Canal Dreams Page 8

'Hisako, Philippe said.

  'Philippe. Yes?

  'Please come to the officers' mess. He hung up.

  There was no dialling tone; the handset was dead in her. hand. She looked at it, slowly hung it up.

  She didn't put on her jeans and blouse; she went to the closet and took out a yukata, a kind of light kimono, and — dressed in that — went down to the officers' mess, suddenly nervous.

  When she started in through the door she was caught by one arm and dragged to one side. The room was full; she looked quickly round, saw what looked like the entire crew there; Lekkas. Marie, Viglain…It was only when she saw Philippe, standing grimly at the end of the mess-room table, that she realised the hand holding her wrist wasn't his; she'd just assumed that nobody else would touch her like that.

  She looked into the unknown face of the man who was holding her. He wore dark National Guard battle-fatigues; he was blacked up, but sweating through it. His beret wasn't National Guard issue; there was a little red-star badge on the front. His voice sounded vaguely Latin as he turned to Philippe and said, 'That is all, Captain?

  'I am not captain, Philippe said dully. 'That is all. He nodded. 'There are no more. Endo sat at Philippe's side. There were three other battle-fatigued men standing against the same wall as her, levelling guns at Philippe and the rest.

  Hisako twisted her wrist to free it from the man's grasp, and started to feel angry and think about forcing the issue. Then she looked down, and saw the man was holding a small gun with a long, curved magazine, a stubby nightsight and a short barrel, which was pointing into her kidneys.

  She thought the better of trying to apply the way of gentleness.

  The man looked at her and smiled; white teeth in the blackened face. 'Welcome to the party, Señora. We are from the People's Liberation Front of Panamá, and you have just been liberated.

  CASUS BELLI

  casus belli (kasus be'li or kahzus be'li) n. Act or situation justifying or precipitating war. [L]

  5: Concentration

  They had gone to the Nakodo first. The men in the first boat were wearing National Guard uniforms, but anyway weren't spotted until they were on board; nobody had heard the muffled outboards on their Gemini. They went straight to the bridge and radio room, taking both over without a fight; they had silenced pistols and boxy-looking Uzi sub-machine-guns, and nobody had been foolish enough to argue with them. Another Gemini had whispered out of the darkness and unloaded more — and more heavily armed men, while the first boat made for the Nadia, taking Endo with them to further reassure the Nadia's crew if they were challenged. They were seen approaching, and met when they came on deck. Endo asked to see Bleveans. The captain was having dinner with the other officers and his wife; they put a gun to Mrs. Bleveans's head, and told her husband to summon the radio operator. Officer Janney was on the bridge when the venceristas went to take it over. He tried to fight, and was pistol-whipped. That was the end of any resistance on the Nadia. The second inflatable off-loaded venceristas on to the ship while the Gemini of fake National Guards took Endo over to Le Cercle. By the time Philippe had made his radio calls to the other two ships, they had already been taken over, guns pointing at the heads of the radio operators as they told Philippe everything was just fine.

  'I am Comrade Major Sucre, the man who'd caught her arm said; he waved her to a seat. 'We have taken over your ships for a little while. Please be patient. You do not try to hurt us, we won't hurt you. OK? He looked round the mess at the silent people. The officers and Hisako sat at one end of the table, the crew — some French, most Moroccan and Algerian either sat at the other end, or on the floor.

  'OK? the Comrade Major repeated sharply.

  Finally, Philippe said, 'Yes. He looked at some of the Moroccan seamen sitting near by. 'Can I say what you just said in French? These men do not understand English.

  Sucre smiled. 'OK. He hefted his assault rifle. 'But you remember we have the guns.

  Philippe spoke to the others. The men nodded; a few grinned at the venceristas, gave a thumbs-up sign.

  'Good, said Sucre. 'You sit here now; I come back soon. He put one finger to his lips. Y, silencio, huh? Sucre left the mess, taking two of the other armed men with him. The two venceristas who were left stood at either side of the door. They had come off the second Gemini; they wore black fatigues and black berets with red-star badges like the one Sucre had worn. They cradled nightsighted assault rifles with long, curved magazines; they had automatic pistols stuffed into their belts, extra assault-rifle magazines webbed to their belts, and two small round grenades attached to their combat jackets near their shoulders. One of them slowly wiped his forehead and cheeks with a cloth, rubbing off most of the black night-camouflage.

