Chapter 2

Ioke woke with a headache and a faintly metallic taste in her mouth. Opening her eyes, she noticed no change in the darkness from when they had been closed.

Somewhere in the distance, there was the muffled sound of crying and whimpering. Going up on her knees, Ioke felt around herself. The floor underneath her was cold, metallic and textured. Someone had laid a couple of thin blankets underneath her, but they had done little to prevent the aches and pains she felt in every joint of her body right now. Tentatively, she reached around herself without rising, but couldn't find a wall in any direction.

The crying seemed to be coming from several directions at once, both close and far away. It didn't sound like it was muffled by coming through any walls.

"Who's there?" asked Ioke. "Are you all right?"

"I'm here," came a call. More followed, but Ioke focused on the first one. Staying crouched over, she crab walked towards it, feeling ahead of herself as well as possible so as not to run into anything.

As she walked, she felt a bit unsteady on her feet. Smelling the air, she mostly detected a strong metallic tang and a musty smell like clothes stored too long. She also smelled the unmistakable scent of fear. Taking another breath, she found the smell she was looking for.

The ocean.

She had no idea how she'd gotten there, but she seemed to be at sea. Her last memory was of reporting for a new temp assignment at a firm she only knew by a three-letter acronym. They hadn't had a lot of work for her or the other temps to do and, around lunchtime, she'd started to feel dizzy and laid down in the break room. She supposed she must have passed out.

"Where are you?" she called again, knowing she was close.

"Right here," said the woman who had first called out. She was almost within arm's reach.

"Are you all right?" asked Ioke.

"I think so," said the other woman. "But, I shredded the shit out of my stockings."

"Sheila?" Ioke asked. Sheila was a temp Ioke had worked with at several different jobs, including this last one.

"Ioke?"

"Yeah," said Ioke.

"What are you doing here?"

In spite of herself, Ioke laughed, "I don't even know where here is. Do you?"

"No," said Sheila. "I was just coming back from lunch and somebody grabbed me from behind. I think they drugged me."

Ioke held her head, "I think they drugged me, too." Calling out, she asked, "Who else is here?"

Following voices, Ioke managed to gather up six women in total. Including herself, three of them had been temping at the same firm the last thing they could remember. They all told similar stories--either of feeling dizzy and lying down or being jumped from behind. The other three were all college students. Two had been snatched out of NYU dorms, one from Washington Square Park in broad daylight.

"Is anyone hurt?" Ioke asked. When she got a round of negative responses, she said, "Let's follow the wall and see if we can find a door. There should be one. If we were dropped from a height, we would have bruises or worse."

"Who?" asked the one who had identified herself as Gayle. She sounded to be on the verge of hysteria, "Who's doing this to us?"

"I don't know," admitted Ioke. "Let's find a door."

As they felt their way around the wall, Ioke kept them talking. Some of the women were close to going to pieces. She kept them focused on the problem of finding the door and figuring out if there was any commonality among them.

It wasn't hard. They were all a year or two out of high school. As she kept them talking, Ioke realized that they were also quite well-spoken.

"Sheila, how were your grades?" she asked, her hands inching across the wall.

"My what?"

"Your grades," said Ioke. "When you were in high school. How were your grades?"

"4.0," said Sheila. "I was valedictorian."

"I was valedictorian, too," said the girl who'd identified herself as Paula. There was a general murmur of assent. Only one of the girls hadn't done as well in school, but she was clearly intelligent.

"What does that mean?" asked the one who'd said her name was Rebecca.

"I don't know," said Ioke. "But, it seems unlikely to be a coincidence. Were any of you contacted by a man named Sean Medeforte?"

This round of responses was generally negative. But, Gayle said, "Wait. I know that name. An agent of his contacted me right after I graduated. But, I turned him down. I... You don't think he's involved. Do you?"

"Who's Sean Medeforte?" Sheila asked.

"A very rich, very eccentric man," said Ioke. "He made me... a job offer right after graduation."

"What sort..."

"Hang on," said Ioke. "I've found a door. And I think I see some light around the edges."

She was right. Barely differentiated in the darkness, a hint of light showed through a crack between the wall and the door. She pushed and it gave a little.

Gayle stood next to her, feeling the door. Ioke couldn't see her, but she recognized her breathing. It was fast and ragged at first, but had slowed to where Gayle was now breathing slowly and deeply, clearly and deliberately masking her initial fear. She said, "The hinges are on the inside and not very strong. I could probably break it open."

"No," said Sheila. "What if there's someone outside waiting for us?"

"Then they know we're in here," said Gayle. "There's no point in waiting for them to come in."

"Wait," said Ioke. She'd found the handle and tried it, "I don't think it's locked. It just seems stuck."

