BECAUSE YOU STOOD STILL
After leaving the dock by the airport, the Black Lagoon starts climbing the Straits of Malacca at a normal cruising speed. It's the last stretch of the journey. Rock gets a few hours of sleep, but it is not restful, and it is hard for him to get out of bed afterward. He cannot muster the strength to rise until he thinks about what Revy would say if she caught him still in bed at their shift change.
Thus he is awake when they discover that Dutch's high-speed maneuvering has shaved half a day off of their arrival time. Instead of traveling to Port Klang by the city proper, their rendezvous point is on the coast by the township of Sepang. They pull up to the dock and Rock hops across to tie the boat in place.
The crew assembles for one last briefing. Dutch seems apprehensive as he addresses them. "Revy. I have some extra information about the rest of this job, and you're not going to like it."
He unfurls a bundle of cloth. There's a robe inside, and a rectangular piece of fabric. A Polaroid snapshot floats down to the floor last. The crew looks down at it for a single shocked moment. Then they all look at Revy, expecting her to go ballistic.
The picture is of a woman in conservative Islamic dress. A loose robe, an abaya, covers the subject of the photograph except for the hands, feet, and face. The subject's hair is covered by a separate piece of cloth, the hijab, that she wears like a headscarf.
"One of our passengers has certain religious sensitivities to the female form," Dutch says with extreme caution. "You'll have to be dressed up like the lady in the picture."
Benny takes a few steps back. Rock winces, ready to cover his ears if Revy starts shouting in the cabin interior. No one had ever demanded their top gunslinger to change her outfit before. She has no immediate response- a bad sign from her.
"Hey, let's play this cool," Dutch says. "No need to get-"
"Get what?" Revy asks. "Angry?"
Dutch nods.
The guys watch with apprehension as she squats down to pick up the photo and then holds it up to her face. She breaks the silence with a calm voice.
"All around this fucking world, girls are getting paid to take off their clothes. Why should I give a shit if I'm making a few thousand to put some on?"
Dutch exhales in relief but Benny is still curious. He asks a question while Revy wrestles the gown on. "What about your freedom?"
"What about it?" Revy says. "I'm still wearing what I want underneath. It's not like that bullshit in Japan where I got stuck with a Tokarev."
She straps on her double holsters over the gown and tests her ability to reach her guns.
"I've still got my Cutlasses," she says. "What more do I need?"
Rock hands her the headscarf. She struggles with finding a way to cover her hair until finally she collects all of it back into a bun and ties the cloth over it like a bandanna. She walks off to the head to check herself in the mirror.
"Hey, Rock, check it out!" she said. "This looks like I came off the Flying Dutchman."
Rock barely hears her. He stares at the picture of the woman. Working in Materials Procurement had sent him on trips to the Middle East before and he had hosted visitors from a number of Muslim countries. At the very least, they had all been able to tolerate uncovered women. How religious could a client be to have uniforms arranged in advance? Somebody had gone out of the way to photograph someone to give Revy an idea of what to look like
He pockets the Polaroid. He doesn't know why, but it feels like another piece of evidence that this job was strange. Revy re-enters the room and he tries to put on a smiling face for her. The gown gives her more than enough space to draw her weapons, and she tests it a few times.
"What do you know, it ain't bad," Revy says. "I thought it would be like wearing a parachute, but the wind just goes right through this stuff."
Rock goes out on deck for another smoke. Benny joins him. They watch the Malaysian village in the heat of the dying day.
Benny starts with small talk. "Up the road in Sepang, they're planning on hosting a Formula One race. They're even closer to the airport than us."
Rock does not know a lot about motorsport. Racing is one of those activities that he has never been interested in. But he does have some knowledge.
"Kuala Lumpur itself used to have a racetrack. And then they built the Petronas Twin Towers on top of it. My old company was involved with building the foundation for the one of the towers."
"Twin towers, huh?" Benny says. "What, are the Malaysians trying to give the World Trade Center a run for its money?"
Rock knows that the Malaysian towers are already completed but says nothing. The official opening is months off.
"The world really is changing," Benny says. "You think I'd be used to it with how much I'm on the 'net. But here we are. An American and a Japanese man waiting to smuggle international fugitives to Thailand. Who could have imagined this?"
