Chapter Twelve

The Confession

Sofía sighed in frustration.

Lieutenant Cardoso shrugged helplessly. "I am sorry. I thought it would work," he offered.

"Well, you were right about one thing though," she admitted. "I can't be seen onboard the ship. Varela would have a field day if he found me. I won't risk it, not when I have gotten this far."

Alberto walked up to her and placed his arms around her. "That's probably very wise of you," he concurred.

"Whatever Jean thinks he'll find onboard Barbara de Braganza-," she trailed off and narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she appeared deep in thought, then turned to Alberto again. "I fear you might have been right before."

The Brazilian officer frowned and waited curiously for her to explain.

"No," she whispered suddenly in rage and balled her hands into fists. "How could I have been such a fool?"

"Sofía?" he asked quizzically.

"There is more gold somewhere. There has to be," she muttered. "Somewhere on the ship."

"And where would that be?" he replied curiously. "You where onboard, you thought it was only the suitcase too remember?"

"Idiot," she managed in annoyance. "Carlos was smarter than I gave him credit for. Do you think that was all he got for the trouble of doing the military such a service? I should never have taken his word for it."

OOOOOO

Fernando slammed his fist at the desktop in frustration and scrambled the blueprints of the ship, showing them off the tabletop. He saw differences the clearly, printed in black and white before him, still it didn't aid his search for the crates Aníbal had brought onboard. Perhaps it had never been there, perhaps he was on a wild ghost chase, looking for something that was a figment of his imagination?

He rubbed his eyes and sighed then ran hand through his hair as he tried to understand what he'd overlooked. He knew Aníbal had loaded things late at night to escape being caught, he'd seen him once.

"Where. Is. It?" he said, gritting his teeth, punctuating every word.

OOOOOO

Carolina turned to her little sister with dread. "He must have known," she whispered suddenly. "Fernando must have known what Aníbal did."

Eva turned to her. "I am not so sure he knew the whole truth," she reasoned.

Carolina narrowed her eyes at her. "You've never been on Fernando's side before," she replied somewhat frustrated. "Besides, what is the whole truth?"

"Listen, everything here is not what it appears to be and it's all connected somehow. It's going back a long way and I think both papá and Uncle Pedro are involved somehow, maybe even the captain."

"And that woman, Sofía," Carolina muttered.

"I have a sneaky suspicion that Chantal is in on it too," Eva said seriously. "We need to find Nicolás."

"Eva," Carolina cautioned softly. "Are you sure he's not-,"

Her little sister stopped and turned around in her tracks, looking as stubborn as ever, and it was perfectly clear that she didn't take the accusation well. "Nicolás is not involved. He wouldn't do such a thing," she said resolutely.

"I know he saved your life from that burning cabin Eva and that he helped Fernando rescue me from that awful trunk but we don't really know him that well, do we?" she questioned.

"What about Fernando?" Eva replied as she crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes dark. Then she softened at the desperate and dejected look in her sister's eyes. "I am sorry, Carol," she added as her anger and frustration deflated. "I didn't mean to take out my troubles on you."

"Likewise," Carolina replied kindly as she reached up to place a hand on Eva's shoulder. "Let's get through this together."

They shared a smile as Eva carefully stepped out through the well-oiled steel door down in the engineering section.

Varela looked smug as he tipped his hat a little in acknowledgement. "Ladies," he said amusedly. "I am surprised to see you back onboard. I hope you won't take offense but are you perhaps travelling without a ticket?"

OOOOOO

Pierre looked over his shoulder cautiously as he walked his way through the ship and it wasn't until he reached the door to the bridge that he let out a sigh of relief. However, the man he was looking for was nowhere to be found.

The second officer glanced around the room and nodded at another officer. "Where is the captain?" he asked.

"The captain went to his cabin to make sure all the papers are in order," the junior officer replied. "You should know, sir, that the Lieutenant from the port authorities were here earlier demanding to search the ship."

Pierre frowned. "And why would he have any reason to do so?"

A sailor stepped forward. "He said we had a stowaway, sir," he reported.

Pierre sighed in exasperation. "And where is the lieutenant now?" he asked.

"He's left the ship. Mr. Fábregas told him he wasn't welcome," the junior officer let on with a careful smile.

The second officer couldn't help but to return the smile and let out a relieved breath. "Thank goodness," he muttered. "I'll go talk to the captain."

"No need," Santiago said as he appeared in the doorway and gave the second officer a faint smile. "I am here. What was it you wanted?"

Pierre pursed his lips into a thin line, both his eyes and mood darkening as the coast pilot appeared behind the captain, ready to take the ocean liner out of the bustling port of Rio de Janeiro. "It can wait," he said seriously as he made his way over to the console to give orders to the engine room. "I can't believe we're leaving without our first officer, sir."

Something sparked behind those normally gentle eyes of the captain at the mention of Nicolás and he whirled around to face the second officer, the tension in the room palpable. "If you think I am abandoning the man who's been like a son to me you don't know me at all officer," he replied coldly. "I will never give up hope of finding him but I have an obligation to this ship, its owner and passengers. I simply cannot neglect my duties for personal reasons."

