Mark Lee - The Canal House

“The order has to go through the appropriate chain of command.”

“Tell them to do it right away,” Julia said. “A boat has to get there by sunset.”

“We’re following the correct procedure, Dr. Cadell. Obviously, you didn’t care to obey the rules and that’s why you got into trouble.”

“It’s unfortunate that all this happened.” Richard’s voice was soothing and respectful. “But there is a deadline here. Perhaps the Australian ship could be heading toward Liquica while the order is being processed.”

“I don’t like to be ordered around, Mr. Seaton. Especially by a bunch of misguided do-gooders who have deliberately disobeyed my instructions. Everyone involved in our effort here seems to be part of the program except the British. I told Captain Jenkins he could lead a reconnaissance patrol. Without my permission, he took along a group of civilians.”

“We’re sorry for the confusion,” Richard said. “But right now we need to help Mr. McFarland. My Australian friends have told me that you’re the kind of man who can cut through all the clutter.”

Bates smiled at Richard. “Interfet is handling the problem, Mr. Seaton. Now go outside and my staff will keep you informed about the situation.”

We sat on the wicker furniture in the hotel waiting room and more people offered us bottled water. Around three o’clock Major Holden told us that the Botany Bay was leaving for Liquica. I went outside with Julia and we walked across the waterfront boulevard to the beach. One of the Australian cruisers that had been anchored near the wharf was already gliding out of the harbor. “That’s got to be the Botany Bay ,” I said. “They’ll get there in time, Julia. Don’t worry.”

I ran into Tristram Müller and he let me go to his hotel room to use his phone and computer. I downloaded the disc of photographs from Liquica, then called the Newsweek office and gave the story to John Scofield. Around five o’clock, I called an editor working for the Telegraph and told him about Daniel.

It was close to sunset when I went back to the Turismo and found Julia and Richard in the hotel lobby. General Bates and Major Holden had left for the airport, but a neatly dressed Australian lieutenant knew about the situation and was monitoring the radio reports from naval command. Now it was getting dark outside, but none of us wanted to admit that the deadline had passed. Billy showed up an hour later and said that the Seria ’s crew had gotten the engine started. Using a fraction of normal power, the ship had drifted back to the wharf.

Julia sat on the couch in the lobby with her elbows resting on her knees. Although her eyes were open, she didn’t seem to be looking at anything. The lieutenant went upstairs for a few minutes and returned with a sheet of paper. His face had been so confident, so assured of his mission, that I had felt relaxed watching him. Now he looked embarrassed and ashamed.

“We just received a radio message from the Botany Bay . The ship reached Liquica at approximately nineteen hundred hours. The captain sent a landing party to the beach, and when they arrived no one was there. I guess the militia went up into the hills with your friend.”

Richard tried to call his military contacts in Australia, but everyone had left their office for the day. The lieutenant said he would radio General Bates out at the airport and ask for instructions, but he doubted that anything could be done until morning. Billy escorted Julia back to her cabin on the Seria and I walked through the dark streets to the Resende Inn. The hotel manager sold me a bottle of warm beer and a bowl of rice for twenty Australian dollars and I went upstairs to the room. I fell asleep almost immediately, then woke up in darkness. The cut on my back was burning as if the skin had been touched with a white-hot piece of iron. Lying on the mattress, I listened to the sound of my breath, my heartbeat, my awkward prayer.

Someone pounded onthe door of my hotel room early the next morning. I was sure it was Daniel. He had probably spent the night listening to Cristiano and then manipulated the young man’s vanity. And now you must let me go, comandante . So I can write your story and tell the whole world about your struggle.

I pulled on my pants, opened the door, and found Captain Jenkins standing in the hallway with two of his Gurkhas. “The Australians picked us up with their helicopters,” he said. “Now they’re sending their soldiers down to Liquica.”

“We told Bates not to do that,” I said, getting worried. “The militia might kill Daniel if they’re attacked.”

“It’s not my idea, Mr. Bettencourt. I don’t have any transport so I’m riding in one of the Aussie vehicles. Thought you might want to come along.”

I finished getting dressed and grabbed my cameras. Julia had spent the night on the Seria and I knew she was planning to meet with General Bates as soon as he returned to his office. I scribbled a short note on the back of a chocolate-bar wrapper and gave it to the hotel manager’s nephew. Using a lot of gestures and a smattering of Portuguese I told him to take the message to the woman doctor living on the boat with the Indonesian crew. The boy ran off to the wharf and I followed Jenkins over to the Turismo Hotel.

The Australians had assembled a convoy of Land Rovers. The officers bustled about carrying their Steyr assault rifles, talking to Interfet command on their radios. The lieutenant driving us to Liquica was a friendly young man. I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he drank from a water bottle.

“You want to hear some music?” he asked.

“That’s not necessary,” Jenkins said.

“It’s nothing loud, Captain. I brought my own tape cassettes along. We could listen to country western, jazz guitar—”

“I don’t want to hear any bloody music.”

“No worries, sir. Suit yourself.”

Our convoy left the city. By now most of the fires had gone out. I could still smell burned rubber and oil whenever we passed a wrecked car, but the sky was clear and blue. We went through the airport roadblock, then traveled down the coastal road. Sitting in the front passenger seat, Jenkins swiveled around to talk to me.

“They flew Corporal Mainla back to Darwin. It looks like he’s going to be all right. Private Rai is at the airport medical facility. He’s still a little shaky, but he told me the basic story. I thought you might give me your version.”

I tried to explain what had happened, but the palm trees and the sunlight and little white waves on the ocean challenged the darkness of my story. The Land Rover we were traveling in was new and comfortable and the lieutenant kept offering us bottles of purified water. Three Black Hawk helicopters roared over us and continued west.

“That’s our rangers,” the lieutenant said. “They’re coming in first.”

By the time we reached the first bridge on the outskirts of Liquica the helicopters had landed and a platoon of rangers was fanning through the town. I could see them checking the wrecked buildings as we drove past the churchyard and down the cobblestone road to the beach. Everything in Liquica had become larger in my memory, but now it appeared small and shabby.

The front Land Rover stopped at the end of the road and soldiers jumped out, ready for action. As the drivers switched off the engines all I could hear was the sound of waves and the screech of sea gulls circling over the dead bodies. I led Captain Jenkins down to the tennis court. The blown-up Land Rover was still parked on the sand near the ashes of the bonfire. Sergeant Gurung, Corporal Battis, and Private Thapa lay near the vehicle, covered with the cardboard strips. Five dead villagers were scattered across the tennis court along with bundles of cooking gear and clothing that had been left behind. The steel rods I had hammered into the ground were still there attached to the IV bags. The empty bags fluttered back and forth in the ocean breeze, dragging their plastic tubes across the concrete.