A radio play

The BBC is having  contest this year (2017), and I submitted this radio play for consideration:

 

A Meteor Hits

 

ACT ONE

 

V.O. (Voice Over). The year is 1995, in Valdivia, a river city in southern Chile. Elsa and her friend Romina are sitting comfortably in Romina’s siting room. Both ladies have recently decided that it’s about time a woman was elected to city council, and believe themselves to be backroom political strategist. Elsa was expressing her doubts about having a glass of wine so early in the morning.

 

Romina: (Adamant) “Have a glass and don’t worry. Political strategist drink so they can better strategize . . . night and day, just like fish.”

Elsa: (Reluctant) “Okay, if you say so.”

Romina: “Besides, its Felipe’s best. He’s never going to miss it, or drink it all. Did you get to see a copy of the newspaper this morning?”

Elsa: “Sure did. That idea of yours to have those homeless kids take pictures of our city councilmen was a genius idea. Those kids are invisible. They go anywhere and nobody sees them. They got pictures of everything and everybody. Jesús, our newspaper reporter friend, promised to publish some, but he outdid himself. There’s two whole pages of them. Not one word thought, not even names, just pictures.”

Romina: “No words or names?”

Elsa: “I think he doesn’t want the paper to be liable in case they got the names wrong. As far as the pictures, he said his readers would make up their own stories of what they meant . . . better stories than he could come up with. He was at the house this morning with the regular crowd, plus a lot of neighbors that dropped by. They were whooping it up. Joaquín put the two pages up on the wall and they played ‘pin the tail on the donkey,’ as he called it, and they named most of them . . .  far as I could tell.”

Romina: “And the pictures?”

Elsa: “Mostly of our fearless city fathers, staring, startled and flatfooted, not knowing what to do. Hair a mess, suits all crumpled, not looking very sharp, I mean. Two with women not their wives, we think, another one talking friendly with a union boss, supposedly fierce enemies in public, but pals in private, stuff like that.”

Romina: “And how are we going to take advantage of this windfall?”

Elsa: (Surprised) “Windfall?”

Romina: (Determined) “Yes dear, windfall. Our candidates can’t stay mute on the subject, they have to say something, even if all they say is that they are ‘awaiting further developments,’ or ‘no comment,’ but something. And whatever they say might as well be designed to further their path to city office. Why not? Dale says to never interrupt the enemy when they are busy making mistakes. Napoleon I think. Still, why not smooth their path to a bigger mistake? In other words, put marbles on the floor so to speak. One wrong step, and off they go, flying across the room and out the third story window, Whoosh! into political oblivion.”

Elsa: “Oblivion?”

Romina: “Yes dear, oblivion. Big time oblivion. Permanent oblivion, like what happened to the dinosaurs, right? No more dinosaurs now for a long time, and I doubt they’ll be back.”

Elsa: “And how do we expedite them going whoosh out the window, as you say?”

Romina: “I’ve been thinking. There’s lots of time to think when you live on an island, in case you haven’t noticed. Several things come to mind. First, we meet with our two girl candidates at Beto’s, our attorney, and come up with a plan on what to say that we all agree on. Who says what and when, that kind of stuff. Have to make it look natural, you know. It’s best that way. Then we ask the boys to get photos of them this evening while they walk arm in arm with their husband down the river front, their grandchildren, if they’ve got any, running in front of them, playing tag, happy as clams, that kind of stuff.”

Elsa: (Laughing). You’re so bad, you know. Sooo bad.”

Romina: “I take that as a compliment. And that’s not all. I think we should give all of Joaquín’s street-wise kids more disposable cameras and tell them to take pictures of anything and everything those guys in office are doing. Who they arrive to work with and what time, who they eat lunch with and for how long, who they drive home with and when, everything. It will not only make them extremely nervous, but we might get more good pictures out of it to boot. Some fun ones, too.”

Elsa: “What are you hoping to document with the pictures?”

Romina: The precise moment they take the wrong step. Then we get them to Jesús, they get published, and whoosh! Straight out the window. We don’t even have to name names or say a word. Everybody knows them by sight.”

Elsa: “And we pay for the cameras out of our campaign war chest, right?”

Romina: “Of course not. We have to maintain a respectable distance. I was thinking of letting Joaquín do that. And no, I haven’t talked to him yet, but he’ll agree, or I will remind of the light. The light in his eyes when he smells Mamita’s hot baked bread with our homemade butter . . . you get the point. I doubt I will have to mention what privileges he might have to do without if he doesn’t support us in this. He’s too smart for that. He’ll agree in less than two shakes.”

Elsa: “People do have a lot of time to think in an island.”

Romina: “Yes we do.”

 

Act 2

 

V.O. Arturo, a fly fishing guide and Elsa’s husband is talking to his friend Joaquín. It’s noon time and they are in the cabin of Joaquín’s tugboat drinking coffee. Joaquín is many things and among them is being a bachelor, a bootlegger, a contrabandist, a former dealer in poached abalones, a tugboat owner, and that’s just for starters.

(In the background a nondescript soccer game is being played on the radio – in Spanish).

 

Joaquín:  (Feeling good) “According to the paper, and what they’re saying on the radio, I think a meteor has finally hit. Dale told me once that we evolved from mammals, and they survived because when the meteor that eliminated the dinosaurs hit, our small furry ancestors were busy underground, burrowing deeper, working hard at staying out of the way. For the big guys, there was no place to hide. Proves it’s good to stay low sometimes, and be small.”

Arturo: (Half asleep) “Hmm.”

Joaquín: “More brandy in the coffee?”

Arturo: “Dale said that’s what happened to the dinosaurs?”

Joaquín: “Yep. He called it a mass extinction event. Said it was as good a theory as any, and likely. Why not? According to him, big meteors hit us all the time, only in what he called geologic-time, not man-time.”

Arturo: “You sound chipper. Never heard of anybody being chipper about a mass extinction event.”

Joaquín: “Easy, if you’re not the one being extincted.”

Arturo: “And that’s a real word?”

Joaquín: “Just made it up. Mammals are not the only ones to evolve. Words do too. You are the first to ever hear it.”

Arturo: “First time I ever heard of man-time, or geologic-time. Why hadn’t you mentioned it?”

Joaquín: “I guess because I figured you knew about the one, and if I understand it right, there’s no hurry when it comes to the other one.”

Arturo: “Lord. That’s too many for me. Too many new things to keep track of anymore. Even my wife is hard to recognize these days. For the first time, she reads more than she knits. Reads everything that has to do with politics. And what’s with those two wanting to get a woman elected in the first place?”

Joaquín: Only a good idea whose time has come. I think the reason I never voted once in my life. These days, I want to do my part as the model citizen I will be . . . from now on. Lots of guys will feel the way I do and vote for a woman.”

Arturo: “You will because you’re a contrarian. That’s your angle.”

Joaquín: “Most guys are contrarians at heart. Only they are also married, so limited in their options. Now with a woman candidate, they will vote for her, and for the first time be a contrarian with the full support of their wives. That’s a hard act to follow.”

