Corcovado, Or Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars

"No. You're doing fine," he said as he came to the pedestal and changed the displays on the plotter.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing at the display.

"Chart with a radar overlay here, and forward looking sonar here, on the right."

"Sonar? You mean...those are the walls of the inlet - underwater?"

"Yup."

"Holy moly, this is like cheating..."

He grinned. "Kinda, yup, but it sure beats driving your boat up onto the rocks."

"I'll say."

"Slow her down to 1600 RPM," he said in his typical flight instructors voice, then: "Come to 3-3-0 and lets see how the current plays with us."

"Got it."

"Okay...see how it's pushing us to starboard? Let's make 3-2-5 and bring the revs up to 1800."

He watched as she adjusted the throttle and made the course change, then he looked at the sonar readout and the plotter for a moment. "You're doing great...okay, fall off a little more...okay, you got it..."

And then, just that easily, they were through.

"Moorings in here?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Anywhere in particular you want to drop the hook?"

"Depends. If there's room there's kind of a waterfall all the way in. Nice sound to sleep to."

She nodded her head; smiled a little, too. "Did I see a store back there?"

"Yeah. If you run out of food it's okay in a pinch."

"Expensive?"

"Man, you got no idea."

"How far back does this thing go?"

"Not quite three quarters of a mile," he said, signaling Ted to get the anchors ready. "Keep an eye out for anchor lines...don't cut too close to other boats...I'm gonna get the Zodiac ready."

+

Once the anchors were set he came back to the swim platform and tied off the Zodiac, then he watched her as she looked around the boat, wondering why he'd been so taken by her earlier that morning.

Was it just because he was lonely? Because he'd been living what was, essentially, a life barren and devoid of real love for almost all his adult life? Yet that life had been, after all, his choice. Did duty-honor-country really explain that stubborness? His father had taught him as much, but, then again, as a kid he had lived a kind of idyllic life - at least compared to what Ted had endured...

"Endured...?" he said aloud.

"What's that?" Melissa asked, now standing on the aft deck - looking down at him in the inflatable.

"Oh, sorry, I was just thinking out loud."

"What did you endure? My turn behind the wheel?"

He chuckled at that. "No, not at all. I was impressed, really. You're quite the helmsman."

"Well, okay. Now what?"

"Excuse me?" he replied.

"You gonna run me over to the beach, or you want me to swim for it?"

"Water's kind of cool for that, I think." He looked at her for the longest time, then he sighed.

"You look...perplexed," she said, grinning.

"I'm not sure I know how to say this, but the odds of you finding a place to stay around here are somewhere between slim and none, and I don't suppose you're carrying a tent and sleeping bag in that duffel. So, what are your plans?"

"Get ashore, find a road and start walking. Something always comes along."

He shook his head. "Not here. The only roads are back by the village, and there aren't many places to sleep on the island...unless you've got a home lined up."

"Okay...so what do you suggest?"

"Stay here," he said, his voice lost somewhere on the quiet side of hope.

"Here?" she replied. "With you?"

"Yup."

"Okay," she said, looking at him again - like he had fallen for the plan.

And yet, he felt like a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and that puzzled him.

She came down to the swim platform just then, and held out her hand. "Can I give you a lift?" she asked.

He turned and looked at her, then around the deserted cove...it had emptied out earlier that morning, probably after they'd departed for Nancy's. He assumed people had seen this break in the weather and fled the rain - and now Altair's crew had the entire cove to themselves.

When he turned back to her he saw she'd taken off her shoes and was sitting on the platform, her feet dangling in the water.

"Yikes...this IS cold," she said, surprised. "Like a Maine kind of cold."

"This ain't the Gulf of Mexico...that's for sure."

"What happened to Ted?"

"Ted? What do you mean?"

"He seems fragile. Maybe confused?"

"Long story. Mainly my fault, I think. I wasn't there enough, and he grew up in a world of moral absolutes."

"Absolutes? How so?"

"Good and evil, I guess. He chose good. Too many these days don't."

"Like...that's a choice?"

"Every day, in every way."

"I never thought about it like that. What happened," she continued, her voice suddenly trembling, "to your parents?"

"Hmm? Oh, they passed about, oh, well, Mom went first, I think it was six years ago. Dad passed a few months later. Broken-hearted, I guess, couldn't live without her, so I think he chose not to."

