International Incident Page 18

  She pumped her fist. “It only applies if the criminal act occurs in U.S. waters or if the crime involves a U.S. national as either the victim or the perpetrator and the crime occurs in waters where no nation has jurisdiction. Right?”

  “Correct again, Ms. McCandless. Just like the old days.”

  She felt a blush creep up her cheeks and shook her head at herself. Old crushes die hard.

  “Here’s the million-dollar question, professor: what if neither the victim nor the perpetrator is on the U.S.-owned cruise ship?”

  He was silent for a solid minute. “I’m afraid I can’t conceive of a fact pattern that would fit.”

  “Say a passenger on the cruise ship, which is, let’s say hypothetically, at sea in the Gulf of Thailand in an area of disputed jurisdiction.”

  “That describes much of the Gulf of Thailand,” he said with a laugh.

  “The bit that has caused so many territorial flare-ups that no one is eager to claim it.”

  “Gray waters.”

  “Exactly. So, our ship is in gray waters and a passenger witnesses a U.S. national committing a crime on another boat out at sea.”

  “The cruise passenger witnesses the crime, you say?”

  “Yes, and she’s a U.S. citizen, but that doesn’t matter does it?”

  He hmmed thoughtfully then said, “No, it doesn’t. And the victim’s nationality?”

  “Not a citizen of the United States.”

  “But the perpetrator is?”

  “Correct. And just to make it murkier, the boat on which the crime occurred is neither U.S.-flagged nor U.S.-owned. In fact, it’s not even a cruise ship.”

  He cackled. “This is a cracking good fact pattern, Sasha. I trust the crime itself is one of the crimes enumerated in the Act?”

  “It’s a murder.”

  “Definitely covered. So lay out your argument.”

  Suddenly, she was twenty-five years old again. She exhaled and spoke slowly. “Under the clear language of the CVSSA, there’s been an incident involving homicide on a cruise line owned by a United States corporation; the incident has occurred on the high seas; and the perpetrator is a United States national. Accordingly, the owner of the cruise line had a duty to report the crime to the nearest legal attaché by telephone as soon as possible and to submit a written report through the Internet portal set up under the Act.”

  “And the incident involving homicide that occurred on the cruise ship was that a passenger witnessed the crime, do I have that right?”

  “Yes.” She held her breath. This part was the weakest link in a not overly strong argument.

  “It’s certainly not something I think Congress contemplated. But I think, yes, it falls within the purview of the Act.”

  Sasha grinned in triumph. “I can’t thank you enough, Professor Alfredson,” she gushed.

  “It was my pure pleasure, Sasha. Call anytime. Now, I hate to rush you off the phone, but I’m afraid my pinochle club is waiting impatiently for me.” He ended the call.

  Sasha tossed the headset on her mess of a desk and scribbled a note to leave on Naya’s desk on her way out. Then she grabbed her purse and turned off the lights.

  40

  Naya was perched on the edge of Sasha’s desk when Sasha walked into the office at seven-thirty in the morning.

  “About time you got here,” Naya cracked.

  Sasha took a sip of her coffee and surveyed her desk. “You moved my piles.”

  “What piles? That was just a whole mess of papers sliding into each other. I put them into neat stacks for you, Mac.”

  Sasha tried to ignore the worry that was worming its way into her brain. “How am I going to find anything?” she wondered.

  Naya flapped her hand. “Never mind that. I have a surprise for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I found Captain van Metier.”

  Sasha rested her mug on the coaster that Naya had evidently unearthed during her cleaning spree. “Already? I mean, I knew you were good—”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m that good.” She picked up a printout from the desk and handed it to Sasha. “He’s still with Sacred Lotus. He’s now the captain of The Viola, which cruises from Baltimore to Quebec City.”

  “He’s here?”

  “No, he’s not here. He’s … well, give me that back.” She took the paper from Sasha’s hand. “He’s currently somewhere between Boston and Baltimore on his way back from Canada.”

