Chapter 17
Maggie stared morosely out the window of the SUV as it descended the counterbalance and turned onto 3rd Ave. She would only grunt in response to any of Rachael's questions.
Ah, Rachael was in familiar territory here. Sad, self-absorbed Maggie Rachael knew all too well. Rachael leaned back in the soft leather seat of the black SUV, determined to leave Maggie alone. It was for the best, or else they'd inevitability end up in some big fight about something that had nothing to do with what either of them was really upset about.
Rachael knew that'd get them nowhere. Just right back to where they were five years ago, living up on 58th.
Instead, Rachael took her notebook out of her purse and began to catch up on notes for her article she'd been neglecting. At first, the article had been a ruse, but after spending a day aboard the Raft, Rachael could see a real article beginning to form around the fake one she'd been pretending to write. She'd learned so much in such a short period, and the dryfoots knew so little about what the Raft actually was. Rachael had been given a unique insight and she had every intention of sharing it. At least after the murder case was over. After she'd gotten Maggie successfully off the Raft.
But Rachael sighed and closed her notebook. She couldn't quite summon the concentration to order the events of the day. It was a disappointment, she had to admit. In Maggie. The Maggie who'd picked her up from Alki Point had been so... confident. Not the Maggie Rachael had remembered from five years ago. Strong, decisive, commanding the respect of everyone she met. Three or four times, one Rafters or another had reminded Rachael that Maggie was some sort of hero. And Rachael had believed it, even before she'd learned exactly how Maggie had become one. Maggie just acted like a hero, someone you could so easily believe in and project your expectations onto.
Shamefully, Rachael now realized that she'd done the same thing. From the movement she'd reconnected with Maggie, all those old feelings, all that undealt with crap Rachael carried around, it had returned in one great burst. And to find Maggie so... exceptional. Tall, strong, lean, sexy. All that hunger she remembered having for Maggie, it came back. Despite Peter, despite little Margaret, despite a whole life that Rachael would have done anything on Earth to protect, Rachael had to admit to herself, at least for a few hours, that she'd really fallen back in love with Maggie.
But that had been out on the Raft.
Back on dryland, after going nose to nose with Senator Hadian, Maggie transformed back to her old self. Five minutes in a room with the most despicable public figure alive and Maggie had choked. At exactly the moment when Rachael had needed the tough, sexy, hardnosed Maggie from the Raft, she'd buckled over and shown her tail to that son of a bitch.
No, Rachael wasn't just disappointed, she was disgusted.
Rachael opened her notebook again and scribbled something unintelligible.
She felt like a fool. She'd bought into the silly, childish game of the Raft. She should have known better, approached the day with some modicum of professionalism, but her head had been so lost. That Maggie had seemed to stand tall at the helm of the Soft Cell said nothing about Maggie, she hadn't changed, but rather the height of those she was standing next to. Bring Maggie back ashore and she was still the pouting whiner she'd been five years previous. It'd been foolish for Rachael to have expected anything different.
Perhaps it was a blessing. It put a period at the end of the sentence of so many emotions that Rachael had dredged up. A big, fat, permanent full stop.
At 3rd and James the SUV turned, pulling into the parking garage of the King County Jail. For the first time since leaving Queen Anne Hill, Rachael realized she was in a convoy, with two similar black SUVs turning off James into the parking garage behind them.
At the elevators, all the passengers congregated. Yi, Galahad, Rolph, Chesterton, and a number of unidentified dark-suited men and women who obviously patronized the same FBI tailor.
“You understand we're going to videotape this whole thing,” Galahad said to Maggie, looking up at the elevator's lights.
“That's fine,” Maggie replied.
“You're not a lawyer,” Galahad continued. “Pretending to be one could get you into a lot of trouble. Mr. Meyer has been advised of his rights, he didn't ask for a lawyer, he asked for you. If you can get him to confess to breaking and entering into Senator Hadian's with intent to do bodily harm...”
“He'll confess, don't worry,” Maggie said meekly.
The elevator chimed. The doors opened and everyone piled in. It was a tight squeeze, but everybody fit.
“Just a confession, we don't need anything on the record about Hadian and the dead girl. I hope we can consider that line of investigation dead.”
“We can, Special Agent,” Maggie answered as the elevator climbed.