Arturo: “Hmm.”

Joaquín: “While you’re thinking on that, look at the list I got this morning. One of my boys said a guy came by in a boat and dropped it off.”

Arturo: “Looks like groceries.”

Joaquín: “Exactly. Only it’s huge. Five times more than the usual list, and I don’t know what to make of it.”

Arturo: “Forty sides of fresh beef? One hundred cases of canned tomatoes? One hundred cases of sliced peaches? A whole page of stuff. Who’s it from?”

Joaquín: “A big ship that pulled into the bay a couple of nights ago. Just slipped right in, quietly dropped anchor and went dark. Nobody on deck, not a light on, not a motor noise, or a pump working, nothing. Not even a name painted on . . . that one can make out. Nothing. I was out there last night making deliveries and went to check her out. A rust bucket if you asked me, but appearances can be deceiving.”

Arturo: “And you knew nothing about it?”

Joaquín: “Nope.”

Arturo: “I thought you knew everything that came in and out of the bay?”

Joaquín: “I did, or thought I did. That’s what worries me.”

Arturo: “And have you asked Dale about it?”

Joaquín: “He was with me last night. Said he would keep me company, that he didn’t have any classes to teach this morning.”

Arturo: “And what does our beloved professor make of this ship?”

Joaquín. “Dale thinks it’s a phantom ship.”

Arturo: “A phantom ship? What the devil is that?”

Joaquín: “A ship that was stolen or is in the business of trafficking guns, or drugs, or stolen merchandise. One that needed a safe harbor to make repairs for a few days, or stock up for a long trip to the other side of the world and will soon be gone.”

Arturo: “What was he drinking? In Valdivia? That’s impossible.”

Joaquín: (Lecturing) “Impossible is a word to be found only in the dictionary of fools . . . Napoleon’s words I think . . . according to Dale.  Dale you know, is all about Napoleon and baseball.”

Arturo: “I wonder if all Americans are that way.”

Joaquín: “So far they are. He’s the only American I know.”

Arturo: “I don’t get it. If it’s not Napoleon, it’s home runs, base hits, or strike outs.”

Joaquín: “It’s what happens to a new country when they never learn soccer from the get go. They got to the sports fork-in-the-road, and took the wrong fork, that’s all. Can happen to anybody. Think what a great country they would have if they played soccer instead of baseball.”

Arturo: “My thinking exactly.”

Joaquín: “Be that as it may, I still don’t know what to do about that order. It’s huge, and the ship is sort of . . . well, I don’t know what to think of it. Something doesn’t add up. I left one of my helpers in Corral with a radio. He’s supposed to tell me if they send somebody to shore and learn where they’re from, or who they are, or whatever. But it’s past midday and so far, nothing. Zip. Nobody’s been seen going out of that boat going on three days.”

Arturo: “What does Dale think you should do?”

Joaquín: “He’ll be here in a minute. Spent the night in the crew’s bunk room. You can ask him yourself.”

Arturo: “He’s always full of ideas. Surely he advised something.”

Joaquín: “Says to do nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Arturo:  “Nothing as in nothing—nada?”

Joaquín: “That’s it. Nada. Says it’s a good option that’s vastly overlooked, and hardly ever considered. Told me nothing was always a good thing to do and many times a clever thing to say.”

Arturo: “Napoleon again . . . you think?

Joaquín: “Might be, but I doubt it. From what I understand, Napoleon was more about doing than not doing. Always moving, going places, never staying put. Far as I can tell, had ants in his pants”

Arturo: “Hah! Could be why we don’t all speak French.”

Joaquín: “I’m sure of it.”

 

Act 3

 

V.O. Back in Romina’s sitting room, Romina is done talking politics with Elsa and abruptly changes the subject.

 

Romina: (Sounding worried) “Do you mind if I talk to you about something else. I don’t even know how to begin, but we might be in trouble.”

Elsa: “Why, what happened?”

Romina: “That’s just it. Nothing yet, but something terrible could happen, only I’m not sure about anything. Everything was going so good only a few days ago, now I feel a dark cloud hanging over us. We’re all scared. Still, we’ve taken measures to prevent it.”

Elsa: “Prevent what? Now you’ve got me worried. Speak woman, what’s going on?”

Romina: “That’s just it. I’m not sure, but I have my suspicions. You know that girl Juana that works in my kitchen? the one they call la tía. Well, we call her la tía, or aunt, because when she first came here eight years ago she claimed the two year old girl with her was her brother’s and he would be coming to get her, as soon as he got settled, found work, that kind of stuff . . .”

Elsa: “. . . So after a while someone found out the kid was her own and they started calling her la tía, for fun. I know that. That’s old news.”

Romina: “What’s new news is that somebody, we think the dad, has been prowling round, asking questions about where the girl goes to school, where she lives, that sort of thing.”

Elsa: (Surprised) “Her dad? Her real father?”

Romina: “We’re not sure. Juana thinks it might be him. She hasn’t heard from him for nearly nine years, and suddenly, out of the blue, somebody that could be him is lurking in the shadows, asking questions about her and her daughter. She told me he was a sailor on a big merchant ship when they got married, and would be gone for months at a time. Soon after she had the girl, though, he left and never came back. Not one word all these years. Now Juana and Caro are petrified.”

Elsa: “Caro, for Carolina? Right?”

Romina: “Yes, and they are both hiding here in the house. I told them to keep the blinds down, and not for any reason go outside. I think he’s come to steal her back.”

Elsa: “What? So obviously, the girl has never seen her dad, and probably doesn’t want anything to do with him?”

Romina: “Pretty much, and especially not after the way he grabbed her. I tell you, she’s petrified. Said he wanted her to go with him on a boat ride, after school, and had her by the arm, only she somehow got away and ran home. Good think this island is uphill both coming and going, and flatlanders can only go so far before they turn purple and have to rest. Caro was raised here . . . she’s like a billy-goat for rock climbing.”

Elsa: “So here we’ve been talking politics and oblivion and what not, and all the time you’ve held this in?”

Romina: “I guess so. It’s like a bad dream really, and hard to go back there.”

Elsa: “So now what?”

Romina. “I have Chaleco, the fellow that rows our boat, and one other farm hand hanging around the house. Nothing but women in the kitchen, so I thought . . .”

Elsa: “You thought right. Those women in the kitchen can be fiercer than any two men. Still, a good idea to have some guys around.”

Romina: “Only I don’t know what to do next. They are safe for now, but what about tomorrow or the next day. Plus, the girl eventually needs to go to school. Then what? Have a police escort?”

Elsa:  “Have you told your husband?”

Romina: “Yes. Told Felipe right away. He’s the one that asked Chaleco to stay by the house. He loves Caro as much as Juana does, or me. Anyway, he’s going over to see Arturo and ask what he thinks.”

