This chapter is dedicated to KateCastle23. Thank you for all the reviews you've left me and the PMs that we've exchanged. One of my most consistent, persistent readers who always lets me know how she liked the chapter. Appreciate it!
April, 2010
Marcel Laurent had covered many large stories over the years. From war torn tragedies to natural disasters, he was no stranger to the frantic push for information, then confirmation of a story.
However, the news that Richard Rodgers was alive, and that his Academy Award winning mother had essentially arrived in order to beg to get him out of jail, had touched off a maelstrom of interest. And, honestly, in the other big stories Marcel had covered, the story broke and he got sent to it. He'd never been at ground zero before.
There were a few other big stories this month: the explosion of the drilling platform in the Gulf, the Deepwater Horizon, was on the front pages for the U.S. and a terrible earthquake in China had led to thousands of deaths, but the pure human interest of a celebrity returned to life ten years after a shipwreck had purportedly killed him was going to generate a lot of attention.
The celebrity cult was a phenomena that often trumped other stories that should have been widely circulated but simply failed to gain interest. So, after filing his report and video to AFP last night, the response had been immediate: go forth and get more. As much as possible.
So, he now found himself back in that god-forsaken parking lot, waiting for a statement to be made by the President. Who, he knew from his research, was a former shipmate of the unfortunate Rodgers. And who was the one that had reported both Rodgers and Kate Beckett as being dead. That had been clear from the statements of the other men, Tane and Tamahere, after their rescue, which he'd reviewed last night before succumbing to a few hours of sleep.
Marcel could taste that there was more going on here. It was on the tip of his tongue. Much, much more. Something just didn't add up. But, until he heard from the men involved, all he had was speculation. Which was not something he would ever succumb to printing. He was old school, not like the empty talking heads found so often behind the desks of news organizations these days. Much of what passed for news nowadays was little better than innuendo passed off as entertainment. True, hard facts get in the way of a story? Then just forget them and print or say what you want. But that's not how Marcel Laurent worked, and fortunately his employer still valued real news.
A stir in the crowd of fellow journalists alerted him to the presence of some government aides. They quickly erected a small lectern facing the crowd, with the official seal of French Polynesia on it. Microphones were run to the podium from the satellite trucks, an AFP microphone prominent among them. Marcel was still the only journalist with a large, international news service behind him. None of the others, like Reuters or the AP, had agents stationed on Tahiti, so they'd had to buy the story from AFP. It made things simpler for Marcel; he was widely acknowledged by the others as the biggest fish by far in the small pond of Papeete.
Work finally completed, one of the lackeys radioed a message, and as they waited for the President, the reporters jockeyed for position. All except Marcel. He was front and center, and they all knew it. The familiar thrill of chasing a story, absent these last years in the paradise known as the South Pacific, fizzed in his blood once more. Soon, there would be some answers to his questions. Or, just more questions.
A limo pulled up about ten minutes later. They all knew what it meant; it was the same limo they'd seen drive in and park up at the entrance to Nuutania. The President was here, after presumably meeting with Richard Rodgers.
Grollet exited, a giant smile plastered to his face and arm waving to the crowd of journalists and curious residents who'd swelled the crowd. There was some smattered applause, which Grollet acknowledged with even more vigorous waving.
Marcel looked him over as he walked to the podium. Always a handsome man, with blond hair and blue eyes, the years had been kind to Grollet. He was trim, and while not especially tall, he carried himself with a posture of confidence. It made him seem larger than he actually was. His clothes were of the best quality, as befit the President of the country. From his outer appearance, there was nothing to criticize.
But—but, he was just a little too slick for Marcel's taste. Grollet knew just how to turn to be photographed at his best. How to smile at just the right time in order to appear charming and friendly. How to plaster on a smile that never reached his eyes. Oh, he wasn't so different from politicians the world over, Marcel knew that well. Yet, there was just something about the man that didn't sit well with him. Some souciant that there was a much deeper, darker creature lurking behind the insincere smile of Henri Grollet.