Rachael rolled her eyes. Squashed in among all the FBI agents. Maggie missed it, but Rachael couldn't help but roll her eyes. Line of investigation dead, really? Maggie had hardly touched on the issue with the Senator. He'd shown a bit of anger and Maggie had just let it drop. And then he'd started in on the bullying – the Raft is nothing but a prison – and Maggie had folded up. Rachael had to swallow her anger. They'd been so close, so close to catching the Senator with his pants down, and then to have Maggie just bullied into a corner...
And now the opportunity was lost, Hadian was free to carry on with his insane 28th Amendment, and all because Maggie wasn't ready to play in the big kid league. Rachael wanted to scream.
The elevator doors opened on a beige, florescent-lit corridor. Detective Sargent Yi led the group to a door sporting a plaque that read “Interview Room 6.” Inside was a small room, dark, with a second door and window running the length of one wall. Beyond was another room with a table and chairs. Rachael had seen enough police television dramas to know the window was the back side of a one-way mirror.
At the table in the other room sat a small, dark-haired man. He was wearing a set of orange scrubs sporting “KCJ” stenciled in black ink haphazardly on the front. He was alone but handcuffed, seated patiently at the table.
“That's Horus?” Rachael asked as she stepped through the door.
“Yes, that's him,” Maggie replied.
Rachael had expected... muscles, tattoos, anything threatening. The short man in the orange jumpsuit looked like a misplaced engineering student. That was Horus? Everyone on the Raft had spoken of him like he was some sort of dangerous thug. Just one more thing about the Raft that was less impressive than it seemed, Rachael shrugged.
“Can I speak with him?” Maggie asked. Yi nodded and pointed at the door beside the mirror. Without hesitation, Maggie opened it and stepped through.
“Yo! The notorious M-A-G!” Horus said in delight the second Maggie stepped into the room. Just like his reputation, Horus's gangster patois contrasted harshly with his clean-cut, white-bread appearance.
“Horus, you've been a very bad boy,” Maggie scolded, moving up to the table and sitting across from Horus. The voices in the interview room reached the observation room via mics and speakers mounted in the ceiling. Maggie and Horus sounded slightly otherworldly, as if they were conversing in an aquarium.
“Maggie, you gotta believe me, when -” Instantly, Horus began to well up with tears.
“It's okay, Horus. I know, I know,” Maggie tried to comfort, tapping his cuffed hands.
“I had to do it, ya know? When I saw, I knew right then, that son of a -”
“I know, Horus, calm down. Don't get ahead of yourself. Just tell me step by step what happened, and then maybe I can help.”
“You gotta get me outta here. Dryfoot time, yo... I can't do no dryland stretch...”
“Forget about prison, Horus, worry about a needle. You tried to pop a cap into a US Senator.”
“Shit! He had it comin', ya know? What he'd done to Meerkat!”
“I know, but -”
“Help me, Maggie!” Horus exploded with emotion, tears and anger all mixed up. “She
dead, Maggie, dead!”
“I know, Horus, I know. But from what I've heard from Chemical and others, you were playing some sort of serious game here. What are we talking about here, Horus? Blackmail?” Horus nodded. “And Meerkat right in the middle of it, front and center?” Horus nodded again. “What were you thinking?”
Horus shook his head and sobbed, leaning forward and resting his face on his bound hands.
“And now Meerkat's dead because of it.”
“It were that Senator, Maggie. He murdered my baby girl!”
“Because she was blackmailing him? Over a baby?”
“Yeah... well, no. I mean, it started out...”
“How did it start out, Horus?”
“She gets this call, see...” Horus lifted his head and fixed Maggie with a bleary-eyed stare. “A chance to make some green. She's gone... couple weeks, I guess, for tests and shit, but none of it takes. And then... well, this Hadian guy keeps on callin'. Comin' back for another round, you know? I don't know when it stopped bein' about makin' a baby, and just bein' for the fun. But you know, she had it under control...”
“Until she actually got pregnant?” Maggie concluded.
“Yeah...” Horus said dreamily. “Then she got serious. Said she was thinkin' about kickin' off, puttin' her boots on.”
“Boots on?” Galahad asked, back in the observation room.
“Leaving the Raft,” Rachael translated. She didn't take her eyes off the one-way mirror, watching Horus speak.
“And you were okay with this?” Maggie asked.
“What?” Horus seemed confused, then offended. “Hell no!”
“And then Meerkat washes up dead on a beach.”
“No, no, Maggie, Maggie!” Horus quickly backpedaled. “It ain't like that! It just ain't! You gotta believe me! I won't hurt my sweet baby girl! No! Never!”
