by Matt Lincoln
I moved toward the next crate and was confused, as I was met not with fuzzy tan fur, like in the last crate, but with bright greens, reds, and blues instead.
“Are those parrots?” I heard Junior ask beside me, and I nodded as I leaned down to have a closer look. Like the cubs, the parrots appeared to be asleep. All but one, who poked his head up toward me as I leaned down, startling me as I came face-to-face with a pair of beady black eyes.
“Porthmeío!” the bird squawked in a scratchy, high-pitched voice. “Porthmeío! Porthmeío!”
“Porthmeío?” One of the officers standing closest to us asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“A boat. Like… a ferry, I think is the right word,” he said back. “What an odd thing for a bird to say.”
I looked back down at the bird who was making a clicking noise and bobbing its head as if dancing to some music only it could hear. I wondered if they would release it back into the wild or if they’d put it in a zoo or something. Regardless, my job wasn’t really to worry about the animals, just to make sure they stopped being imported into the United States.
With that in mind, I moved away from the box of parrots and toward the final crate, which had the most officers gathered around it by far. Once I got far enough to see inside, I immediately understood why. Inside this crate was a massive, fully grown lion, the fur on its mane so long that it flared out around him and spanned almost the full width of the crate. This one was also, thankfully, in a drug-induced sleep, and I took the rare opportunity to move in closer. After all, it wasn’t every day that you got the chance to get within inches of a real lion.
He was a magnificent animal, with thick, dark fur and powerful muscles that I could make out beneath his skin.
“Wow,” Junior said as he moved away from the birds and caught up behind me, echoing my own thoughts.
Animal control arrived just a few minutes later, and we took that as our cue to head out. Junior made a call to the office to tell Wallace about everything that had gone down as we made our way back through the ship and back onto the dock. When we finally made it back, we found Hatzis waiting for us.
“Hey, how’s Cirillo doing?” I asked immediately upon seeing him.
“He’s okay,” he said, much to my relief. “He’s in surgery now, and they will call me when they have an update. The doctors expect he will make a full recovery.”
I’d felt a little guilty about leaving him there on the floor with a knife wound, especially after Galanis managed to escape, anyway. I was glad that he seemed to be doing well.
“Well, what’s our next move, then?” Junior asked out loud. My knee-jerk reaction was to say, keep going. Go to Galanis’s address. Find out what his usual haunts were. Then I remembered what both Wallace and Harry had told me about doing too much, and what could happen if I pushed too hard. I looked at Junior, who had abandoned his ice pack at some point and looked ready for action. The bruise was still under his eye, though, bigger and darker than before.
“Let’s go to the hotel MBLIS booked for us and regroup for a second,” I said, looking at Junior and Hatzis for confirmation. “We’ll ask some local police to follow up on Galanis’s address and to look into where he usually hangs around and decide what to do from there.”
Junior looked surprised at my suggestion but didn’t argue, which made me think he must feel more worn out than he was letting on. Now that I stopped to think about it, my own injury was feeling pretty sore as well, although I hadn’t torn any stitches as far as I could tell. I had most likely just strained myself too much during my sprint through the bowels of the ship.
After giving Hatzis a moment to alert his superiors about where he would be heading next, we piled back into the van and headed for the hotel.
21
Junior
I felt secretly relieved when Hills suggested we take a break and head to the hotel. I fully expected him to want to rush headfirst into tracking down Galanis, and while I had been ready to buck up and follow him, I had to admit that I was feeling a little worse for wear. According to Hills, I’d only been out for a few seconds after Galanis had punched me, but it had felt like much longer. In fact, when I first got up off the floor of the cargo hold, I hadn’t been able to remember how I’d gotten there. The last thing I could remember doing was falling asleep on the airplane. Then it felt as though I was suddenly knocked to the ground.
My memories had come trickling back, of course, but not all at once, or even in order. The details were still fuzzy, but time had been of the essence at that moment, and I hadn’t wanted to waste any more of it by alerting Hills to how confused I was. Then, with everything that had happened to Cirillo and the suspect getting away, the timing just hadn’t seemed great. In any case, I couldn’t worry about a little concussion when we had a mission to complete.
The lobby of the hotel MBLIS had booked for us was decorated in a nice mixture of historical and modern, in hues of white, pale yellow, and green. There was a lovely stone relief sculpture carved against one wall, with figures that moved around as you got closer. I was about to point out how cool that was to Hatzis and Agent Hills when I suddenly realized that the figures weren’t actually moving. I was just hallucinating.
This was okay, though, really. I just blinked really hard a few times, and they stopped, so there was nothing to worry about. This was fine. My head was still throbbing a little, but the sharp pain behind my eyes had gone away, so that must mean that I was getting better, right? I’d just drink some water and have something to eat and maybe take a nap, and I’d be fine.
Or wait, no. You weren’t supposed to take a nap when you had a concussion, were you? Or was that for being drunk? Don’t nap when you’re drunk because you could choke, or something like that? Right? I couldn’t remember, and that made me feel worried, but a moment later, I couldn’t remember what I felt worried about, so I just shrugged my shoulders and decided not to think about it.
