Chapter 30
“That's it?” Special Agent Galahad said, shaking himself back to attention. “That's all you have to offer? In exchange for your precious Raft? Blackmail?”
“No, no... one more thing,” Maggie smiled.
“This better be good...”
“It is: Gandalf isn't dead,” Maggie said flatly.
“What?” Galahad replied in surprise.
“Err, Maggie...” Rachael hedged.
“No, there was an exchange of gunshots, but no one was hurt. Gandalf is, at this moment, in custody. Charged with the murder of Joanna Church. In a few minutes, you're going to uncuff me and I'm going to return to the Raft and let everyone know what transpired. Gandalf is guilty of Meerkat's death, and I turned him over to the authorities.
“And a good thing, too. If Gandalf had been senselessly cut down by a government bullet... well, the Rafters would all be beside themselves with bloodthirsty rage. They might arm themselves, then might forget about running your blockade and attack it. Head on. That would be unthinkable, of course. Six hundred – a thousand Rafters, armed to the teeth, with years of experience in maneuvering between small vessels, against... what, Special Agent? Two-hundred green Coast Guard recruits? With two or three hours of weapons training apiece? A shame you don't have any of the hardened Iraq War types left, but so few people go career military nowadays. What do you have? Ten, fifteen NCOs with any experience.” Maggie nodded at the two goons guarding the doorway. “Up against a small army of men and women who've slept every night for the last decade with a gun under their bunks. Spent weekends training for just this sort of conflict against just this kind of foe. Yeah, a small army of men and women with little to nothing left to lose, fighting for survival, fighting for their way of life, fighting for their friends and family.”
Special Agent Galahad cleared his throat. He uncrossed his legs and crossed them the opposite way.
“No, I think for all concerned it would be best that I returned to the Raft and informed them all of Gandalf's guilt. No mention of Meerkat being a police informant, of course, and no mention of the Senator. No mention of really very much of anything at all, truth be told. The fact that a suitable resolution to Meerkat's murder has convinced the Coast Guard to allow the Raft free passage to attend the Freaky Kon-Tikis will speak volumes.”
Maggie cleared her throat, giving everyone in attendance a chance to keep up. “After the races, of course, after the holiday, there'll be a need to decide on a new leader. Someone with closer ties to the dryland, someone who can negotiate with the dryfoots. Someone with a solid reputation on both land and water.”
“Someone like you?” Galahad grinned. He hadn't fallen behind.
“Exactly,” Maggie said without mirth. “The old Gray Beard council is a sexist anachronism. If the Raft is to survive, it will have to change. The Raft can no longer serve as a shelter for all the mainland's thugs and killers. The Raft has to grow, blossom into a vibrant community. But it can't grow in a vacuum.
“The Raft might be detached, but it is wholly dependent on the mainland. So many Rafters make their livings working for dryfoot companies, we're dependent on the mainland for food and resources. The days when we can pretend we're a self-sufficient entity are over. We have to extend the hand of friendship to the mainstream world, begin to reintegrate with society. And the first step down that road will be acknowledging the burden the Raft exerts on the communities that surround it – how our actions affect those that border the Raft. What small recompense that can be made financially to alleviate this burden the Raft imposes...”
Maggie paused again, let her words sink in. Kid Galahad sat across from her, watching her intently. He was hard to read, both bemused and concerned.
“There will have to be a presence,” he finally said. “Aboard the Raft. Authority.”
“No,” Maggie replied flatly. “Not in the beginning. It would be too provocative.”
“Then, at least a census. Really... legal names.”
“Perhaps,” Maggie nodded.
“Perhaps? That's the best you can do?”
“I'm not the leader of the Raft, Special Agent. Not yet.”
“And all this talk about the Senator? And Meerkat's connections...”
“Forgotten. Right, Rachael?”
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Rachael said on cue. It was the correct time to appear bewildered. Luckily, she genuinely was.
“And if I say no?” Galahad crossed his arms.
“You want to risk a conflict with the Raft?”
“I was ready to ten minutes ago.” Galahad watched Maggie through half-closed eyelids.
“You were ready to engage in a fight that you might win. But there's no winning this fight, Special Agent, I'm sure you're intelligent enough to see that. Let me go free and you'll have peace, a foothold in the administration of the Raft, all your skeletons quietly locked away in the proverbial closet, and nothing more to do for the rest of the day but to enjoy the Kon-Tiki Races. Keep me cuffed up here and what will you get? An all-out shooting war? More bodies in the Puget Sound? Meerkat's murder still unsolved, and the pressing need to cover your involvement in an increasingly botched investigation? No, Special Agent, you're too smart to start a fight that you can't win.”
Galahad sat in silence. Possibly some inner conflict was raging inside him, but externally he seemed almost serene.
“It all begins when you let me go,” Maggie said, tugging on her shackled wrists, showing the shiny steel cuffs to Galahad.