On Adeano's ships money could buy unauthorized passage for a human being or space for off-the-books cargo; it was not unheard of for him to extort trivial funds from stowaways or dip into cargo that took his fancy. When the captain was drunk, he bullied the weakest crew into extra work and even separated them from their paychecks should he determine they were of a mentality better suited to the work of a slave and not a man of the sea.
Sometimes he did not pay hookers, saying the women had not done a proper job even though he, himself, never failed to perform in a most spectacular manner. Once when he was in a foreign port, Adeano tried to take money from a beggar woman because she was blind, and he wanted food but had no local currency. In his brilliance, Adeano reasoned that because her money lay on a blanket the blind beggar would not hear the sound of a coin dropping ergo she would not hear the sound of a coin being picked up. He had his fingers on enough money to get him a baguette and cheese when the woman caught him across the wrist with her cane. Adeano howled and sprang away while she cursed him. People on the street taunted him. Not knowing when to leave well enough alone, Adeano screamed back that the bitch had not been blind at all. He had saved other good fellows from her cheat. Her lie, he insisted, was worse than his pilfering.
So it was this flaw, this vice, this money lust, that disgraced Adeano Bianchi and resulted in his discharge from more ships than he could count on one hand.
Thankfully, his wife knew nothing of this. She would have been ashamed and probably beat him had she known. Thankfully, too, she had never seen the Faret Vild. Had she laid eyes on it, she would have known her husband could not have sunk lower. Still the vessel needed a captain, and he was a man who could convince himself that he was at the helm of a fine ship of excellent heritage instead of a scow ready to be scuttled. The bosses asked only that the cargo be delivered on time, that the ship depart on time, and that Adeano not sink the thing until it was fully depreciated. To the owners, the Faret Vild was an entry on a balance sheet; to Adeano the ship was his last chance to ensure that he lived well in his old age.
Now he had a body stowed in container number forty-seven, a member of his crew badly hurt, one mate missing and a future that was uncertain, let alone rich, if he did not keep his wits about him. While he initially thought that he had been masterful in handling the situation, the second-guessing had begun when the pilot boarded the ship to guide them to the port. The captain nearly knocked the man into the sea with his anxious, unnecessary fawning. Once the docking was finished, and no gendarmes had swarmed the Faret Vild, Adeano decided all this worry was nothing more than his imagination irritating his nerves. It soothed him to watch his crew go about their work: releasing the lashings, calling out to one another as the cranes swung their giant magnets over to clip up containers, cleaning the decks to make ready for the new cargo. Adeano felt quite good until Nanda joined him. The first mate rested his backside against the railing. When he folded his arms like he wanted to say something important but instead said nothing at all, the captain's nerves kicked up again.
"We're six hours behind," Adeano said. "How fast can we get out of here?"
"By the time we're loaded again? One? Two in the morning at the earliest if nothing goes wrong."
"We will be so late."
The words rode out of Adeano's mouth on a deep and disappointed breath. Everyone was doing their jobs. The business of a ship and the ports were mired in regulation, so there was no way to cut corners or go faster. He should be taking care of his own work, but all he could think of was what had happened in the anchor room.
"Has she said anything?" Adeano asked.
"I don't know," the Indonesian answered.
"Can she speak?"
Nanda shrugged.
"I've been busy. I don't know."
Adeano's arms rested on the railing, one foot was out behind him, the other knee bent forward as if he were getting ready to leap from the Faret Vild. The gold signet ring on his pinky finger glinted in the California sun. His hat shaded his eyes and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up exposing his wrists, one encircled by a fine gold bracelet. The first mate turned and mirrored his captain's stance.
Both kept their eyes on the cranes and the cargo, the forklifts and scales that comprised a working port. The smell of diesel masked the clean scent of the sea. In the distance they saw acres of containers ready to be sent across the United States. Usually, after the silence of a voyage, the sounds of crunching metal, men at work, and containers swishing overhead were exciting, but today none of it gave Adeano pleasure. If the problems on the Faret Vild were found out, there would be nothing for him but a fishing boat. Still there could be another end to this, but it was one he liked even less than captaining a fishing boat. Adeano could end up in prison.
"She should ask for me, her captain, and yet she does not. She should be explaining what went on. It is not human, her silence."
"Go see her, then," Nanda said, annoyed by the man's whining.
Adeano shook his head. "Not until we are gone. Until then, I will be where I am expected to be. I want to arouse no suspicion. I only say, she should have asked for me."
The first mate shrugged again since there really was no reason to speak. That didn't keep the captain from carrying on or from Nanda knowing that Bianchi was afraid to see the mate.
"So she is not dead, but still she could be soon. Maybe that is why she doesn't speak." Adeano bit his bottom lip and then cut his eyes Nanda's way. "Am I right in thinking she could be dead soon, even though Guang says her wounds are not bad? Perhaps one is. We do not know, Nanda. Things inside the body might not be right."
The captain pushed himself upright, keeping his hands on the rail. He sounded as hopeful as a schoolboy waiting to find out if the prettiest girl would go with him to the dance. But he wanted no dance, he wanted her gone, and he did not care how it was done.
