The Raft (16 page)

Maggie and Rachael followed the Detective
Sargent up the driveway. It was a long gravel path that Maggie
navigated gingerly in her bare feet, uttering a long series of
'eeks' and 'ouches'. They walked to an ornate porte-cochère, under
which the familiar faces of Kid Galahad, Rolph, and Chesterton
waited.

“The Honorable Ambassador from the sovereign
state of the Raft, as ordered,” Yi joked, stepped up to the FBI
Agents. No one found him humorous and he was promptly ignored.

“You have no idea how many asses are on the
line here, Ms. Straight,” Galahad snapped at Maggie in place of a
pleasantry.

Maggie was still dancing on the sharp rocks
of the gravel drive. “Ms. Bigallo here has already spelled that
out, Special Agent.”

“Good, because if you think you're going to
go in there and accuse a sitting Senator -”

“Don't worry, I promise I'll be on my best
behavior.” Maggie held up a palm.

“And only five minutes, the Senator is a busy
man.” Galahad turned towards the steps leading up to the house.

“I won't keep him a minute longer.” Maggie
followed, breathing a sigh of relief as she stepped off the rough
gravel.

Up four steps and through the grand double
doors, Maggie and Rachael stepped into the warm Old World comfort
of the Hadian home. Persian rugs were below their feet and the
walls were hung with portraits and panoramic landscape
paintings.

At the precipice, Agent Galahad kicked off
his shoes and proceeded into the home in stockinged feet. Rachael
followed Galahad's example, pulling off her knee-high rubber boots.
Maggie simply meandered on, her bare feet happily freed of the
sharp gravel of the drive.

Galahad led them to a doorway nestled next to
a large, ornate piece of oak furniture. He pulled open a heavy,
paneled wooden door and stepped into a book-lined office. A large
desk sat before a stained glass bay window and a green velvet
settee sat across the room. Galahad pointed at the couch and took a
seat for himself in a lone high-backed chair by the door.

Maggie and Rachael lowered themselves onto
the green couch.

The room smelled like money, there was no
other way to describe it. The collection of books was vast and
guaranteed all to be first editions, Rachael knew. A small
fireplace sat in one wall, unlit, but showing every sign of much
use. The laptop on the desk was the only sign of the twenty-first
century. The titanium sort, almost as thin as paper.

Galahad, Maggie, and Rachael waited in
silence, the ticking of a wall clock counting off the seconds.
Beyond the bay window, the police officer with the rifle passed,
apparently patrolling. There was a long, silent moment, and the
officer passed again, heading back towards the front of the
house.

Rachael took out her phone and looked at the
time. She looked up at the wall clock and realized it was three
minutes fast. It was five o'clock exactly by her phone. She turned
off the ringer and returned it to her purse. She looked over at
Galahad, he was fiddling with the end of his tie. She turned to
look at Maggie sitting next to her. Maggie looked pale.

“Are you okay?” Rachael asked.

“Landsick,” Maggie said, burping.

“Landsick? Is that really a thing?”

“It must be,” Maggie said, sweat beginning to
bead on her brow. “'Cause I sure feel it.”

“Maybe it's nerves,” Rachael offered.

“I don't think so.”

“Well, if you need to go outside and get some
air...”

“I'll be okay,” Maggie assured.

“What's wrong?” Galahad spoke up, rising in
his seat.

“Nothing,” Rachael said to him. She dug a
handkerchief out of her purse and gave it to Maggie. “It's just
warm in here.”

“You know, if you two don't want to do this
-” Galahad began, but he came up short, interrupted as the knob of
the door began to rattle.

Chapter 16

Senator Hadian stormed into the room as if he
were a solider charging up Omaha Beach in Normandy. His jacket was
off, his tie undone, with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He
was drying his hands off on a porcelain white towel, which he
tossed down on the desk as he took a seat behind it.

He had a look about him as if he'd just
finished working on machinery, perhaps changing the oil in his car.
Of course, he'd been doing no such thing, but the air around him
seemed to bristle with masculine confidence. His mane of gray hair
and the ruddy tone of his face told the room he had nothing but
contempt for what was about to transpire.

He sat down heavily in his large, padded
leather chair behind the grand antique desk, and sighed. He said
nothing, staring down the distance between himself and the small,
ladylike couch containing Rachael and Maggie at the far corner of
the room.

