The Aeschylus

by David Barclay

  Dominik tried to step closer to his wife, but Private Gantte shoved him back with the butt of his pistol. Dominik settled for leaning over the young man instead. “What is Neuengamme?”

  Maggie shuddered. “It's a new prison yard, isn't that right? It's where they take communists and homosexuals. You wouldn't take me to a normal prison, is that right Mister Dietrich? Am I such a horrible person that you would take me to a den like Neuengamme instead?”

  Harald sighed. “If you were the one to stay, you would not be processed in the usual way, Missis Kaminski. You would be at the government's disposal.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I'm afraid I can't say.”

  Anxious to extricate himself, Heinrich caught Harald's attention with a wave. “This is not my affair. I'm headed below deck to finish. Call me when you are ready to leave, aye?”

  Harald nodded, and the man bowed himself out.

  “Why pick one of us at all?” Maggie demanded. “You can't separate the girls from both of their parents. Why not let us all stay? They... they need me.”

  “I can't do that.”

  “And the other man on board? What about this other man the captain spoke of? Why not leave him behind? Would you break up a family instead of sending another prisoner off ship?”

  “I'm afraid I can't do that either,” Harald said. “Dominik and the other man are very special to this affair. Our orders are to transport Dominik and his family. I am truly sorry the count was wrong for the transportation. I was not involved in that aspect directly.”

  He did feel bad about the error, but it was not one he could have foreseen. When he had chosen The Adalgisa, no one had bothered to point out there was a passenger limit. He had simply assumed seven new passengers would not matter. In light of this oversight, he considered what would happen if he did allow all three girls to stay. His contact at Neuengamme would likely accept one new prisoner as a favor, but three? That would certainly be a black mark in his column of favors. And what of leverage? If Mister Kaminski was transported to the base with no family members present, then there would be nothing to guarantee his cooperation. This was a hard conclusion, but Harald had been put in charge to make hard decisions. “One of you stays, the rest go,” he reiterated.

  3

  Zofia clutched her stuffed bear to her chest and sucked fiercely on one thumb.

  Dominik himself was shaking. He couldn't remember a time in his life when something so meticulously planned had gone so far awry. He looked at his wife and his mouth opened, but no words came out.

  “You know it has to be me,” she said. “It has to be you or me, and they won't let it be you. They want you for something. Whatever it is, it scares me, Dominik.”

  “I'm scared for you,” he managed.

  “It will not be as bad for me. I can deal with prison. But I can't bear the thought of Zofia or Lucja being alone. Can you?” She put a hand to his cheek, and welcome as it was, he felt the desperation in her. Not to escape, but a desperation to love and to be loved. The desperation to know that the last twelve years had not been in vain. In that moment, he saw her as he had the first time, the butcher's daughter who used to stare at him from her second story window. She had been so beautiful then, was still so beautiful now.

  A dark curl of hair fell in front of her eyes, and he brushed it aside, just as he had done the very first time they kissed. He pulled her close and kissed her then, a dozen years of fire and memory passing between them. When they broke apart, he saw Lucja's cheeks were stained with tears. How very much alike they look, Dominik thought.

  “It's his fault you have to go away,” Lucja said. “I'm not staying with him. I'd rather leave than go on this stinking... damnable ship.”

  “I don't want to go either,” Zofia said.

  “Lucja honey,” Maggie said, bending down, “I want you to listen to me. Your father loves you very much. And you will do what he says. Do you hear me? You are going with him.”

  “We're not,” Zofia said, and sniffled.

  “Yes you are. I have to go away and it's no one's fault but the men with the guns. Do you hear me? It's no one's fault but theirs. Your father is the head of this family and I want you to listen to him when I'm gone. He will keep you safe. I promise.” She knelt next to Lucja. “You remember when you were just a little girl, and we went to see Grandma? We spent all day riding the bus, and it was dirty and noisy because we couldn't afford anything better. But we got there and you were so happy to see your Grammy. The next day we went to the riverside, and I brought a picnic lunch. Do you remember? You played in the grass and climbed the trees, but you wanted to go swimming. Your father told you no because the water was too cold. You kept looking at the river all day because your little sister was just a baby and you had no one to play with. So you got bored. And what happened?”