Grollet had arrived in front of the microphones. "Thank you so much for joining us today. I have, of course, seen the incredible reports about an unfortunate prisoner, held here at Nuutania, being, in fact, the long missing Richard Rodgers. I came today, to meet with the man himself. You all remember, of course, that I myself was acquainted with Mr. Rodgers on that dreadful voyage."
He paused and flashed one of his giant, fake smiles for the photographers, who clicked away.
"I am happy to announce that the man we had all known as Jean Dupont, is, indeed, Richard Rodgers. Alive and well after all these years. It is quite the tale, but certainly better from his lips than mine. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Richard Rodgers and his lovely mother, the world-famous actress Martha Rodgers."
Applause, much louder and more sustained, accompanied Rodgers walk from the limo to the side of Grollet. Marcel looked the man over carefully. The only photos of Dupont had been of a man with a thick, wild beard, very thin body and deeply tanned. This man was clean shaven, with a fresh haircut. His face certainly appeared to be very similar to Richard Rodgers. He had filled out, after months of regular meals and exercise in the prison yard, though by no means was he soft appearing. Just—healthier. And he was much paler, though that was undoubtedly due to his prolonged incarceration.
Grollet and Rodgers turned to face each other, then slowly shook hands. Both smiling, though to Marcel's practiced eye both appeared fake as hell. Martha Rodgers stood just behind Richard; as soon as Rodgers let go of Grollet's hand he spun around to face his mother and gave her a giant hug and kiss. The smiles this time were genuine, and the photographers ate up the moment of the well-known woman embracing her long lost son. It was a moving moment, and one that would lead many a headline.
Finally, Rodgers approached the microphone.
"Thank you all for being here. Words cannot adequately describe how thrilled I am to be standing in front of you all and no longer standing behind bars back there," he gestured to Nuutania behind him. "It has been a very long and difficult journey, as I'm sure some can imagine. I'd like to thank my mother for never giving up on me, and for taking a chance that I was still alive. Without her coming here, I'm not sure how I would have ever been freed. I'd also like to thank my lawyer, Afaitu Tutomo, for accepting my case, fighting for justice and believing that the truth would set me free. Without him, our fight would have been far harder and far longer."
Tutomo clasped his hand with Rodgers; both men beaming. Marcel noted that they were bona fide smiles, and that both men seemed to naturally like and trust the other. Quite the opposite of what he'd seen with the President. Interesting. Though, these two had worked together, had fought together to free Rodgers. There might be nothing more to it than the comfort of a true friend, as opposed to the discomfort with a relative stranger. Hard to say.
"Thank you as well to President Grollet for taking the steps necessary to free me as soon as possible. I am anxious to find out about all that I've missed and to resume my life back in New York. I know there are several things I have to do before I can get back, but at least now I know I can start the process. With the incredible support of my family and friends, I have no doubt that I'll succeed."
Grollet stepped forward again, before anyone could ask any questions. "I signed the necessary paperwork before travelling here; Mr. Rodgers is officially a free man. And I would like to offer all the assistance of the government to help him by whatever means necessary to resume his life. Any boon or favor is not too large to ask, Mr. Rodgers. The people of French Polynesia stand ready to assist you however we may be able."
"Thank you President Grollet. Now, I'm eager to be able to relax as a free man and catch up with my mother, but I'm sure you all have questions. I can answer a few now, but I'm sure you'll all understand that I'd like nothing more than to leave this place," gesturing back at the prison, "and start enjoying the next phase of my life."
Marcel was the first to ask a question; his right as the most senior journalist, with the largest news organization behind him. After identifying himself and AFP, he asked the question in the front of everyone's minds: "Mr. Rodgers, where have you been?"
"That is an excellent question, Mr. Laurent. The short answer, and the truth, is that I don't know. But that is not what you're really asking, is it? You want to know what happened to me and what I've been doing all these years."
Marcel nodded, acquiescing to the other man's words. There was a lot unknown, and they wanted to know it all. Brief statements would not suffice, but it was a start.
Rick proceeded to tell them the same story he'd told Grollet. It seemed to satisfy most of them, for the time being at least.
