The Raft (13 page)

The Special Agent shook with frustration. He
threw up his arms and turned to his compatriots. They could only
shrug.

The Coast Guard seamen lifted Chemical off of
the car deck and to his feet, his hands firmly handcuffed behind
his back. Chemical's nose was bleeding again. He certainly wasn't
having a good day.

“Fine, fine!” Agent Galahad said in despair.
He turned to the baby-faced seaman. “Please escort Agent Ortiz back
to the MLB.”

The boy nodded and he and the IRS agent
crossed the car deck back to one of the black rubber dinghies.

“Now?” Galahad asked as Maggie turned back to
him, all smiles and sunshine. “Are we done with all the screaming
and pushing?”

“We most certainly are,” Maggie beamed. “How
can I help you, Special Agent?”

For one final time, the Special Agent held up
his crumpled fistful of documents. “I have here duly notarized
warrants for the search of all vessels currently abroad on the
waterways of the Puget Sound, collectively and colloquially known
as the Raft. If you'll take a moment to inspect -”

Maggie took the stack of documents, turned
them around and read the first line of the first page. “Well, this
is no good,” she interpreted.

“I think you'll find that -” the Special
Agent pushed on.

“This is warrant to search a domicile.”

“Yes, a conveyance, such as a boat, that is
used as -”

“In King County, in the State of Washington,”
Maggie ignored the Agent. “In the United States of America. I think
you'll find this has no standing, Special Agent.” She tried to hand
back the stack of papers. Galahad would have none of it.

“Ms... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your
name?”

“Maggie Straight.” Maggie was trying to push
the papers into Galahad's hands. He was trying to push them
back.

“Ms. Straight. I think you will find that
these warrants are proper and correct, giving me the authority to
search for evidence in connection to the death of Joanna
Church.”

“Perhaps, Special Agent. I do not doubt these
documents give you the right to do whatever you please.
In the
United States
. But, I think you will find that this vessel you
are currently aboard is officially registered in, and sails under
the flag of the sovereign nation of Liberia. If you have a warrant
you wish to serve aboard this ship, Special Agent, I suggest you
take it up with the Liberian Embassy.”

The two stopped wrestling over the now
tattered stack of papers.

Special Agent Galahad fixed Maggie with a
withering stare. “I assume you have an ounce of evidence to support
this claim,” the Agent muttered.

“If you care to look to the stern,” Gandalf
chimed in. stepping up to the confrontation. “That
is
the
flag of Liberia, fluttering proudly in the wind, is it not?”

There was a small flag, not much bigger than
a handkerchief and almost indistinguishable from Old Glory,
flapping from the roof of the car deck. But it was the flag of the
state of Liberia.

“You're kidding me,” was the Agent's only
response. In his shock, he accepted the crumpled mass of paper
Maggie was thrusting on him.

“Do you want to go back to the judge who
signed these warrants and argue it out?” Maggie crossed her arms
and tilted her head. “Or would you rather be invited, as a guest,
aboard this ship and each and every vessel that is collectively and
colloquially known as the Raft?”

“Maggie!” Gandalf screamed. A cry of pain
rose from the other Gray Beards.

Maggie raised a silencing hand.

Agent Galahad gave Maggie a sideways glance.
“You'd do that?” Maggie nodded. “What's the catch?”

Maggie smiled a smile that could have melted
butter. “Well, as a duly authorized law enforcement agent of the
sovereign nation of Liberia, I have already begun an investigation
into the death of Meer - Joanna Church. I would hope, in the spirit
of international cooperation, that we might be able to collaborate
on this investigation...”

There was a pause. A long, pregnant,
uncomfortable pause. Seamen fidgeted with their weapons and
Chemcial Ali G groaned. Everyone waited for Special Agent Galahad's
reaction. Rachael took an involuntary step back, sure the whole
situation was about to explode.

Then the Agent laughed. He tilted his head
back and let out a guffaw. He shook his head and handed his torn
mass of papers to a colleague.

“You people are insane,” Galahad laughed,
rubbing his eyes.

