Dark Passage

TWENTY-FOUR

‘Another issue is the cost borne by U.S. taxpayers when the U.S. Coast Guard is enlisted to search for a missing passenger. This expense is not trivial. In just one case … the total cost incurred during the search was estimated by the Coast Guard to be $813,807.’

Testimony of Ross A. Klein, PhD before the Senate

Committee on Commerce, Science, and

Transportation, March 1, 2012

Raising the sabre high over his head, David charged through the curtain, screaming like a Rough Rider at the attack on San Juan Hill.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I yelled, running after him.

With energy I didn’t suspect he had, David sprinted down the aisle, almost catching up with Channing at the theater doors. Amazingly, the few people left standing in the aisle did nothing to stop them; they simply gave way and moved aside, widening the path. With Channing still in costume, and David waving a sabre, they may well have thought it was an impromptu encore.

David followed Channing out onto the deck, into the cool, breezy air with me pounding along after him. Channing looked right, left, then headed for the stern. A poor choice, as it turned out, as he drew up short at a high, steel mesh-covered fence designed to keep passengers, according to the sign, away from a crew-only area.

Channing tried the door, rattled the lock then looked back, his face deceptively calm, to see David gaining on him, brandishing the sabre. Quick as a wink, Channing produced his staff ID, swiped it through the electronic lock and threw open the door. Channing braced his palm against the mesh, trying to shut the door firmly behind him, but he was too late. David straight-armed the door, slamming it into Channing’s startled face.

Blood began to gush, running dark and wet down Channing’s upper lip. He swiped his hand across his mouth, studied it in the semi-darkness, stumbled, and fell to his knees.

The door clanged shut, the lock engaged.

On the other side of the mesh, David had Channing cornered at the end of a long, narrow balcony. Here and there dark shapes, which I took to be nautical equipment, were shrouded in canvas. A few sturdy plastic chairs sat jumbled together in an alcove.

‘What the hell is going on?’ I didn’t realize Pia had come up behind me until she spoke.

‘We have to stop David, or he’s going to kill Tom!’ I shouted.

‘But why?’ Pia cried. ‘What did Tom ever do to him?’

I grabbed the handle of the door and jiggled it up and down, but it wouldn’t open. ‘What’s out there?’

‘It’s the crew’s equipment area,’ Pia said breathlessly. ‘They sit out there sometimes, smoke and stuff.’

‘The door’s locked! Can you scan your ID and open it up?’

Pia’s hands flew to her chest, patted the pockets of her white cotton camp shirt. ‘I can’t, Hannah,’ she cried, ‘I must have left it in the dressing room!’

‘David!’ I yelled, banging on the grill with my fists. ‘Put down the sword! He’s not worth it!’

With his free hand, David grabbed one of the chairs, shook it free from the others, and tossed it after Channing. It slid into him where he lay sprawled next to the rail. ‘Stand up!’ he ordered.

Channing’s mouth gaped. He didn’t move.

David took a step closer, brandishing the sabre. ‘You don’t listen very well. Stand up, I said!’

Channing worked his way into a crawling position, then slowly rose to his feet. He shook his head as if to clear it, then said, ‘You’re out of your mind, you know that?’ His voice shook. Even in the dim light, I could see sweat glistening on the man’s brow.

‘Now, stand up on it,’ David ordered.

‘What?’

‘Stand up on the goddamn chair!’

When Channing didn’t move, the sabre flashed, connecting with Channing’s leg.

‘Up!’ David yelled.

‘I can’t!’ Channing screamed, clutching the gash in his leg as if trying to hold the wound together. Blood drained slowly from it, pooling on the floor next to his foot.

Pia grabbed my arm and tugged. ‘What’s wrong with David? Is he drunk?’

‘We just found out that Tom is the person who attacked Julie, so he’s probably the guy who murdered Charlotte, too.’

‘Tom? No way! You’re both crazy if you think that.’

I covered Pia’s hand where it rested on my arm and squeezed. ‘There’s a witness,’ I told her gently.

‘God, no!’

‘David!’ I yelled, trying to be heard over the howling of the wind. ‘Put the sabre down!’

He ignored me. ‘You have a decision to make, Channing. You can get up on the chair, or I can take this sabre and run you through. You choose.’