She jimmied the handle back and forth until it came back with a thunk, the door popping open. Stepping out, Ioke had to blink a few times to get her eyes to adjust to even the low light of a full moon. Looking around, she confirmed what she had expected. She was on the deck of a ship. They'd been inside a shipping container. Somehow, it seemed a lot smaller from here than when she'd been gathering up the other hostages.

One by one, the women stepped out. Against all expectations, there didn't seem to be anyone around. As they emerged, Ioke couldn't help but notice something about them. All the women she'd been locked in with were uniformly beautiful--tear-stained, tousled, and scared, but clearly beautiful. Ioke had noticed how pretty the women she'd been temping with were this morning. Now, she saw that the other three were too--far too beautiful to be a coincidence. She didn't like what that correlation implied.

Examining each of them briefly, she picked the one who looked the least scared. Not only did Gayle not look scared, she looked angry and determined.

"Gayle," she said. "Come with me. I need to assess our situation--see if there's anyone on this ship who will help us. The rest of you wait here. We'll be back as soon as we can."

"I can't go back in there," said Paula, starting to panic. "I'm terrified of the dark. I thought I was going to die in there."

Sheila shushed her, taking her shoulders and comforting her. Ioke said, "If you have to stay outside, stay close. I don't know who's out here, but I doubt you want them to find you wandering around."

Paula laid her head on Sheila's shoulder. She was still crying, but she nodded. Of the six girls she was leaving behind, Sheila seemed the most put-together.

Ioke pulled her aside, "Listen, try to keep them calm and thinking as a group. If we're going to get out of this, we can't be at each other's throats."

Sheila nodded, "Do you have any idea what 'this' is?"

"I have some ideas," said Ioke. "But, they're all pretty far-fetched. I'd rather not say more until I get back."

As they were moving among the cargo containers and away from the other girls, Gayle asked, "So, what's your far-fetched idea?"

Ioke nodded, "I think we've been taken by white slavers."

"I was thinking the same thing," said Gayle. "You do realize the problem with that theory."

Ioke chuckled mirthlessly. She was mostly Hawaiian with a little bit of Japanese in the mix. Gayle was the color of mocha latte.

"Maybe they're equal opportunity white slavers," she offered.

"I'm glad you can joke at a time like this," said Gayle.

"It's a survival trait I learned from a friend, although I do wonder if he didn't have his banter punched up a little in rewrite."

Gayle raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

"I went to school with Thule Roemer," said Ioke. "I had kind of a crush on him, actually."

Gayle nodded, "I can see that. Was he a good enough friend that he might come looking for you?"

"I doubt it," said Ioke. "We weren't good friends until last summer. And, he's been so busy at MIT that I haven't really heard from him since September."

"My boyfriend is a cop," said Gayle. "I don't know if he's going to be much help either, though. I think we're going to have to get ourselves out of this one."

Ioke sighed, "I think you're right."

Just then, she heard footfalls. Signaling to Gayle, she faded into the shadow of one of the containers. Gayle followed.

"I still say it's bullshit," said a man holding an AK-47 assault rifle. "We don't get paid enough to do this if there's no pussy."

"There's pussy," said the man standing next to him, smoking. "But it's for the prince. That's Grade A pussy--too good for a smelly Frenchman like you."

"Fuck you," said the Frenchman. "And fuck the prince. It's not like he's going to notice if we skim a little for ourselves."

"Maybe not," said the other man. "But the captain wasn't kidding when he said he'd throw any man overboard who laid a finger on them. Besides, once we get to Santo Perdido, you can get all the pussy you want, cheap."

Ioke couldn't hear what the Frenchman's response was because they'd walked out of range. She turned to Gayle.

"I wish we'd been wrong."

"Me too," said Gayle. "We need to get some guns."

Ioke gave her a hard stare, "You're not going to go all Die Hard on me. Are you?"

"Under Siege," said Gayle.

"What?"

"Die Hard was in an office building," said Gayle. "Under Siege was the one on a boat--with Stephen Segal."

Ioke just stared at her.

"Sorry," said Gayle. "My boyfriend loved those movies. He'd never forgive me if I couldn't tell the difference."

"Your boyfriend the cop?"

"No," said Gayle. "My boyfriend in high school. He wanted to be a Green Beret."

"I don't suppose he remembers you fondly enough to want to come save us?" Ioke asked.

"Not a chance," said Gayle. "Besides, he was a psycho. When I broke up with him, he held me hostage for three days. When I first woke up in the dark, I was afraid he'd somehow gotten out and was behind this."

"Any chance?"

"No," said Gayle. "He's not what you would call a team player. Besides, it sounds like we're being delivered to someone."

Ioke nodded. She started to look around for anything that would give her a clue as to what to do next.