"I'm not a doctor. Guang is not a doctor, but he is trained. He doesn't seem worried," the first mate said. "I looked in her cabin. She didn't have much. Some clothes. Pictures."
Adeano said, "What about the man we took on with her? The blond boy."
"He bunks with two of the Serbs and the African. His passport is there. Some money. Some books. Clothes. Everything but him."
"His passport?"
Nanda nodded.
"Why would he go over without that?" Adeano asked.
"Maybe he didn't. It's a big ship. He might still be here," Nada said.
"But he opened the door."
"He could have done that and stayed put."
Nanda pointed out the obvious and both men fell silent to consider the possibility of such a plan. True, he could have opened the door to make them think he had jumped. He could be hiding, waiting for the moment to rescue the woman and escape the ship during the long hours in port. The rescue would not be easy, but the escape would not be a problem. Their eyes could not be everywhere while they were docked. Then Adeano had another thought. What if the boy and the woman knew about the cargo? What if they killed the man, so that they could do business with the people in Los Angeles and Panama? Adeano stood up straight, shot through with anger at the idea of such a betrayal. Perhaps they wanted the money that was rightfully his now.
"Do you think that one - the boy - had a hand in it? That could change things," the captain suggested.
"Why would he want to kill that man? Why would she?" Nanda asked, aware that things had changed with the captain. He had seen the man angry and worried before, but never quite this angry and worried.
"I don't know why." Andeano threw his arm up, changing his mind about taking Nanda into his confidence. "But those two were close. The woman. That boy. I want to know who will look for them if they aren't heard from after this voyage. I want to know what happened down there."
"You are the one who would know," Nanda ventured.
"What do you mean by that? I know nothing."
"You know who the man was. Knowing who he was and why he was here sh
ould tell you the answer to what you are asking," Nanda said lazily.
Surprised, Adeano stepped away. Che palle! Nanda had known about the man all along. But what did he really know? Would it be enough to shake down Adeano Bianchi when this was over? Should he admit to what he was doing or should he, Adeano, lie? The choice was easy; the captain lied.
"He was a guest of the line. That is all I know. He traveled quietly, and did not want to be disturbed."
Nanda almost laughed. He knew this story was not true because he saw all communication from the owners, and there had been nothing said about a passenger. It was only happenstance that Nanda had even found out about him. This man and the captain's shenanigans were none of his business as long as the man in the cabin did not interfere with the workings of the ship. He still had not even though he was dead, so Nanda nodded as if he believed what the captain was saying.
The first mate handed the captain a piece of paper. Adeano scanned the information Nanda had pulled together on the mate locked in the infirmary, the mate who he must assume had killed the very important man.
"There was no one listed on her or the boy's papers to contact. No one to make a fuss."
Adeano Bianchi made a great show of folding the paper. His expression was severe as if he were considering important captain matters, but he was only trying to hide his relief. Just as he put the paper in his pocket, a great cry went up from the deck below. The captain and his first mate turned to see that one of the cranes was in trouble. The magnet had not properly secured the container and now the huge steel box swung crazily above the deck. Men pointed, and called out, and frantically waved their arms. High up in the glass-walled cab of the crane the operator struggled to make things right. On the ground the men scattered, taking cover where they could. If the container dropped at best it would smash three others that were waiting to be off-loaded, at worst it would crush the men cowering below. Adeano half ran down the catwalk, raising his arms and pointing as he called to his crew.
"Run. Run. Lito that way! That way!"
Adeano divided his attention between the crane operator and his own crew, screaming, sidestepping, swearing, praying, and raising his arms as if that would somehow help the man in the crane. Adeano pivoted and ran for the railing again, throwing himself against it, holding on so tightly that he was white-knuckled. If the worst happened and that container fell they would be delayed in this port for days. The body might be discovered, the mate might recover, and his house of cards would come tumbling down.
He held his breath as the container slipped again and this time it clipped one on the deck sending it teetering on its stack, denting the exterior. Suddenly the one in the air rose up and was pulled away from the ship. This time it swung more easily even though the magnet had only a tentative hold on it.
"Coming down easy."
The first mate cried out even though everyone could see for themselves. Adeano breathed deeply, crossed himself, and thanked God as the container was lowered. The crew inched their way back onto the deck. Those who were waiting below were more cautious, giving the huge metal box wide berth until it was placed properly on the dock.
When things had calmed, the crane plucked it up again and the operator followed the directions of the men on the ground. After that, everyone paid close attention, making sure there would be no more trouble. When another crane dipped into the hold of the Faret Vild the first container it latched on to was sent to an area designated for a random customs check. Adeano's gaze followed the progress, and was pleased when the container made it safely to the ground. Customs had taken twenty so far. This was a fair number, but not extravagant. The captain relaxed now that it was business as usual. They would be out of the harbor by early morning if there were no more problems.
