Lost Witness Read online

  13

  Day 1 @10:00 P.M

  It had taken Hannah over an hour to get downtown.

  She hadn't really wanted to make the trip, but she was expected; she hadn't wanted to leave the port, but it was the right thing to do. At Josie's house Hannah found what she wanted in her old room, bid good-bye to Archer who told her not to worry, and took off to battle Los Angeles traffic.

  She drove in fits and starts, and as traffic crawled her mind took a detour. She thought about a woman named Tala Reyes; a woman Billy was willing to risk his life for; a woman Hannah knew was real no matter what a manifest said. She bit her cheek and touched her arms, she resisted the urge to roll up her sleeves and scratch her skin raw to release her confusion and pain one drop of blood at a time. She resisted the urge to turn around and go back to Josie's to wait for whatever was going to happen next. She resisted, resisted, resisted until the long drive finally came to an end.

  Now Hannah stood on a deserted street in front of a building that looked abandoned and she still felt the familiar insect crawl of need under her skin. It had been years since she cut herself, but if she had her little box, if she had her razor blade, if she was sitting on her red stool, if Archer hadn't been in the house, she would have dealt with this fear in the old way: cutting her arms, scarring her skin. Instead she resorted to counting and touching. Neon numbers ran through her head. Her lips moved. The fingers of one hand tapped out the count against her thigh. One. . . Two. . . Three. . .

  "Hannah? Babe? What are you doing out here?"

  Hannah lifted her eyes and there was Jamal, holding open the barred door of that old building, the place where he lived and worked. He was backlit and his silhouette was almost as impressive as the man himself. His black, waist-length dreadlocks created a fierce halo as they fell across his shoulders and down his back, his legs were long, the arm that held the door was powerful from his work. He was black as the night.

  "Hannah?" he said again.

  She shook her head and even she didn't know what the gesture meant.

  Leave me alone a minute longer.

  Shake.

  Don't speak, not yet.

  Shake.

  Make me forget Billy.

  Shake.

  Help me. I can't move.

  Jamal let go of the door and the light of the hallway winked out behind him as it closed. He walked easily toward her. When he was close Jamal put his big hands on top of hers and held tight.

  "I called," he said. "I was worried."

  "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't pick up."

  With that, Jamal understood that she was worried too. It might be a while before she told him what it was all about, but he would wait. Jamal was a patient man. A kind man. A good man.

  Jamal was her man.

  Captain Bianchi grimaced.

  They were not on time, no one was working to capacity, and he had just now heard there was a problem unloading one of the farm machines. These had been the longest hours of his life, the longest day, the longest night. He should be feeling better knowing that soon they would be headed out to sea and all would be made right, but that was not correct and he knew it. How could things be made right when he knew nothing more of what had happened in the anchor room? Guang said the woman refused to talk. If she would not talk, Adeano would not know what to say to the Panamanians when they came looking for the dead man at the next port.

  The captain paced, walking through the bridge and out to the bridge wings. He paused. He looked. He patted the railing with his hands and then hit on it with his fist. He wondered what was supposed to happen in Los Angeles. No one had approached the ship asking for the man. Adeano found the dead man's cell phone and computer, but both were locked and he had not been able to break the code. He passed both devices to the Albanian who knew something about such things. Adeano told the man there would be a big bonus if he could access either one. The captain directed him to work on the phone first reasoning that whoever he was to meet would communicate by text. But always his thoughts returned to the woman, to Tala Reyes.

  Let her keep her mouth shut. Let her die for all he cared. Then he considered again and decided that having her alive was better. There was going to be hell to pay for the death of his very important passenger, so why not let her pay it? He would hand her over and let Panamanians do their worst. The one thing Adeano knew was that the Panamanians were due to board the ship and check out their cargo before it was off loaded. Unlike the U.S., what little oversight there was in Panama could be easily skirted. This shipment was only a sample and did not even fill an entire container. The dead man had told him as much one night when they drank in his cabin.