"He wasn't sick?"

"Nope. He just went to sleep and didn't wake up. That's the way to go, I reckon."

"They were that close?"

"Closer than forever, as it turned out, but I'd have never guessed that."

"What? Why's that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know how else to put it. She had drifted away from us at one point, then, towards the end, she came back." He looked at the sea, wiped a bead of perspiration from his forehead, then looked down and shook his head. "There are a lot of questions I never got to ask her. Too many things left unsaid."

"You think about them a lot? Your mother?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I think so. I miss them. I - miss - I think...what they stood for."

"You mean, like...politics?"

"Good Lord, no...just the opposite. They were diametrically opposed politically, from the very beginning. Funny, but that never seemed to matter to them. Not to them, anyway. They both, well, like the priesthood is a calling, they had there's, too."

"They did? Like what?"

"Like wings. Dad loved anything with wings. Airplanes, sailboats, even birds..."

"And your mother?"

He turned and looked at her. "That's one of those questions I never got to ask her."

And for some reason, she knew then that he knew...

"Dad?" Ted said, coming back to the aft rail. "You through with the Zodiac?"

"For now. You two want to go exploring?"

"Yeah. Is there enough fuel?"

"Yup. Two gallons, at least," he said, knocking the little tank with his foot and watching the gas slosh around inside. "That ought to be enough for a couple of hours - at low speed, anyway. Grab a hand unit and some water, maybe some sunscreen too."

Ted nodded and left to get stuff from down below, and Melissa pulled her feet out of the water and shivered a little. He found himself staring at them, at how white they'd become.

"You better get some socks on," he said.

"Oh, they'll warm up."

"You say so, but don't be surprised if you catch a chill. It's cold and damp, not what your body's used to..."

He changed places with Ted a few minutes later, then he watched as Ted and Tracy took off across the cove, headed for the little waterfall, and as he watched them go he felt kind of odd. Like happy and sad at the same time, then he wiped his brow again.

"How long have those two known each other," she asked.

"I think this is the fourth day."

"What? Really?"

"We had dinner at a restaurant in Vancouver, by the marina where we were tied up for a night. She was our waitress, and Ted kind of fell for her."

"What does that mean...'kind of'?"

"Like I said, Ted's kind of confused right now. He's been like a heat-seeking missile, dead-set on becoming a priest for as long as he's been able to recite the Lord's prayer..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Oh. Only now I'm picking up signals that something happened this year at school, but I'm not prying. Not yet, anyway. That said, he's of a mind right now to meet a girl and do the deed."

"He's a..."

"Indeed he is. By design, I think, not chance. The priest thing," he added, with a shrug. "But, like I said, something changed this year. Something changed inside him, maybe biology, or maybe its just curiosity..."

"And she's the first girl he met since he got here..."

"Yup," he sighed. "I think you've got the picture."

"I don't like it. There's something really off about her."

"How about heroin and a pathological liar. Is that a good combination?"

She stared at him, then shook her head. "Why? Why are you letting this go down?"

"He's going to be 21 in August. He'll do the right thing."

"He might, then again...if it's biology I'm not so sure." She looked at the little Zodiack puttering away just then, and shook her head. "I'm not sure I'd be comfortable with her in the picture. Did you get her junk off the boat?"

"Yup."

"You say she's from Australia?"

"That's what's on her passport, yes."

She nodded. "Think her passport is here, on board?"

"I don't know, I guess so. Why?"

"Mind if I take a look?"

He shook his head. "I'd rather not break those boundaries, if you don't mind. What are you? A cop?"

She shook her head. "Nope. I work in the prosecutors office," she lied, "with the DAs office, in Atlanta; for the most part I work sex crimes."

"What...like rape...stuff like that?"

"Yeah, stuff like that," she said, looking him in the eye.

"Interesting."

"Interesting? Why do say that?"

"My mom was very religious when she was younger, but she became interested in social work, worked with victims of sexual assault."

"When was that?"

"Back in the 50s, I think. At least, that's when she started. She kept at it 'til Dad retired and he moved to Florida."

"She was a little ahead of her time, don't you think? Weren't too many women back in the 50s working with those kinds of people. Do you know why she developed an interest in that work?"

He shook his head. "No, not really. It was was of those things she never talked about."