"Mr. Rodgers, what are your plans now?" asked one of the local network anchors. That was how far up the chain the story had pushed; the local stations had sent out their anchors, planning nearly wall to wall Richard Rodgers coverage.
"Beyond catching up with my mother? I need to obtain the necessary paperwork, such as passport, etc. to go back home. Since I was apparently declared dead in the States, I'm told that might take a bit."
Some laughter from the news crews met him. He smiled at them widely, letting them know he was just happy to be out. Which was true, but not for the reasons they were thinking about.
"Mr. Rodgers, there was an interview aired last night in the States with a woman who claimed to be your wife. A…Meredith Harper. Who is she?"
Rick's eyes narrowed for a moment. He'd rehearsed how to answer this particularly bothersome question, but he still had a visceral reaction to it.
"I was in a relationship with Ms. Harper, prior to my arrival in French Polynesia eleven years ago. However, I can assure you that we are not married."
"Were you engaged? Why would she say you were married?"
"We were not engaged. I cannot speak for why Ms. Harper has made the statements that she has. I've not seen or heard from her the entire time I've been in the South Pacific, so I really can't comment on what motivation she might have."
"Mr. Rodgers, have you discussed with your lawyer whether you'll be filing suit against the government for wrongful imprisonment? Or if there will be any kind of suit? Given your status, I would imagine you could pursue something for millions of dollars, given that there was potential defamation of character."
Grollet trembled, though not visibly to the crowd. However, it was not unnoticed by Rick. Knowing Grollet was nervous definitely colored his response.
"To be honest, we have not discussed anything like that at all. Our main goal has been my release, which as you know has just been accomplished. Where we go from here has yet to be determined, but I won't rule anything out at this point."
Grollet trembled again. Rick smiled broadly at the crowd, suddenly enjoying himself. He knew exactly what favor he was going to ask for.
"What do you think about all the changes in the world since you've been gone?"
"Well, I haven't had a chance to find out about most of them. I see people talking on these tiny rectangles; I'm told they're cell phones, or smartphones. I remember cell phones being these fairly hefty flip phones or the like. Nothing smart about them. And I've seen laptops; during my trial the lawyers all had them. Nothing like the laptops I remember using. But I can't wait to find out more about how the world has changed. I'm sure it's all for the good, right?"
There was a brief silence as the crowd reflected on how much he'd soon be learning. That it wasn't all for the good. Yet, no one wanted to be responsible to bursting his bubble, even the hardened journalists. The man had just gotten out of jail. Time enough to talk about wars, terrorists and skyscrapers falling victim to passenger planes later.
"Anyway, I'm looking forward to reconnecting with my mom and friends in New York. Thank you all for being here, and if there are further questions or requests, please contact my lawyer, Mr. Tutomo," he said, pointing at Afaitu. He strode back towards the limo, not sure if they would be riding with the President, or if other arrangements had been made.
"Mr. Rodgers, I did mean what I said about asking for favors. Anything we can do to assist you." Henri Grollet had followed him. Glancing back at the others, Rick saw Afaitu was surrounded by a crowd of reporters. Martha had followed Rick as well, and was standing next to him.
"I can think of one thing immediately."
Grollet nodded, waiting.
"My cellmate, Salesi Lotomau. I would like him to be pardoned as well."
Grollet looked at him searchingly. "What kind of crimes did he commit?"
"Just property crimes. Nothing violent."
"You will vouch for him, after his release?"
"Yes, of course."
"Salesi Lotomau. That is not a Tahitian name."
"He is an American citizen as well, from American Samoa."
"Ah, then he will not be staying in French Polynesia after his release?"
Rick understood what was not said. "No. He will likely return to the States with me, although I have not been able to discuss this with him."
"Consider it done, though I would appreciate it if this is not made widely known."
"No problem. When should I expect to see him?"
Grollet gave a wry smile. "Not one to beat around the bush, are you, Mr. Rodgers. I had forgotten this about you."
"Well, it was many years ago, wasn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose it was. He shall be released within the next few days. Is that sufficient?"