  Yes, if the Panamanians reacted badly, Adeano would hand over the woman. It didn't matter if the dead man had attacked her, it only mattered that he was dead. And it didn't matter if she died now or later. Who was there to ask questions about her? No one now that he had taken care of the manifest. And if the Panamanians still were not happy, Adeano would sweeten the pot. He would forgo his fee not only for this voyage but also for the next should they decide to work with him again. Not that the captain knew who 'they' were, but he would meet them soon enough. People like that made themselves known only when things went wrong and nothing could be more wrong than it was now.

  The captain hit the railing again, gave one more look at the bustling dock, glanced at the thresher being lashed to the deck, and walked through the bridge once more.

  "I'm going to check the gear boxes."

  "I have checked them," Nanda said.

  "I'll do it again."

  It was not a thing for the captain to do but Adeano was like a woman when he was unhappy, so Nanda said no more and let him go.

  Adeano went to the cabin where they had moved the woman and entered without knocking. He walked up to the bedside and looked at her. She looked back, not even doing him the courtesy of averting her eyes in shame for what she had done. He glanced at Guang who sat at the small desk eating. He was an old hand and whether he watched a sack of flour or a crazy woman, it made no difference to him. Adeano looked back at Tala Reyes. Her shirt was bloody, but not with her blood - or at least most of it wasn't. The dried blood was streaked, not pooled and that meant there were no deep wounds on her body, no arteries severed, no veins punctured. All his wishing for her death had been a waste of time.

  Her hand and neck were bandaged and her long black hair was swept to one side so that he could see the abrasions on the right side of her face. Her left eye was swollen shut and colored blue and purple. Her right eye, though, was quite lovely: long lashed and deeply set in her face. Pity he had not looked at her closely. Had he given her the proper attention, wooed her to pass the long nights at sea, Tala Reyes would have been a happy woman and none of this would have happened. Adeano Bianchi was sure of it.

  TALA REYES

  MANILA

  FOUR AND A HALF YEARS EARLIER

  * * *

  Tala looked out the window of the Jeepney as it trundled toward Manila. The air was hot, but it was still better to have a hot wind on your face than to be stuck in the middle of the half bus/half car, a jumble of a vehicle crafted from the long jeeps left by the Americans after World War II. When Tala was a young girl, she loved to ride on the Jeepney with her nanny. From the moment one of the busses came into view, brightly painted with pictures of action heroes and saints, it was exciting. Sometimes people brought chickens and big baskets of food or too many children making the bus seem as if it carried a whole city. To Tala the noise and colors and the hot stickiness of so many people crushed together was an adventure not a misery. Today, though, she was miserable, but not because she sat next to a fat man on a hot day.

  After her high school graduation dinner, Tala had proudly announced her acceptance to the maritime college. And what had her parents done? Laughed. Belittled her plans. Her father told her only poor families sent their children to sea. Her family did not need money because her father was a government man.
College was where Tala would go; marriage and babies were in her future.

  But she had stood her ground the way Estrella would have. Even when Tala's father turned his back on her, she did not budge. Even when her mother begged her to reconsider, Tala remained steady. She would go to the maritime college, she would graduate with honors, and someday she would return as captain of a fine ocean liner or better yet, a large commercial ship. That would impress her father. If he were impressed, her mother would welcome her home. There was nothing they could do to stop her, Tala said. Her parents showed Tala the door.

  Now she had no choice but to go to nangnang and lelong. School didn't start for another four months, and she needed a place to stay. Sad as Tala was, it would be good to be with her grandparents.

  The Jeepney pulled in to the station and Tala got off, suitcase in hand. It felt odd to be alone without her nanny who always delivered her safely to her grandparents before going on her way to see her married daughter. Behind her a man said something crude as they got off the bus, and Tala blushed. She threw back her head and pretended to walk proudly. It didn't matter what anyone said to her now. She was set free and she must act as a free woman: sure of herself, at peace with her decision, ready to make her dreams come true.