"Don't forget your president," Rock says.
"What, Clinton?" Benny said. "He isn't the first president to get blown in the Oval Office. Maybe the first to get caught, but..."
Benny's words trail off and he settles back down into his usual restrained self.
"You're changing, too," Benny says.
"In what way?"
"You're getting way too quiet. It's almost like you aren't in the room sometimes."
Benny seems as if he's going to end his criticism there, but something boils over again inside of him. He begins another rant. "You said you were done sticking out your neck after the Lovelace kid and his maid, but what you really meant was that you were done going solo. You want to bring it all down with you next time."
Rock looks at Benny. The usual veneer of good-natured neutrality is gone. His words are spoken with anger and frustration. "It's been like that for weeks. Doom is all you talk about. You're like some script kiddie sniffing for open ports. You got hooked on being the wrench in the works, and whenever you can't find something to screw with, you just stumble around like it's Night of the Living Dead."
Benny calms himself down again. "It's not like I don't get it. Nothing feels as good as hacking. But I don't bite what I can't chew, and I don't drag other people into my own messes."
He finishes his cigarette and grinds the stub into the steel-plated cabin, turning straight to Rock. "You're going crazy trying to piece together an ending for yourself here," he says. "But listen to me. Roanapur will still be here after all of us are gone. I've said this before, but there's only two ways this ends: you die, or you leave the city. That's it. You can't stay here and expect things to change."
Rock doesn't respond and Benny's frustration flares up again. "I like working with you," he says. "Have you ever thought of returning some of that goodwill? I don't even know what's going on with you and Revy now, but you've made her miserable."
Rock debates explaining himself to Benny, expressing what's going on in his mind and body. It doesn't seem worth the effort. "Sorry," he says.
The apology shocks Benny. His eyes widen, the next rant dies in his throat. Benny has never known Rock to apologize so lamely. Giving up easily was something browbeaten salarymen did. The crew of the Black Lagoon were supposed to live by a different set of values.
The chance for Benny to probe deeper disappears when they see a jeep rush to the end of the dock. Two men exit, holding onto suitcases, and their ride pulls a sudden U-turn to head back inland. More is slowly revealed about them as they lug their suitcases over.
Both men are clean-shaven. One has Asiatic features and walks with the cautious gait of a fixer, as if testing the ground beneath his feet with each step. The man following him is taller and darker, and maybe twenty years older. Where his beard used to be, the skin is lighter, and there are tiny scars all over his face. They must be the passengers.
Dutch steps on deck and exchanges a few words with the fixer. Then he takes both suitcases and gestures to his crew.
"Here is Benny. And this is Rock."
The fixer shakes hands with both of them.
"Call me Nasir," he says. "This is my client... Warid."
Warid dips his head ever so slightly in recognition. He looks at Benny for a moment too long. That makes Dutch's next decision easy.
"Why don't you show them to their berths, Rock?" Dutch hands him both suitcases and their weight suggests sore arms in the near future.
Rock hears the guests conversing in another language as he leads them to their berths through the cabin. He opens the door to the crew quarters. Two sets of fresh bedding are ready for the new arrivals. Rock sets the suitcases down with care and rotates his arms to shake the pain out.
"Shukran," Warid says.
"Thank you," Nasir translates.
Rock places a hand to his heart. "I am here to facilitate your stay."
It was Dutch's policy to make sure that guests on the ship did not go unaccompanied for too long. There was a lot that could go wrong otherwise.
Rock sits on the floor across from Nasir. Warid stays apart from them, leaning against the bulkhead.
"I trust that your journey has been pleasant," Rock says.
"Oh, yes," Nasir says. Rock is almost certain now that he is a Malaysian national.
"Was your flight all right?"
Nasir's smile is narrow as he answers. "I suppose this is the rumored deductive capability of Lagoon's 'businessman'."
"The nearest point of interest was the airport," Rock says. "If you wanted to avoid roads, starting with a flight makes sense."
"Yes, we had to make a flight in a hurry. My client was about to be prosecuted over a financial misunderstanding."
Rock has the feeling he is being lied to but does not let on. He keeps his face open and easygoing, the dutiful subordinate act.
"You see, my client is quite the honorable man," Nasir says. "The misdeeds of others were used to frame him."