Elsa: “All good and well, but us girls have to have a plan of our own. Let’s go see Beto, our attorney. He can arrange to get this guy arrested, or warned off. Plus, he can tell us how to get a couple of policeman to hang around the house here, armed, in uniform. They can keep an eye on things until we know what to do, and also, find out who we’re dealing with.”

 

Act 4

O.V. Back in Joaquín’s tugboat, Dale has joined Arturo and Joaquín, and they have just received a call from Romina’s husband Felipe, on the portable marine ratio. Felipe was out of breath. (A nondescript soccer game continues to play on the radio).

 

Arturo: (Alarmed) “Sounds like he’s having trouble rowing this way. Why would he pick this time anyway? There’s too strong a tide, plus, he never rows his boat. Chaleco does that for him. Something doesn’t make any sense.”

Dale: “Sure doesn’t. He’s been at it for an hour and only gone the length of what? a football field?”

Joaquín: “Pff. Felipe can’t row any more than a bullfrog can spell hallelujah. He’s got Chaleco for that. Even so, it’s easy enough to find out. Let’s crank this old lady up and see what he wants. We can be there in no time.”

Arturo: “Good thinking. I’ll call him back and tell him to wait by his dock, that we’ll be right there. His radio sounds like its running out of batteries anyways. Doesn’t he have a charger for that thing?”

Joaquín: “He does, but never uses it. Thinks it’s water powered I guess. Goes out of the house to call me and leaves it out in the rain every time.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

O.V. Twenty minutes later they pull up to Felipe’s dock and the islander climbs aboard. They sit on overturned 5-gallon paint buckets. Felipe tells his friends about Carolina.

 

Dale: “Sit down man. Calm down. Here, have a cigar.”

Felipe: (Still breathing hard) “Thanks. Chaleco knows how to go upriver on an outgoing tide. I never paid much attention, I guess. Tried to take a shortcut through the cattails like he does, and spent an hour. An hour of getting lost and going backwards. Thought I knew the way.”

Arturo: “Juana said her husband was in the Merchant Marine? I wonder if he’s related to that ship we were talking about. The one out on the bay? The timing is about right.”

Dale: “I told you. It was bound to happen. Corral is not a high traffic area as far as ships go, but I figured that sooner or later a ship would come in unannounced, with no visible name, or equally as bad, a new name, the paint still wet, with a ghost crew, and try to buy fuel and get other services, including a year’s provisions.”

Arturo: “And what’s wrong with that?”

Dale: “Nothing, if it’s legit. But somehow, this smells bad. It has all the hallmarks of a stolen ship and a shady crew.”

Arturo: “A stolen ship?”

Dale: “Absolutely. Every year thousands of ships, not to mention expensive yachts, go missing worldwide. Maritime law is different than most laws, and once a judge in a country has certified a judicial auction for whatever reason, the boat is scrubbed clean and gets a new title, a new name, and the old one is nowhere to be found. Besides, searching is expensive and the ocean is large.”

Felipe: “How large?”

Dale: “Large, my friend, very large. Speaking in round numbers, the Caribbean has seven thousand islands. Indonesia more than seventeen thousand. So many, I read somewhere they haven’t got around to naming them all yet. Japan alone has more than seven thousand, England more than six thousand, and granted, not all inhabited, but worldwide there’s tens of thousands that are, not to mention many more little known mainland ports or inlets where hiding a boat of any size is not even a trick.”

Arturo: “I never even had reason to think about it.”

Dale: “Illegal fishing, smuggling of guns, drugs, people, circumventing embargoes, there’s lots of work for these ghost ships, and hardly any of it honest. In the Caribbean, they call it the rule of three: get three welders and pay them three hundred dollars to change three things in the superstructure. In three days you can’t recognize the ship. There’s old ships being scrapped all the time and all over the place. Get an old crane that doesn’t work, weld it on, and the looks, at least from the air is different. Add a new worthless smokestack, give it two or three yellow stripes, and you’ve got a ship his own mother won’t recognize. Then, go cruise the oceans of the world making crooked deals, and if you’ve got a friendly or corrupt official back at your home port . . . so much the better. Then you pretty much do as you please. Most countries respect maritime law, and won’t stop a ship in international waters. There’s exceptions, but pretty much, that’s the way it goes.”

Joaquín: (Sarcastically) “And thou, Mr. crystal-ball owner, get all that from us not being able to read a name on a transom?”

Dale: “Well, it was just an idea. Like I said, most stolen ships, or ships with contraband, drugs, guns, or stolen goods, go to ports where there are a thousand other ships like it, not just one. Here, one big boat sticks out like a pound of mozzarella at a rat wedding, but you never know. Like I said, it was bound to happen one day, and maybe this is the day. Also, did Joaquín mention how high it was riding out of the water?”

Joaquín:  “No, I forgot about that. She’s riding high, to be sure. Way above her waterline, like she just got rid of some cargo close by. I know she didn’t sail across any ocean like that.”

Dale: My thinking is that they just unloaded something south of here, and they will soon be out of here. Juana’s husband is probably part of the crew, maybe the reason they’re here, and saw his chance to take the girl back. Fathers, do that all the time. Don’t ask me why. Lots of girls go missing all over the world, thousands of them every year, more than ships, actually, and their fathers are responsible for many of them. Also, girls are a lot smaller and harder to find than a boat.”

 

O.V. A fast running boat approaches them, and Dale gets up to see what is wanted. The new arrival pulls alongside and a strange bearded man at the helm asks for the captain. Dale, who was the only one that had stood, points to Joaquín, who had kept his seat and looked cool as a cucumber.

 

Stranger: (Gravel voice) “You’re captain Joaquín, owner of this here boat?”

Joaquín: “Yes.”

Stranger: “Didn’t you get an order for supplies this morning, with a list? It’s for our boat.”

Joaquín: “I did.”

Stranger: “So when can you deliver it?”

Joaquín: “Two days, if we can agree on terms.”

Stranger: “You deliver, and we will have a bank draft in your hands the next day.”

Joaquín: “Sorry, I only do cash.”

Stranger: “We only work with bank drafts.”

Joaquín: “Like I said, I only do cash.”

Stranger:  “What’s wrong with banks?”

Joaquín: “Nothing, only I don’t like middlemen. Cash in advance is always better. And by the way, my terms are not negotiable.”

Stranger: “No?”

Joaquín: “No.”

 

O.V. The stranger puts the boat in reverse and backs out in a royal hurry. A few seconds later and with a roar of motor and churning water, he’s gone.

 

 

Joaquín: “Professor, I think you might be right. That guy gave me the creeps, and if they meet my terms, I’m still not doing business with them. Besides, it bothers me that they can find me so easily. How did that guy know I was here? How did they know where I was this morning when they came out with the list? This is a big river, and tying up to Arturo’s dock or Felipe’s pier is not exactly the same as hiding, but you have to know where to look.”

Dale: What do you think of getting Jesús involved in this? He’s a reporter, he’s bound to have contacts. He might find out things we can’t. Besides, he thinks he’s a big time undercover reporter, only here in Valdivia, traditionally speaking, there’s not too much to investigate. Well, here’s his chance.”