  Hefting her case, Tala began to walk. She got lost once because she had never gone alone to her grandparents house. It was afternoon and the men were coming back from work, the women were hanging wash and hurrying their children along as they walked back from school. Grandmothers were sitting in the doorways watching the cars and tricycles go by. But there was something else happening, and it was something that Tala had never seen before. There, in front of the noodle shop, were three men with guns. At first Tala thought she was mistaken, but then they moved and she could see the guns clearly. She slowed her step and then stopped when one of them started an argument with the young man.

  "Cross the street," a voice said. Tala turned around to find a wizened old woman behind her.

  "Why?" Tala asked.

  "Death squad," the woman said. "Cross the street. Don't look at them."

  The woman hurried away. Tala looked back at the three men. The young man they were arguing with was hanging his head, shaking it. In the doorways the grandmothers watched but the mothers with children disappeared into the buildings. Men coming from work pretended not to see. Cars drove past. The tricycles slowed, but no one stopped to help. Suddenly one of the men raised the butt of his gun and slammed it into the young man's head. He fell to the concrete and Tala yelped. Still, no one did anything even as the three men laughed. When they walked away, sauntering down the street, Tala rushed to the man on the ground, took off her scarf and put it against his bleeding head.

  "Are you all right? Why did they do that?"

  The man —really no more than a boy — was thin and poorly dressed. He sat up, pulled the scarf away from his wound, and looked at the blood as if he could not believe it came from him.

  "They say I could be dealing drugs," he said. "They kill people who do drugs."

  "That's crazy. We should call the police. They hurt you. They threatened you," Tala said, but the young man shook his head.

  "Where have you been? The police are worse." He got to his feet and handed back her bloody scarf. "Do not bring notice on yourself. They believe all young people do drugs, and the president has said even citizens can kill drug users."

  Before Tala could insist that this must be wrong, the young man stumbled away and disappeared from sight. Shaken, Tala walked the next blocks quickly and knocked hard on her grandparents’ door. When it wasn't answered she knocked again, fearful to be on the street after what she had seen. When the door still wasn't opened, Tala stood back and looked up at the window. The curtain moved as lelong ducked away.

  "Nangnang! Lelong!"

  Tala threw herself at the door and knocked louder, again and again. Finally the door cracked open and nangnang was there, but the door did not open wide enough for Tala to enter.

  "Nangnang, let me in. Please. I've seen something bad. I'm afraid."

  The grandmother shook her head.

  "I cannot. Your father called. He knew you'd come here. We cannot take you in."

  "Nangnang," Tala said in despair.

  "Go home, Tala. Make things right. Your father loves you."

  "If he loved me, he would understand. If you loved me, you would let me in." She pleaded, but the old woman would not budge.

  "Go home, Tala," she said again. Before the old woman shut the door, she put out her hand. Tala thought it was to pull her inside, but her grandmother only wanted to give her a little money. "Go home. Be safe."

  The door closed. The night was coming. Tala picked up her suitcase and looked around. Despite the heat, the windows were closed. The street no longer looked welcoming. The vendors seemed timid. No children played patintero. How had she not noticed that the children had not played in the street for a while now? How had she not seen the looks people gave her when she walked arm in arm with Estrella who wore clothes that made her look like a fast girl? Now Tala felt the wary eyes of the neighbors on her; it seemed those three men with guns were around every corner.

  Tala hurried through the streets, looking over her shoulder, peering into doorways as she passed. It was dark when she reached the last place she should be, but the only place she could go. She knocked on the door, and Estrella answered.

  "I have nowhere to go," Tala said.

  This time the door was opened, and Tala Reyes walked into a poor house where an angry woman cooked at the stove and a man lay on the sofa in his underwear and leered at her.

  14

  Day 1 @ 11:06 P.M

  Adeano breathed deeply, calming himself even as he lamented the day women had taken up this profession. He was a traditionalist and believed it bad luck to have a woman on a ship. Questa è la verità. That was the truth. Still, Tala would have been pleasant to favor with his attention if she were a whore, but now he realized he would not have liked the smell of her. She would smell like all the rest of the men: of sea and sweat.