Rock puts on a grave face. "What is this world coming to?"
The older man sitting apart from them hears something in Rock's tone and leans forward to listen.
"It is a sign of the end times," Warid tells Rock through Nasir. "The scholars have a growing consensus on this."
"I see that our client is a knowledgeable man," Rock says. "How fitting, given the meaning of his name in Arabic."
"You speak Arabic?" Nasir asks. An unpleasant surprise for him.
"Just a scattering of words and phrases," Rock says. "Enough to know that 'Nasir' could be your job title as well as your name."
Warid's initial evasiveness melts down into exuberance. Apparently, the client had not expected to find anything of personal interest on the journey to Thailand. Nasir looks uncomfortable as his client joins their circle.
"A conversation partner on such a journey as this? Surely God provides. How did you pick those words up?" Warid asks. His accent is not heavy, but his way of speaking is strange.
"I once worked for a Japanese company that did business with Saudis."
Warid smiles. "Which Saudis?"
"Aramco and the Saudi Binladin Group were our largest partners in the region."
When he hears 'Binladin', Warid grimaces and mutters a literal curse.
"I'm sorry, have I offended you?" Rock says, playing up the 'foreign fool'.
Warid waves a hand. "No, no, it has nothing to do with you. My anger lies with the bin Laden family, who are nothing but Yemeni bumpkins who have ridden the cloak-tails of royalty. Indeed, it is no surprise that their family produced the foulest villain I have ever met."
Rock cannot believe his ears. Just yesterday, he was reading about a specific member of the bin Laden family. Now he had found someone who had direct contact with them. Even better, he held a grudge.
"Have you ever heard of a man named Osa-"
Rock is cut off by Nasir. "Now, now, there's no need to talk of such heavy matters. Perhaps we should begin with refreshment?"
Rock thinks Nasir is not angry, just uncomfortable. He isn't opposing his search for information so much as trying to keep his host happy. He is not an enemy yet.
"Of course I can provide drinks," Rock said. "Do you prefer tea, or coffee?"
"Coffee would be a blessing after the things I have been through these past few days," Warid says.
Rock smiles with hospitality and gets up to the door to see if he could find someone to bring him coffee. His happiness is no act. He cannot wait to chip away at Warid's false identity.
Revy is guarding the passageway, arms crossed.
"The guests want some coffee," Rock says. "Would you mind getting Benny to make some?"
"Sure." Revy smirks before she walks down the corridor.
When he returns inside, Nasir is whispering with Warid, who looks displeased at what he hears. They both are wearing smiles by the time Rock rejoins them.
"I was just telling him of your firm's impeccable reputation, and of your great fame within the city."
Rock ignores the prompting to talk about himself. "Will you be staying long in Roanapur?"
Warid shook his head. "I have another destination. I must keep it secret, for my own safety."
"I understand," Rock says. Nasir looks nervous again and Rock can tell that he will not be able to push any further for now.
He switches to small talk to try and lower their guards. They begin to speak about the United States, about Kosovo and Bill Clinton. Warid is strangely opinionated on most things. When Rock asks him his opinions on the Americans, he gets a strange reply.
"Before the Americans, there were the British. Before the British, there were the Ottomans. The form of imperial power matters little to me."
Rock decides to switch subjects. "What about the Soviets?"
That's a subject that brings Warid's energy back up. "I swear by God that such a group of devils has never been seen since the times of Chinggis and the Mongol horde."
The man's graying eyebrows are drawn down to frame his wide eyes. His voice quavers with the force of his tirade. "A thousand curses on the godless Russians."
Rock finds he has stumbled across the single weak point in Warid's persona. Why would a man on the run for white-collar crimes care about a dead empire?
"The godless fools did not realize that thousands of foreigners would rally against their invasion of Afghanistan. They awakened the fires of jihad and America fanned the flame."
"Did the fire die out after the Soviets left?" Rock asks, knowing the answer.
"Of course not," Warid says. "When their enemy left, the fighters found new foes in each other."
Warid takes a deep breath and mutters a short prayer. He relaxes totally once he notices something in the passageway, smiling at the new arrival. Rock turns and sees Revy, balancing a coffee pot and some paper cups on a metal tray.