  Hisako looked at Philippe, sitting expressionless at the head of the table, hands flat on the surface. He looked at her after a moment. She smiled. He gave a small twitch of his lips, seemed as though he was about to nod, then looked up at their two guards, and fixed his eyes on the area of table between his hands.

  Sucre came back in, alone, clipping what looked like a small radio to his belt. He put his hands on his hips, looked round at them all. 'You behave yourself? Good. Gonna take you on a boat trip; you're going to the other ship, OK? The Nadia. He turned to one of the other venceristas to say something, then saw Philippe standing up slowly at the far end of the room.

  Sucre turned back. 'Yes, Captain?

  'You mean, we all go?

  'Yeah; everybody.

  'I cannot; I have to stay. This ship is my… He seemed to be searching for the right word. Sucre took the automatic pistol from his belt and aimed it at Philippe. Philippe swallowed, went silent. Hisako tensed; Sucre was a metre away. She looked from Sucre to Philippe, who glanced at her. When she looked back at Sucre, he was still looking at Philippe, but the gun was pointing straight at her. She felt her eyes widen. The automatic's muzzle looked very big and dark. She could see the rifling at the end of the barrel, producing a hole that reminded her of a gearwheel from an old-fashioned watch. A thin film of oil glistened on the gun's steel.

  'Yes? grinned Sucre. 'You come too, Captain?

  'I'm not the captain, she heard Philippe say. 'Yes, I come too.

  Sucre stayed just as he was for a moment, then turned to look at Hisako, smiled broadly, and turned the gun round so it was in profile for her. 'Safety on, see? he said. She nodded. He stuffed it back into his belt.

  'Captain; how many people your launch hold?

  'Twelve, Philippe sighed. Hisako took her eyes off the gun sticking out of the comrade major's belt. How dry her mouth had gone, she thought.

  Sucre nodded, looked slowly round the room, lips moving soundlessly. 'OK; we take you over… ten each. He pointed at her. Uno, dos, tres… he pointed at nine of the crewmen. … diez. You go now. Captain, you tell them.

  Philippe told the men what was happening. Hisako stood with the rest. They were taken down to the Gemini, and with one vencerista sitting watching them from the bows, and a second operating the outboard with one hand while pointing his gun at them with the other, they were taken over the calm black waters of the lake to the brightly lit shape of the Nadia.

  He was her bow; so she thought of him. The English pun amused her, though it was too obscure to try and explain. Nevertheless, it felt true; she could hold him to her, one hand at his neck and the other on the small of his back, and she was the instrument he played upon, she was the shape he pressed against and made sound, the four-folded string he touched.

  She had not had very many lovers. She was sure she had not had enough to estimate the general range of male sexuality, to know how many emotional and physical octaves they could encompass, so she could not tell if she had just been a little unlucky in the past, or exceptionally fortunate now. Her bow; as matched. And sometimes as close, as complete and as one as if she was the case and he the cello, fitted and nested and secure and embraced at every point and part. They spent days and nights in her cabin, forever touching and
looking at each other, and being amazed that each touch and sensation still felt so new and good, that each gaze was returned, and that each succulent act seemed only to increase the desire for more, sating and kindling at once.

  It was an open secret, and she thought no one wished them ill, but they kept up the appearance of friendship only, and she didn't come to Le Cercle to lie with him there. That was where he had to go to work, always leaving looking regretful and tired, and so big but vulnerable she wanted to hug him for ever. And so their partings, like their couplings, were always full of touches and small caresses… before he was borne off by the launch that she watched all the way across, and she was left to curl up and sleep in the narrow empty bed, exhausted and slightly sore, but almost immediately aroused by just smelling his dark male scent off the sheets and pillows, already wanting him again.