Holding on to the back of the chair for support, Channing slowly, painfully eased his wounded leg up on the chair. A few agonizing seconds later, he was standing unsteadily on the seat. His fine, silver hair whipped wildly around his forehead.

What was keeping Security?

Suddenly it hit me. David had never placed the call. ‘Pia!’ I whispered. ‘Call Security! I’ll see if I can talk some sense into David.’

On the other side of the barrier, David stood ramrod straight, legs slightly spread, sword tip pointed down in order arms position. ‘So, Channing. How are you enjoying the evening so far?’

‘I don’t even know who in fucking hell you are!’ Channing shouted into the wind.

David said, deadly calm, ‘I had a beautiful daughter once, Channing. Her name was Charlotte.’

Channing swayed as if slapped, but recovered quickly. ‘I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about.’

‘Let me refresh your memory, then,’ David snarled. He raised the sabre, rested the point against Channing’s chest. ‘Careful, careful,’ he warned. ‘Don’t lean forward or you might get hurt!’

‘You are out of your fucking mind!’

‘Phoenix Voyager,’ David continued, ignoring the interruption. ‘A young girl named Noelle. Do you even remember her name? Maybe she was your first, maybe not. But my daughter was a smart girl, Channing. She worked with the kids. She had sharp eyes, and she noticed something. What was it? Did she see you slip the drug into Noelle’s drink?’

David slid the point of the sabre slowly up Channing’s chest until it was resting slightly above his breastbone. ‘You murdered my daughter, you worthless piece of shit.’

Channing’s eyes didn’t stray from the hand that held the sabre. A look of desperation clouded his eyes. ‘What do you want from me?’

‘I want a confession, that’s what I want.’

Channing raised both hands in a sign of surrender. ‘OK, OK. Whatever you say. I admit it. I killed your daughter. There, I said it. Is that enough?’

‘And? Come on, Channing. You can do better than that. And?’

‘I pushed her overboard, OK? She was going to ruin everything. She was going to turn me in, ruin my career, and that would…’ He paused and winced as the tip of the sabre bit into his neck.

‘They say confession is good for the soul, Channing. Tell me, now. What had Charlotte found out?’

‘You know exactly what, you maniac. I know you’re working with her,’ he snarled, glancing in my direction, ‘and I overheard her talking with Pia.’

‘Say it! Say it out loud. You like sex with little girls. With children, you piece of slime. Children you have to drug until they’re too helpless to resist.’

Channing stammered; in that moment, he looked truly defeated. ‘You don’t understand… nobody does.’

‘Oh, boo hoo,’ David snapped. ‘You’re breaking my heart here.’

‘Put down the sword, please,’ Channing begged, changing tactics. ‘I’ll do whatever you say. Write a confession, sign it. Whatever. Just put down that sword.’

‘No need for that,’ David snapped. ‘We’re not quite finished here, are we? Tell me about Julie Cardinale.’

Channing’s head swiveled in my direction. ‘I didn’t hurt Julie, Hannah, I swear. And I didn’t know…’

‘Bullshit!’ I couldn’t help myself. ‘Julie may be scarred for life, not that you gave that possibility a moment’s thought!’

‘I didn’t…’ Channing stammered.

‘But you would have, you worm,’ I shouted through the mesh that separated us, ‘if somebody hadn’t knocked on the door.’

Chandler’s chin dropped, and I knew I’d hit the nail on the head.

‘So, now that’s settled,’ David said, ‘I think it’s time for a good, old-fashioned nautical tradition.’

Chandler’s head shot up. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I think it’s time for you to walk the plank.’

‘Plank? What plank?’

‘Figuratively speaking, of course. When in doubt, improvise. The chair will do nicely, I think.’

‘David!’ I shouted, looking desperately around me, wishing that Ben Martin or his officers would hurry up before things got even more out of control. ‘Stop it! Stop!’ I saw a life ring hanging on a railing nearby, lifted it off its hook and held on, praying that it wouldn’t be needed.

‘Jump,’ David said. ‘Jump, you sonofabitch, jump!’ David feinted; the sabre flicked again. Channing closed his eyes and sucked in his lips like a stubborn child.