"What about the crew, sir?" Pierre dared but deep down he wasn't being fair to the man standing opposite him. "Don't you have an obligation to them as well?"

"You're out of line, second officer," Santiago replied curtly as he turned to face the window. "Give order of slow speed ahead and then you can leave the bridge."

OOOOOO

Pedro Villanueva hesitated at the door to the hospital room then admonished himself and shook his head. "Onwards," he muttered.

Francisca gave him the faintest of smiles as she recognized the older man. "Pedro," she whispered.

"I wasn't sure you'd be glad to see me," he said as he walked up to her bedside and took a seat next to her.

"You'll always be welcome at my place," she said kindly. "I know your nieces feel let down at the moment and in all honesty, you did withhold information that they deserved to know."

"What purpose would it have served to let them know that my brother – their father – was smuggling people to concentration camps and that he was paid in gold for it?" he reasoned. "That he had no qualms about it?"

"They would have appreciated honesty, Pedro," Francisca said tiredly.

He tutted and shook his head. "Never mind that now. It's all in the past. I came to make sure they were treating you well."

"I will be just fine," she whispered. "Then I'll probably be accused of murder and sent to prison."

Pedro reached out to take her hand into his. "Nonsense. It's your words against a deranged woman's. The way I see it she was going to kill you and not the other way around," he reasoned. "After all, it was her gun was it not? You didn't bring a gun with you."

Francisca sighed. "No, I would never do such a thing," she replied truthfully in a subdued voice as her eyes began to close again.

"Francisca dear," Pedro said kindly as he gently squeezed her hand. "Leave it to me. I'll take care of it."

"There is something you must know," she said as she forced her eyes open again. "I heard them speak. I was afraid to even move. I thought perhaps they'd kill me if they found out I was still there."

Pedro frowned. "Who Francisca, who?" he asked curiously.

"Rosa wasn't expecting to see me," she explained softly. "She looked almost relieved when I stepped out of the shadows to confront her."

He pursed his lips into a thin line of displeasure, waiting patiently for her to continue.

"She was expecting Carlos or Aníbal de Souza. I don't know what kind of business they had together but,-" Francisca trailed off.

Pedro shook his head. "Rosa Marín," he deduced. "She must have known the Codonga inside out. I knew there had to be more gold than just those bars in the suitcase."

"When I,-" Francisca paused. It felt so horrible to say it out loud. "When I killed that woman. I mean when I realized that she was dead, I panicked and took off but as I was to enter the corridor, I heard a noise coming from the room I had just left. On shaky legs I managed to crouch down behind a crate and I saw Aníbal de Souza hauling the body towards the trunk. I had to press my hand to my mouth not to shout out in horror.

"What the hell happened?" Carlos demanded. "What did you do?"

Aníbal had a sly look on his face as he closed the lid and sat down on the trunk. "I didn't do anything. Someone else took care of our problem for us," he said coldly.

Carlos walked up to him in disgust and motioned for Aníbal to move but he just shook his head. "She's dead, what good would it do to report it to the authorities?" he asked. "It would only delay everything and there will be police officers swarming the ship. Is that what you want?"

"Of course not!" Carlos replied angrily.

Aníbal shrugged. "Then let's forget about her," he said simply.

"I don't know how long I sat there," Francisca whispered dejectedly. "I was terrified they'd see me."

OOOOOO

"This is insane," Rojas protested fiercely as he looked from Jean to Chantal. "Do you really expect me to treat him here in this filthy place? He needs to be taken to the infirmary so he can be properly examined."

"Watch your temper, doctor," Jean cautioned coldly. "I never asked you to join us."

"But you won't let me leave?" Rojas guessed sarcastically. "You should be imprisoned somewhere."

Jean turned to Chantal and fixed her with a glare. "If you hadn't brought him here," he said, indicating the doctor. "We could have locked the door and never come back; nature would have taken its course."

Chantal gulped at the coldness in his voice and lack of emotions toward her husband. "What kind of monster has become of you?" she whispered.

Chantal was crying now, unable to hold her tears back at the harsh tone Jean was using. She leaned closer to Nicolás and placed his head in her lap. He was unconscious, his head kept lolling to the side as she tried to make him comfortable. With a shaking hand she gently caressed the side of his head as Jean paced the small room.

"We should leave him," he insisted as he nodded toward Nicolás. "He can't help us, he's nothing but trouble."

"How can you say that?" she shouted incredulously as she gently placed a hand on her husband's warm forehead.

Jean walked over and grabbed her arm to haul her up. She grimaced at the rough handling but said nothing, instead she let herself be led across the room.

"It's nowhere to be found," Jean bristled. "It must be on the ship somewhere. I haven't come this far just to quit now."

Chantal froze as the horn sounded across the ship. "No," she whispered. "We're leaving port, we have to get off before it's too late."

Jean chuckled bitterly and shook his head. "What does it matter if we end up back in Europe? Better rich in Spain than poor in Brazil," he reasoned.

OOOOOO

To be continued