Arturo: “I guess they are not going to get groceries here in Valdivia. Maybe they’ll leave now.”

Dale. “I doubt it. They’ll find somebody else to con, and there’s plenty of suckers around. Bait a hook with plenty of worthless bank drafts and many will jump all over it, as well as fight to get there first.”

Joaquín: “I hope they do. If they get burned, serves them right. Plus, I’ll have less competition. No competition actually. If this goes down like I read it, lots of people are going to wish they never heard of provisioning big boats.”

Dale: “Did you notice that boat was all metal?”

Joaquín: “You’re right. Look at my radar screen.

Dale: “Center cockpit forward, all metal, inboard engine. Not from around here. Stands out like a sore thumb.”

Joaquín: “If I was in his line of business, whatever that is, I’d have a wooden boat. No radar signature then.”

 

O.V. The “muchacho,” or servant boy, a young man named Pablo that worked in the house and was in charge of carrying firewood, cleaning windows, burning trash, waxing floors, and everything else, comes down to the boat and hands Joaquín a handwritten, neatly folded note. Joaquín reads it, and tells him to tell Romina that he will be right up.

 

Dale: “Kind of formal, isn’t she?”

Felipe: “Ever since she became a political strategist, she’s a changed woman.”

Arturo. “You can say that again. Elsa is just as bad.”

(Laughter)

 

O.V. 15 min later and Joaquín is back. (The radio is back on with another soccer game).

 

Arturo: “That didn’t take long.”

Joaquín. “Nope. All she wanted is for me to provide my boys with more cameras.”

Arturo: “And what did you tell her?”

Joaquín: “Are you kidding? First time she asks me to do anything. Glad to do it. Plus my boys armed with cameras will keep those councilmen jumping, hopping and hiding. Should be fun to see what they come up with. Love those disposable cameras.”

Felipe: “What will they think of next? I bet those fat cats are losing their appetites.”

Joaquín: “I would if I were them. Oh, and I forgot. Romina said lunch was ready.”

 

 

 

Act 5

 

O.V. The following day at 10 a.m., Romina and Elsa go see Beto, their attorney and the person in charge of their candidate’s election. They tell him about Carolina and her could–be father.

 

Elsa: “Sorry to come in on such short notice Beto, but I told Romina we had to see you right away.

Beto: (Very calm) “No, it’s fine. You did right. We do need to figure out something today. I will talk to the Chief of police and see if he can send two men in uniform to Romina’s house on the island, and keep a lookout while we figure out what to do. Maybe they can arrest the guy for trespassing and that’s that. Or get the judge to issue a restraining order to keep him away from the girl. I have to talk to him first, and will do so after my next appointment. Shouldn’t take too long, and then I can go by the house and tell you what the plan is.”

Romina: “Dale says that fathers abduct their daughters all the time. Is this true?”

Beto: “Afraid so. When a daughter goes missing, or a son for that matter, the father is the first one they go looking for.”

Romina: “Do you think two men is enough to keep an eye on things for now?”

Beto: “I would think. Still, better that they be armed and in uniform. That’s a whole order of magnitude more serious then, maybe more.”

Romina: “Also, there is a person of interest at the farm. Interested in Juana that is. A good man. Raul was born right on the farm, his grandfather worked for Felipe’s dad, his dad still works for us. Now he’s thirty something and single. Would be a perfect match: Juana would have a husband and the girl would have a father. Only problem is Juana is married. What can we do?”

Beto: “We can try to get an annulment. No divorce law yet, not in Chile. Every time they try to pass something, the church gets in the way and it’s back to square one. One day they will, and they’ve been close a couple of times, real close, but no cigar yet.”

Elsa: “And how hard is that? An annulment I mean.”

Beto: “Not impossible. But let’s go one step at a time. For now let me talk to the judge about a restraining order and two cops. Only thing is, if they have two cops available, we will have to pay for their time, meals, a place to stay, all that.”

Romina: “Oh. How much do you . . .”

Elsa: “Hush girl. Beto, you get them there, please. Send the bill to my husband.”

 

O.V. The following morning ‒ it’s early spring and for Arturo, opening day of fishing season, with his first scheduled customer, still a month away. He had gone out into the river before first light to see the colors arrive over the Andes and had just got back to his dock. They had returned late from Felipe and Romina’s the night before, and Dale had spent the night in the tugboat where he had a bunk reserved for him.

 

Joaquín: “Coffee?”

Arturo: “In a minute. I can’t feel my hands yet. It was cold out there.”

Joaquín: “Last night I gave my boys more cameras, like Romina wanted, and they came to drop them off while you were out in the river. They told me that it wasn’t easy to get pictures anymore. Those guys see a camera now, they run, like Bamby hearing a loud kabooM!

Arturo: “Hah. Don’t make me laugh . . . too early for that.”

Joaquín: “Everywhere they went, the police looked at them twice, and so did everyone else. First time they’ve been noticed at all, according to them. They’re not used to it. From ignored and overlooked to rock-star stardom in forty-eight hours flat. All because of cheap throw-away cameras. Who could have predicted?”

Arturo: (Trying to sound disappointed) “So, no more pictures?”

Joaquín: “Yes more pictures, lots more. Just harder to get, that’s all. This time the readers will have to identify the men more from their beefy backsides than their faces, as they are mostly running away. My boys said they saw the cameras, turned tail and ran. Every one of them. The Mayor included, Can you believe it? Dusting down the trail like bunny rabbits. Reacting like those kids were pointing guns. I wonder if they have disposable cameras with telephoto lenses, or better yet, scopes? You think?”

Arturo: “Lord have mercy on us.”

Joaquín: “He might . . . on us.  But not on those chunky fossils. I think they’re toast. Their days were numbered, only they didn’t know it. At this instant, same as the dinosaurs, their number’s up.”

Dale: (Waking and stumbling into the cabin) “Whose number is up?”

Arturo: “Good morning professor. Grab a cup. Our friend here was just telling us about your theory of mass extinction.”

Dale: “Oh? Well, it’s a theory. There’s others.”

Arturo: “Speaking of theories, what’s this about doing nothing? How can that be good? Shouldn’t Joaquín tell them that he won’t sell them groceries, warn the others not to do business with them, alert the police, the Navy, sound the alarm, get the cavalry?”

Dale: “We have nothing to go on. The Navy is not going to go aboard without a good reason. Maritime law is different than regular law, and whereas the police can look into your car or home with say, a search warrant, and sometimes without, merely citing probable cause, whatever that means, a ship flying a foreign flag is different. Kind of like a overseas ambassador with diplomatic plates double parking in front of a fire hydrant, tossing the ticket out the limo window, along with his stale wife and french-fries, in front of the police no less, and nothing anybody can do about it. Some kind of convenient treaty between countries having to do with reciprocity or something cute like that.”

Joaquín: “Maritime law? Sounds more complicated than marriage law.”