‘’Course, you don’t have to jump. I could just run you through and save both of us a lot of time.’ The sabre twitched and Channing flinched. ‘But the way I look at it, Channing, you’d have a better chance of surviving if you jump. Death by water or by the sword, take your pick.’

Channing’s wild eyes caught mine, and he mouthed a silent Help!

‘Security is on the way!’ I shouted, hoping that both men heard me.

David risked a quick glance at me. Was he trying to convey some kind of message? Then, ‘Too little, too late,’ he said, before focusing his attention back on Channing.

‘How’d you do it, then, Channing? Drugging those girls – drugging Julie, I mean. It had to have been in the soda straws, but the bartender told me only she and Jack Westfall touched them.’

Incredibly, a slow, sinister grin spread across Channing’s face. Now it was his time to boast. ‘Sleight of hand, Warren, my stock in trade. You redirect their attention here…’ His left arm shot out, the cuff of his shirt sleeve flashing white in the deck lights. ‘… when all the action is really over here!’ Using his right arm, he swept the sword that David held aside.

The trick might have worked, too, if Channing hadn’t been balanced precariously on the chair.

With a desperate glance over his shoulder, Channing teetered backwards and tumbled over the railing.

‘No!’ I screamed, and threw the life ring I had been holding over the side.

Behind me, I heard pounding footsteps, at last. ‘Man overboard! Man overboard!’ Pia was back on the deck, running flat out, waving her arms.

Behind her, also moving at full speed, was Officer Martin, his phone pressed against his chin. ‘Oscar Oscar Oscar Starboard Side.’ His voice was steady, controlled. Clearly he’d practised the man overboard procedure hundreds of times.

Almost immediately, his call was repeated, blasting from the loudspeaker mounted on the bulkhead directly over my head, echoing from other loudspeakers all around the ship. Oscar Oscar Oscar Starboard Side!

Whooo! Whooo! Whooo!

As the deafening sound of the ship’s horns died away, the ship shuddered, slowed, and began to turn.

With icy calm, David lowered the sabre and pulled down on the handle on his side of the barrier that would open the gate. I started to step aside, but as he approached me he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out his iPhone. ‘Hannah,’ he said. ‘Take it. I recorded it all.’

‘Oh, David, why…?’ I managed to croak as he pressed the phone into my outstretched hand and folded my fingers protectively over it.

Then he altered course, heading directly for Pia. ‘This is yours, I believe,’ he said, handing her the sabre. ‘I wasn’t going to push him off, Hannah, you have to believe me. I just wanted to scare him so he’d come clean about Noelle, Charlotte and Julie.’

Despite finally having his questions answered, David didn’t look any better for it. If anything, he looked more broken. I believed him; he may have forced Channing onto the chair, but it wasn’t David’s fault the magician had stumbled over the side. I remembered the look David had given me; clearly he hadn’t foreseen the outcome – Channing actually tumbling over the side.

My heart ached for my friend as he staggered to the railing, sagged and rested his head on his arms. Then, suddenly, more quickly than I believed possible, he had one leg over the rail.

‘No!’ I screamed, but it was too late. Without so much as a backward glance, David launched himself over the railing and flew overboard, too.

I rushed to the railing and looked down. David’s jacket had caught on something. Instinctively I leaned over and stretched out my hand, but he was too far below me for it to do any good. David’s jacket held for perhaps a second more, then ripped away. I watched in horror as my friend plunged into the sea.

Someone had grabbed another life ring. I felt the breeze as it sailed past my face. I leaned over the rail again, straining my eyes, trying to pick out David’s face in the inky blackness of the water.

I should have known it would be fruitless. The ship had been traveling at twenty knots. Thomas Channing and David Warren would already be floating far behind. Strobe lights attached to the life rings – there were more than a dozen of them floating in the water now – blinked in the distance like lighthouse beacons.

From the bow, flares shot into the air as the huge vessel continued its slow turn, heading back to the area where the two men had jumped.

Islander decelerated until she was barely moving. I was now only one of several hundred people crowding the rails as we watched a speedboat being launched from several decks below. I could see the white uniforms of the crew that manned the tiny vessel as the engines revved and the boat sped off, following the trail of strobes which were bobbing like breadcrumbs on the dark, oily water.