  “I jumped in the water,” Lucja said.

  “You jumped in the water. And it was cold, wasn't it? You splashed and sank. We thought you were still playing with your kite until we heard you scream. Your father jumped in after you, didn't he?”

  “He jumped in with all his clothes on,” Lucja said vacantly.

  “That's right,” Maggie said. “He jumped in, and five seconds later, he dragged you to the surface and saved your life.”

  Zofia listened intently, her thumb still in her mouth. Dominik hadn't seen her with her thumb in her mouth since she was three. Maggie turned and knelt to her as she had done with Lucja. “And you, Zofie. Do you remember when you got sick last year, and you were lying in bed because you couldn't go to school?”

  Zofia nodded.

  “I wanted to send you back to school the next day, but your papa insisted we take you to the doctor. He heard something funny in your cough. The doctor listened to your chest and examined you. Do you remember?”

  “I didn't like it,” Zofia said, taking her thumb out of her mouth and then promptly sticking it back in.

  “He found you were really sick. You had to stay home for a long time, and if we hadn't gotten you medicine, you might have died.”

  Zofia knew this was all past, of course, but she still looked frightened. “I had no-mona.”

  “That's right, you had pneumonia. Your daddy knew there was something wrong with you, and he got the doctor to get you medicine. If it wasn't for him...” She had to catch herself. Dominik moved towards her and stopped, not wanting to break the bond between them.

  “The ship is ready,” Harald said from some distance away. “Try to hurry it up. Please,” he added.

  Maggie got a hold of herself and looked at her daughters. “So you see, your papa is the best at taking care of you. He was trying to save all of us by bringing us here. He can still save you two, but he might have been... he might just have been a little too late for me.” She pulled the girls close and gripped them to her chest.

  Zofia was frightened. “Mama! Mama, you're hurting me.”

  Maggie let go and tried to smile. “I'm sorry, baby.”

  And then Private Gantte was at her back with the pistol, and it was time to leave. She wheeled on him. “Don't you dare point that at me with my children here!” she screamed at him. “I'll come with you, but you put that thing away. Have you got that?”

  The young man was so surprised he took a step back. He did not put the gun away, but he lowered it to his waist and crossed his hands.

  Maggie rushed to Dominik and planted one more kiss on his lips. Before he could whisper goodbye, she turned and began to walk away with the young man. Private Gantte gripped her by the elbow but did not point the gun at her again. He stopped once to salute Lieutenant Dietrich on his way out, then turned and walked Maggie away from the pier until they both disappeared into darkness.

  4

  The Adalgisa left the docks around midnight, skimming into the ford and bellowing black smoke into the sky. Presently, the boat began to pick up speed, bouncing up and down in spite of the calm waters. Dominik observed all this from the foredeck, hold
ing his daughters close and wondering where Magdelena was at that precise moment.

  As the buildings on the shoreline diminished, he thought of the home they had left behind. Not the people or the neighborhood, but the physical space itself. He thought about the desk in the corner of his office, a dark mahogany writing table that had been in his family for three generations. He thought of the portrait in the hallway of he and Maggie and Lucja, the one that had been painted when their oldest daughter was just a babe. He thought of the journals where he had published, filed neatly away in the kitchen drawers. Bottles of wine kept on the ground floor dating as far back as 1918. An old grandfather clock in his office with hand-crafted brass gears. All of these things and many more, now gone forever.

  Then, he thought again of his wife. He thought of Magdelena with her raven black hair, and her smile, and her laugh that always reminded him of summer rain. Would she be gone forever now, to fade with the memories of his physical things?

  No, he thought for the first time. There is no prison, no boat, no man that can hold the likes of my family, not for long.