The first mate, though, was more attentive than his captain. He looked beyond the cargo discharge and far down the dock where a knot of men talked and gestured, referring to the papers on the clipboards they each carried. The first mate spat over the side of the ship and said:
"Captain."
Adeano Bianchi looked up just as one man cut away from the group, clearly intending to board the Faret Vild.
8
Day 1 @ 10:42 A.M
Hannah: Say something.
Billy: That house was burning. You were upstairs, and that house was burning. I thought you died in Alaska.
Hannah: Josie helped me find a way out.
Billy: I should have stayed, but I couldn't watch you die.
Hannah: I know.
Billy: But you knew I was alive. You could see me from that bedroom, couldn't you?
Hannah: Yes.
Billy: And you didn't tell anyone? You didn't try to find me?
Hannah: No.
Billy: I would have found you. I would have come for you. I would have died trying to find you.
Billy let go of Hannah's hand, rested his forearms on his upturned knees, and fixed his eyes on the horizon.
"Why did you do that? I thought we lov. . ."
"Shh. Stop."
Hannah scrambled up and knelt in front of him. Her feet burrowed into the sand, the late morning sun was warm on her back. Her eyes were hot with tears, and Billy turned his head so he didn't have to see them. She grasped his arms and held on tight, but still he refused to look at her.
One tear fell and she wiped it away. Another. That was gone too. She shook her head to make sure there would be no more. In her whole life crying had never solved anything, and it wouldn't now. Hannah slid her hands down his arms and then grasped his hands. When he pulled them away she put her palms on his knees. Hannah's eyes, so green and clear, never left Billy's face.
"I did it for you," she said.
"That is bull, Hannah."
He got up so fast Hannah fell back on her heels. He walked away so quickly that by the time she got up he was halfway to the water's edge. His rejection wounded her. Hannah became that silent child of times gone by, the one watching her mother walk away from her for no reason she could understand. Back then she hoped that if she made no trouble, made no sound, her mother would come back for her, love her, and never leave her.
But Hannah wasn't that little girl, and it was Billy walking away not her mother. Hannah wasn't afraid of abandonment any longer because she knew she could rely on herself. She wasn't afraid of speaking up, because she had found her voice long ago. But she was afraid of being misunderstood by someone she loved. Maybe it wasn't the kind of love Billy wanted, but it was deep and constant nonetheless.
Hannah pushed herself up and ran after him, tripping in the deep sand, reaching for him and missing, lunging again and again even as he tried to throw her off. Finally, she put herself in front of him, and pumped her palms to stop him.
"Billy, listen to me. Damn it, listen."
He tried to go around her and she moved with him. He went the other way and so did she.
"Please," Hannah said. "Please. Stop."
When he made no move to go around her again, she dropped her hands.
"Thank you."
She pulled her long hair over her shoulder, twisting it, buying time because there were no perfect words for what she had to say.
"When we were in Alaska everything was insane. Remember? We talked about how it was like some kind of weird movie: that crazy man thinking God sent me to be his wife. And that insane girl. Pea? Remember her? And her mother, Teresa? Remember all of them?"
Billy looked over Hannah's head as if something had caught his eye on the horizon, but Hannah knew he was looking back in time. She hurried on, not wanting him to forget the terror of those days.
"I was trapped in that room with Teresa and Pea when the fire started. I thought I was going to die, but when Josie got that ladder up to the window, and I had a chance to live, I took it. I didn't really understand until later that what I did was make a choice."
"And I was alive too. You could have found me Hannah," Billy said, looking at her once more.
"I could
have, but something happened in that room when the house was on fire."
She bit her bottom lip as she formed her thoughts, and then started again.
"The thing is this: I knew Pea and Teresa would die if they didn't come with me. When they wouldn't, I climbed out on that ladder and left them inside. For a long time I felt so guilty for being safe, like I was responsible for them dying. Then I realized that Teresa made a choice to die with her daughter because there would be no room for them in the real world. Do you see? Teresa's choice was made out of love. She knew there was no future for her and Pea, so she ended everything right there."
"That's crazy, Hannah. Nobody makes choices like that," Billy said.
"Your sister did. She chose to give up her life so you could live. My mother made her choice when she threw me away. When I saw that you could walk away, I chose to let you go."
"God, Hannah, how could you?" He started forward again; again she took his arms, pushing him back, insisting he listen.
"I could because a whole eternity flashed through my brain in that split second. People were yelling at me to get on the ladder, and the fire sounded like a freight train coming at me. You were walking into the forest; Pea and Teresa were coughing and choking. When I was on the ladder I thought about the misery I caused you when we first met. I was young and so afraid, but mostly I was a bitch."
"Yeah, you were." He chuckled, but not happily. "And I was a douche."
"We were both messes."
Hannah swayed. She stepped forward and her head lowered until her brow met his chin. Billy ran his hands over her arms and gave them a pat. That was the signal. He had called a truce, so they began to walk, pushing through the sand like they used to when they were kids. When they had gone far enough, when Billy couldn't stay silent any longer, he took her arm and pulled her in front of him once more.
Lost Witness Page 6