‘Do you think they’ll find him?’ Pia sobbed.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, unsure who she meant. ‘Who? Thomas Channing or David Warren?’

I felt her shrug. ‘Both, I suppose. I just can’t believe it, Hannah. I thought I was close to Tom – as close as anyone ever got to him, anyway. But I guess I really didn’t know him at all, did I?’ She swiped tears away with the back of her hand. ‘It’s partly my fault, too,’ she sniffed.

‘How can any of this be your fault, Pia?’

She turned a tear-stained face to me. ‘Remember the night I was injured? Before the show I told Tom about my conversation with David. I thought Tom was out of sorts that night but it never crossed my mind that that could be why…’ She paused. ‘And David… I really care about David, Hannah. He seems like such a lost soul. Everything he loved most in the world, taken from him, and now a cruel twist at the end. He deserves better than, than…’

I considered the dark surface of the sea and knew what she was thinking. ‘I think David died the day his wife died, Pia. His life had only one purpose after that. Find his daughter’s killer. And he succeeded. After that… well, what more did he have to live for?’

‘Suicide is never the answer, Hannah.’

‘I know. Back when I had, well, health issues, I learned that life is too precious to be given up willingly.’

The sky lit up like the Fourth of July as more flares were launched from the rescue vessel. Spotlights mounted on its pilot house switched on and began slow sweeps, combing the water.

‘I guess I’m out of a job,’ Pia said, leaning her forearms on the railing, peering off into the distance where rescue lights were dancing around on the waves.

‘There’s always the Oracle,’ I said.

‘Hah! My goal in life. Serving wine to knitters. You know what I want to do right now, Hannah? I want to go home and hug my parents.’

I wanted to do the same, but my mother had passed away more than a decade before and Dad had moved away. ‘Where do they live, Pia?’ I asked.

‘Boston. North End. They own a restaurant.’

‘Italian?’ I wondered aloud.

In the light from the flares, I saw Pia smile. ‘How did you guess?’

We stood in companionable silence for a while, until someone shouted, ‘Look! They’re coming back!’

Pia and I leaned forward, straining our eyes. Indeed, the launch was returning. As it neared the side of Islander, we noticed white-shirted crew members performing CPR on someone lying on the deck at the stern. ‘Is that David or Tom?’ I asked, straining forward, trying to get a better view. ‘Where are my binoculars when I need them?’

‘I can’t tell.’

Neither could I. David had been wearing a jacket over a blue oxford shirt, but the victim’s chest seemed to be bare. The rescue launch drew up to Islander, port side kissing our starboard, so close that we couldn’t see it anymore. But they must have offloaded the victim, because the launch zipped off almost immediately, heading back into the sea of strobes.

For more than an hour Islander idled. In the distance, lights swept the water continually, then suddenly they seemed to multiply, divide. I blinked, refocused, blinked again.

A man standing nearby who had been viewing the rescue effort through binoculars shouted, ‘It’s the Coast Guard!’

The cavalry had ridden to the rescue! Everyone on deck began to applaud and shout encouragement.

According to the gentleman with the binoculars, Islander’s launch would be handing over responsibility for the search to the Coasties, who were ‘much better equipped.’ I watched with a heavy heart as the launch returned, empty-handed, to the mother ship.

Gradually, Islander reversed course and picked up speed. I kept my eyes on the strobes as they grew farther and farther away, watching with deepening sadness as they winked out one by one over the dark horizon.

The spectators began to disperse, heading for their cabins, or the casino, or perhaps to one of the bars where they could argue with alcohol-fueled confidence about the events they had just witnessed. By the following day, I knew, Facebook, YouTube and Twitter would take the news viral.

‘When do you think we’ll find out?’ Pia wondered as we lingered at the rail.

‘Tomorrow morning, I imagine, at the captain’s daily briefing.’

‘Think you can pump Ben Martin for information?’

‘No,’ I said with certainty. ‘Officer By The Book will either be adhering to federal patient confidentiality laws or that good old standby, “pending notification of next of kin.” Maybe both.’

‘What the hell happened here tonight, Hannah?’

I didn’t speak for a few minutes. ‘Tom and David had a scuffle. Tragically, one of them fell overboard. Then the other one jumped in after him.’