He gets up to take it from her, raising his eyebrows pointedly. He had not expected her to show up, garbed in her gown and her twin-shooters. She looks at Rock and he can tell that she's like. When he sits down with the tray, she is already gone from the doorway.
Rock pours coffee in the way he was taught for Arab clients: pot in his left hand, cup in his right. He is careful not to fill their cups all the way, because tradition holds that a host should not be hasty in serving his guests. They enjoy the coffee with leisure.
"Mashallah," Warid says. "You are blessed to have such a dutiful wife."
"My wife?" Rock almost spits out his coffee in surprise.
"I was also pleased to see that she chose such modest clothing. You are courteous hosts."
"How did you get the impression she was my wife?"
Warid laughs, smile lines showing up on sun-damaged skin. "Nasir told me the truth. Do not think you can deny it after I have seen her look at you. I see that she carries weapons, too. How admirable!"
Rock shoots Nasir a look but the fixer is staring at his toes. He must have created quite a narrative to reassure his client he wouldn't be traveling on a ship of sin. Rock takes a sip of coffee and lets the mirth slowly fade out of the room.
"You heard about the American embassies?" Rock asks, switching topics.
Warid shrugs. "It is not the first time the fires of jihad have blown back to touch the Americans. But I fear that it is a sign of things to come. As I said before, I believe the end times are coming upon us all."
Despite speaking of the end of the world, Warid seems calm, as if there is nothing to be concerned about.
"The end of the world?" Rock is confused.
Nasir checks his watch. "I am sorry, but we must adjourn for prayers. Will we be allowed on the top level? I should make the call for prayer in open air."
Dutch makes an exception and allows the passengers up on deck. Rock watches as Nasir lifts his hands to his ears and recites the call to prayer out to the ocean, his voice melodic. Then the men descend back down into the hold to pray. Rock stays a while in the cabin.
"So, are our passengers happy with their accommodations?" Dutch asks.
"Nasir is being paid to put up with it. Something about the client makes me think that he's been through worse. He won't have a problem sleeping on the floor."
Revy wrinkles her nose. "I took a look at him. He's seen some shit."
"And what did he think about the clothes?" Dutch asks.
"He's not the one who asked for Revy to be covered," Rock says. "His fixer took it upon himself to set it up."
The idea makes Dutch smile. "Well, as long as we won't be receiving fatwas condemning us, I'm all right."
Rock checks in with Benny, who hasn't moved from the communications room.
"What's up?"
"Nothing," Benny says. "I'm just trying to keep clear of our guests."
"Why?"
Benny gives Rock a look, over his glasses. "These guys might not be embassy-bombing terrorists, but the rich one is obviously a hardcore Muslim."
Rock knows that Benny is a Jewish-American but hadn't really considered that their mysterious passenger might hold that against him.
"I mean, I'm no Zionist," Benny says. "But you saw him staring at me, right? I don't want to get caught up in someone else's land feud."
Rock supposed Benny had a point. The subject of Israel and Palestine had been at the center of most global terror up to that point. Even Japan had its participants. Benny liked to keep his own life simple, but the world was filled with unpredictable intersections. That business in the Philippines with Takenaka and Ibraha's strange alliance had been an example of that.
Revy is keeping watch outside of the crew hold when Rock goes down. Her arms are crossed as she leans against the bulkhead and gives him a cocky smile.
"Sometimes I wish you wouldn't make things so hard for me," Rock said. "I would have made their coffee myself, you know."
Revy laughs with glee. "C'mon, man. Am I supposed to put on this outfit and not use it? These guys didn't mind, right?"
"No, they didn't." Rock admits the truth. "But the fixer told his client that we're married."
"Holy shit!" Revy laughs even harder. "I bet he told him that Dutch is a card-carrying member of the Nation of Islam, too."
Rock decides not to clarify the difference between Islam and the Nation of Islam. Their guests have been waiting long enough.
"Just cut me a break here, please," he says. "These guys are the only interesting cargo we've had in months. Let me keep picking them for info."
"Sure," Revy says, but when he walks further down the passageway, she calls out to him. "What are you gonna do when they leave, though?"
Rock doesn't want to think about that. He doesn't want to go back to the long nights and interminable days of 'business as usual' in Roanapur. He will do whatever it takes to keep his soul alive.