer?"
"Boris, yeah, sure, that'd be great!"
"You still hanging at the jazz place down the road?"
"From the mayor's office, yeah, I am. Six o'clock okay?"
"Should be okay, but if I don't make it on time, don't leave, I'll be there."
"Yeah, yeah, same here. See you."
Several hours later Boris finished his first beer at the bar, watching the current jazz singer and listening to her discordant yodeling. The bar, which was really what it primarily was now, had slid downhill fast when his sister left for Shanghai. He knew why they hired the current girl but for her body to distract him he needed a pair of ear plugs. It was dry and hot inside and outside and whenever the singer turned, exposing her back, which she seemed to like to do often, she displayed a sweat stain that grew larger the longer her set lasted. Finally, Boris gave up watching and turned to face the bartender, wishing he really did have a set of ear plugs to shut her out completely.
Renz walked through the door just as he rearranged himself. "Hey Boris, what's up?"
"Not much, just gave up on listening to this garbage."
"Yeah, she's not much to listen to compared to… well, compared to a lot of better singers."
"What are you drinking?" Boris asked, waving the bartender over.
"Redhorse, thanks." The music set ended shortly after the mayor’s associate walked in, and the sweaty singer walked up to the bar to give Renz a peck on the cheek.
"Hi, Renzy! What are you doing here tonight?"
"Angelina, baby, I've got business." He returned her kiss on the cheek, patted her ample behind and said, "Wow, hot day for a tight dress, huh? You're sweating all the way down to your crack!"
"Honey, you're such a romantic!" She laughed and directed an order to the bartender, "A little coke over here, please!"
After Angelina wandered off with her cold cola, Boris decided he should maybe apologize, "Hey, sorry about the crack about the singing, Renz, I didn't know…"
"No problem, Boris, we both know she's a crap singer, but her body and sense of humor make up for it. She keeps the customer's laughing and she keeps me smiling." Taking a long sip of his Redhorse, he suggested they move to a little round table out of earshot of the bartender then continued, "So what's up with you, Boris?"
"I got that boat I was looking for, she's fast and strong and ready to work."
"I heard." Which meant the mayor knew. "Just waiting for you to pronounce her seaworthy."
"Oh, she's seaworthy. There's some pretty interesting pockets I put in that'll carry quite a load and keep it out of sight. I've been staying out of the way of the Shanghai crew since… well, you know. I don't have a line on all the details yet, but I've been working it."
Another long sip of Redhorse and a minute of silence. Boris almost stepped back in, but then Renz emerged from his thoughts and continued from where Boris left off. "Did you find out anything interesting?" Renz and Julia had never been an item like Renz and Angelina seemed to be, but it wasn't because Renz hadn't tried. Julia had stronger drive, more talent and a vision. Even though fate, along with someone Boris still intended to find, stepped in and blinded the vision early.
"I'm working a few lines of thought, but I keep coming up with something called the Triad or Tong or sometimes even the White Lotus Society. To me they seem like they're used interchangeably, but I don't know if that makes sense." Boris ordered another round for both of them. "You ever heard of these guys?"
Renz took his time finishing the last of his first bottle of Redhorse and followed it by carefully wiping the lip of his new bottle. When the bartender tried to remover his empty, he held on to it and told him, "later." Taking the empty bottle, he placed it a foot directly in front of Boris. "Let's say this is Shanghai." He took his own new bottle of beer and placed it just in front of himself, "and this is Hong Kong," and finally he placed Boris' bottle directly in front of Boris, in line with the empty, "and Taiwan." If you looked down at the table and connected the three bottles it would look like a backwards capital L or a triangle.
"The Tong is an old secret Chinese brotherhood or society devoted to self-promotion and preservation. The Triad is possibly even an older Chinese underground organization that runs everything from money laundering to prostitution."
That was more than Boris knew and more than he expected Renz to know. "So these guys are a big deal?" He asked.
Renz just looked at him. Finally he answered, "They swat flies like you and I off their dinner table every day."
"What about the White Lotus Society?" Boris asked.
"I'm not so sure, probably some historical reference. You know China, older than dirt and been around longer than God."