Arturo: (Laughing) “No, marriage law is simple. It took me a while to figure it out. Forty years of whiles, but marriage law has only one rule, namely, ‘if she’s happy, I love it.’”

Dale: (Laughing) “Pretty much. Mary and I have been married going on forty years now, and I can verify that.”

Joaquín: “Laws aside, there’s nobody to warn, and no time. Those guys are taking in fuel today. Two hundred tons of it, plus forty sides of beef, according to a little bird I know that works at the slaughter house. That and four panel trucks full of cases of cans and such, from one of the big grocery stores here in town. No clue which one. Still, lots of stuff. I doubt they will be here long.”

Arturo: “You think they will leave soon?

Joaquín: “Tomorrow night as best I can make out. No reason for them to stay any longer.”

Arturo: “I think Elsa and Romina are back from the attorneys. Let’s go into the kitchen and see what they have to tell us?”

 

Act 6

O.V. They move into Arturo’s kitchen as Elsa and Romina are walking in. Soon, coffee is being made on the wood-burning stove, as the ladies are starting to hang up their coats, wool hats, mufflers, gloves, and so forth. They tell the gents about talking to Beto and that there might be a chance of getting a policeman or two to help.

 

Arturo: “That would be good. We think there’s a connection between the ship and the dad, or kidnapper. Once that ship is gone, we’ll be okay. And Joaquín thinks it will be gone by tomorrow.”

Joaquín: “I wish I was more sure about all this, but that’s my feeling. Only thing is, I can’t figure out what they brought with them. There’s lots of places to hide south of here, and close, too. Go three hundred miles and there’s islands everywhere, canals, no end of places to hide. You can hide so good, you might get lost and never get out. Thousands of small islands, inlets, fjords, bays, everything. But not many ports to offload cargo on. That’s what I don’t get. A ship like that carries tons and tons of stuff and, come to think of it, unloading on land is not the problem. The problem is after. Takes lots of trucks and good roads to carry that much stuff around. This time of year we don’t have roads, we have mud slicks. And that won’t do. Maybe in the middle of summer, but not now. For sure not now. Truth is I don’t get it.”

Dale: “I get it, but then again it’s not a for sure.”

Arturo: “So you know what they unloaded and where?”

Dale: “I think so. I think I figured it out. Not exactly where, but . . . close.”

Elsa: (Excited) “Oh look. The lights.”

Arturo. “Wait a minute. Let me get the door . . . don’t let me faint. Looks like the police is making house calls.”

 

O.V. Arturo opens the door and the Chief of police comes in. He says hi to the ladies first, the men next. He needs no special introduction, they all know him.

 

Arturo: “Chief. This is unexpected. Coffee?”

Chief: “Thank you, yes.”

Elsa: “Beto said he would talk to you. I didn’t expect to hear from the police until later today or tomorrow even.”

Chief: “Beto is a good man. I believe him when he says it’s urgent. Also, I owe him a lot. He’s saved my bacon before, more than once. He called and asked me to come. He’s talking to a judge and thinks it’ll be a while. So, I was at my office, there was a cruiser outside and a driver doing the crossword. So, here I am.”

Joaquín: “You know what this is about?”

Chief: “Pretty much. Beto explained. I just wanted to see if housing can be arranged for my men. I can send two right away, meaning tomorrow, then see what happens in a day or two. If we need more, maybe we can find a third that can go. I’m not going to have girls being kidnaped in my home turf. No sir. Won’t have it. For starters my wife would never speak to me again. Neither will my daughter or granddaughters. I saw that happen once in Santiago when I was starting out as a new cadet. There’s more pain in kidnaping than a full-out war. No sir. Won’t have here. I may need to have you pay some expenses, but most likely not. I doubt anybody will refuse the outlay for this. Everybody up the chain of command all the way to our top general is aware of more than one kidnaping, and the terrible consequences. Worst thing that can happen to a family, or to a community.”

Elsa: “I’m so glad you can help. Romina has two men watching the house, but every one tells me having a man in uniform is so much better.”

Chief: “It is. It’s settled then. They will be here tomorrow, before dark. Can someone take them to the island?”

Arturo: “Chief. We think there’s a connection between the would-be kidnaper and the ship out on the bay. We think it might be the father of the girl, who’s also a member of the crew.”

Chief: “Can’t stop the boat with no more than that, but I’ll work on it. Meantime, keep the girls in the house.”

Joaquín: “You might also look for some cargo being trucked across country from a port south of here. They unloaded something, only, I can’t figure what.”

Chief: “If they unloaded and are figuring on trucking their goods cross country, we’ll find them. I’ll put the word out to be looking for merchandise of one type or other. Lots of trucks coming from a small one-mule port south of here should be easy to spot.”

Dale: “You might be right about them unloading south of here, but I don’t think you will find what they unloaded anywhere on land. I mean, they didn’t unload stolen cars, guns, or drugs. I think they unloaded a ship-load of toxic wastes . . . and you unload those over the side.”

Arturo: “Toxic wastes? What’s that?”

Dale: “Toxic waste or hazardous waste is anything that has a long term effect on the environment, and life in general. Can be anything really. The world is full of it. Poisonous byproducts of laboratories, industry, farming, hospitals, all kinds of places. It can be anything at all, from radioactive waste or pathogens, to heavy metals or chemicals. Also, it can be like sludge, or liquid and sometimes solid. For the most part, it gets stored and sealed in 55 gallon drums, and when a place has enough of them, say a shipload, you pay a company to dispose of them, but some shady deals are sometimes made, and the captain, instead of taking the load to a place that can properly dispose of them, like incinerate, or re-process, or store them in a permanent underground vault, takes the load someplace out of the limelight and dumps it overboard. Cheaper, lots cheaper by millions of dollars. Do that once and you paid for your ship.”

Arturo: “But why here?”

Dale: “First, it has to end up somewhere. Then, because they have to unload in a calm, out of the way place where they won’t be seen, where the water is deep, and hopefully cold. And Joaquín is right about the location. South of here there are thousands of places like that, and nobody would ever notice. Not for a while anyway.”

Chief: “Professor, you really think that’s what we’re looking at?”

Dale: “Petty much.”

Chief: “And how will we know?”

Dale: “With any luck, we’ll never know. If you arrest one or more, have them do a toxicity test for their own good. That stuff is tricky to handle, even if you know how and have the right equipment. I bet that crew shows levels of harmful chemicals, radiation, or heavy metals way off the chart.”

Chief: “And if we have no arrests?”

Dale: “A telltale sign would be unexplained massive fish kills somewhere south of here, along with birth defects in sea mammals and other creatures. For example, small fish eats contaminated algae, big fish eats lots of smaller fish, and birds eat those. Then you have less small fish, less bigger fish, fewer birds, and the few remaining birds have thin egg shells, so no more birds at all. Something like that. Happens all the time.”

Arturo: “It does?”