  “Right, but he’s here in the United States.”

  “Sure, okay.” Naya eyed her cautiously.

  “Let me see that timetable again, please?” Naya handed it over, and Sasha studied it for a moment. “What’s on your schedule for tomorrow?”

  Naya unlocked her iPhone screen and pulled up her calendar. “Women’s Bar Association meeting. And I’m supposed to get my teeth cleaned. Why?”

  “Can you call up your dentist and reschedule? I need someone to serve Captain van Metier with a deposition notice.”

  “I’m happy to road trip to Baltimore, Mac. But there’s one small flaw with your plan. You don’t have a pending case against the captain or Sacred Lotus.”

  “True. But the Pennsylvania Rules of Civil Procedure allow for pre-complaint discovery.”

  Naya nodded. “Sure. But this is about what happened on the cruise, right? The attack?”

  “It’s actually about the girl.”

  “The Malaysian teenager who was killed on the Cambodian-flagged, Thai-owned fishing boat?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “And you’re going to sue the cruise line in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania?”

  “Yes. Well, maybe. I might just sue van Metier personally,” Sasha nodded.

  “Do me a favor. Keep my name off these papers.”

  Sasha shot Naya a look. “That stings. You don’t think I can pull this off? But, that’s fine I’ll draft it and sign it, if you’ll serve it.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “Excellent. Please get your butt off my desk so I can get started. And don’t forget to call your dentist’s office.”

  Naya started toward the door but stopped and gave Sasha a serious look. “I’m saying this as a friend. This is quite possibly the most farfetched thing you’ve ever proposed. Do yourself a favor and run it by Will first.”

  * * *

  Will, not surprisingly, took some convincing. But he eventually agreed that if Sasha commenced an action against Jan van Metier by filing a praecipe for a writ, then the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania’s liberal pre-complaint discovery rules would permit her to begin to gather sufficient information to enable her to file a complaint.

  “But, you realize if you do file a complaint, Sacred Lotus will almost certainly seek to remove the case to federal court. And, frankly, a removal motion would be a winner, don’t you agree?” Will cautioned.

  “Probably. But I don’t even intend to get that far. Once Jan van Metier appears for his deposition, it’ll be game, set, match,” she explained with a confidence she didn’t quite feel.

  “What makes you think he’ll roll over?”

  “He won’t tell Sacred Lotus that I’ve served him. You don’t know the guy, Will. He’s very concerned about appearances—and arrogant as all get out. He reminds me of Cinco.”

  Will groaned at the mention of their former boss—the one-time managing partner of Prescott & Talbott. Cinco was dangerously overconfident. Sasha thought the same could fairly be said about a man who was comfortable using heroin and piloting a one-hundred-thousand-ton boat loaded with people. But she didn’t want to get into those details with Will.

  She went on. “He’ll come down here from Baltimore during his next shore leave, expecting to be able to talk his way out of this. But there’s no way out. He didn’t do the requisite paperwork. He’s toast.”

  “It’s like nailing Al Capone for tax evasion, Sasha. You’re getting him on a technicality.”

  “I don’t care how I get
him, Will. I just want him off the seas. And the feds have different priorities.”

  Will looked at her closely. “What’s Leo think about this?”

  Sasha had a convenient coughing fit, and by the time Caroline brought her a glass of water, Will had forgotten there was a question pending—or had the decency to pretend he’d forgotten.

  She did plan to talk to Connelly. She truly did. She just needed to find a time when he wasn’t obsessing about cat food and they weren’t both juggling babies.

  41

  Cruise Maryland Terminal, the Port of Baltimore, Maryland

  Jan walked up the ramp to the nearly empty terminal waiting area. The last of The Viola’s disembarking passengers had cleared out, and he was about to begin a week-long leave. His first in Baltimore.