  Still, they found time to dive, which she enjoyed, and enjoyed even more knowing that he loved it so much and that it meant more to him having somebody else to dive with, someone with whom he could share the joy he obviously felt, and to whom he could teach the skills he was so proud of. He kept on with his cello lessons though she suspected he was somehow humouring her — and did indeed school her in the basics of operating an oil tanker. That she found interesting too, appreciating the ship — as he'd said — as a kind of instrument, and one which had to be maintained and kept in tune if it was to deliver all it was capable of.

  Only the immobility of it all frustrated her; she could play with the satellite location system and mess around with the. radar set, but the satellite read-out always displayed the same numbers, and the view on the radar only altered according to which direction the wind had swung the ship in. Still, it was fun to discover the vessel's many systems; how you could pump oil from tank to tank to keep the load as even as possible; how, from the bridge, you could monitor even something as obscure as the amount and type of metallic fragments suspended in a gearbox's oil, and so determine how each gear was wearing. Keeping the terms of their trade equal, she tried to improve his English in return.

  Then Captain Herval left to return to France. The shipping line had decided they would run the ship down to a skeleton crew.

  She was terrified Philippe would be the next to go. The embassies and consulates advised staying put because the venceristas had begun a new campaign of urban terrorism which included kidnapping foreigners, but everyone thought the diplomats were being excessively cautious. A few of the Nadia's crew, and Captain Yashiro of the Nakodo, also left for home or new ships. Captain Herval travelled to Colón to pick up another ship, but never made it; he disappeared, pulled out of his taxi by gunmen half a kilometre from the docks. The shipping line decided the crew should stay on the ship. Hisako tried not to feel glad Herval had been taken.

  Philippe was in command of the Le Cercle now; he changed with the responsibility, but not very much. And now at least she felt comfortable with the idea of sometimes staying overnight on his ship, in his double bed.

  The war went on around them, the parties did the rounds from ship to ship, the Fantasia del Mer made occasional trips from Gatún with supplies and mail, and some of the nearer islands in the lake were visited on picnics. On a couple of nights they saw distant flashes in the sky, and heard the dull, thudding noise of bombs and shells exploding. One afternoon a flight of PAF jets blasted overhead, a trio of glittering arrowheads trailing a brown wake of shattered air and an airport scent of used kerosene.

  The Nadia had a large lounge; that was where they were taken. It was strange to see everybody together and yet so quiet and powerless, she thought; a little like seeing actors out of costume and away from the theatre. The people from the three ships — even those from the Nadia — looked just as naked and placeless, wrenched from their customary setting.

  They were herded into the lounge by the venceristas. There were two outside the door and another inside the room, sitting on a high stool behind the bar, heavy machinegun resting on a beer pump. The man behind the bar had told them — in broken English — that they had to keep the blinds and curtains drawn, and no, they couldn't get a drink from the bar. They were free to talk and walk about, as long as they didn't try to cross the semi-circle of small stools set a couple of metres out from the bar itself. There were two toilets at that same end of the room; they could use them so long as they went one at a time and didn't stay long.

  Hisako saw the people from the Nakodo and went over to them, hugging Mandamus (a slobbery kiss on the cheek), Broekman (an encouraging pat on the back) and even Endo (rigid fluttering surprise).

  'Dear lady, are you all right? Mandamus enquired.

  'Fine, she told him. She felt a little foolish in her light kimono, like the one person at the party wearing fancy dress. 'What's happening? she asked Broekman, still wearing his engineer's overalls. 'Do you know? Why are they here?

  They all sat down together on the carpet. 'Could be part of a general push, Broekman said. 'More likely it's an ambush of some sort; I bet they're expecting the National Guard out here; something like that. Broekman hesitated, looked around. 'Have you seen the Americans?

  'What? She looked around, peering over the tops of chairs and couches.

  'Captain and Mrs Bleveans, Broekman said softly. 'We know they clobbered Janney, but where are the Bleveans? And Orrick?

  'I think Orrick was up in the bow, smoking, when they came aboard, Mandamus said. He wore his usual baggy, creamy white suit.

  'You didn't say that, Broekman said, obviously surprised.