I looked up and saw Hills staring at me questioningly, an eyebrow raised in confusion. A few seconds too late, I realized he had just asked me something.
“Damn, what was it?” I thought to myself.
“Um, sorry, what did you say?” I asked.
“I asked if you wanted something to eat,” Hills said slowly as if he were speaking to a small child. Of course, that was another reason I couldn’t let on that I wasn’t feeling well. Hills was finally starting to see me as his equal and not some dumb kid. I wasn’t going to mess it up now.
“You just stared at me and then shrugged,” he continued. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”
“Yes, sorry, I’m fine,” I assured him. “I was just thinking about something. The case, I mean.” I looked around and realized we were sitting around a table in the lobby on some leather couches. I tried not to panic as it occurred to me that I couldn’t remember moving away from the stone relief or sitting down.
“You’re sure you’re good with olives?” Hills asked, looking up from his phone.
“What olives?” I asked, sitting up straight. I couldn’t remember when I’d leaned back into the couch.
“For the pizza,” he said, glancing back down at his phone. “Hatzis says it’s traditional here, and I like them, but I’ve met people who hate them, so I was just double-checking.” Hatzis nodded beside him.
“What pizza?” I thought frantically, but I managed to stop myself from saying that out loud.
“Yes, sure, I’m fine with that,” I said, hoping I sounded convincing.
There was a voice in the back of my mind, small but clear, that was telling me to speak up. Let Hills know that something is very wrong. Tell them you’re not fit for duty right now. Tell them you probably need to go to the hospital. Do anything besides sit here silently.
I went to open my mouth, but nothing came out. A much louder, if more frenetic voice overpowered that one, telling me that everything was fine. I could do this. I’d been
a federal agent for years now. I’d been through worse than this. I’d been shot. Someone had even tried to drown me once. One tiny little punch wasn’t going to take me out of commission. Just eat your pizza and act cool. I wasn’t sure where the pizza had come from, but I was glad it was here. I was hungry.
I lifted the slice of pizza and took a bite, recoiling as the salty taste of olives assaulted my tongue.
“Why are there olives on this?” I asked blankly to no one in particular. I looked up to see Hills watching me with an expression that was bordering on horror.
“Okay, no, Junior, let’s go. There’s something wrong with-” Hills started but was cut off by the abrupt ringing of Hatzis’s phone.
Hatzis lifted the phone to his ear and had a short conversation in Greek.
“We need to go,” he said, standing up and balling the empty napkin he’d been holding his slice of pizza in. “Galanis has a cousin who works on a local ferry boat. The ferry is scheduled to dock nearby in less than an hour, and this could be a potential lead to find Galanis. We’ll meet him at the dock.”
I tried to focus on what Hatzis was saying but kept getting distracted by the way the buttons on his uniform seemed to expand and contract. I got the gist, though, so I stood up and stretched, ready to follow Hatzis back out to the van.
“What?” I asked Hills, who was staring at me with an odd expression.
“Nothing,” he said after a moment, although there was clearly something on his mind. He was acting a little strange, but I couldn’t think why he would be. Maybe it had to do with the fact that the suspect had managed to get away. He didn’t seem angry or annoyed, though, like he usually got. Rather, he seemed kind of worried. That wasn’t like Hills, who tended to dive into things headfirst and worry about the consequences never. Regardless, the three of us left the hotel and climbed back into the car. Hatzis took off right away, wanting to ensure we’d make it to the dock before the ferry did.
22
Charlie
After Hatzis’s phone call, we rushed out of the hotel and headed immediately to the dock. I was still worried about Junior, but time was of the essence here.
We arrived at the dock with about twenty minutes to spare. This port was different from the one the huge cruise ship had been docked in. It was smaller and seemed to cater more to the locals than to tourists, as the majority of the signs around this area were in Greek only with no English to be seen. Junior and I followed Hatzis to the edge of the dock where a few other police officers were already waiting. After the standard set of introductions, we all turned toward the water to wait for the ferry to come in.
We all stood on a long stretch of pavement. Behind us, beneath an awning, a long line of people waited to board the incoming ferry. I could hear them chattering, and their happy voices felt discordant against the grave situation at hand. In front of us was a wide stretch of blue as the ocean spread across the horizon. I could see the line where the sea met the sky, bisected only in one spot where the green of a faraway island could be seen in the distance.
I glanced at Junior, who was continuing his conversation from earlier with Hatzis and seemed less out of it than before. Part of me envied the ease with which he was able to make small talk and have pointless conversations with people. I’d never been good at that, and I had to admit that it sometimes made investigative work more difficult when I pissed people off right off the bat. In that regard, it was good that I had him as a partner.
I could see the ferry in the distance now, and I looked down at my phone. There were still about five minutes until it was scheduled to arrive, and I was growing more anxious as it got closer. The minutes seemed to pass by achingly slowly, and as the ferry grew bigger, so did the foreboding feeling in the pit of my stomach. Years of learning to rely on my instincts and react quickly in risky situations had taught me to detect danger before it got too close, and something about the ferry was putting me on edge. I couldn’t say what, but I could just feel something was wrong.