  His understanding was that the heroin trade was brisk here—the city apparently served as the starting point of the East Coast’s bustling drug corridor. He had no doubt that he’d find a new side job in quick order. But the rules of shuttling were etched in stone: one never stole from one’s employer. Although the temptation was always there, to act on the urge would be suicidal. That was why he’d sought out places like Bar Pavot.

  He felt a wave of worry, though, at the prospect of satisfying his needs in a new community. He’d have to find a club that would both afford him the quality of heroin he’d grown accustomed to in Southeast Asia and would protect his privacy. Until then, he’d ration the cigarettes he’d brought with him from Amsterdam. He patted his side pocket, where they were safely tucked away and scanned the terminal in all directions to confirm that no drug-sniffing dogs were on patrol.

  When he turned his head back, he stopped in his tracks. He’d nearly plowed directly into a trim, African-American woman. She seemed to have materialized out of nowhere and was standing less than two feet from him.

  “I’m terribly sorry, ma’am.”

  “No worries. Hey, aren’t you Captain Jan van Metier?” she said in a voice that hinted at awe—or at least admiration.

  He examined her more closely. He had continued his habit of matching passenger faces to manifests, but The Viola was a significantly larger ship than was The Water Lily, and he had not yet met each member of his crew personally. He frowned slightly and bowed from his waist. “I am, indeed. But I’m afraid I can’t place you. Have we met?”

  The woman smiled broadly and extended her right hand as if she were offering a handshake. He extended his own, then he noticed that she was holding an envelope.

  “We haven’t, but this is for you,” she said pleasantly, still smiling.

  He took the envelope reflexively. Before he could thank her, the courier, whoever she was, had walked off, into the heart of the terminal.

  He looked down at the envelope. It bore no writing. He slit open the seal with the edge of his thumbnail and removed a document. He lowered himself into a molded plastic seat and skimmed the contents. It was a legal document captioned Sasha McCandless-Connelly v. Jan van Metier.

  What the deuce?

  It seemed as though the blasted Connelly woman intended to sue him—him, personally—in court in Pennsylvania, of all places. The paper demanded that he appear in person in Pittsburgh to answer questions regarding his maintenance while Captain of The Water Lily of a log book required pursuant to Title 46 of The United States Code, also known as the Cruise Vessel Security and Safety Act, as well as questions regarding his “mental fitness” to command his ship. She claimed to need this information in order to file a complaint. His spine stiffened.

  The woman’s concerns about the log book were born of ignorance and easily explained away—she’d been attacked while the ship was docked in Laem Chabang, and he’d reported the attack to the proper authorities. He wasn’t required to log such an incident under the Act. As for the issue of whether he was mentally fit to do his job, her impertinence was an outrage.

  He pocketed the papers and stormed out of the terminal. This would not stand.

  * * *

  “Got him.” Even through the cell phone connection, Naya’s voice rang with triumph.

  Sasha stood and paced around her office. She had to burn some energy. “Where are you?”

  “I’m sitting in my car, parked illegally, by the way, across from the cruise terminal. I waited until his passengers had unloaded—”

  “Disembarked, actually.”

  “It’s rude to interrupt, actually.”

  “Sorry. Go ahead.”

  “So after the passengers had disembarked, I hung out near the gangway, or ramp, or whatever you call it until the crew started to straggle out. When I spotted the captain, I sort of just stalked him through the terminal until he was distracted, then boom! I sidled up to him pretty as you please and served his ass.”

  Sasha had to smile at the glee in Naya’s voice. That woman loved serving legal process more than any human being she’d ever met. She was probably wasting her talents as a lawyer. She’d be a reality television sensation if she started a show called Naya Andrews, Process Server.

  “I hope you didn’t hang around to see his reaction?”

  “Girl, no. I skedaddled. But I jumped in my car and figured I’d see if he came out soon. And he sure did. His face was like thunder. He’s hopping mad. But you know, you just may be right. He might be crazy enough to show up unrepresented.” She cackled at the thought.

  “Oh, I’m right, all right. Good work. Now get back here and I’ll buy you a celebratory beer.”