  Chapter 3: Knowing Better

  Near Puerto Aisén, Chile:

  Present Day

  1

  “Try it again,” Dutch yelled.

  The man turned the key and pushed the button on the control panel. The engine made a thunderous grinding sound, but it didn't start.

  “You suck at your job, you know that?”

  “Shut up,” the other man said, but he was grinning. It was a good day out, warm sun and no wind. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes, and he blinked, wiping his face with a gloved hand. He was hunched over, still staring into the network of wires and rods that made up the machine's twenty-year-old driver motor.

  “You know, you're giving me wood all bent over like that.”

  “My hairy ass is better looking than your last girlfriend, Dutch.”

  “You figure it out yet?”

  The man found the last two unconnected wires and jury-rigged them together, then pulled a piece of electrical tape out of his toolbox and sealed them. He stood up and dusted his hands. “That should do it.”

  Dutch unscrewed the top on his water thermos and took a drink. He looked put-out just having to stand around and supervise, not that supervising was in any way a part of his job. “You sure?”

  “Why don't you make yourself useful and go test it?”

  Dutch chuckled. He stepped into the cramped quarters of the operator's cab. “Jesus. It's like a pig farm in here.”

  “Yeah. Smells better than your last girlfriend too.”

  The man stepped out to the catwalk and looked at the ground, some thirty feet below. A brown wasteland stretched in front of him, a flat expanse of sand and rock with boundaries of piled earth in all directions. He thought about how easy it would be to police the mine properly if anyone cared, but no one did. Not to mention, they were supposed to be security staff, not repairmen. As long as the money kept coming, however, he put up with it.

  Most of the morning's shift workers were standing around in red vests, talking. A few were eating sandwiches and drinking coffee. No such luck for him; no rest for the wicked.

  Dutch turned and pointed. “Hey, do you see that?”

  Rising over the crest of the northernmost outcropping, the man saw a helicopter flying in towards them. Flying was the fastest way to get over the mountains, but he hadn't seen a helicopter in months. Even the mine supervisors came in via bus.

  “I knew I was going to regret not bringing my rifle this morning.”

  “Eh, it was either your toolbox or your rifle. You're a victim of circumstance.”

  “That doesn't explain why you didn't bring yours.”

  “I didn't want you to feel left out.”

  The man checked his pistol—an M1911 tucked into his waistband—then pushed past his friend and slid down the nearby ladder. He jogged across the machine platform, ducked under the huge, diagonal conveyor belt, then hopped over another set of railings. He jumped down onto the machine treads, then another six feet to the ground. Dutch was right behind him. At the bottom, his friend grabbed a case concealed beneath the machinery and popped it open. The man watched, chagrined as Dutch took the long-range PSG-1 out of its case. Within seconds, he had snapped on the stock, connected the wires, and screwed in the bolts that would hold it steady.

  “Didn't bring your rifle, huh?”

  “Well, I didn't have it up there, did I?”

  “How long have we been friends, Dutch?”

  Dutch examined the rifle, now fully assembled, then slung it over his shoulder. “Long enough to know it's your turn to take point.”

  He slapped his friend on the arm, then began jogging up a nearby hill. The man watched him go, wondering if they were being paranoid. Out here, he knew, there were no police, no government officials, nothing but the law of the Wild West. Better to be paranoid.

  The helicopter touched down some thirty yards away, still blowing sand. It was a big sucker, an S-70 long-ranger similar to what the Coast Guard used back in the states. Chances were that this was some special VIP coming in to check out the mine or do a property assessment, but somehow, he didn't think so. Just as he was tensing up, the helicopter door opened, and a woman stepped out. A woman, all alone in this world of men.

  The man ran towards the helicopter as it powered down, shielding his eyes from the dust. The woman swayed, then stumbled as she made her way towards him. He ran over to help, but when she saw him, she regained her feet in a hurry.

  “You all right, ma'am?”