"Perfectly."
"Very well, good luck Mr. Rodgers. Let me know if there is anything else I may assist you with."
"I'll be sure to do that."
Grollet entered the limo, and Martha pointed up the parking lot, indicating he should follow her. They walked together to Afaitu's car, located close to the visitors' entrance of the prison.
"Richard, where are we going from here?"
"Let's wait for Afaitu, mother. We need to talk about it together."
"I should call Jim, let him know you're free."
Rick gave her a hard look.
"What, darling? What is it?"
He stared off in the distance for a minute, before swinging his head back to her and pinning her with a hard glare.
"Jim Beckett? How did that happen?"
"How did what happen? How did he become my manager?"
"To start with."
She sighed. "I learned after I found out that you'd been lost at sea that there were others also missing. And one of them was a young woman from New York. When I arrived in Tahiti to look for you, the first time, no one showed up from her family. I was shocked, but then I wondered if they simply didn't know. News was very delayed in reaching us. So, when I went back, after I was unsuccessful in finding you, I decided to seek them out."
"And? Let me guess. He was drunk."
"Richard!"
"Am I wrong?"
"Well, no. But, he lost his wife to violence in January, then lost his only child to a shipwreck in November. The pain; it must have been indescribable."
"He was a drunk well before Kate was shipwrecked. That's part of the reason she was in the South Pacific to begin with. He wasn't there for her. You have no idea what that did to her."
"Actually, I have some idea." At his quizzical look, she continued, "Your writing, Richard. It is very evocative. And may I point out, that if she hadn't come to the South Pacific, you'd likely have never met."
Rick shook his head slightly. "I understand what you're saying, but I like to think if we hadn't met here, we might have met in New York. She was planning on becoming a cop. I'm a mystery writer. Who knows? We might have met under different circumstances."
"Well, nonetheless, we were discussing Jim. He fought so hard for sobriety. I was so proud of him. I'm not sure I would have had the same strength. And, once he was back on his feet, he just couldn't face practicing law anymore. Not without Johanna."
"I suppose I can understand that."
"I was starting to get more interest for roles, so I let him negotiate for me, and he was marvelous. Soon, he was my manager. And I was able to watch he and Celeste slowly learned to trust one another and eventually fall in love."
"Celeste is his new wife?"
"Yes. She was my personal assistant first. Now they own their own management company, but I've always been a priority for them."
"What's she like, this Celeste?" Rick knew the specter of her father remarrying had never occurred to Kate. He was also quite certain that it would not be welcome news.
"Oh, she's very kind, determined, generous and organized. We're good friends. She had a terrible marriage when she was very young; an abusive husband. Once her children were old enough, she tried to leave him. He died in a car wreck that almost claimed her life as well."
Rick's surprise was obvious on his face. He'd heard about the wife from Afaitu, when the lawyer had mentioned that Jim was going to tell her about the fact that Kate was still alive. However, he'd never heard of children. Oh, this was not going to go over well. While Kate had changed dramatically while living with him for so long on their island, in many ways the isolation had allowed her, well both of them really, to stagnate some issues—there was no way to resolve them, as isolated as they were. Her relationship with her father was a prime example of this.
"She has children? How many?"
"Oh, yes. She has two boys, both grown now. Nicholas and Michael. They've both married to lovely young women. Nicholas and Karla have two children, and Michael and Brandy just had a baby about six months ago. Both boys love Jim, and the kids call him Grandpa."
Rick choked when he heard there were grandchildren, then started coughing.
"Richard, are you all right?"
"There's grandkids?"
"Oh, yes. Why? Is there an issue?"
You could say that. "I'm just—concerned about how Kate will react to all this. You have to realize, mother, that for us there are many things that have never changed. As far as she's concerned, her father is still a drunk and her mother was the love of his life. She hasn't had time to see the changes, meet Celeste and her family. There's no adjustment for her, it will all just be dumped on her."
Martha pursed her lips. She wondered if there wasn't something more that he wasn't telling her, but she could see this was going to be a very difficult time for all of them.
