Captives (14 page)

With each question, Louise had moved closer to Eduardo. She was almost as tall as he was and she stood before him now, her shoulders back, her head raised and a slightly taunting smile on her lips. What would you dare? she seemed to be saying.

Every nerve in Eduardo's body and in his face was still. Before Louise, he was impassive, rooted as one of the palm trees that surrounded them.

Martin saw all the energy with which Louise had confronted Eduardo break upon him until, drained, her shoulders slumped and she stepped back from him.

“Why would you not let me go?” she asked.

“Because I could not let you go.”

“But just then, what would you have done to stop me?”

“Please. Do not insult my parents' memory. I do not even know what suffering they had to bear. How can I forget that? Believe me, I would have stopped you.”

“And if they have to kill us, what then?”

“I've been living each day as it comes since my parents disappeared. This is today.”

Later Martin wondered if that had been the moment Louise finally fell in love with Eduardo—the moment when the bars may as well have fallen from the cage, for she stayed willingly now where he held her, taking each day as a gift.

“Come on then, Marty, if we're going to stay around here, there have to be changes. I can't bear another night with my parents—and I bet you feel the same.”

[CHAPTER 6]

you think we don't listen

The room in the police station was bare apart from the scarred wooden table and a chair. Mason was wearing a shirt splashed with red and green parrots, and shorts and sandals. He looked up at Gabriel and shook his head sympathetically. The days in solitary had left Gabriel unshaven and weak. Under the single lightbulb his skin appeared pallid and gray. Cousin Pablo was leaning against the wall with the same bored impatience he'd shown at Gabriel's home.

“
Mi amigo,
” Mason began, the vowels slithering into each other in the heat of the windowless room.

“Why am I here?” said Gabriel. “I do jobs for Island Adventure. That's all.”

“
Espérate!
Not so fast,” said Mason. “Don't you want to hear what I've been doing? Sure you do. This is such a pretty island. The windsurfing, the snorkelling is out of this world. You've got to take these opportunities while you can, and Pablo here has been a most obliging guide.”

Pablo looked over and nodded in acknowledgment.

“I do not play games,” said Gabriel.

“No games. Quite right. Let's get straight to the heart of the matter. There's no one around here who has the knowledge of these parts that you do. We've learned from those who've known you since you were small that your father led you everywhere around here, that he taught you—”

“Yes,” said Gabriel, “he taught me these lands are sacred.”

“That may be as you see it,” said Mason, “but there are other forces at work here, you see. And, boy, you're dealing with something way over your head.”

“It's our country, our land, and you've no right—” Gabriel's rising voice was silenced when Pablo swung his truncheon into his stomach. He fell to his knees, retching.

“Hey, Pablo,” said Mason, “there's no need for that. No need for that at all.”

Pablo held up his palms and shrugged.

“Look,” Mason continued, “we know your sympathies, your situation, your knowledge. We know you're in this. But, hey, that's not what's most important. What's important is where we go from here. Now come on, Pablo, help Gabriel up.”

Gabriel brushed off Pablo's hand and got shakily to his feet, his arms around his stomach.

“Thing is,” said Mason, “you don't help, we will be forced to act.”

“So act,” spat Gabriel.

“Now hold on there a minute. Let's get straight exactly what's at stake here. Nickel is one of the most important metals for the developed world. Combined with other metals—iron, copper, chromium, and zinc—it makes alloys that are used for all kinds of things. But to make it simple, most nickel is used to make stainless steel. Have you any idea the amount of stainless steel a country the size of America needs? Probably not, but let me tell you, for the military alone the demands are huge—more than you can possibly imagine.”

Pablo knew, though, or he could easily imagine. He saw the skyscrapers of Nueva York shining stainlessly in the sun.

“And do you know how many nickel mines there are in the whole of the USA to meet that need? One. One lonely mine. So don't think for a minute that America can ignore what's happening in places that keep it…”

“… a shining beacon for the world,” said Pablo, looking very pleased with himself.

“Something like that,” said Mason. “So let me spell out the options to you. Number one, we can wait. Not too long, but long enough. You see, your boys are very clever, so we need to be clever too. They hold a bunch of tourists and it looks like they have power. But, you see, we hold you. You don't help and we hold you indefinitely. I can think of any number of charges we could bring against you. Number two, any rights you do have are only courtesy of United Nickel. It's only our involvement in this, our desire to bring it to a satisfactory conclusion, that's stopping you from being put directly in the care of the authorities here. You know that would not be so pleasant.”

Pablo nodded agreement.

“Number three, think of your family without your wages. You know what? Your sweet mother—Pilar, yes?—comes here every day asking for you. She looks worn down with it all. Think of your dying father.”

A nerve flitted up the side of Gabriel's face.

“You think we don't understand. You think we don't listen. How, you ask, can a huge multinational like United Nickel understand what's happening on a tiny island? Of course we understand. Times change and it's hard. The world's full of envy and that's hard too. But these things fade, the world settles again into its new groove. But,
amigo,
there are always winners and losers. And that's your choice, Gabriel. It's a man's choice, and you're making it for yourself and for your family. What I can offer you is your freedom and an increased pension for your father to ease the pain of his last days. I mean, there are drugs. No reason why the poor man has to suffer so.”

“What do you want of me?”

“That's the question I've been wanting us to get to since we met, Gabriel, and I'm very pleased you've finally decided to ask it. That's the mark of a wise man.”

Oh, look on and learn, thought Mason. This is how to carry out a successful interrogation. It requires experience and sophistication—psychology, for Christ's sake—not simply hanging a guy from a meat hook and beating his kidneys till he passes out.

Gabriel was grinding his teeth so hard, he couldn't believe they didn't crumble to dust in his mouth. Yet still a traitor tear escaped and made its way slowly down his cheek.