Dale: “Yes sir, it does. A few years ago, it came to light that my own Navy had been dumping toxic waste of the coast of California, west of San Francisco. And not just any waste, but radioactive waste, probably the worst kind, and had done so for twenty five years. One of the admirals, when asked, said he didn’t know why they picked that spot, he guessed because it was convenient. One of the sailors that was there said they all knew what was going on, and their orders were to machine gun the barrels that floated so they would sink. He thought it was fun. And not regular barrels either, but large barrels, and over time, more than fifty thousand of them, likely a lot more.”

Joaquín: “Sacapuntas! Then what happened?”

Dale:  “Nobody knows. Not yet anyway. There was no study of what was there before, so there’s nothing to compare it to. But it can’t have been good. And that poison last for thousands of years. Some of the barrels are probably still holding their toxins, and will eventually release it. But there’s no way to know. Now they are studying it. Probably fifty PhD’s presently been worked on as we speak, relating the effects of the dumping, and everything else about it. Talk about being late closing the barn door. Now they officially refer to it as a radioactive waste site.”

Joaquín: “I didn’t think stuff like that could happen at that level. I thought there would be safeguards, laws, rules, procedures, regulation, international agreements, you name it, especially in the Navy. Those guys live for procedures and regulations. They can’t brush their teeth without doing it the ‘Navy way.’ What good is government, any government, if it can’t handle that?”

Dale: “Not much I’m afraid. What bugs me the most, is that we have a country that is supposed to lead by example, at least that what we tell each other, and to my way of thinking, the only way to lead, then we pull a stunt like that. On top of it, nobody says anything. It amazes me. Evidently it’s a sin to say certain truths, I guess. Like words to a country western song, words that everybody knows, but are so woeful and thorny, nobody will sing them.”

Joaquín: “Country Western?”

Dale: “Never mind. Too hard to explain.”

 

Act 7

O.V. The following morning finds Arturo out early again, on the river as usual, watching daylight arrive over the Andes, then returning soon after to his dock. The tugboat’s light is on in the cabin, and he goes aboard. Joaquín is there, and points to the thermos full of coffee. (The radio with the local news is on and barely audible).

 

Joaquín: “Good show?”

Arturo: (Exited) “Great show. Not one, but two. The Milky Way was shining away. While one was starting over the mountains, the other one was fading over the ocean. Sort of like the changing of the guard. The Southern Cross was there, big as all get out. Dale says that Alpha Centauri, one of the pointers is 4.3 light years away. So really, if you think about it, it’s like looking at the past. I figure that light is pretty quick, maybe lighting-quick, that makes the past be 4.3 years of lighting-quick away from us, so if you think about it, pretty far.”

Joaquín: “That is the most bewildering explanation of the vastness of the universe I’ve ever heard. Einstein would have quit and become a hotdog vendor if you’d a been his astrology teacher.”

Arturo: “Astronomy.”

Joaquín: “Not the way you go about it.”

Arturo: “I’ll tell you something else I thought of. A few clouds, a condensed mass of what is no more than water vapor can trump all the starts in the universe, when it wants to. What else besides water vapor or fog, inflicts such a different outcome in the overall scheme of things? Blots out the entire universe. There is a lesson there somewhere.”

Joaquín: “Everything is turning into a lesson these days it seems. I’m tired of lessons. A few days ago I was a carefree bootlegger, sold contraband, and supplied ships with tax-free groceries. In other words, life was good. Now, we have a dark ship, other people are providing the beef, the groceries and the fuel, a ten year-old girl is afraid to go to school, and as much as I like your friend the Chief, he’s still police, and now will have his men on the island. ‘Police-men.’ The very island where I keep most of my stuff. I for one don’t want to learn any more lessons.”

Arturo: “With any luck, you will turn out to be right, and they will leave tonight. In a few days, everything will be back to normal.”

Joaquín: “I hope so. I’m banking on it. Can you believe I told Elsa I would take the police out to the island later today? In my boat? I must be going nuts.”

Arturo: “Last night when you mentioned it, I thought I would have to take your temperature. Only reason I didn’t was the Chief was still here. What about Dale? Is he still here?”

Joaquín: “No. He went back home. Said he had to teach today. Said hanging out with us made him forget his job. More fun, but it paid a lot less. You got plans for today?”

Arturo: “No, not really. Elsa is going to meet with her two lady candidates, then some of her friends are dropping by to meet them, and possibly play bridge. Why do you ask?”

Joaquín: “I came in early from my night runs last night. Got plenty of sleep. So, I’m going out later this morning to see about that big ship. Curious I guess. Also, I don’t intend to be here when that bunch of know-it-all friends of your wife come by to play cards. Best to have a big ocean in between me and them. Safer that way.”

Arturo: “Are you going by yourself then?”

Joaquín: “I told Felipe I would let him know. He’s dying to go see it.”

Arturo: “What time do we leave?”

Joaquín: “The boys shot twenty cameras worth of film yesterday. Plus a few from the day before. Must be thirty total. Later, they’ll take them to Jesús. Should be fun to see what develops. How about some goose eggs and toast, before we head out?”

Arturo: “Make mine scrambled.”

 

O.V. Joaquín and Arturo pick up Felipe at the island and head out to the bay. Out there, close to the small community of Corral is a big ship anchored, all black and dwarfing the small boat traffic around it.

 

 

Arturo: (Impressed) “That . . . is one big boat.”

Felipe: “And somebody can steal something that size? Hard to believe.”

Joaquín: (Acting grumpy) “That’s what Dale says. Says he read that somewhere. That’s the problem with reading so much. You get so many ideas it’s hard to keep them to yourself, so you give them to your friends. I prefer not to know so much about disasters. He even has a name for them. Calls them Waterloos. Why don’t he call a disaster a plain ol’ disaster? Oh no. You read that many books and pretty soon you start giving disasters Christian names like Waterloo.”

Felipe: “A disaster for who?”

Joaquín: “For Napoleon, I think. I don’t get it. Far as I know, he was more famous for the battles he lost than anything else. I can’t even imagen how that could be.”

Arturo: “Must be more to it than that. Dale thinks highly of him.”

Joaquín. (Still grumpy) “There’s a lot more to it than that, for sure. Only I don’t want to know about it. Not now. He told me once that Napoleon didn’t like going back to Elba. At the time, I thought he was talking about his wife. Then he said it was an island in the middle of nowhere, but he got away. Later, they sent him to another island, Saint something-or-other, I think. I don’t know if he got out of that one or not. Knowing Napoleon, probably. Anyway, they were always sending him to an island. Dale says he was a flawed genius.”

Arturo: “We should be that lucky. Only, I wish I knew when that boat was leaving. Elsa will calm down then.”

Joaquín: “Tonight.”

Arturo: “How can you be so sure?”

Joaquín: “By putting myself in that captain’s boots, I guess. If I was him, that’s what I’d do.

Felipe: “Go on.”

Joaquín: (More cheerful) “He’s had everything going his way, but he can smell the tide changing. Same way I can. Selling contraband, bootleg whiskey and forbidden Cuban cigars teaches one how to do that.”

Arturo: “Didn’t somebody once say there was a tide in the affairs of men?”