  “Of course I'm all right. I'm sorry, but I don't have much time. I'm looking for your boss, the head of security.”

  “My boss?”

  “A Mister AJ Trenton. Do you know him?”

  He smiled. There was nothing like an American city girl out of her depth. “Well, that would be me, Miss. I'm AJ. And I don't have a boss.”

  Something that might have been embarrassment flickered in her eyes, then disappeared. “Great. Then I don't have to look for you.”

  Then, she bent over and threw up.

  2

  The conversation Kate had with Michael that morning had been short, all things considered.

  “We need at least one executive to accompany the team, and I'd like it to be someone from your department,” he told her once she had been back in his office. “This could be a public relations nightmare, and we need someone we can trust. On top of that, we need someone who can handle himself. This could be a field trip, but if Mister Bruhbaker is right, it could be like being a combat photographer in Iraq.” He paused, looking at her. “You've been around the block, Kate, and you know everyone in your department. I trust your judgment. Who's going to be up for this?”

  She knew what she was going to say before Michael had finished. “I'm going.”

  “What?”

  “I'm going. If you need an executive down there so you can spin it when the shit hits the fan, it's going to be me.”

  “Oh,” he said, frowning, “I don't think that will be necessary. I didn't mean to imply it should be you.” He laughed. “Oh, no.”

  “I'm serious.” Was she? The shock of the last twenty-four hours was still sharp in her mind.

  “I don't know if that's a good idea. If anything were to happen—”

  “Who else are you going to get? Lopez? Grant? You don't need one of those hundred-and-twenty-pound-panty-waists for something like this, Mister Lucian. I don't have much, but I do have guts. And I just inherited fifteen percent of a company I didn't earn. Why don't you let me prove I deserve it? Whatever is down there, I'll find out. I'll make sure my father's company is protected. Our company.”

  Michael clasped his hands behind his head, then nodded as if coming to a decision. “All right. I'm sure Smith will be quite glad.”

  “Smith?”

  “Yes. Mister Geoffery Smith, the man who was giving the presentation downstairs. I was thinking
about sending him if no one from your department was willing.”

  Kate stared at him.

  “Well, he is the most informed about the situation, and he's been with us for over ten years.”

  “Oh no,” Kate said. “I'm sure he would have been the right man. Did you tell him?”

  “Well, now that you're here, there's no need.”

  “You should tell him anyways,” Kate said, putting on her best serious face. “See if he puts up a fight. I don't want to go stepping on anyone's toes.”

  Michael looked at her a moment. “You're having me on. Aren't you?”

  “I am,” she said, and she smiled. She still felt like she was riding a roller coaster, but she hadn't lost her sense of humor yet.

  He shifted the topic back to her, and they chatted for another few minutes, working out the legal implications of Kate's departure. When they were done, she made to leave, knowing she had precious little time before she would be in the air.

  “There's just one more thing,” Michael said.

  Kate looked back.

  “You won't be going directly to the coast. You're making a bit of a detour first.”

  “Oh?”

  Michael's face soured. It was the first expression she'd seen that made him look unattractive. “There is a man, a Mister AJ Trenton, we would like you to intercept en route. He's an American on a work visa in Chile. Since it won't be more than a few hundred miles off course, it shouldn't be a significant delay, and you can rendezvous with Bruhbaker and his team in Argentina this afternoon. Trenton's a bit of a wild card, really.”

  “Let me guess. He's the former head of VO security. Is that right?”

  Michael looked astonished. “How did you know that?”

  “I have my sources.”

  Before Kate left the bathroom, she had heard Johnson talking about him to someone in the men's room. His voice had come drifting in through a vent over one of the toilet stalls. “I don't know what they're thinking, trying to get Angus back on site. The guy's a fuck-up, and he's always been a fuck-up. Yeah, one shouldn't talk about one's predecessor, I know, but come on. What do they think he's going to do?” His conversation partner had theories, but Kate didn't care about those.