Following her, Gayle asked, "The offer that Sean Medeforte made you. Was it, strictly speaking, a job offer?"

"No," said Ioke simply.

"Were you going to do it?" asked Gayle.

"I hadn't decided," Ioke admitted. "I was filling out the paperwork, but I hadn't made up my mind whether or not to send it in. What about you?"

Gayle shook her head, "I couldn't. I have a boyfriend."

"Me too," said Ioke. "But..."

"You were considering it anyway?"

Ioke nodded, "I love Kale, but all he ever thinks about is when he finishes college so that he can move back to Hana and never leave."

"Hana?" asked Gayle. "Like in Hawaii?"

"Yeah," said Ioke.

"Sounds good to me," said Gayle.

"Yeah," said Ioke. "It's starting to sound better and better, all things considered. Growing up there, I probably didn't appreciate it. But, I want to see the world. And, it's only six years."

"Look," said Gayle. She pointed towards the railing. A man was standing there, smoking a cigarette. His gun was strapped over his shoulder and across his back.

"Let's take him down."

"You're serious?" Ioke asked.

"I'm serious," said Gayle. "We've got to get ourselves out of this. If they figure out we've been wandering the ship, they'll lock us back in that container and throw away the key. We've got to strike now before they realize there's a problem."

Ioke looked doubtful, "But, we don't know how many of them there are or if there's even any place to hide once they start chasing you."

"And I would love to know all that," said Gayle. "But, we don't have time for a lot of recon. Listen, I'm going to get that guy's gun before he finishes his cigarette. Will you help me?"

Ioke considered for a second before she said, "All right. What do you want me to do?"

"Just wait here," said Gayle. "I should be able to take this guy. If I'm wrong, rush him."

Ioke nodded. Gayle started to creep towards the man standing at the railing, using whatever she could for cover. Just as she broke cover, Ioke saw two more men approaching. She wanted to call out, but doing so would definitely alert the men to her presence.

There was about thirty feet of open deck between the last bit of cover and the railing. As Gayle was about a third of the way across it, the smoking man flicked his cigarette and started to turn around.

Gayle crouched to throw herself at him, but Ioke could clearly see that she would never make it in time. Fortunately, Gayle seemed to realize it too. Straightening up, she started to run towards him calling, "Excuse me. Excuse me, please."

It might have worked. The man looked at her, puzzled, but his hands didn't go for his gun.

"Excuse me," said Gayle. "I don't know what's going on. I'm not supposed to be here."

The man smiled at her. Even from thirty feet away, Ioke could see that it wasn't a pleasant smile. It was a smile that she'd seen once before--the smile of a man with rape on his mind.

"Please be greedy," Ioke whispered. "Please don't be the sharing type."

"Hey, guys," the man called. "Look what wandered away from the herd."

The other two men emerged from where they'd been standing. They moved with the easy grace of professional predators. Ioke's heart sank.

Seeing them, Gayle made a good accounting of herself. She reached the first man before he could react and punched him in the gut. As he fell, she extracted a wicked-looking knife from his belt.

But, it was clear to Ioke that she was overmatched. Gayle was tall, probably about five-ten. Both men had at least four inches over her. They approached her without taking out their guns. They weren't afraid of a girl with a knife.

For all that, Gayle managed to cut both of them before the man she'd sucker-punched grabbed her feet, sending her sprawling backwards onto the deck. A second man sat on her and plucked the knife out of her hand.

He looked up at the third man, as if seeking permission. The third man looked down at Gayle and said, "Let's make this quick."

The second man nodded. Gayle was dressed in a grey skirt and cream-colored blouse. Her hose were shredded from her capture and running around the deck without any shoes. He reached down and tore the front of her blouse open with enough force that one of the buttons rolled to Ioke's feet.

Ioke closed her eyes and braced herself. She desperately wanted to go back to the shipping container and pretend she'd never left. Instead, she stepped out where the men could see her.

In her best commanding voice, the one she'd used to hold court at Mannsborough High this past year, she shouted, "Stop that."

The third man, the one still standing, altered his path and started running towards her. He had a rapist's smile. It took all of Ioke's courage not to run. If she ran, she was prey. Instead, she stared him down as best she could.

"Stop it," she said, trying to sound irritated. "We're not for you. We're for the prince."

That gave them a moment of pause. Then, the man advanced on her again.

"Lay a finger on me and the captain will throw you overboard," she said.

The man paused again. Hesitantly, he took another step towards her. Ioke said, "If you touch me, you'd better kill me. Otherwise, I'll make damned sure the captain hears about it."

"I could just break your jaw," the third man offered. But, he made no move towards her.

"And hers?" Ioke asked, her voice dripping with contempt. "Are you going to break our wrists too so we can't write? Do you think the captain won't notice we've been roughed up? Don't be stupid."

