by J C Ryan
The penalty for transporting a paperless individual on the high seas, he didn’t know. It was not really his problem. It was on his passenger if she entered a country illegally. Much safer than a cargo of illegal drugs, birds, or animals, though, and therefore he was very happy with this charter. He left the reporting of their departure to Enrico. The port authorities knew him and never hassled him about anything. This yacht came and went on an irregular schedule, and the only ones aboard, as far as the authorities knew, were her owner and the lackadaisical but affable first mate.
Chapter 13
Fatumara Bay, Port Vila, Vanuatu
AT ABOUT NINE in the morning on the second day after the dinner date, Rex was wondering if Jacqui had forgotten inviting him. Or maybe he’d misunderstood the plan. She was supposed to text him when to come over, but no text had come. It was getting late for breakfast. Digger had already had his and was enjoying a nap in the sun just outside the veranda cover.
Was I supposed to just show up?
An hour later, he decided that must have been it, and she must have had brunch in mind, not breakfast; otherwise she’d have called wondering where he was.
He woke Digger, and they walked to her cabin, but no one was there.
Rex thought about an old movie he’d seen called Groundhog Day, where the main character kept waking up and doing the same things over and over, until he finally got it right and broke the pattern. This morning was a reprise of the day a week ago, when she’d left unexpectedly without notifying anyone. But what was it he was supposed to get right to keep from repeating this pattern?
However, she’d been very specific about the day, and she hadn’t canceled. She wasn’t answering her phone or responding to texts again, just like before. But before, she’d let him know the next day. As frustrating and bewildering as it was, he decided to go back to his hut and wait for her to do so again.
His stomach growled. Somewhat put out by Jacqui’s erratic behavior, he turned to retrace his steps. Digger followed reluctantly, unable to understand why they weren’t playing on the beach this morning.
When they got back to the hut, Rex made his breakfast, keeping up a running one-way conversation with Digger. “This is getting old. I’m wondering if we both haven’t been taken in by a drama queen. She seems genuine, but what’s this silly game she plays of acting like she wants to be alone and then disappearing. Women, I tell you. The book about understanding them has not been written yet.”
Digger tracked Rex’s movements and paid attention to his words, or so he pretended to do. Rex knew he was talking to an animal, though. One who couldn’t understand the conversation, much less respond, unless it included certain words he knew. He was probably waiting for Rex to give him more food and only pretending to be interested in the conversation to achieve that objective.
As the day wore on, Rex kept his phone close at hand, but he didn’t hear anything from Jacqui. Nor from Ida, though that was less surprising. She never initiated a call to him.
Chapter 14
Fatumara Bay, Port Vila, Vanuatu
THE NEXT MORNING, Rex woke with a sense of anticipation—this would be the day Jacqui would send him the belated text to explain her absence, like she did before. But again, as the day wore on without word, the continued silence started to feel permanent.
He went to the market late in the afternoon to get some food and bumped into Ida.
“Have you heard from Jacqui?” he asked.
“No, I haven’t. And it’s strange. After dinner the other night, she said to come over for breakfast, yesterday that would’ve been. But she wasn’t home when I went over, so I thought she must have forgotten about it and went on a trip to one of the other islands.”
But then Rex recalled the formal form of goodbye Jacqui had given Ida when she left them at dinner, adieu. And the expression of gratitude for his and Digger’s friendship. It struck him that this wasn’t the same as the previous time at all. Jacqui had hinted at a decision, and now he became worried about what that decision was.
Damn. I should’ve picked that up.
“I think we should report her missing,” he said.
“Surely it’s too early for that,” Ida replied. “She’ll probably turn up at some stage. I’m not worried, and she’s old enough to take care of herself.”
Not for the first time, Rex reflected on how self-centered Ida was. She never seemed to have a care in the world for anyone but herself.
His first thoughts turned to kidnapping, admittedly because of his own experiences in the not-too-distant past. But why would anyone kidnap her, a low-level government employee? She’d all but said her family wasn’t wealthy, despite owning a French winery. In the end, it was her melancholy the last few times he’d seen her that worried him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was vulnerable, though he couldn’t guess the reason.
“Ida, would you come with me to her hut now? I think something’s wrong. And if it’s bad news, we should be together when we discover it.”
“What bad news are you talking about?”
“Let’s not borrow trouble. Just please, come with me, okay?”
Ida put on a pout, but she followed him out of the narrow aisles of the market and then walked beside him back to the resort. They had little to say to each other. Rex noticed Digger walked on his opposite side, as if to avoid the sullen woman. She wasn’t his first choice of companion on this errand, either, but he had a bad feeling, and his reasoning about having a witness was sound.
However, when they got to the hut, they peeked in the windows and didn’t see any sign of Jacqui. The door was unlocked. They entered, but there was still no Jacqui inside. As far as he could see, all her stuff was there, as if she had just gone out for a short while.
“What do you want to do now?” Ida asked. “She isn’t here. So, what?”