“Trust me, a man's decision it is. Like I said, Gabriel, your friends—the guerrillas, the freedom fighters, whatever you want to call them—they're my old friends too. We meet them all over the world. They don't like change, don't like the way of the world. They think what they're doing is for good. Oh, I know they're not evil men—hell, they may even be heroes. But they just can't see the way forward. Sure they'll have to have their knuckles rapped, do some time, but I don't think they deserve to die like animals hunted down in the forest. I fear for them, though. For if we have to go in and get them, that's what will happen. People will die.”

More than anything, Gabriel could hear his father's screams of pain in the night.

“Sure as hell, people will die. Unless someone can lead them all down to safety, to a place where the whole sorry episode can be concluded with as little damage as possible. So the world can start turning again. There are many ways to be a hero, Gabriel, and I mean, really, what's the alternative?”

[CHAPTER 7]

promise me something

There had been less opposition to the building of another shelter than either of them could have imagined. Martin thought it was all down to Louise. She seemed to glow with defiance as she told Rafael what she and Martin were going to do and demanded each be given a machete for the task.

Louise put all she had into cutting and weaving the frame of the hut. And, though Martin helped and at times lost himself in the task, he couldn't stop himself every so often from just watching her body, shining with sweat, become a perfect arc, before the machete cleaved through another branch.

“Come on, Marty homemaker,” she called to him. “We need at least three more of these.”

Their parents understood what they were doing without asking. For the past couple of years at home had they not been insisting on more isolated, private rooms?
Keep out. Unless you're an alien.
So they let them go now as they were always going to one day. They needed space. They weren't children anymore. You can't hold them to you forever. And for their part, they were tired: tired of being judged, tired of exposing frailty and shame. Especially here, surrounded by guns, in a forest clearing, where there was nowhere to hide. Let them get on with it, see how they fare. Sure, it's earlier than they might have wished, but which one of us has the energy to take them on?

Tony, Carol, and Melanie looked to Jacques one last time. But he turned from them and shrugged as if it had nothing to do with him. As if somehow the dark bruises he wore across his stomach were
their
fault. From now on, each man for himself.

*   *   *

The shelter they had built was inexpert. The thatch had not been closely woven enough. So the edge was taken off the sheer darkness where they lay.

“Well, this is an improvement,” said Louise. “Marty?”

“Yes,” said Martin. His chest was tight and his voice when it came was thin and ragged.

“God, your father and his poetry.”

“I know.”

“What do you miss most, Marty?”

“A burger and a cold Coke come to mind.”

“Yeah, junk food. Heaps of it. Bring it on.”

“With ketchup.”

“
Unlimited
 … What else do you miss?”

“I … I don't know.”

“Well, what's the first thing you'll do when this is all over?”

“Check out Test Drive, I suppose.”

“Yeah, you do that. You'll love them.”

“You?”

“I think I'll get myself a tattoo.”

“Like a little bluebird on your arm or something?”

“No. More like a huge set of wings across my back like Tony Kurlansky has.”

“Wild. Angel wings?”

“Could be. Oh, I don't know. It's like, you know, Marty, life's just more … more…”

“More what?”

“Jesus, I really don't know how to say it—just more
everything
than I thought it was.”

“So?”

“So, I guess I want more than I thought I did, that's all.”

“Like a bigger tattoo.”

“Yeah. You got it. A
beast
of a tattoo.”

They lay in silence, staring at the black thatch. Martin felt he might catch fire no matter what—whether he continued to lie in his own space or whether he stretched out and touched Louise. But he knew he must not touch her. That would only lead to a shame he could not bear. Though there was a chance that perhaps, in some corner of her heart, Louise might know what he was feeling and how painful the restraint was and recognize in it the love he had to give. He hoped this might be so as he lay and waited for her to make her move.

A bird he had not heard before sang softly in the night.

“Marty?”

“Yes.”

“You still awake?”

“Yes, I'm still awake.”

“I'm going out of the shelter. I don't know for how long.”

“Eduardo?”

“Like I say, I don't know for how long. Marty, you know, I could've ended up with all kinds of complete assholes on this trip. It's one of the luckiest things in my life that I ended up with you. I want you to know that I just feel we're always going to be friends. But I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“That no matter what happens from now on, this remains a secret between us.”

“You and Eduardo?”

“Promise me, Marty?”

How could it be that her eyes shone so in the darkness as she knelt over him in the shelter?

“OK, I promise.”

“No, Marty—the promise, it's got to sound
more.
”

“More what?”

“More like you really mean it. I want this to be our secret—a secret that only I can break. Take my hands and promise.”

“I, Martin Phillips …
promise.
” It was true: one touch of her and he was burning.

“Now go,” he said. “Please.”

Louise dipped down and kissed his cheek, then turned and crawled out of the shelter. She walked quickly to the edge of the encampment where Eduardo was waiting.

Miguel watched her from the shadows. He shrugged. Eduardo, young Eduardo, let him live while he is young, while he can. Let a young woman run her hands over his smooth back. El Taino's hands, he thought sadly, were probably the last hands he would feel on the welts of his own back.

*   *   *

She loved the way his top lip came to a small point in its middle like a tiny beak, and that when he smiled it disappeared completely. She loved how his teeth were so straight that if a ruler were placed against them there would be no gaps. She loved the way he grew so serious, so suddenly that his eyes became, as some poet she'd read in high school had described them, “windows to his soul.” She loved the life she sensed in him—its darkness and its loss and its blinding Test Driving light. His fingers were long, and he used his hands like punctuation marks whenever he spoke. He ran them back over his loosely curled hair. And, when he thought she wasn't watching, used them to scratch between his legs.