“I know Horus,” Maggie conceded. “But she is dead. What are people supposed to think?”
Horus was confused. Lost. Bewildered. “Maggie, you got to help me out!”
Maggie sighed. “Why'd you run, Horus? Jump ship? It looked bad, Horus. Meerkat dead and you missing.”
“Shit, Maggie! I didn't run. I never got back to the Raft, yo. Never had a chance.”
“Back to the Raft?”
“Yeah, last night, I was onshore, ya know, moving some product. B-island representin', you know?”
“Weed?” Maggie interrupted.
“Shit...” Horus was regaining some composure. He looked around conspiratorially and continued in a lowered tone. “BC Bud... M-A-G. The good shit, ya know. A C-note a pound.”
“Oh,” Maggie nodded, leaning forward to huddle with Horus. Despite their whispers, the mics were picking up everything, transmitting it loud and clear back into the room behind the one-way mirror.
“And I'm headin' back to where I threw anchor off the woods, down south a ways. And I get back to the water and... bam! Five-O is all up and tossin' my junk. Crawlin' all over it like cockroaches, yo, lights a flashin'. So I bounce. Up and back to up the road to my B-island bitches. I'm outta there. I'm thinkin' someone snitched, ya know, I'm already plottin' Chemical Ali's funeral. Of course I didn't know, I didn't know what they were really lookin' for...”
“What, wait,” Maggie was only half listening, the wheels in her head turning. “What time is this?”
“How should I know? Three, four...”
“It's still dark?” Maggie confirmed.
“Oh, hell yeah. I ain't movin' three hundred pounds of bud in daytime, M-A-G.” Horus smirked.
Maggie leaned back in her chair and glanced back at the one-way mirror.
“And Meerkat was aboard?”
“Nah, she were out, aboard the Geoduck with Tea Queen. Them police were waitin'.”
“Then how did you find out that Meerkat was dead?”
“That's what I'm tryin' to say!” Horus pleaded. “I book into the La Quinta, yo. Get some sleep. It ain't until mornin', down in the lobby, with a big ol' plate of them Belgian waffles, and I see it on the plasma. All flashin' up Meerkat's picture and shit. I waren't there! I didn't touch her, yo! Them cops, they were crawlin' all over my boat. Waitin'. And who can get the police to come clean up their messes, huh, Maggie? Who? Why don't you try and guess?”
“So you went all Taxi Driver, huh? Got a gun?”
“Hell, I still got connections.”
“And you decided to settle the score with Senator Hadian yourself?”
“Shit.” Horus leaned back in his chair. “For what he done. He didn't deserve no better.”
Maggie glanced back at the one-way mirror and squinted, as if she were attempting to detect in its reflection if the confession would be satisfactory. Behind the mirror, Rachael suddenly realized she hadn't been taking notes. She frantically dug into her purse and came back with her notepad and began to scribble. Galahad shot her a disapproving look and then returned his attention to the mirror.
“Did you see any of this blackmail money?” Maggie asked, changing tactics. “That Meerkat was extracting from the Senator?”
“Sure,” Horus shrugged.
“Greenbacks?”
“What else?”
“How much?”
Horus shrugged again. “Hundred – two hundred, maybe, it all added up.”
“Two hundred thousand?”
“Sure.”
“Sure?” Maggie snorted, distracted. “Where'd Meekat get that kind of green?”
“From the Senator, yo. Ain't you payin' attention?”
“Yes, of course,” Maggie remembered. “For the surrogacy or blackmail?”
“Ya know, Maggie,” Horus began contemplatively. “Thinkin' on it all, I'm startin' to think that maybe that surrogacy deal weren't never on the up and up...”
“You think so, Horus?” Maggie asked without an ounce of sarcasm in her voice. She pulled herself to her feet, pausing momentarily at the edge of the small table. “Thank you, Eugine, this has all been very informative.”
“Hey, ain't you gonna get me out of here, Maggie? I ain't done nothin'.”
“No, I dare say you didn't.” Maggie turned for the exit. “Problem is, a lot of what you didn't do is downright illegal. You're going to have to do your stretch, Horus, and there's nothing I can do about that.”
“Ya gotta help me, M-A-G...”
“I suggest you get a lawyer, Horus,” Maggie said from the door. “The dryfoot kind. And a good one. You're going to need it.” And Maggie turned the door's handle and stepped behind the one-way mirror.
The Raft Page 29