Disgusted with her lack of concern, Rex answered that he’d report Jacqui missing to the resort manager, and Ida could go on back to her own pursuits if she wanted. She regarded him with a blank stare and then left without another word.
“Weird woman,” Rex said to Digger when she was out of earshot.
Digger woofed in apparent agreement. He’d never liked Ida, but it was obvious the feeling was manifestly mutual.
Rex trudged back to the resort offices and reported to the manager what he’d found and his worries about it. He explained they’d had a breakfast date the day before, but Jacqui hadn’t been at home and hadn’t been seen since. The manager reassured him she’d probably just gone island-hopping and forgotten the date. He promised to check on her later, though.
That’s the trouble with places like this. Always so laid-back. Nothing that can’t wait a week is worth doing.
In his concern, Rex had forgotten that was exactly what he’d been looking for when he got there—a laid-back lifestyle for a few weeks.
Chapter 15
The Coral Sea, off the East Coast of Australia
MARGOT STRETCHED LUXURIOUSLY in her cabin on the yacht. Bertrand had outdone himself, though she’d been trepidatious about an ocean voyage with her morning sickness. As it turned out, the yacht was large enough that the movement of the waves didn’t bother her much. She’d acclimated to the gentle rocking quickly and hadn’t suffered nearly as much as she’d done on the trip between islands in the little motor launch she’d taken with her friends a couple weeks ago.
The captain, Henri, was clearly a rogue, but a charming one. In the two days since they departed Vanuatu, he’d regaled her with tales of his adventures on these seas. He never named names. She was reassured that they could trust him not to reveal her name or whereabouts when he’d delivered her to Vietnam.
His company distracted her from the decision she’d made, which was to give up everything she’d ever wanted before and raise this baby incognito. A baby changed everything, she reflected. How could she be a good mother and be in politics, too? It wouldn’t work. She’d be away from the child for long hours eve
ry day. A nanny would be raising her child. How could she bear that? She had rich, happy memories of her own mother. Her child would barely know her if she returned to her position.
Still, it was a bittersweet thought that she’d worked so hard for her dream job and then thrown it away in the arms of a man who didn’t love her.
What was I thinking? Well, obviously I wasn’t thinking. I betrayed my own philosophy, my morals, and the party’s stance on family values for a few moments of pleasure and a career in politics. That’s the kind of woman I’ve become. I don’t even recognize myself.
She soon realized she would find no comfort in castigation. What had happened, happened, and at some stage in the future she’d probably look back at this time in her life and admit it was for the best. Now it was up to her to save the party and Giles’ presidency, as well as his marriage, by staying away. She couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t a monster. If she’d only said no, none of this would have happened. It was all her fault.
“Stop it!” she commanded herself, speaking aloud. “Go and find something pleasant to do and stop this endless negative talk. You’re going to have a baby, and you’re going to be the best mother there can be. Your baby is going to be a happy baby, because you are going to be a happy mother.”
She gave a decisive nod while looking herself in the eye in the mirror. She would put on a swimsuit, while hers still fit, and lie in the sun on deck. When she got to the convent in Vietnam, there would be no such pleasures, so she should enjoy them while she could.
Chapter 16
Port Vila, Vanuatu
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Rex was writing a blog post about Vanuatu’s attractions when Digger started growling, and soon after, a shout from outside brought him to his feet. Digger had scrambled to his feet as well, and stood with hackles up, looking at the door. Rex quickly walked over and opened it cautiously to see what was going on.
Outside, three men, police, judging from their uniforms, stood in attitudes of caution. The one in the middle had his hand on what appeared to be a weapon at his hip.
“Come out with your hands up!”
What the…
Rex nudged the door the rest of the way, raised his hands, and told his growling companion to stay. When he got outside, he stopped several feet from the officers.
“What’s this about?” he called to them.
“You are wanted for questioning in the disappearance of Margot Lemaire,” was the answer.
Rex felt his expression dissolve from caution to confusion. “Who’s Margo Lemaire?”
“We’ll ask the questions. You’ll give the answers. Step forward. And command your dog to lie still, or we’ll shoot it.”
Apart from the alarm bells that went off in Rex’s head, he felt the anger rising, not only because of the threat to harm Digger but also the policeman’s rudeness. However, he kept it under control. “Digger, lie down. Stay,” he said sharply. Without looking back to the dog, he knew Digger would obey, even though he now registered that the low growl meant the dog viewed the policemen as enemies.
“I’m sure there’s been some mistake, but I’ll accompany you peacefully. My dog is a trained service animal. I need him to be with me. I’ll put him on leash.”
A short consultation among the three men resulted. The apparently trigger-happy officer who’d threatened to shoot Digger gesticulated, but the others must have prevailed.
“Where is the leash?”
“Inside.”
One of the policemen stepped forward, and Rex kept his hands in the air until he got inside, lowering one only to pick up his passport and wallet. He nodded at the leash, and the cop picked it up.