Joaquín: “Yes, but I don’t know who. I bet you he lived near a river, though. And he was right. You miss the tide, you miss your chance. In this case, he might also miss the boat . . . his boat, if the police crowd around him and arrest him before he leaves.”

Arturo: “He needs permission to leave port anyway. From the Navy, I think.”

Joaquín: “No he doesn’t. Well, he might, but he could care less about the Navy. There’s a seven thousand horsepower Caterpillar starter motor on that boat, or bigger. They will start that soon, get their batteries up to full, and crank the main engine before dusk today. Warm it up. Then after midnight, they will pull the stern anchor out of bed, and let her swing around, on her bow anchor, with the help of a light inshore breeze. See the way she’s anchored? Plenty of room for her to swing around and face out. Then, they will creep up, hauling that anchor as they inch forward. After that anchor clears the surface, it’s adios-goodbye, and vaya con Dios. They will head northwest, for a while, with lights on, blazing away like a Christmas tree, letting everybody know which way they are going, then after they’re hulldown over the horizon, its lights out, a course change to 180° south, so they can be lost before morning with none the wiser. Or simply head straight west. By morning they’re outside territorial waters, and no way can anybody catch them, not that anybody that could would want to. While they make their getaway, they are taking in water for ballast. I don’t think they want to go for too long so high out of the water like that. Too dangerous out there in mid ocean. But, riding high like that, they can make better than twenty knots for several hours. That boat looks rusty, a real derelict, but I bet there’s nothing wrong with any of her gear. Probably in tiptop shape. Come morning, they are lost into the big, sweet, swelling bosom, of the blue Pacific.”

Felipe: “Bosom?”

Joaquín: “Sweet, swelling bosom.”

Arturo: “You got this all figured out, uh?”

Joaquín: “Pretty much. It’s what I’d do.”

Felipe: “And if they head west. What’s west of here?”

Joaquín: “Nothing. Nothing but salt water until they hit New Zealand. That’s five thousand miles away, give or take. Ten days for them.”

Felipe: “And they can go that far?”

Joaquín: “That’s not far for that boat. That’s a small puddle jump for them. They will have enough food for four months, plus whatever they had on board to begin with. Fuel? I understand they loaded two hundred tons. That’s enough to go for a while, considering I don’t think they came in here on empty.”

Arturo: “Main thing, by tomorrow, no more boat. That’s what I want to see.”

Joaquín: “See that white spray and foam coming out her side now . . . above the faded waterline? That’s her cooling water. They just got her starter motor going.”

 

Act 8

 

O.V. On the way back, Joaquín happened to have his radar on and when almost even to Felipe’s pier, he notices a strange thing. He immediately pulls down on the foghorn lanyard  and gives his boat full throttle. The tugboat digs deep, not going any faster, but letting out a menacing cloud of grey-blue smoke.

 

Arturo: “Whoa.”

Joaquín: “Felipe. Did you ever nail those pieces of tin foil on your rowboat like you said you would?”

Felipe: “Yes. I had Chaleco nail them on a week ago. Why?”

Joaquín: “Because if you did, then that’s your rowboat there on the screen.”

Felipe: “Can’t be. I told Chaleco to stay home and watch the girls until the cops got there.”

Joaquín: “Well, it’s less than a mile from here, in those reeds up ahead by the looks of it. We’ll be there in a minute and see what the devil is going on. I don’t like the looks of it. See that other boat circling around yours in the middle of the screen. That’s an all-metal boat. The only one around here like that was the one with the strange bearded guy the other day. Something is up.”

 

O.V. When they get there, they see Chaleco desperately beating the water around the boat with an oar and Felipe jumps aboard his own boat to calm his farmhand down. Evidently, they heard them approaching, and the all-metal boat is gone. They notice Juana and her daughter Carolina cringing, down on the bottom of the boat.

 

Felipe: “Easy man, what are you doing?”

Chaleco: “Don Felipe, that guy in the water . . . he’s after Carolina.”

Arturo: “Felipe. Forget about him, help Juana and Carolina get aboard.”

Felipe: “Right, stand by. Here they go. Juana, grab Arturo’s arm and jump up there. Caro, grab Joaquín’s arm and follow your mom. Chaleco, get a line around a stern cleat, we’ll tow you back.”

 

O.V. A few minutes later they are headed back to Felipe’s to drop off the rowboat and Chaleco.

 

Felipe: “What happened?”

Chaleco: (Out of breath) “Sir, I was on the front porch, keeping an eye on the house when three guys tried to barge in from the back. I heard somebody in the kitchen scream, then more screams, and I ran upstairs to get Juana and Caro. We ran out the front door to the boat, but they saw us. I didn’t know they had come by boat. They saw us and came after us. Then I got into those cattails across the way and kept them at a distance, they not knowing all the channels and shortcuts, but they were about on us, and this one fellow jumps over, but he misses and falls in the water. Looked to me like he was wild-eyed drunk. That’s when I heard don Joaquín’s foghorn and started beating the water . . . in case he came up for air. I think I might have brained him. I’m not sure.”

Arturo: “Easy man. You did good. Main thing is the girls are safe.”

Felipe: “Let’s take the girls to Arturo’s. We’re not going to leave them here anymore. Not tonight anyway, not until it’s over. Chaleco, take the boat and row the last few feet to shore, and tell the women in the kitchen that all is well, so far, and that I’ll be back later.”

 

O.V. At Arturo’s house they meet Elsa and Romina and quickly tell them what just happened. The police get there as planned, but no longer have to go to the island. They stand guard outside the door instead, keeping everybody out. Juana and her daughter are already asleep in Arturo and Elsa’s room.”

 

Arturo: “Nice to have the police out there. I wonder if two is enough to keep the neighbors away. Maybe we should call for reinforcements.”

Elsa: “Patience, Lord. What an incorrigible man.”

Joaquín: “Well, it’s good to have some time to calm down. I for one, plan to rest and be out in the bay again tonight to see that no-name boat take off. Anybody want to join me?”

Arturo: “I think I better stay here with the girls. I know Elsa will appreciate it.”

Elsa: “You got that right.”

 

O.V. There’s a knock at the door and Dale shows up.

 

Arturo: “I see the police can be bribed.”

Dale: (Laughing) “Nooo, I know one of them.”

Felipe: “What bothers me is that guy in the water. Chaleco said he might have brained him. We never went back to find out. I know Chaleco won’t sleep tonight.”

Joaquín: “We didn’t, but that all-metal boat did. Saw it on the radar while we were towing your boat back. I guess he saw us leave and went back to get him. the drunk might be alright.”

“Dale: “Do you think it was Juana’s long lost husband?”

Felipe: “I didn’t get a chance to ask her, but I don’t think the girls saw anything. I know I didn’t. They were at the bottom of the boat staying out of the way of Chaleco’s oar. That gorilla can swing one, too.”

Dale: “Well, if he was swinging it like a club, whoever it was is probably dead. If he hit him at all, he hit him in the head. One whack with that big oar and it’s a long deep goodnight.”