Next to me, Pia stirred. ‘Of course,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘That’s exactly what happened.’

A few minutes later, as we turned to go, Pia asked, ‘Where’s Julie? She said she wanted to see me after the show.’

My heart did a quick rat-a-tat-tat. ‘Oh my God, I’ve forgotten about Julie! Come on!’ As we raced back to the theater, I explained briefly about Julie’s clever hiding place. ‘She’s been hiding in there for over an hour! What is wrong with me?’

But I needn’t have worried. We found Julie sitting on the lip of the stage, feet dangling. On the stage next to her sat Connor Crawford.

‘Julie!’

My niece beamed. ‘I got tired of waiting, so I peeked out through the little…’ Her eyebrows shot under her bangs, and she looked straight at Pia. ‘What?’

Pia placed a finger to her lips, wagged her head from side to side and said, ‘Shhhh. Magicians’ code.’

After the drama of the evening, it felt good to laugh.

The atmosphere quickly grew serious again as I told Julie and Connor what had just happened. ‘We lost them both overboard,’ Pia said. ‘But one has been rescued.’

‘Oh my God!’ Then, ‘I’m praying that it’s David,’ Julie said quietly. ‘He always believed in me.’

Connor launched himself onto his feet. ‘I just came to say goodbye to Julie. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Of course that’s OK, Connor. Julie owes you a great deal of thanks. We all do.’

He turned to Julie. ‘Well, bye.’ He patted his pocket. ‘I have your email.’

She looked upward at him through her lashes. ‘’Bye.’

Connor studied his shoes for a moment, then turned and walked out of the theater.

‘Well, Julie,’ I said. ‘Do you suppose he’s planning to wait four years until you turn eighteen?’

Julie flushed. ‘Something like that.’

‘He’ll be twenty-five.’

‘Aunt Hannah! You’re embarrassing me.’

‘I’m just teasing, sweetie. Come on, it’s time to find your mother. After all this excitement, do you think she’s still in the hot tub?’

‘Will I see you in the morning, Hannah?’ Pia asked as we prepared to go.

I looped my arm through hers. ‘I hope so. But if not, let’s keep in touch. Do you Facebook?’

‘I do.’

‘I’ll friend you, then.’

‘I’d like that.’

I was too strung out to sleep.

Long after Julie and my sisters had gone to bed, I sat on my bunk in my pajamas, staring into the depths of my suitcase, wondering what the following day would bring. Had David survived? Maybe he’d be better off … I shook away the thought. Nobody, in my opinion, was better off dead. There should always be a tomorrow, a chance to start a better life.

Ruth coughed, tugged at her duvet and opened an eye. ‘Are you all right, Hannah?’

‘I’m trying to gin up the energy to pack.’

‘Well, the elves aren’t going to do it for you, and if it’s not out in the hall before two, you’ll have to carry it off the boat yourself.’ She rolled over, faced the wall. ‘A word to the wise,’ she murmured.

I dumped the contents of my half of the closet into the suitcase, tucked shoes around the edges, laid a couple of paperback books on top and zipped it shut. After making sure that the luggage labels were secure, I set the bag out in the passageway with hundreds of others, extending for what seemed like miles in both directions.

That done, I snagged a bottle of water and let myself out onto the balcony. I picked my favorite of the two chairs, slouched down in it comfortably, and propped both feet up on the balcony rail.

On moonless nights, the sea is as black and sleek as a raven’s back. I stared into the inky darkness, then blinked. Where the blue-black sky met the black of the sea, lights were strung like an amber necklace along the horizon. The Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. We were approaching the mouth of the Bay.

I nipped inside for my iPhone, powered it on and when a three-bar signal appeared, I took it out on the balcony and telephoned Paul.

The meeting with the F.B.I. had gone well, he thought. Based on what the Baltimore agents had told him, Paul fully expected them to meet the ship in the morning.

‘There’s a possibility that Channing might not be aboard,’ I told him.

Paul snorted. ‘No? So what happened? He sprout wings?’

‘He jumped overboard tonight, in a manner of speaking.’ I explained about David forcing Channing on to the chair, Channing’s tumble, and then David jumping over the side himself. ‘Maybe it was some sort of crazy rescue attempt,’ I added. ‘Or maybe not. They picked up one of the men, but we don’t know which. They’re still out looking for the other – at least, they were a couple of hours ago.’