The man seemed to consider this. When he walked the rest of the way towards Ioke, the smile had changed. Still, it was an effort not to pull away when he took her chin in his hand.

He roared with laughter, "If he's anything like his father, the prince is going to like this one. I never met a more spirited woman than the ones the king keeps. You'd better take them back to the container. And be glad she didn't cut your balls off."

The two men grumbled, but helped Gayle to her feet. For some reason, she was glaring at the one man who hadn't laid a hand on her. He was bleeding where she'd cut him on the arm but paid it no mind.

"Kaffir," she muttered angrily when they pushed her next to Ioke. All three men had their assault rifles out now.

"I don't understand," whispered Ioke. "What's that mean."

"It's like 'nigger, ' only worse," said Gayle. "It's Afrikaans. That big bastard is South African."

Ioke nodded. She didn't understand how a racial slur could get her angrier than an attempted rape. There weren't many slurs for native Hawaiians. She'd been called a "chink" and a "gook" by people who couldn't tell Asians and Hawaiians apart, but it clearly wasn't the same thing.

"Walk a little faster," said Gayle. Ioke obeyed, hoping the other woman wasn't about to try anything stupid.

"Brace yourself," Gayle said. "If they start shooting, drop to the deck." Before Ioke could react, Gayle grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her off to the right while dodging to the left.

A moment later, there was a burst of gunfire. Ioke would have dropped to the deck if she hadn't fallen there when Gayle shoved her. She rolled and looked up. The man they'd first seen smoking was standing over her, gun inches from her face. Before he could say anything, Ioke said, "I'm not moving."

There were more sounds of gunfire, getting farther away. Ioke hoped Gayle had made good her escape.

"Get up," said the man. "Keep moving."

Ioke did as she was told, being careful not to do anything that might set off what must be a very itchy trigger finger by now. When they were back at the container, she turned slowly to face him.

"I need to talk to the captain," she said. "It's important."

"I'll give him your message," the man with the gun said. "Now, get in."

When Gayle got back to the spot where she'd narrowly escaped being raped, the sounds of pursuit were far behind. Crouching down, she found the knife that had been taken from her, still lying on the deck where it had fallen. Not slowing her flight, she scooped it up.

It wasn't a gun, but it was a start.

Thule woke, alarmed not to hear an alarm clock. The sun was high in the sky. It took a moment of panic before he remembered that finals were over. It was the first day of summer vacation--if the summer he had planned could be called that. Dawn must have gotten up at some point in the evening because she'd stripped out of everything but the t-shirt she'd been wearing the evening before.

He checked the wall clock. It was just after nine a.m. He'd been asleep a little over thirteen hours.

"Good morning," said Dawn curled up against him. "You were wonderful last night. I should take advantage of you in your sleep more often."

Thule let his hand fall to stroke her bottom, "I think I prefer you wait until I can remember it."

Dawn kissed his chest, "How's your memory working this morning?"

Thule laughed and groaned, "I promised I would meet with a client at ten thirty. And, I have to follow up with Kale."

"What do you have to follow up with Kale on?"

Thule paled, "Oh, Jesus. I just assumed you knew. Ioke's missing."

Dawn sat up, "She is?"

Thule nodded, "Yeah. Kale thinks she was kidnapped. I'm sorry, Dawn. I was so tired when I got in that I just..."

Dawn put a comforting hand on his chest, "Don't beat yourself up, Thule. If you'd told me last night, I just would have stayed awake worrying about it."

Thule nodded, "I've got one of my people on it. But, I want to follow up on it personally. I've also got a pallet full of things I've been letting slide during finals. I need to deal with some of these things before they go from super critical to super-duper critical."

"So, you'll be free when?" she asked.

Thule winced. This was starting to sound remarkably like a conversation he'd had with Marigold right before she decided to go traipsing off to Africa. Thule regretted that conversation. He'd been tired and short-tempered and Marigold had seemed determined to misunderstand his situation.

"I could be done by five tonight," he said. "After that, I'm yours for the evening."

Dawn nodded, "Are you going to be busy all summer?"

"Not all summer," said Thule. "I've got about four weeks worth of work to clear away. Then, I'll be free except for the weekly status meetings."

"Four weeks?" asked Dawn. "That's like a month."

Thule sighed, his sense of deja vu intensifying, "Very much like a month."

"So," said Dawn. "That would leave us like six weeks before classes started up again."

Thule nodded, "That's right."

Dawn made a thoughtful face, then said, "I have a proposition for you."

"I'm never averse to being propositioned," said Thule.

"Make me your assistant."

For a moment, it sounded like a good idea. Then, Thule remembered a troubling detail. With regret in his voice, he said, "I already have an assistant."