"So where do they operate? Only in China?" Continued Boris.
"Nope, that's why the layout on the table is significant. They have a circle of influence that encompasses Southeast Asia. They've been expanding recently." He let the waitress take the empty bottle this time and took a long swallow of his new one.
"There's a blockade to the Northeast in Japan. They've got their own organization called the 'Yakuza' that's probably been around just as long." After a few moments he offered one last tidbit. "I never said this and I'll deny it two minutes from now, but I've never seen anyone, including the mayor, willing to work directly with any of them. I think they scare the pants off them. I know they scare the shit outta me."
Renz drained the last of his beer and said, "Hey listen, Boris, it was good to catch up. Thanks for the beers and I'll be sure and let the mayor know your new outfit is operational."
"Well it ain't no pleasure yacht, but if he wants to have his own tour of the harbor sometime, let me know. I'm mostly running around home these days. Well, there and down south."
"Sure, will do, catch you later." He waved at Angelina, who winked back, and left out the opposite door he came in from.
Steven and Bettina 1989
She wasn't at home.
Her mother made it clear she wasn't going to tell Steven where her daughter was, nor was she going to try very hard to tell her he came looking for her. "I'll try to remember to let her know you stopped by; I'm sure she'll get in touch with you when she has some spare time."
Steven walked to St. Mary's hoping Bettina would be there. Her communications abruptly stopped several weeks into his last trip, and he hadn't heard from her in nearly six weeks. It was difficult to stay connected when he was sailing, but in the past they always communicated once a week.
It was a two hour walk, but when he was home on shore leave he walked as much as he could anyway. When he reached St. Mary's Hospital, Steven went in through the ER entrance.
"Hi, Grace," he greeted the front desk receptionist.
Instead of her usual effusive hello, she simply plastered a smile, as fake as a thirty peso note, on her face and raised her eyebrows in a "Yes, may I help you?" sort of way.
"I'm looking for Betts. Is she working?"
"Yes she is."
"Um, okay, is she in the back?"
"No."
"Any idea where she is?" He was mystified by Bettina's mother's reaction to him and now this.
"I do know where she is, actually," replied Grace.
"Any chance you could let me in on the secret?" It was very weird.
Rather than answer him, Grace picked up the telephone in front of her and dialed four digits. An internal number at the hospital. She made a big deal of hiding everything she said by covering her mouth and the hand-piece with her hand. It was a challenge because Grace had a pretty big mouth. He still caught bits and pieces of the conversation.
"…right here…yes, in front of me…why though? …really? …if you…" Grace seemed to be having an argument with the other end of the
line, and she seemed to be losing. Finally, she simply handed the phone over to him and rolled her eyes.
"Betts, is that you?"
"Yes, what is it, Steven?"
"What do you mean, what is it? Why'd you cut out on me, what's up? And where are you?"
"I took a different position in the hospital, that's all. I didn't cut out on you. We're not headed anywhere."
"Ah, Betts, we've been over this before, just because I'm not the marrying kind doesn't mean we're not headed anywhere."
"That’s what it seems to mean to everyone else in my life."
"Can't we talk about this some other place than on the emergency room receptionist's phone? Grace is giving me the real evil eye." And she was, he had no idea why, because there wasn't anyone in the ER waiting room at the moment and Grace had been filing her nails when he stepped up.
Bettina sighed heavily into the other end of the line, "Okay, Steven, come to the lounge in the west wing on seven. My break starts in a few minutes."
The west wing lounge on the seventh floor was blue with smoke when he opened the door. He coughed as politely as possible and backed out the door again. Glancing around he tried to get his bearings. When he figured it out, he popped his head back inside the lounge door to confirm. Yep, all guys. It was the room where the non-involved expectant dads waited for the announcement that their son or daughter had just arrived in this world. The smoking father's waiting room.
When Bettina rounded the corner he put on a smile and congratulated her with, "Maternity! That's great, Betts! It's got to be way better than cat bites, glass embedded in feet and hit and runs!"
Game of Wit and Chance_Beginnings Page 14