It was a masterful display of power, Rachael
understood. She almost applauded. If Maggie and Rachael had been
there to close a business deal, the deal would have certainly gone
most favorably for the Senator.

Rachael looked at Maggie. She looked small
and pale against the green velvet of the couch. This had been a
mistake, Rachael panicked. Maggie wasn't ready for this. Thugs like
Chemical Ali G and G-Men like Galahad were one thing, but the
Senator was in a totally different league.

Rachael began to scramble for some excuse,
some reason they were there that would offend the Senator as little
as possible. The sooner they could get out of that office the
better. Get Maggie back to her boat – no, get Maggie back to
Rachael's house, off of the Raft and safe. They were onshore now,
there was no reason that Maggie ever needed to go back to the
Soft Cell
.

Think of some excuse to get out of here and
run, Rachael thought, as far away from Meerkat, the Raft, Senator
Hadian, and the whole mess as they could. Rachael looked down at
her purse on the floor at her feet. Maybe her phone was silently
ringing at that moment, who could tell? Perhaps it was Peter with
some critical piece of information...

“Senator, thank you for meeting with us on
such short notice,” Maggie began. Rachael looked up, forgetting his
silly ruse. Maggie's voice was strong and forthright. Despite the
look of queasiness on her face, there was no hint of weakness in
her voice. Perhaps Maggie
could
handle this, Rachael dared
to entertain.

“This is a goddamn waste of my time, and you
know it,” the Senator growled. He rocked back in his chair, sizing
up his competition. He hadn't made up his mind about Maggie, it
appeared, but his face was hard to read.

“Still, I'm grateful that you took the time
out of your busy schedule -”

“How about you cut the bullshit and you tell
me who you are and what you want? And what this has to do with that
crazy son of a bitch in my house with a gun? I couldn't get a
straight answer out of these pencil-dicks,” the Senator nodded at
Galahad in his high-backed chair, “so maybe you'd do me the decency
of being up front and honest.

“Alright, Senator, I'd be more than happy
to.” Maggie shifted on the velvet of the couch. Her color was still
poor and she was sweating. “I'm a Magistrate aboard the Raft – sort
of like a private investigator. We had a murder out there on the
water, and all the evidence so far is telling us that you knew the
victim.”

Rachael coughed. Galahad shot up like a
jack-in-the-box in his chair. There was a moment of terror as the
Senator sat motionless in his seat. Rachael could feel the
fight-or-flight reflex rising inside her. If she sprinted for the
door, would she make it before the Senator made it completely
around the desk?

“Ha!” The Senator let out a guffaw and
slapped his knee. “Ha! Now that's funny.”

Rachael relaxed. Galahad lowered himself back
into his chair.

“Then I take it the name Joanna Church, or
Meerkat, means nothing to you?” Maggie continued.

“Not a goddamn thing,” the Senator shook his
head, smirking.

“Well, the crazy son of a bitch with the gun
who broke in here and scared your maid half to death thought you
did. Thought you and she were having an affair. Making a baby, in
fact. He was even under the impression that he was blackmailing
you.”

Suddenly, the Senator's visage soured. He
leaned forward, putting his hands on his desk. “What was that?”

“Should I speak up, Senator?” Maggie
asked.

The Senator Hadian rose an accusatory finger.
“And you come in here, accusing me -”

“I'm accusing nobody of anything, Senator,”
Maggie raised her voice to match the Senators. “You simply asked
why a man came to your house today to kill you, and I told you.
Those are the facts, Senator. I'm not here to deal in
conjecture.”

Maggie's words seemed to belay the Senator's
fury. His hands dropped back to the desk. For a moment he
hesitated, then he slumped back in his chair, focusing his
attention on the study of his adversary and her potential
weaknesses.

“You're from that Raft, huh? And so was this
fella with the gun?”

“That's right.”

“You've both gone and screwed the pooch,
coming back on dryland. That's going to cost you come tax
time.”

“Horus – the SOB with the pistol – fled to
shore when his girlfriend was murdered. I'm something like his
lawyer. The pencil-dicks,” Maggie mimicked the Senator and nodded
at Galahad in his corner, “concerned about the defendant's sixth
amendment rights, have invited me onshore. I have a
twenty-four-hour furlough.” Maggie tried to smile. She didn't pull
it off.