‘I worry about you, Hannah. Is everybody all right?’

‘A little beat up, perhaps, but we’re all fine, honest. Even Julie’s pretty solid.’

‘We can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. We’ll be at the terminal to meet you tomorrow, all three of us.’

‘Bring leis,’ I said, ‘and hula girls.’

Back in our cabin, I considered the selection of games on my iPhone without enthusiasm, still thinking about my conversation with Paul. Who had been rescued? I couldn’t sleep until I knew.

Moving quietly so as not to disturb Ruth, I pulled a T-shirt on over my red-plaid pajama bottoms and slipped into a pair of flip-flops. I opened the cabin door a crack and eased out into the corridor.

A surprising number of people were abroad in the night. While most of the passengers slept, crew members busily collected luggage from in front of cabin doors, schlepping them in carts down to the bowels of the ship where they would await transfer to the terminal’s baggage claim facility in the morning.

Walking slowly so as not to draw too much attention to myself, I made my way forward along deck four to the stairway that would take me down a level to deck three. As I passed the elevator, a man was explaining to his po-faced wife how he’d lost nearly two hundred dollars on the slots. On the stairs, I passed a young couple, giggling as they ricocheting from one banister to the other, clutching one another for support as they staggered back to their cabin, presumably from one of the late-night bars.

As I emerged on deck three, I had to swerve to avoid running into a guy balancing a tray loaded with beverage cups, chip packets and a small stack of triangular boxes that I knew contained individual slices of pizza. ‘Ball game,’ he explained as he stepped aside to let me pass. ‘Nationals at Philadelphia.’

I took in the stylized ‘N’ on his cap. ‘Go Nats,’ I said, without much enthusiasm.

There was no guard posted outside the door to the clinic, which I took as a good sign. Cautiously, I peered inside. The nurse who had cared for Julie earlier sat at a desk in the outer office, filling in the blanks on a form with a black pen.

‘Jeannie?’

The nurse started, looking around in confusion before catching sight of me in the doorway.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Didn’t mean to startle you.’

Worried lines creased her brow. ‘Is Julie…?’

‘Julie’s fine. Now that her attacker has been identified, I think she’ll be able to sleep a little easier.’

‘I heard,’ Jeannie said.

‘Is he…?’ I gestured toward the door that led into the examination room.

‘I could get in trouble,’ she said, reading my mind.

‘Sorry,’ I managed, choking up. ‘It’s just that David Warren and I have grown pretty close. If he’s still out there somewhere…’ I took a deep, steadying breath. ‘I really need to know.’

Jeannie rose without speaking and crossed to the door, gesturing for me to follow her. She turned the knob and slowly pushed it open.

Inside the examination room, on a gurney and covered by a lightweight blanket, lay David Warren. He appeared to be sleeping. I grabbed the doorframe, weak-kneed with relief.

‘Thank God!’ I whispered.

In addition to the bandage on his forehead – courtesy of Jack Westfall – David now sported a neon-blue air splint on his right arm. But the biggest surprise was who sat on a chair next to the gurney: Elda Homer. Her hair a bit disheveled, but still dressed in her evening finery, she held David’s good left hand.

My heart flopped in my chest, and I couldn’t suppress a smile.

We backed away silently. ‘She’s been by his side for a couple of hours,’ Jeannie whispered back as she closed the door on the quiet domestic scene. ‘Like you, she just showed up. David asked her to stay.’

‘Good,’ I said, feeling slightly choked. Perhaps David had found something – or someone – to live for after all.

‘Is he going to be OK?’ I asked the nurse.

‘I can’t comment on a patient’s medical condition, you know that,’ she said kindly.

‘But would you do me a favor? When he wakes up, tell him Hannah Ives was here.’

‘I’ll do that,’ she said, touching my arm.

I couldn’t speak for a moment. ‘Well, that’s it, then,’ I eventually croaked, completely undone. I managed to hold it together until I got out into the corridor, where tears of relief began to spill from my eyes and course hotly down my cheeks.

I gave into the tears, until there were none left to cry.