“Digger, let the man put your leash on,” he said, hoping the dog got the gist of the command, which he had never used before.
If Digger can play along and be nice, it will help to calm these cops down.
Digger flattened his ears and ducked when the officer approached, but Rex said, “Friend.” Digger stopped growling, looked at Rex for a second or two, and then allowed the officer to attach the leash. Rex then submitted to being handcuffed, in front so he could handle the leash. Together, the three exited the hut again, and Rex was relieved to see the aggressive officer relax.
They all squeezed into a too-small car, which would have been adequate without Digger. The dog rested uncomfortably on Rex’s lap, overflowing onto the lap of the officer who’d leashed him. At least, Rex reflected, he’s stopped showing aggression. That was the most dangerous thing Digger could have done under the circumstances. It went against his nature to allow Rex to be captured like this, but fortunately he’d obeyed Rex’s commands.
Poor Digger, he must be completely confused, probably just as much as I am.
At the station, Rex was told to put Digger in a holding cell. From Rex’s perspective, it was not ideal, but there was nothing to be done about it. For now, he had no reason to plan an escape, and even if he could, where would he go? The best course of action was to remain calm and cooperate until he knew what was going on and whether he and Digger were in any kind of danger. Rex, however, warned the officers that he couldn’t control the dog if they were separated and asked them to please not approach the dog if he was not present.
“He’s only trying to protect me, and he doesn’t understand what’s happening. I promise I can control him if you keep us together.”
“That will not be possible. It’s for our safety.”
“Your safety would be better served if you let me keep him close, under my control.” Rex tried again to persuade them to let Digger be with him, to no avail. But in the end, in order to not escalate an already explosive situation, Rex very reluctantly agreed to allow Digger to be locked up. He was worried that Digger might injure an officer while trying to get to him, so, Rex kneeled next to him and spoke softly. “It’s okay, Digger. Be calm. I’m okay. Stay. I will be back soon. Good boy.”
Digger was making soft growls and whines, but after a minute or so of Rex’s reassurances, he calmed down and was quiet when Rex was led away and placed in an interrogation room.
Rex resisted looking back at the dog as he was led away, lest Digger interpret the look as a signal for help.
In the interrogation room, Rex was offered a chair and a bottle of water, both of which he accepted. They didn’t remove the cuffs, but Rex was not too worried about that for now. If need be, he could get out of them in less than five seconds. When the three officers who had picked him up left, Rex resigned himself to wait. He knew the rituals of interrogation well. The first step was to leave the prisoner alone and let him worry for an hour or so.
Rex looked at his watch and took note of the time. He had no doubt somewhere in the room they would have some concealed surveillance apparatus. He didn’t look for them—he didn’t want to let them know that he probably had more knowledge about interrogations in his pinkie than they had in their combined heads.
He remained in the chair, putting up a front of someone who had nothing to worry about. He took small sips of water every now and then and practiced calming breathing techniques; slow long breaths through his nose filling first his lower, then his upper lungs. Then he held his breath for a five-count before slowly exhaling through his mouth while he concentrated on relaxing the muscles in his face, jaw, shoulders, and stomach.
To his observers, it could’ve looked like he had fallen asleep.
The breathing helped him to relax but didn’t take his mind off Digger. He simply didn’t know how long Digger would tolerate the circumstances that were strange to him.
Rex knew he just had to keep up the façade of calmness, and it would soon wear the police down. He knew how to wait—in fact, he was trained in the art of waiting. The life of a black ops field operator, they were told during their training, was one of endless traveling from one location to another, followed by extended spells of mind-numbing tedium, every now and then punctuated by bursts of absolute violence and terror.
And then there was the wa
iting. Waiting for the target or a contact to turn up, waiting for the target to make a move, waiting for someone to complete a task before the next one could begin, waiting for the right time, waiting, waiting, and more waiting, and then quick action–get the job done, get out of the area, and go home. Then waiting again for the next mission.
Over the years, Rex had schooled himself and had learned to fill his waiting time by reading history and learning new languages. He always had an eReader device to read books and an MP3 player with him, so he could perfect his accents and improve his vocabulary by listening to native speakers of whatever new language he was learning.
But this time he didn’t have his eReader or audio player with him.
Nevertheless, he expected the cops to give up, sometime between thirty and forty-five minutes. Then he would hear what had landed him here.
In the meantime, he allowed his mind to wander. They’d said they wanted to question him in the disappearance of Margot something. He didn’t know anyone by the name of Margot, not on Vanuatu, but he did know someone who’d disappeared. Could that be Jacqui? If so, was Jacqui her nickname or had she been using a false name all along?
We’ll know as soon as the cops have had enough of looking at a man who’s sleeping in their interrogation room instead of biting his fingernails.
He’d met only a few people to speak to: the resort manager, Jacqui, Ida, the captain of the fishing boat, a few servers at the restaurants, a few shop owners in the market, and the woman who’d catered the dinner for him and Jacqui a while ago. But they never exchanged names. Was that perhaps Margot whatever?