Melissa nodded understanding. "Another one of those unasked questions? Well, people get into that line for personal reasons."

"Oh? You too?"

She kept nodding, looking down uneasily - and she spoke softly now. "Yeah, you could say that."

He looked at her, then turned away for a minute - his eyes closed...remembering.

And she looked at him closely just then, not sure what she was seeing, then she leaned over, put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you some sort of an empath?" she asked.

"I don't know...I'm not even sure I believe such a thing is possible..."

"Oh, it's possible, alright."

"And?"

"I can see it all over your face. You read people, don't you. I mean, you read 'em like a book."

He shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes things are clear to me."

"Things?"

"People."

"What about Tracy? What could you see about her?"

"Trouble. All kinds of trouble."

"Such as?"

"The things she told me about her life seem out of place, but it's her..."

"Her eyes."

"Exactly," he sighed. "Something in her eyes."

"Something...?"

"Dishonest."

"Dishonest?" she said wonderingly. "How about...dangerous?" she added.

"I thought so at first, when I first listened to her talk about her family, her parents. Now I'm not so sure."

"First impressions are usually the right impressions, you know?"

He nodded, looked at her anew and changed the subject. "You brought cameras, lenses?"

"Yup."

"Got a good telephoto."

"I do. But I don't think we have a way to get to shore right now."

He scrunched-up his lips, then shrugged.

"Maybe you just wanted to get me alone out here on your boat?" she asked - quietly, maybe menacingly.

"You know...? I think I'm too tired to do much this afternoon, not without taking a nap first. I hate to leave you, but I really am tired."

"Can you show me where to put my bag? I'll need to unpack a few things."

He hesitated, then shook his head a little. "Follow me," he said, and just aft of his stateroom was a little office - that also had the small bunk against the hull, "Be it ever so humble," he mumbled. "Sorry."

"Kind of small," she sighed. "Where do you bunk out?"

"Forward," he said, feeling very tired now.

"You look beat. What time did you get up?"

"Two, two thirty. That's my usual, though," he said as he stumbled to his berth. "You mind if I take a rest for a while?"

"Be my guest."

He lay down - and was asleep before his head hit the pillow...yet he was aware something was wrong.

His dreams were fevered, and the pain started then, penetrating even his dreams.

+++++

The police called Elizabeth, asked her to come to the hospital. They told her to hurry and James drove her.

A detective from the state police met her when she arrived, told her the victim, a young Chinese girl, had been found - dead - south of town, her throat cut, evidence of anal penetration - semen, the policeman said, unsure of himself around a lady - and that the girl had never talked.

"Why do you need me here?" Elizabeth wanted to know. "I'm not connected with the police."

"Well, the problem is a little unusual, Ma'am. We found a truck nearby, a box truck, nineteen-footer...and it's full of these Chinese gals. None of 'em speakin' much, but one of 'em said they were on the way to New York. They got jobs there, I guess. And they just come from China, on a boat."

"How many, officer?"

"As best I can tell, something like ninety."

"Ninety? In a nineteen foot truck?"

"A-yup. Packed like sardines in a tin-can. They smell about the same, too, I reckon."

"Isn't this a problem for the immigration people?"

"Probably so, a-yup, but you see...I think there's something else goin' on, and I heard you was good at talkin' to folks. So, I was wonderin if, maybe, you could talk to these gals some, help us get a handle on what these folks is up to. Think you could?"

The detective helped her to the conference room where the girls were being held, and when he opened the door the sight she beheld rattled her. Two hours later she was as angry as she'd ever been in her life - and she knew then that her life would never be the same.

Chapter 5

He heard voices again, voices far away - as if on the far side of a dream. Scratchy voices lost in time, voices full of concern - and then he knew where he was.

Again.

The low tree-line in the distance, that same low, rocky escarpment - and the village beyond. Spreading fires lighting up the marsh after he fell from the sky, the Intruder tumbling through the swamp like a paper cup tossed from a passing car, gouts of fire erupting on the surface of the black swamp, then the pain in his leg. And that pain was excruciating now, like something inside him was on fire. He knew if he looked right now, looked at the dark red earth flickering inside all these mottled red shadows, that he'd see jagged shards of metal jutting from his leg...and there would be blood.