Romina: “I know it’s mean to say, but if it was Juana’s husband and he turns up dead, there’s a silver lining after all. Then Juana can get married. There’s somebody at the island she likes.”

Arturo: “How is that?”

Elsa: “Beto told us that there’s no divorce law, not yet anyway. The only way to get married again is to get an annulment, or be a widow. If she could, she’d already be married, again, living with her husband, and the girl would have a father.”

Romina: “Problem is, according to Beto, an annulment is not that easy to get. Easier to wait and become a widow.”

Joaquín: “Actually, it’s quicker to hire somebody to make you a widow, but you’ve got to know where your husband is.”

(Much laughter by Arturo, Felipe, Joaquín and Dale)

Elsa: “Romina. It’s hard to take old men pretending to be boys. Will you step out with me to see if the nice policemen need coffee or anything? I want to thank them for making my life so much more peaceful, too. I say there’s nothing like a man in uniform at the door to make you feel at ease. Too late now, but I should have married one when I had the chance.”

(More laughter by all four men)

 

Felipe: “So, what time do we leave for the bay?  I’ll go with you. On the way, we can drop Romina off. I’m sure she’ll be ready to go home soon.”

Dale: “Count me in. I’d like to see if the captain here is right about that boat leaving. We might get to see them haul that metal boat on board. We don’t even know for sure if it’s their boat or not. We’ve never seen it near the ship, far as I can remember.”

Joaquín: “Let’s leave right after dark, say 10 p.m. Arturo?”

Arturo: “No guys. I’ll stay with the girls. You can tell me in the morning.”

 

Act 9

 

O.V. Joaquín, Dale and Felipe leave, taking Romina with them. She’s to stay at the island while the men go see about the ship. Long before daybreak they head back to town, dropping Felipe off at his home on the island along the way. When they get to Arturo’s, he comes out to greet them and joins them in the cabin.

 

Joaquín: “Man alive, it’s three in the morning, I thought you’d be asleep.”

Arturo: “I didn’t have a place. The girls are in our room, and Elsa took my easy chair.”

Dale: “Here, have some complimentary coffee.”

Arturo: “Anything to go with it. Right now I could use some jet fuel.”

Dale: “Here, have a little of this Courvoisier. Napoleon’s brand of brandy.”

Arturo: “Did he also make it?”

Dale: “No. He loved it though, and he’d have us shot if he found us adding it to anything. We’ve been upping the octane of our coffee with it since before midnight. We made a toast in his memory though and asked forgiveness.”

Arturo: “Hmm. So, did the ship leave?”

Dale: “Sure did. Only sooner than we thought and we almost missed it. When we got there, they were already facing out, and done pulling in the bow anchor. Five minutes later and all lights a-blazing she was headed northwest, just like our captain here said she would.”

Arturo: “Ahh, yes. I’m glad that’s over.”

Joaquín: “Over, almost, but not quite. Once she left, it was too dark to see anything, and we were trying to decide whether or not to follow her out, for a mile or two, but saw no glory in that, so we were about to turn around and head back, only we spotted another boat.”

Arturo: “How’s that?”

Dale:  “Joaquín had his radar on, and when the ship left, we saw a smaller boat’s signature on the screen, floating near where the mother ship had been.”

Joaquín: “On radar it looked a lot like the metal boat we’ve seen around. Like the one on radar yesterday when the girls were attacked. So we went to look. Sure enough, it was the same boat the stranger came to see us about providing the groceries. But that’s not all . . . there was a dead man inside.”

Arturo: “What? How could that be?”

Dale: “We don’t know, but there sure was. Almighty dead alright. I think it was the one trying to get in the boat with Chaleco. Only I didn’t see any head trauma. He looked to me like he died sick. Red eyes swollen, swelling of the throat, ulcers on his legs. Really in bad shape. Poisoned I think. We’ll soon know, but that’s my bet. Proximity to toxic chemicals for any length of time, heavy metals, or both. Either one will do that to you.”

Arturo: “Do we know who it was?”

Dale: “Yes. It was Juana’s husband. Former husband now. Had a wallet with his ID on him.”

Arturo: “Then what?”

Joaquín: “We took him in and told the police in Corral about it. They took over from there. There were only three of them, but they were going wild. When they saw the ship leave, they got in touch with the Navy commander here in Valdivia and asked for assistance. Turns out the Navy has a boat, but it’s on patrol four hundred miles from here, and they didn’t think there was any chance to catch up to it. An hour before, they had talked to the captain by radio and denied permission to leave, but were powerless to stop them from going. Not even a way to get aboard.”

Arturo: “So, they suspected somebody had died?”

Joaquín: “No, they knew nothing about that. They had a judge’s order withholding permission to leave port until all bills were paid. Guess those bank drafts were worthless. They owe tons to everybody, including the port of Corral. I didn’t know it, but they charge plenty just to anchor there.”

Dale: The cops wanted to keep the small boat, but I told them the boat was adrift, that Joaquín found it and that under maritime law, it’s legally his.”

Arturo: “It is?”

Dale: “I don’t know, but they don’t either. Really, nobody knows, and it seemed to satisfy them. Now Joaquín here has another boat.”

Joaquín: “Maybe, but whatever happens, I’m not getting in it until it’s been scrubbed clean from head to toes. Those leg ulcers on that fellow were horrible.”

Arturo: (Letting out air) “Sheesh . . . so now what?”

Dale: “The usual, I imagine. A few questions, make sure it is who we think it is, confirm cause of death, a burial, and then an open file collecting dust and rat poop in some basement corner for a long time to come.”

Joaquín: “And a wedding. Let’s not forget that.”

Dale: “Yes. A wedding for sure. Sometimes it takes a tragedy to avert a tragedy. This one was too close. Can you imagine all the things that had to line up just right for that girl to be sleeping at home now, with her mom close by, and not on her way to the other side of the world with strangers, in a tainted boat? Don’t even want to think about it.”

Arturo: “Well, if there’s one thing that will cheer Elsa up is a wedding. She’s all for weddings.”

Joaquín: “And we’re having it at Felipe’s farm. He’s all for big get-togethers and this one will be big. We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

Arturo: “Does he know about it?”

Joaquín: Not yet. But he will.”

Dale: “Fill your cups gentlemen, and I don’t mean with coffee. Here, use this cognac, freely, and we’ll toast to a great general, and to the upcoming wedding.”

Joaquín: “And to Elsa and Romina getting their two candidates elected. I haven’t mentioned it, but when you guys see the pictures my boys took the last two nights, there’s no doubt they’re as good as elected. Also, I don’t think any of those old fogies will be running again. There’s a scandal in the air, a big, fun one, big enough for me to like politics again . . . for a while anyways.”

Dale: “To Napoleon, to the bride, to disposable cameras, to political scandals big and small, to women candidates. God bless them all.”

Arturo, Joaquín and Dale: (Loudly) “Aye, ¡salud! ¡Salud!”

 

mt