  “Margarita.”

  “Done.”

  Sasha disconnected the call and returned to her desk. If the captain had, in fact, taken the bait, she had some work to do.

  42

  It was late when Sasha returned home from work. So late that not only were the kids both sleeping, but so were the dog, the cat, and the husband. She surveyed her living room. It looked like the aftermath of a raging party, with people passed out on every horizontal surface.

  She stood inside the doorway and removed her stilettos. Then she tiptoed across the room and picked Finn up from the blanket on the floor. She crept up the stairs and put him to bed. She waited for a moment, listening and watching to make sure he stayed asleep, then repeated the process with Fiona.

  By the time she returned to the living room, Connelly was half-awake and blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light.

  “You’re home.”

  “You’re observant.”

  He grinned. “Long day?”

  She nodded and crossed the room to perch on the arm of the chair in which he was sitting. He ran his hand along her arm.

  “Sorry if I woke you.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  She pulled a face at the obvious fib. “Right.”

  “I was resting. Did you eat?”

  “We ordered in.”

  “We? Are you working on something big?”

  “Sort of. Naya and Will offered to help me out. If you’re awake, why don’t you come into the kitchen and I’ll tell you all about it while I get a glass of water?”

  He trailed her to the kitchen and leaned against the counter while she poured them each a glass of water.

  “So I’ve been meaning to tell you about this, but things have been hectic ever since we got back from the cruise,” she began, hoping she didn’t sound as defensive to his ears as she did to her own.

  “Mmm-hmm.” He put down his glass and folded his arms across his chest.

  Okay, so that answered that. She did sound defensive.

  “Anyway, I got a call from Mel a few days ago—”

  “Mel Anders?”

  “The one and only.” She sipped her water. “She wanted to let me know that Williams and McGraw are going to make a deal with the Thai authorities. Basically, they’re giving up Thale, which apparently is a good-sized heroin trafficker, in exchange for immunity.”

  “Son of a …”

  “Hang on. I told Mel I was okay with it.”

  He shook his head. “A few da
ys ago, Hank told me that McGraw and Williams are going to testify at Congressional hearings into the floating armory situation in exchange for immunity. So, they won’t be charged in Thailand or here.” His voice dripped with disgust. “I know you wanted to see justice for Mina. I’m sorry, babe.”

  “They obviously have competent defense attorneys. And Mel said that the Malaysian authorities don’t plan to investigate Mina’s murder either, which was pretty disheartening, I’ll admit. But here comes the awesome part.” She grinned at him. “Mel also mentioned that Captain van Metier is a heroin user.”

  “What?” He furrowed his forehead and tilted his head.

  “I know, right? He was buying from Thale. He’s the guy who was staring at me and Mel in that bistro. He was there doing drugs in a backroom. I’m sure he freaked out when he saw me there, too.”

  “He’s the one who told Thale that you witnessed the murder,” Connelly said slowly.

  “And he let McGraw and Williams board the ship. And I totally didn’t put this together at the time, but he came to our room to lend me a cell phone when I was trying to reach you. By which I mean he, personally, was the last person to enter the suite before McGraw and Williams went in guns blazing—and Connelly, I watched from Elli’s deck. Our door wasn’t locked. He helped them.”

  “Are you sure?” His face clouded with anger.

  “I’m sure enough that I filed a praecipe for a writ and served pre-complaint discovery on him. He’s coming to the office tomorrow to answer questions. And he’s so full of himself that he hasn’t told Sacred Lotus or retained counsel to represent him.”

  “Wait? He’s coming here? To Pittsburgh? From Singapore?”

  “He transferred to a different ship. I’m sure Southeast Asia was getting a little too hot for comfort with the narcotics bureau investigating his supplier. He’s piloting a Baltimore to Quebec City route. He’s stationed out of Baltimore. Naya drove down there and served him earlier today.”

  Connelly gaped at her for a moment. “Well, I guess this answers the question of what you do all day long.”