  Mandamus shrugged massively. 'I just remembered. He goes there to smoke the kif. I have smelled it. I never wanted before to mention it.

  'Well, either they've got him but haven't brought him here like everybody else, or he's hiding… or escaped, Broekman said. 'Whatever. It did occur to me the Americans might be singled out; shot, maybe. Hostages perhaps.

  'They've kept the radio operators separate, too, Mandamus pointed out.

  'I think Bleveans help Mr Janney, Endo said. He was obviously letting himself go; Hisako spotted his loosened tie and an undone top button.

  'Could be, Broekman agreed.

  'But what should we do? This is the question. Mandamus looked laden with the responsibility of it all.

  'You mean, Broekman said, 'should we try to escape?

  'Dig a tunnel? Hisako couldn't resist it. They looked at her. 'Sorry.

  'Well, that isn't one of our options, Broekman grinned. 'But ought we to think about trying to get away?

  'Depends on their intentions, Mandamus said, glancing at the man behind the bar.

  'They no kill us yet, Endo said, smiling.

  '… with us split up, Mandamus was saying. 'They haven't said they will kill others if one tries to escape, but I think one has to assume this is implied. We live in an age where the etiquette of sieges and hostage-taking has become — as one might say — public domain. They assume that we know the rules. I think we have to test these assumptions before we make any hasty moves.

  'The etiquette of hostage-taking? Broekman almost choked. 'What are you talking about, some avant-garde theatre show or something? These bastards are threatening to turn us into hamburger meat and you're talking about etiquette?

  'A turn of phrase, Mr Broekman.

  She stopped listening to them talk. She stood up and looked to the door as it opened. More of Le Cercle's crew; Marie Boulard came to her and they embraced. The small trenchwoman's hair smelled of roses; her skin of… some allotrope of normal human sweat; fear perhaps. Hisako looked anxiously at the door, but it closed again. Marie kissed her cheek, then sat beside Mandamus, who patted her hand. Le Cercle's chief engineer, Viglain, stood before Hisako, tall and vaguely cadaverous and smelling of Gitanes. He took her solemnly by the shoulders and announced, Il viendra, in his surprisingly deep voice.

  She nodded. Je comprends. (But thought, How does he know he will come?)

  Viglain sat down with Marie Boulard.

  She watched Broekman share a cig
arette with one of the Nakodo's Korean crew, and wished that she smoked.

  It was another twenty minutes by her watch before they brought Philippe and the rest of the crew in. She ran to him, threw her arms round him. They were hustled further into the lounge by the armed men.

  They reassured each other they were both all right, and sat with the others. Philippe and Broekman started talking about what might be going on. She half-listened, but really only wanted to sit there, holding Philippe's hand, or with her head on his shoulder. His deep voice lulled her.

  She was shaken awake gently. Philippe's face looked very large and warm. He was holding her left wrist oddly. 'Hisako-chan, they want our watches. He stroked her wrist with his thumb. She had to ask him to repeat what he'd said. It was still night, the lounge was warm. Comrade Major Sucre stood in front of her, assault rifle strapped over one shoulder. He was holding a black plastic bag. Philippe took off his big diver's watch and dropped it into the throat of the bag as Sucre held it out to him. She looked at her watch; she'd snoozed for less than fifteen minutes. She fumbled with the strap on the little Casio, wondering fuzzily where she'd left her own diver's watch. Probably in Philippe's cabin.

  'Don't worry, lady, Sucre said. 'You get it back when we're finished here.

  'Why do you want our watches? she said, feeling her mouth stumble over the words. The strap resisted her. She tutted, leant forward, then Philippe held her hand, helped her.

  'Hey, Sucre said. 'You that violinist?

  She looked up, blinking, as the watch came free. 'Cellist, she said, dropping the watch into the bag with the others. 'I play the cello. She only realised then that she hadn't thought of the instrument; of course, it might be at risk. She formed a question to enquire after its safety, then thought the better of it.

  'I heard of you, Sucre said. 'I bet I heard your discs.

  She smiled. Sucre had wiped most of the blacking off his face. He looked young beneath it; a lean Hispanic face.