Then Captain Herval left to return to France. The shipping line had decided they would run the ship down to a skeleton crew.
She was terrified Philippe would be the next to go. The embassies and consulates advised staying put because the venceristas had begun a new campaign of urban terrorism which included kidnapping foreigners, but everyone thought the diplomats were being excessively cautious. A few of the Nadia's crew, and Captain Yashiro of the Nakodo, also left for home or new ships. Captain Herval travelled to Colón to pick up another ship, but never made it; he disappeared, pulled out of his taxi by gunmen half a kilometre from the docks. The shipping line decided the crew should stay on the ship. Hisako tried not to feel glad Herval had been taken.
Philippe was in command of the Le Cercle now; he changed with the responsibility, but not very much. And now at least she felt comfortable with the idea of sometimes staying overnight on his ship, in his double bed.
The war went on around them, the parties did the rounds from ship to ship, the Fantasia del Mer made occasional trips from Gatún with supplies and mail, and some of the nearer islands in the lake were visited on picnics. On a couple of nights they saw distant flashes in the sky, and heard the dull, thudding noise of bombs and shells exploding. One afternoon a flight of PAF jets blasted overhead, a trio of glittering arrowheads trailing a brown wake of shattered air and an airport scent of used kerosene.
The Nadia had a large lounge; that was where they were taken. It was strange to see everybody together and yet so quiet and powerless, she thought; a little like seeing actors out of costume and away from the theatre. The people from the three ships — even those from the Nadia — looked just as naked and placeless, wrenched from their customary setting.
They were herded into the lounge by the venceristas. There were two outside the door and another inside the room, sitting on a high stool behind the bar, heavy machinegun resting on a beer pump. The man behind the bar had told them — in broken English — that they had to keep the blinds and curtains drawn, and no, they couldn't get a drink from the bar. They were free to talk and walk about, as long as they didn't try to cross the semi-circle of small stools set a couple of metres out from the bar itself. There were two toilets at that same end of the room; they could use them so long as they went one at a time and didn't stay long.
Hisako saw the people from the Nakodo and went over to them, hugging Mandamus (a slobbery kiss on the cheek), Broekman (an encouraging pat on the back) and even Endo (rigid fluttering surprise).
'Dear lady, are you all right? Mandamus enquired.
'Fine, she told him. She felt a little foolish in her light kimono, like the one person at the party wearing fancy dress. 'What's happening? she asked Broekman, still wearing his engineer's overalls. 'Do you know? Why are they here?
They all sat down together on the carpet. 'Could be part of a general push, Broekman said. 'More likely it's an ambush of some sort; I bet they're expecting the National Guard out here; something like that. Broekman hesitated, looked around. 'Have you seen the Americans?
'What? She looked around, peering over the tops of chairs and couches.
'Captain and Mrs Bleveans, Broekman said softly. 'We know they clobbered Janney, but where are the Bleveans? And Orrick?
'I think Orrick was up in the bow, smoking, when they came aboard, Mandamus said. He wore his usual baggy, creamy white suit.
'You didn't say that, Broekman said, obviously surprised.
Mandamus shrugged massively. 'I just remembered. He goes there to smoke the kif. I have smelled it. I never wanted before to mention it.
'Well, either they've got him but haven't brought him here like everybody else, or he's hiding… or escaped, Broekman said. 'Whatever. It did occur to me the Americans might be singled out; shot, maybe. Hostages perhaps.
'They've kept the radio operators separate, too, Mandamus pointed out.
'I think Bleveans help Mr Janney, Endo said. He was obviously letting himself go; Hisako spotted his loosened tie and an undone top button.
'Could be, Broekman agreed.
'But what should we do? This is the question. Mandamus looked laden with the responsibility of it all.
'You mean, Broekman said, 'should we try to escape?
'Dig a tunnel? Hisako couldn't resist it. They looked at her. 'Sorry.
'Well, that isn't one of our options, Broekman grinned. 'But ought we to think about trying to get away?
'Depends on their intentions, Mandamus said, glancing at the man behind the bar.
'They no kill us yet, Endo said, smiling.
'… with us split up, Mandamus was saying. 'They haven't said they will kill others if one tries to escape, but I think one has to assume this is implied. We live in an age where the etiquette of sieges and hostage-taking has become — as one might say — public domain. They assume that we know the rules. I think we have to test these assumptions before we make any hasty moves.
'The etiquette of hostage-taking? Broekman almost choked. 'What are you talking about, some avant-garde theatre show or something? These bastards are threatening to turn us into hamburger meat and you're talking about etiquette?
'A turn of phrase, Mr Broekman.
She stopped listening to them talk. She stood up and looked to the door as it opened. More of Le Cercle's crew; Marie Boulard came to her and they embraced. The small trenchwoman's hair smelled of roses; her skin of… some allotrope of normal human sweat; fear perhaps. Hisako looked anxiously at the door, but it closed again. Marie kissed her cheek, then sat beside Mandamus, who patted her hand. Le Cercle's chief engineer, Viglain, stood before Hisako, tall and vaguely cadaverous and smelling of Gitanes. He took her solemnly by the shoulders and announced, Il viendra, in his surprisingly deep voice.
She nodded. Je comprends. (But thought, How does he know he will come?)
Viglain sat down with Marie Boulard.
She watched Broekman share a cigarette with one of the Nakodo's Korean crew, and wished that she smoked.
It was another twenty minutes by her watch before they brought Philippe and the rest of the crew in. She ran to him, threw her arms round him. They were hustled further into the lounge by the armed men.
They reassured each other they were both all right, and sat with the others. Philippe and Broekman started talking about what might be going on. She half-listened, but really only wanted to sit there, holding Philippe's hand, or with her head on his shoulder. His deep voice lulled her.
She was shaken awake gently. Philippe's face looked very large and warm. He was holding her left wrist oddly. 'Hisako-chan, they want our watches. He stroked her wrist with his thumb. She had to ask him to repeat what he'd said. It was still night, the lounge was warm. Comrade Major Sucre stood in front of her, assault rifle strapped over one shoulder. He was holding a black plastic bag. Philippe took off his big diver's watch and dropped it into the throat of the bag as Sucre held it out to him. She looked at her watch; she'd snoozed for less than fifteen minutes. She fumbled with the strap on the little Casio, wondering fuzzily where she'd left her own diver's watch. Probably in Philippe's cabin.