Afaitu strolled up at that minute, finally ready to go.
"Ready?"
"More than," Rick replied. He wanted nothing more than to get away from the sight of Nuutania.
They piled in, Martha sitting in the back so that her son could enjoy the view of Papeete as they drove away from the prison.
After they'd driven halfway back to the downtown area, Rick asked Afaitu about the next steps and explained that he'd requested Salesi's release.
"He is trustworthy?"
"Yes, very. He is an honorable man, caught up in unfortunate circumstances. I'm not sure I would have made it through my incarceration without him."
"Well, my plan for now was to take you back to the hotel that Martha is staying at. She has a suite, so you'll have a room with her."
"How do we start looking for Kate? Can we obtain overhead pictures of the ocean somehow? I'm sure if I could see the island, I would know it. Or at least narrow it down to likely candidates."
"I think if we were to request overhead pictures of the ocean, that the jig would be up. There's no reason for you to need to find the island, other than you're looking for Kate."
"Maybe a library?"
"Do you really think a man just released from prison and declared dead for ten years would spend much time in a library? No, it is not reasonable and would call undue attention to what you're doing. You cannot afford this. However, I think I may have a solution: Google."
Rick looked at him like he was crazy. "Google? What's a google?"
Afaitu flicked a glance at him before returning his attention back to the road. "You don't know what Google is?"
"Uh, no. It sounds ridiculous."
Afaitu sighed. "This is going to be a rough transition. There's so much, and we have no time." He sighed again, then looked hopefully at Martha in the rear view mirror.
"Oh, no, darling. Don't look at me. I'm an actress."
Afaitu glanced back at Rick, who was now looking at him quite expectantly. Sighing again, he tried to explain. "Listen, I'm a lawyer, though I have learned a lot about computers. Jim Beckett seems pretty comfortable with technology, as well. Maybe he could help explain it. But, basically, Google is a giant search engine. Probably the largest and most accurate in the world."
"Search engine? How does that help us? Do we just search for uninhabited islands?"
"It's probably not that easy, as I doubt there's much information about deserted rocks in the South Pacific, even as big as the internet is. However, there's Google maps."
"And Google maps is…..?"
"It shows all of the earth, using satellite imagery. You can zoom in and see buildings and everything."
Rick got very excited. "You're kidding me! There's that many satellites? Even for the South Pacific? It sounds too good to be true! Where do we find these maps?"
"You just go to the google website on any computer, though you want a good connection as the bandwidth required for viewing the images is high. Loading them on a slow connection would be torture."
"You do realize I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, don't you?"
"All I'm saying is you can view them on any computer, as long as the connection to the world wide web is a fast one. But, I have to caution you, the high resolution satellite maps are generally for only habited places. Most of the islands that are uninhabited fall into areas where they have poor detail, simply because no one cares if you can see a palm tree on an uninhabited island. There's no demand for it. But, you should be able to see the overall shape of the island and decide if it fits your concept of yours, at least by shape."
"Will I be able to tell if there is a lake in the interior?"
"Maybe, depending on the size of the lake."
"Then, what are we waiting for? This sounds perfect."
"That's what we'll do at the hotel. It has Wi-Fi and if we use an IP proxy, like usual, I don't think they'll be able to tell what we're doing, even if they try to track us. The hotel is too big. I'll fire up my laptop too and search some random sites as well. Lastly, I must caution you. We've been gone from the hotel all day. If I were you, I would not speak of anything sensitive out loud. We can talk in general, pretend as we've been doing today. But I wouldn't put it past them to have bugged the room."
Martha gasped. "Do you really…?"
Rick was quick to answer. "Yes, mother. I wouldn't doubt it for a second. But, I wouldn't write things on paper either. It's still a tangible trail, unless we can destroy it all somehow. Couldn't we type questions on the laptop, then delete the document?"
"That is the best idea, Rick. And now we have a plan."
Rick smiled, looking out the car window as they approached the hotel. They had a plan. A plan to get her back. It was beginning.
Appreciate any thoughts….