Chapter 8
“Tiger Print mentioned,” Rachael began as they waited for the waitress to prepare a table, “back on the Kalakala, something about the Shane boy kidnapping. I remember that, two or three years ago. Did you have something to do with it?”
They were stand on the spacious open-air rear deck of the Smiling Geoduck, next to its blatantly pornographic sign. The Smiling Geoduck had once been a Parisian riverboat restaurant, before being towed halfway around the world to serve as the Raft's only public eating establishment. It still had much of its French charm, with a rear deck filled with cast iron bistro tables and an inner lower deck that doubled as a disco. Even at ten in the morning, the Geoduck was busy with patrons finishing up their breakfasts of omelets and French toast.
“I didn't kidnap him, if that's what you mean.”
“No, it isn't.”
“It's a long story,” Maggie replied, distracted, looking for their waitress.
“Tiger Print called you a hero.”
“Yeah, well...” Maggie hedged.
The waitress returned after clearing a table. They were seated at the railing overlooking the Geoduck's companion vessel, an old barge covered in topsoil and planted as a floating vegetable garden. The summer was far enough along that the corn was waist high and the beans were growing appreciably up their guides. The morning clouds had cleared and the Cascades could be seen over the skyline of the city across the Sound. Rachael took off her coat, hanging it on the back of her chair.
“Well?” Rachael said after they were seated. Ice water was poured and large, single-sided menus arrived.
“The Times must have done a story on the Shane kidnapping.” Maggie began looking over the menu.
“Sure. The father was a rich Wall Street inside trader, right? Who fled to the Raft to escape arrest? His boy was kidnapped. Held for ransom. I forget how it ended, though. Didn't he pay the ransom?”
“No,” Maggie said, not taking her eyes of her menu. “That's just it. I rescued the boy.”
“You did what?” Rachael dropped her menu.
Maggie winced, “Well, not just me, but...” Maggie seemed to have decided something. “I think I'll have lunch... chowder.”
“Screw the chowder.” Rachael had forgotten about food. “I don't understand. How did you rescue the boy?”
“Rescue? Rescue. As I said, it's a long story.”
“Well, now you have to tell me.”
Maggie seemed annoyed. “We don't have time.”
“But we have time for chowder?”
“Alright,” Maggie sighed. She put down her menu. “You see, the boy's father was – is – one of my members. I'm his Magistrate. I have his franchise. Just like Horus, just like Meerkat. I guess, in a roundabout way, that made the boy my responsibility-”
The waitress arrived. “Can I take your orders?” Rachael panicked and returned her menu to eye level.
“We'll both have the chowder. And a green salad,” Maggie ordered. The waitress wrote something on a notebook and stepped away from the table.
“Thank you,” Rachael smiled. Then realized, “No more vegan?”
“No. It's not really practical out here on the Raft.”
“No, of course not...” Still, Rachael was surprised.
“Anyway,” Maggie got back on track. “That's how everyone else saw it: the boy was my responsibility. When those dryfoot kidnappers came out to the Raft and took the boy, they asked for fifteen million in ransom. Suddenly, everyone turned to me for answers. That's what I get for pretending to be a figure of authority out here. What did I know about negotiating with kidnappers? I can't even bribe a county official correctly, what would happen if I make a mistake with the Shane boy? He could get hurt. These were some serious characters. Real criminals. Not comic opera pot dealers like Horus. They were threatening to cut the boy's finger off and send it to his mother. Bastards.”
“Oh my God.”
“Anyway, there was no one else, we couldn't turn to the dryfoot cops for help. The kidnappers correctly reasoned that the mainland authorities would ignore the kidnapping as long as it stayed aboard the Raft. If we went crying to them, it'd have given them every excuse they needed to come aboard the Raft and start executing some law and order. We'd be asking for their protection. Demanding it. The cops just sat and waited – waited for the invitation. But no one aboard the Raft wanted the police involved. Not the boy's father or mother, or me, and especially not the kidnappers. No that just left me. Maggie Straight the Magistrate.
“So, I tried to convince the father to pay the kidnappers, it seemed like the easiest way to get the boy back. But he couldn't, he just didn't have the money. He'd been rich on land, but all his assents had all been frozen by the IRS. He'd escaped to the Raft with what liquid cash he had, and that was nothing like fifteen million. Of course, the kidnappers didn't know this, no one did. And when word got out I just wanted to pay the kidnappers off, all hell broke loose. Nobody wanted to see the Raft become a prime target for each and every two-bit scumbag looking to make a quick buck. But a kid's life was at stake. I really didn't care how it looked, I just wanted to get the boy back.”
“So what did you do?” Rachael leaned forward on the edge of her seat.
Maggie shrugged. “In the end, I had to go full Rambo.”
“What?” Rachael laughed. “Rambo?”
“Yeah, the clock was ticking, the deadline was closing in. I knew these three guys, here on the Raft, with military experience. Former Marines. We planned it out. We swam in under the cover of darkness, with SCUBA gear, up to the kidnappers' boat. We had Tasers and shotguns loaded with beanbags, all wrapped up in plastic bags.”
“You're kidding...” Rachael was listening in slack-jawed amazement.
“I wish I was, I was so scared my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I mean, before that day I'd never even held a gun, and there I was, part of a full-on Seal Team 5 attack.”
The chowder and salads came. Pepper was ground from an oversized grinder and more ice water was fetched.
“Then what happened?” Rachael prodded once the waitress had departed.