“My thoughts exactly,” Rachael spoke up,
seeing an opportunity. She stepped forward and held out a hand “Hi,
I'm Rachael Bigallo with the
Seattle Times.
I just came
aboard the Raft today myself, covering the Joanna Church story for
the paper, and I have to agree with you. These Rafters are crazy.
Looney toons.”

“The
Seattle Times
?” Galahad wasn't
laughing anymore.

“Yes, Maggie here is an old friend of mine,
and when I heard news that the body of a Rafter washed ashore...
well, I smelled a story. And, as you know, stories about the Raft
are very popular right now. Six of the top ten most read articles
on our website are related in one way or another to the Raft. And
with information on the ins and outs of the Raft so hard to come
by... this seemed like an excellent opportunity for an
exposé
. For instance, I had no
idea that each and every ship in the Raft is registered in
Liberia.” Rachael reached into her pocket, took out a small
notebook, and flipped it open. “Isn't that interesting, Special
Agent? Interesting...”

“Now,” Galahad held out a hand. “Now, just
because they claim their craft to be registered -”

“What was your name again, Special Agent?
Galahad? One 'l' or two?”

“Now, wait a minute...”

“G-A-L...” Rachael began to write with a
small pen.

“Okay, okay, okay!” Galahad waved his hands
in surrender. He turned to Maggie. “If you want to play at being a
cop, that's fine. If this old fool thinks some Internet site that
prints out Liberian registrations makes him immune from federal
law, that's fine, too. We're just here to investigate a murder. Not
start an international incident. If you're all willing to
cooperate, then perhaps there's no need for warrants. Can we all
agree that we all want the same thing here?”

“We can, Special Agent,” Maggie replied.

“Then I don't understand why we're having
this conversation.”

“As long as cooperation means a two-way
street, Special Agent, we don't have a problem.”

“Good,” Galahad sighed in relief. “Good?” He
turned to the handcuffed Chemical.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm peachy.” Chemical tried to
smile through the blood running from his nose.

“Uncuff him,” Galahad told the seamen. “Now,
in the spirit of
international cooperation
, do you mind
telling me what you already know?”

“Of course, Special Agent,” Maggie
smiled.

Chapter 13

“Have you gone insane?” Gandalf began,
pulling Maggie aside. Maggie had listed off to Special Agent
Galahad the case so far as she understood it, careful to exclude
all accusations that Chemical had made against Senator Hadian. As
the Special Agent had turned to discuss the details with his
colleagues, Gandalf had pulled Maggie by the elbow to a quiet
corner of the car deck.

“No, I -”

“Give the FBI free range to board Raft ships?
Are you crazy? You don't have the authority to do that –
I
don't have the authority to do that – no one does! First-foot,
Maggie, if the Raft has only one sacred law...”

“I know, I know,” Maggie gave Gandalf a
calming gesture. “No one is boarding any junks, not the FBI, not
the Coast Guard. While they're maintaining the ruse that this is
still just a murder investigation, we can limit their access. When
they drop that ruse... well, it won't matter if we gave them
permission or not. Best to play along for now, Gandalf, we've got
more to gain than lose by cooperating.”

“Maggie,” Gandalf fumed. “They brought an IRS
agent.”

“I know, I know. They're no more here to
investigate Meerkat's death than this is the dark side of the
moon.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“I'm going to find Meerkat's killer, what do
you think I'm going to do?”

Gandalf huffed. “About the FBI?”

“I'll take care of them,” Maggie assured.
“Just... trust me...”

Gandalf pulled the corner of his pith helmet
down over his eyes and stomped off, unsatisfied.

Seeing that the coast was clear, Rachael
stepped up to Maggie.

“Are you really a law enforcement officer in
Liberia?” Rachael asked, her notebook still out. She should have
been taking notes the whole time.

Maggie shrugged. “Why not?”

“But, won't they check?”

“Why bother?”

Rachael's look of concern slowly shifted to a
broad smile. “Do you know how much trouble you can get into
bullshitting the FBI?”

“I think I'm about to find out.” Maggie
returned Rachael's smile. Across the car deck, the dark suits
seemed to have come to some conclusion. Their huddle began to break
apart and Galahad turned back and stepped towards the milling Gray
Beards. Before he could open his mouth to speak, however, his cell
phone began to ring... as it did, the phones of the other agents
also began to beep... as did Rachael's.