Then, he felt something on his forehead, something like a washcloth, cool and damp, and the muffled sounds of people talking again - far away - like voices in another room - and he wondered how this could possibly be - because he felt like he was being pushed away from this life and, suddenly, it felt like those voices didn't matter anymore.

++

"When did this happen? The first time, I mean?" the physician asked Ted.

"It was in the early nineties, I think, after he came back from Iraq," Ted said, looking back at the discarded memories of his childhood - like looking through the pages of a book that contained nothing but painful images. "His leg was pretty messed up, some kind of bacteria got in the wound, like in the space between the skin and the muscle, and it spread. My mom told me he nearly lost his right leg after they got him to Germany. But whatever it is, it's come back several times since...two or three times that I can remember."

"When was the last time?"

"Oh, I guess...maybe...five years ago. He went to the VA hospital in Seattle that time, I think, for some kind of special injections."

"And it keeps coming back?" Melissa asked, clearly now concerned.

"It's probably triggering some sort of autoimmune disorder at this point," the physician said, shrugging as she looked around the boat. "You say he lives aboard? How long?"

"Not that long. Maybe nine months...not quite a year, anyway."

"Humid down here, but I don't see any signs of mold or mildew," she sighed, as if talking to herself. "Well, whatever it is, with a temperature of 104 we're going to have to get him to a real hospital. I'll call it in, have an air ambulance land outside the entrance. They can taxi right up to the boat, load him up right here. I think he should be taken straight to Vancouver, by the way. Be less paperwork than going to the US that way."

"What about the boat?" Ted asked.

"Well, you'll need to stay with him on the trip down; is there anyone who can remain onboard and keep an eye on things?"

"I can," Melissa said, her voice steady and calm - then, as she looked at Tracy there was an implied command in her voice.

"I guess I can, too," Tracy added - though her voice was brimming with reluctance.

Ted turned, looked at Melissa, yet he could now see Tracy had been shaken by this unexpected turn of events - and that Melissa seemed steady as a rock. "I'll go," he said, "and get him checked-in, then I'll turn around as fast as I can and come right back. Unless he's released by then. I think we should try to take the boat back to Seattle..."

"The, what...the three of us?" Melissa asked, her voice full of concern. "Do you think that's...that he'd want you to do that?"

"What are the options?" Ted asked.

The physician chimed-in then: "There's the town-dock, over in Whaletown. I know the Harbor Master, I could talk him into keeping an eye on her for a few weeks."

Ted looked at the doctor, then at Melissa. "I don't think so. This is my father's home - and I'm not about to leave it sitting out here unattended..."

"Well, think it over," the doctor said as she injected something into his arm. "If you could run me over to the store now I'll call for transport, then I can help you load him on the airplane. Someone will fly in with you to the hospital."

Ted nodded and looked at his unconscious father again, then went topsides and helped the physician into the Zodiac. They motored off across the little cove to the store by the inlet, and they were back inside an hour - and Melissa was waiting for him on the swim platform, her arms crossed protectively across her breast, and he thought she was glowering at the world.

"Not quite what you signed up for, is it?" Ted said to her stony, fiercely expressionless eyes.

"Oh, it's not that. I feel afraid, and yet I don't know why...not really."

"Afraid? Why? Of what?"

"I don't know, Ted. It's hard to put my finger on it, ya know? But I feel a connection. It was, I don't know why - or even how to say this - " she said, suddenly almost gulping for air. "But I've felt a connection with your father since I saw him this morning...yet..."

"Yet? Just what are you trying to say?"

"I've felt drawn to this place for days...felt as if something, or someone, was pushing me to go to that bakery this morning, and when I saw your boat pull up to the dock, saw your father walking around down there I just knew I'd been summoned here, for a reason."

"Summoned?" he said - warily.

"Yes. Like God wanted me to be here for some reason. Does that make any sense at all to you?"

He nodded his head as his stomach turned, then he looked at the companionway hatch. "The plane should be here within an hour."

"You should go pack some things," the physician said, "for both of you - and in case he has to stay a while."

He nodded, then turned and went below...but he stopped first - and stared at the sky for a moment, lost in the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong a long, long time ago.

+

It was soon apparent to Elizabeth that the girls, all of them save one, had been imported - to serve as slaves. It was, she knew after talking to a few of them, as simple as that.