Maggie tasted the chowder and found it delicious. “So we swam up to the quiet ship. The kidnappers appeared to be dozing. Just one guard at the stern. We shimmied up the mooring lines and ripped open those plastic bags full of our weapons. I caught the guard with a Taser and he took a header into the Sound. We caught the rest of the mob napping. It was over in less than ten seconds. It still makes me shake to think about it.” Maggie held up a hand and it was visibly trembling. “We radioed for a jet ski, all ready and waiting, and it swooped in to pick up the boy. Fifteen minutes later, he was back in his mother's arms, safe. We tied up and deposited the kidnapping sons of bitches at the foot of the Kingston ferry dock, just in time for the morning commute.”
“Oh my God...” Rachael gasped in surprise, raising a hand to cover her mouth.
“Their boat we kept. And no dryfoots have ever returned. There's one good thing to be said about solving your problems with violence: no one ever tries to pick on you twice.”
“I mean - was anyone hurt? The boy?”
“No, it all went smoothly.” Maggie dug into her salad. “But the precedent was set. From that day forward, Magistrates weren't simply about conflict resolution anymore, but active protection.”
“Then you are some sort of a policeman,” Rachael smiled. “I knew it.”
“Policewoman... den mother, therapist, what have you. And it's all voluntary. A paid service. Don't like your cop, go find another one. But you take the good with the bad. In exchange for my protection, you also voluntarily submit to my authority.”
“And that's why you can arrest Horus? I mean, if you can find him.”
“Exactly.”
“This place is insane,” Rachael shook her head. She tried the chowder. It was delicious.
“It's not like the mainland, that's for sure. No cops, no bureaucrats, no rules.”
&nbs
p; “You'll forgive me if I stick with the Seattle P.D. and 911.”
“I will. I think most people would agree.”
“It just all seems...” Rachael picked her words, she knew all too well how easy it was to pick a fight with Maggie. “So flimsy. I mean, I understand that you're good at what you do, that you saved that boy, but what about the Magistrates that aren't...”
“Quite so honest?” Maggie finished Rachael's sentence.
“Yes!” Rachael gestured at Maggie with her fork. She was relieved that Maggie had said it and not her.
“It's the same here on the Raft as it is on the dryland. Over there,” Maggie pointed to the skyline of the city. “What do you do with a dirty cop?”
“Expose him, fire him, hopefully arrest him,” Rachael replied.
“Yes, but how long does that take? How often does a department like the Seattle P.D. actually dismiss an officer? And do you think each and every officer on the force is squeaky clean? It can take years for someone like you to uncover wrongdoing, dutifully report it and get any sort of substantive action. Here on the Raft, if you've got a bad Magistrate, you simply fire them yourself.”
“But if you're less than honest yourself... What stops a criminal like Chemical there from colluding with his Magistrate to avoid arrest?”
“Even the crooks need good Magistrates,” Maggie replied. She'd finished her chowder. “They're as often the victims of crime as they are the perpetrators. Sure, they might curse the day they hired a Magistrate when that Magistrate boards their junk to come arrest them, but by and large, over any sort of period of time, the criminals need as good a Magistrate as they can afford. If Chemical back there could pay his bills, I'd still own his franchise. We didn't part ways because I failed to turn a blind eye to his crimes. No, inevitability, all a poor Magistrate gets out here on the Raft is empty pockets. And the need to look for a different line of work.”
Rachael let it go. She'd had these sorts of conversations with Maggie a thousand times. She knew there was no convincing her, changing her perception. But today everything was different, Rachael didn't need to argue politics. Regardless of how righteous and correct Maggie might think the Raft to be, there were realities that needed to be addressed.
“You know it's all over, don't you?” Rachael said after the food was finished.
“What's that?” Maggie was distracted, looking off at the horizon.
“The Raft. I mean, no matter what you discover, if you catch Horus or not. The death of Meerkat is all that the authorities are going to tolerate. When they come, and they will come, they won't be coming out here to investigate a murder, or its links to Senators or Congressmen or whomever. They're coming out here to sink the Raft. Once and for all.”
“I know,” was all Maggie said, still looking at the skyline of the city.
“Then...” Rachael bit her bottom lip. “Come home. Get while the getting is good. Sail back to Alki with me and leave your boat. Hang the tax man.”
“This is my home, Rachael.”
“I know, but...” Rachael wanted to scream. Stand up and shake Maggie and slap some sense into her. “Staying here, waiting for the inevitable will only mean jail. Or worse. Does everyone on the Raft carry a gun like you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then damn it, Maggie!” Rachael said, drawing glances from the other tables. “There's going to be shooting. People are going to get hurt. People are going to die. Maggie, for Christ's sake, see some sense.”
“You're right. I should never have let you come out here. You should go home, go back to your child.”
“Maggie!” Rachael tried to control herself. She pulled back, lowering her voice, trying another tactic. “I mean, this place is amazing. Now I understand. I'm so glad that I got to see it. I understand why you love it so much. But it's over, Maggie. Over. Even you have to admit it, that even at its best, the Raft was running on borrowed time. You can't avoid the long arm of the law forever.”
“Rachael, it's...” Maggie started then stopped.
“Maggie, I'm scared. I'm afraid that you're going to get hurt and I... I love you. You have to come back to dryland now. Before it's too late.”
There, she'd said it. It had to be said. And there it was, out in the open, sitting on the table between them.
Maggie turned her attention back to the skyline of city.