A moment later, my gut feeling was confirmed when one of the officers beside us said something that sparked a loud debate among the rest. I couldn’t understand what was being said, but I could tell that they were becoming agitated.
“What’s going on?” I asked Hatzis, who was watching the ferry with a worried expression.
“There is something wrong,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the boat. “The ferry is coming in too fast and at too sharp of an angle. At this rate, it is going to crash directly into the dock.”
I looked back at the ferry which was, in fact, approaching faster than before. A moment later, there was yelling, and everyone was scrambling to move away from the edge of the dock. I turned to run, but I was knocked off my feet as the ground shook violently beneath us. As I fell to the ground, the loud sound of twisting metal and crumbling concrete assaulted my ears. I pushed myself back onto my feet and turned to look at the ferry which was bent at an angle and partially protruding over the side of the dock. The portion still in the water was tilted sideways and gradually tilting further as it began to take on water.
“Hatzis, call for more backup right now!” I yelled over the chaos that was erupting all over the deck and on the boat. “We need paramedics and rescue here, ASAP!” I could hear screaming as the people trapped on the ferry started scrambling and attempting to climb off the boat.
“Hatzis, can you get the police to handle evac and rescue?” Junior yelled, suddenly appearing beside us. “Agent Hills and I will search the ferry and find the cousin. I have a feeling this crash wasn’t a coincidence.”
To be honest, it hadn’t occurred to me that the crash might have been deliberately caused by Galanis’s cousin. I’d been so focused on the crash itself and the disastrous aftermath that was sure to follow that I hadn’t actually thought about it.
We climbed onto the ferry, stepping over pieces of the wreckage and pulling ourselves up over a piece of what had once been the railing. It had only been a couple of minutes since the initial impact, but the ferry already seemed significantly more tilted, so we had to be careful not to lose our footing as we made our way on board.
Once on deck, we attempted to make our way further into the ferry, although it was difficult with how inclined the floor now was, not to mention the current of people who were actively moving in the other direction and impeding our ability to advance further.
“How are we even supposed to find him in this?” Junior asked over the roar of the crowd, bracing himself against a piece of the ferry’s structure in order to keep himself from being swept away by the horde of people. As I was about to answer, my eyes caught a man moving in the opposite direction of the crowd, away from the dock and toward the ocean.
“There!” I yelled, pointing toward the man. I didn’t wait for confirmation from Junior that he’d spotted him as well, as I didn’t want to risk losing my visual. I hurried after him, brusquely shoving passengers out of my way as I did. I didn’t feel good about it, but I couldn’t let this suspect get away too. The crowd began to thin out as we approached the side of the ferry that was submerged in water, and I was able to break into a run now that there were fewer people in my way.
The suspect seemed to realize he was being followed then, as he turned and made eye contact with me. He began to run at that point, too, heading straight for the water. He suddenly turned sharply to the right, slowing down only for a moment to brace his hands against the railing of the ferry before using his own momentum to propel himself over the side and into the water. I was only a few steps behind him at this point and pulled the same maneuver, launching myself over the edge of the boat and into the ocean. I wasn’t prepared for how cold the water would be. On the dock, the air had been balmy and warm, even though it was late October. By contrast, the water was so cold that it stung as it made contact with my skin.
I landed hard on top of him and immediately locked one arm around his neck. I attempted to wrap my other arm around his torso to lock his own arms in
place, but this proved to be too difficult under the water, and he managed to slip one arm out of my grasp. He then used his free elbow to strike me on my injured side, and I barely managed to keep myself from screaming as I lost my grip from around his neck. He took advantage of my momentary weakness, turning around to punch me before gripping my hair hard and forcing me under the water. Thinking quickly, I brought my legs up and kicked him hard in the stomach, although this action caused me to compress my side and further strain my injury.
Underwater, I could see red floating around me, and I realized with a start that it was my own blood. Between the elbow to the side and the kick I had delivered, I had managed to tear my stitches. More desperate to end the fight quickly now that I was bleeding out, I broke the surface again and head-butted him as hard as I could manage. My own forehead was throbbing, but his nose and mouth were spewing blood, and he seemed disoriented, so I took the opportunity to renew my grip around his arms, making sure that this time, he wouldn’t be able to slip out.
I kicked my way backward toward the shore as he struggled against my hold. I’d never apprehended someone underwater and wasn’t sure what the most efficient method of bringing him back to shore was.
After what felt like an eternity of struggling as I did my best to propel us toward the shore while maintaining my grip around him, I finally felt my back hit something firm.
“I could use some help here!” I shouted as loudly as I could. The burning in my lungs made it difficult for me to even draw breath, let alone yell. I could hear several sets of footsteps moving toward me, and I turned my head as far as I could without letting go of the suspect, hoping they were coming to assist me and not him. It relieved me to see that it was Junior and Hatzis, along with a few other officers.