“Hello?” all the dryfoots said in unison.
There was a loaded silence as each party listened to his or her
handset. Maggie and Gandalf exchanged a quizzical look. Galahad was
the first to react, muttering something into his phone, hanging up,
and snapping his fingers at the two seamen. He thrust an urgent
finger back towards the black rubber dinghies and instantly the
armed sailors began to recede backwards towards the far end of the
car deck. They didn't raise their weapons, but neither did they
turn their backs on the congregated Rafters. They simply walked
backwards, scanning the dark nooks and crannies of the old, empty
ferry, watching for danger.

The dark-suited agents were less concerned
with safety. With their phones returned to their pockets, they
turned and sprinted off down the length of the car deck. No one
spoke, they simply hurried back towards their launches.

“What the hell?” Gandalf looked over at
Maggie. Maggie looked at Rachael, who had a hand over her free ear.
She was trying to make out a scratchy voice on the other end of her
phone.

“Okay...” she was saying, “okay... are they
sure? Positive?” Then she hung up her phone.

She looked up at Maggie, surprise in her
eyes.

“What?” exploded past Maggie's lips.

“The Seattle PD... Peter... They've picked up
Horus...”

“Great,” Maggie shrugged, confused.

“Yes...” Rachael licked her lips, her mouth
was as dry as sandpaper. “They arrested him attempting to break
into a Queen Anne home.”

“Horus? Breaking into a house?” Maggie raised
an eyebrow.

“Yes, the home of Senator Hadian...”

Maggie eyes grew wide. “Oh my God!” Maggie
turned, looked the length of the
Kalakala
to where the last
of the Special Agents were climbing into a black dinghy. “Horus...
Hadian...” Maggie stammered, darting her eyes quickly between
Rachael, Gandalf, and the departing FBI agents. “Ha!” she
laughed.

She clapped her hands together with a crack
that echoed the length of the car deck.

#

For all parties concerned, it was lucky break
that the Senator happened to be out of town when Horus jumped the
six-foot fence surrounding his home, brandishing a .45.

The maid who was home, however, was almost
terrified beyond her wits at the sight of Horus the Brontosaurus
storming into the spacious home, waving around a gun and demanding
an audience with the Senator.

He triggered a number of silent alarms. The
Seattle Police responded, and after a brief fifteen-minute hostage
situation, Horus surrendered without firing a shot. Cuffed and
dejected, they took Horus, barefoot, downtown for processing, where
he promptly refused to answer any questions until he'd first spoken
to his Magistrate.

The police provided Horus with his
constitutionally guaranteed Public Defender, but Horus was adamant:
he'd speak to no one other than his Magistrate. It baffled the
police. Magistrate? They decided to treat the demand like a request
for an attorney. At least that they had a protocol for.

All this came to Rachael over the phone from
her husband – officially, as a Seattle Police Detective.

Two in the afternoon had come and passed as
the
Soft Cell
floated adrift in the currents of the Sound, a
good distance away from the
Kalakala
and its slowly
reconstructing protective island. With the Coast Guard gone, the
Rafters began to return, wary, but eager to get back to
business.

The
Soft Cell
was heading for no place
in particular, floating free. Maggie was below deck catching up on
the television broadcast news as Rachael, on deck, perched in the
pulpit with her iPhone at her ear.

“So this clown is letting no light in,” Peter
said over the phone. “Guy breaks into the home of a sitting US
Senator, and now he thinks he can make demands... crazy, anyway, no
one here can make heads or tails of what he's talking about. He
wants his Magistrate, whatever that means, before he'll give a
statement.”

“It's Maggie. Maggie is his Magistrate. At
least one of them.”

“Well good,” Peter sighed. “At least now we
know that much. What is she? Some sort of lawyer? I thought you
said she was the Raft police?”

“No, neither... well, both. It's hard to
explain.”

“But this is the guy, right? The one you told
me keep an eye out for? The guy who killed that Rafter girl?”