“Oh, they have, have they?” The Senator
seemed curious. “How nice for you.”

“And I thought it important to speak to you
in person about this, before ugly rumors begin.”

The Senator took a pen up off the desk and
began to fidget with it. He didn't take his eyes off Maggie. “Is
that your game?” he asked, his voice betraying a slight hint of
concern.

“I'm playing no game, Senator,” Maggie
replied in all honesty.

“Convenient though, isn't it? That you and
your friend with the gun should show up today? Today of all
days...”

“I'm sorry?”

“What was the plan? That the nut job with the
gun should shoot me? Or was that always a faint? And you're here to
put the real bullet in me?”

“What?” Maggie recoiled in surprise. The
Senator was becoming increasingly agitated. Galahad shuttled his
gaze between the Senator and Maggie, unsure of exactly what he'd
missed. But he reached under his jacket all the same for the butt
of his pistol.

“Senator, I don't know -” Rachael tried to
interrupt. But the Senator sprang to his feet and angrily tossed
the pen in his hand down on the desk.

“Blackmail, is it?” he hollered. “Do you have
a shred of proof? Damn it! Do you think you can blackmail a United
States Senator and get away with it? Special Agent,” Hadian turned
to Galahad.

“Senator!” Maggie sprang from her seat. She
strode up to the desk, her bare feet standing solid on the hardwood
floor of the Senator's office. “Sit down!” she bellowed. And like a
mother commanding her child, thrust a finger at the Senator's
padded, leather chair.

The Senator was dumbstruck. He paused, mouth
half open, and fixed Maggie with a determined stare.

“I am not here to blackmail you, sir,” Maggie
spoke in a clear, slow voice. “If you've misconstrued my comments
to imply differently, then I apologize. But let me be very clear on
this fact, Senator: I am here to investigate the murder of a young
girl, nothing more. If we can return the conversation back to that,
Senator, I think I can quickly finish up my business here and leave
you in peace.”

The Senator closed his mouth. He pulled
himself up to his full height, perhaps a whole foot taller than
Maggie, and slowly lowered himself back into his chair. At this
cue, Maggie turned and returned to her seat on the couch next to an
awestruck Rachael.

“It's just suspicious, that's all,” Senator
Hadian continued in a calmer tone.

“What is, Senator?” Rachael asked, looking at
Maggie out of the corner of her eye.

“All this trouble... representatives with day
passes off the Raft, right before the big vote...”

“Vote?”

“On the new tax code. It's already passed the
House Ways and Means and now it's in front of the Finance
Committee. It's seven thousand pages long, you understand, but
perhaps its most interesting modification is the removal of the
foreign resident exemption – that one sentence in the tax code that
you Rafters find so convenient.”

Rachael and Maggie looked at each other in
surprise.

“You're editing the tax code? After all these
years?” Maggie asked.

“Yep, it'll be the end of the whole lot of
you. Not my idea, of course. I think the Raft is one of the best
ideas in American history, but the Democrats have had it up to here
with all of you.” The Senator indicated his temple.

“You think the Raft is a
good
idea?”
Rachael asked in disbelief. “You've said the opposite in
public.”

“Well, of course,” the Senator laughed.
“Can't be seen to support banishment for the lowlife scum of
society. Wouldn't project a warm, family image. The American People
want their leaders to be tough on crime, not medieval. Personally,
however, I think the Raft is best prison the United States has ever
built. Costs nothing to run, nothing to feed the inmates, you don't
even have to build a wall and the criminals climb into their cells
willingly. Can you believe that? They actually
choose
to be
cut off from society. Forever. It's perfect! You couldn't design a
better jail.”

“The Raft isn't a prison,” Maggie countered.
“Rafters are free.”

“Sure, sure. If that's what you want to
believe. Free to live with all the rapists and murderers. You get
all the worst of them, skipping out on bail and fleeing from
warrants. They think that out on the Raft they're beyond the reach
of the law, but the truth is they've only run right into the law's
grasp. After all, there's no way any American court could, in good
conscience, hand down a more cruel and unusual punishment than the
Raft. Prison, an inmate has a hope of someday seeing release, but
the Raft... the sentence is for life. More power to them if the
Rafters want to believe they're living in freedom. Keeps them
quiet, keeps them docile. Meek. But don't fool yourself, out there
on the Raft they've got no more freedom than a canary in a
cage.”