The Dark River

It was an early spring crossing with a raw wind and a drizzling rain. The exterior of the boat was gunmetal gray, almost matching the sky. The sea was a dark green, the waves rising up to slap the bow like an endless series of small confrontations. In this dull environment, Maya found herself thinking too much about Gabriel. Right now Linden was in London, searching for the Traveler, and there was nothing she could do to help him. After several restless nights, Maya found two rusty paint cans that had been filled with concrete. Holding these weights in each hand, she ran through a series of exercises that left her muscles sore and her skin covered with sweat.

Vicki spent most of her time in the galley, drinking tea and writing her thoughts in a journal. Occasionally, a look of great pleasure appeared on her face, and Maya knew that she was thinking about Hollis. Maya wanted to deliver her father’s lecture about love-that it made you weak-but she knew Vicki wouldn’t believe any of it. Love seemed to make Vicki stronger and more confident.

Once Alice realized that she was safe, she spent almost every hour of daylight roaming around the ship-a silent presence on the bridge and in the engine room. Most of the crew had families of their own, and they treated Alice with great kindness, making her toys and cooking her special meals for dinner.

AT SUNRISE ON the eighth day, the boat passed the Thames flood barrier and began its slow passage up the river. Maya stood near the bow and stared at the glimmering streetlights of the distant villages. This wasn’t home-she didn’t have a home-but she had finally returned to England.

The wind grew stronger, rattling the wire lines attached to the lifeboats. Seagulls screeched and glided above the angry waves as Captain Vandergau paced across the deck clutching a satellite phone. Apparently, it was important that his cargo arrive at a certain dock in East London when a particular customs inspector named Charlie was working. Vandergau cursed in English, Dutch, and a third language Maya didn’t recognize, but Charlie refused to answer any of his phones.

“Our problem is not corruption,” the captain informed Maya. “It’s lazy, inefficient British corruption.” Finally he talked to Charlie’s girlfriend and got the necessary information. “Fourteen hundred hours. Yes, I understand.”

Vandergau gave a command to the engine room and the twin propellers began turning. When Maya went below she felt a faint vibration in the steel walls. There was a constant thumping sound, as if a gigantic heart were beating somewhere in the ship.

Around one o’clock in the afternoon, the first mate knocked on the door of their cabin. He told them to pack their belongings and come to the galley for instructions. Maya, Vicki, and Alice sat at the narrow table and listened to the glasses and dishes rattle in their wooden holding racks. The ship was turning around in the river, maneuvering toward a dock.

“Now what happens?” Vicki asked.

“After they get through the inspection, we’ll go ashore and meet Linden.”

“But what about the surveillance cameras? Will we have to disguise our appearance?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, Vicki. Usually, if you want to avoid being tracked, there are two possible responses. You do something so old-fashioned-so primitive-that you can’t be detected. Or you go the opposite direction and use technology that’s one generation ahead of the standard. Either way, the Vast Machine finds it difficult to process the information.”

The first mate returned to the galley and made a grand gesture with his arm. “Captain Vandergau sends you his compliments and requests that you follow me to more secure accommodations.”

Maya, Vicki, and Alice entered the ship’s walk-in food locker. With some help from the Javanese cook, the first mate shifted the supplies so that the three stowaways were concealed behind a wall of cardboard boxes. Then the metal door was shut and they were alone.

The fluorescent fixture above them radiated a harsh metallic light. Maya was carrying her revolver in an ankle holster. Both her Harlequin sword and Gabriel’s Japanese sword were out of the carrier and placed on a ledge beside her. Someone was walking quickly down a passageway on the level above them, and the sharp clicking sound leaked through the ceiling. Alice Chen moved closer to Maya, only a few inches from the Harlequin’s leg.

What does she want? Maya thought. I’m the last person in the world to show her any love or physical affection. She remembered Thorn telling her about a trip he had taken through the southern Sudan. When her father spent the day with missionaries at a refugee camp, a little boy-an orphan of war-had followed him around like a lost dog. “All living things have a desire to survive,” her father explained. “If children have lost their family, they search for the most powerful person, the one who can protect them…”