Read The Flower Net for Free Online

working. How was he going to find out who that person was? Shivering, his head hanging over the railing, his body soaking wet, David began to plot. Order an autopsy. Have Campbell call the FBI—better yet, the State Department—to make inquiries about missing persons in China. Arrange for extra interviewers at Terminal Island. Because two things were certain: That watch did not belong to an ordinary immigrant, and the mass of illegals on board
knew
about the body.

3

    J ANUARY 21–22
    Terminal Island
    T he next ten hours were a nightmarish blur. David could vaguely remember stumbling back to the galley and waking Jack Campbell. He could remember how smoothly the FBI agent responded, calming David down, getting him to explain what had happened, then going down again to that horrible place. He could remember Campbell sealing off the hold, leaving the body half floating in muck. David recalled the helicopter pilot bringing in a bottle of liquor dredged out of a first-aid kit and the feel of the harsh brown liquid as it slid down his throat. David desperately wanted to change clothes and sluice his body with seawater, but Campbell wouldn’t allow it, claiming that evidence might be destroyed.
    And then they waited. David could remember sitting out on the deck and watching as a cold, gray dawn rolled across the sky. Rain still lashed the deck, but the ocean had tamed to undulating swells. Finally Jim loped out to his helicopter and called to shore. David could remember Jim saying that the Coast Guard would be there in a few hours to tow them back to the harbor and that he was ready to fly back himself. Campbell had wanted David to go, but he’d refused. After Jim and Noel Gardner left, Campbell and David began interviewing the immigrants.
    Last night, David had worked side by side with many of these men. They had labored together to save one another’s lives. This morning most would not speak to him, and none would meet his eyes. “I have that man
on
me,” David said once in frustration, but nothing he said made any of them speak. Even Zhao turned away.
    When they reached port late that afternoon everything moved rapidly. Officials from the INS and the Coast Guard boarded and spoke both in Mandarin and Cantonese over bullhorns. The immigrants gathered their few belongings and padded down the gangplank and into what looked like a gigantic warehouse. David was whisked away in an ambulance. All the while he resisted, repeating over and over, “I need to be there. Take me back.” Finally, the paramedic clamped an oxygen mask over his face. At the hospital David was treated for shock and dehydration, then given a tetanus shot. With an FBI forensics expert on hand, David’s clothes were removed, wrapped in plastic bags, and labeled. At two in the morning, he was released wearing hospital scrubs. David had never felt so alone as he did when he walked into his empty house. With considerable effort he figured out that he’d gone without sleep for forty-three hours. He showered, changed into sweatpants and a sweater, and fell into a fitful sleep.
    He woke up abruptly at six-thirty in the morning, showered again—he thought he would never get the slime of that night off him—and went for a mind-clearing run around the Lake Hollywood Reservoir near his house.
    Two hours later, as David stepped off the elevator and passed through the security door and into the halls of the U.S. Attorney’s Office, he was immediately aware of a difference around him. Walking to his office, he nodded to a couple of secretaries, who assiduously looked at the floor as he passed them. He passed two young attorneys who worked in Complaints. They stopped talking when he came into view.
    David poured himself a cup of coffee and went to the grand jury room, the only place in the courthouse large enough for Madeleine Prentice, the U.S. attorney, to hold her weekly meetings. When he entered, a lull fell over the conversation. Then Rob Butler, Chief of the