  "Do you have anything to say to me?" Adeano asked.

  Tala did not look at him, but she saw him. Of that he was sure. She did not speak, but he knew she was thinking of many things to say.

  "So, you don't want to speak with Guang in the room?" Adeano asked. "I would not want to speak to him much myself because he doesn't talk back. When he does it is impossible to understand his English. But he listens, so perhaps you do not want to confess while he is around."

  Adeano inclined his head toward the door. The Chinaman wiped his mouth, pushed away his plate, and got up. When he was gone, Adeano looked back at Tala and let his eyes roam over her, admiring the delicate cocoa color of her skin, her strong jaw and the fact that the life of a mate had not left its mark on her yet. Under the thin blanket he could make out the length of her legs and the width of her hips. She was sturdy, but perfectly proportioned. She was strong enough for ship's work, but strong enough to kill a man? It must be so because a man was dead.

  By the way the blanket fell around her, it was clear that her trousers had been taken and she had no shoes. Her bloodied shirt was open, buttons torn away, and he could see the rise of her full breasts.

  Yes, it was conceivable the dead man had tried to take her against her will, although he had not struck Adeano as a man of such appetites. Still she was attractive enough with those fine bones at her collar, her silky skin, and full lips. But then he, Adeano, might also be dead if he had tried taking her. No matter what trouble he had now, it was better not to be dead.

  Adeano smiled as he sat upon the narrow mattress and took her hand. Tala went rigid and closed the hand he held. She was ready to fight should it become necessary, but Adeano had no desire to fight. He let her hand go. Business it would be.

  "I see. Yes, I am sorry. You have been through a terrible ordeal, but I am here to listen now," Adeano said. "You may tell me what happened. It will go better for you if I
know. I am your captain, and I will speak for you. You must tell me everything. Did that man try to hurt you, and then did you defend yourself? Is that what happened?"

  Adeano stopped speaking and set his expression into one of concern. This, he knew, was very attractive to women. Sadly, it was not attractive to this one. Tala's good eye — the one that was still open — cut his way. She looked at him from beneath her lashes and he could see the glitter of distrust, perhaps even hatred, in it. Adeano considered that she might be a woman who hated all men for their gender. He had known women like that, and they were terrible creatures. Yet, if that were the case, why had she come to sea? And further, if that were the case, wouldn't she have slaughtered them all as they slept? Then he realized she was not that kind of woman at all. There had been one she favored, the one with the blond hair. Billy thought himself the savior of Tala Reyes. Foolish boy. Foolish woman.

  "Your mate, Billy Zogaj, has made some trouble, Tala. Did you know that? Had you heard this from Guang?"

  Adeano rocked back a little and brought one leg up over the other. She winced with the movement. He clasped his hands around his knee and told his tale as if he were sitting in his own house.

  "Yes, Billy, he jumped from this ship. I didn't know what to make of that. Perhaps he had a hand in the death of our passenger. If you tell me this is so, then I will tell the authorities. They know who he is and where he is. That would be the right thing to do, Tala. If Billy was the one, then we could take care of this all now and you will be proclaimed innocent."

  Adeano raised a brow. He was getting annoyed trying to catch this bee with honey, but still he persisted.

  "But I ask myself, why would he do that? I don't know why because he is a quiet sort, he is American, and he said he had only been in the Philippines for a short while. Not long enough to make enemies of a man so far above him, not long enough to be so devoted to you. So I say to myself, 'Captain Bianchi, perhaps that quiet one, perhaps he attacked Tala'. This is what I say to myself, and I think he is a monster to do such a thing when you thought he was your friend. Perhaps the blond boy violated you, and you fought him, and the passenger tried to help and there it is." Adeano Bianchi opened his hands like a magician amazing her with his brilliant skill. "One dead, and you hurt, and Billy run away. This would be understandable, don't you think? That is something everyone could understand."