70. A Slamming Door

April, 2010

"That was delicious. Thank you, Rick, Alex and Patrick for the wonderful meal," Laurent declared as he sat his empty cup down. "It is amazing to think about the variety of foods you were able to find on this island."

"Well, as you know we were very fortunate in that it had been cultivated at some point by the Polynesians, not to mention the fact that Grollet was planning on starting a farm. Without the seeds for the garden and the fruit saplings, our diet would have been far less varied," Rick answered.

He'd found the boys earlier in the kitchen already going about their chores—they'd apparently figured if they finished their work they could then run down to the tents to see if the men were up. Rick had explained that just visiting the camp would probably wake the men—especially Patrick, who was not likely to be a quiet visitor—and that the boys needed to stay with him.

The promise of surprising Mommy with breakfast had distracted them long enough to allow the men at the beach to arise and get ready for the day sans two young 'helpers'.

"So, what's the plan today, Rick?" Laurent asked. He hadn't been made privy to the decisions related to the sat phone call last night.

Rick looked at Kate, who nodded. She was more than happy to let him speak for the family; they made their decisions together. She didn't relish any extra attention, while her husband didn't mind it.

"Kate and I need to start sorting out what we're bringing with us. I'm also need to make a phone call, to Afaitu. I need to tell him which ship we're going to use."

"Which ship? I didn't realize there was much choice." The men were looking with interest at him, and Rick nearly laughed out loud. After months of being forced to follow decisions made for him by others he suddenly found himself in the position of holding the information wanted by other people. It was a bit surreal.

He quickly explained about the Naval ship versus the cargo boat captained by his friend.

"So, Ari'i's then," Salesi declared, standing to take his empty plate to the sink.

"How do you know? He hasn't said which yet," Loison responded.

Salesi just gave him an inscrutable look and walked out of the kitchen, off to do Salesi things.

"Well, which is it?" pressed Loison.

"He's right, Ari'i's ship it is," Rick smiled.

"How'd he know?" Guilbert wondered.

"He knows me. And while he just met Kate in person, he knows her too. From all that I talked about her while we sat in our bunks, shooting the breeze. Well, that is, I spoke and he listened."

"You said you needed some shots for Paris, M. Laurent?" Kate recalled.

"Yes. The morning light will be perfect for many of them. We'll be using both video and stills. I was wondering, M. et Mme Rodgers, may we borrow one or both of your sons for this excursion? They could be very helpful in showing us around."

After another silent query to Kate, Rick agreed with the reporter. "As long as they want to go. I won't force them."

Naturally, both boys were eager to go on such an exotic excursion. They set out with the three journalists and Tamahere, who'd received a silent plea from Kate during the discussion. He'd make sure the boys were kept safe. It wasn't that Kate didn't trust the other men, but she didn't know them well. They were journalists, after all.

It took a good thirty minutes for Laurent to explain the intricacies of the large sat phone to Rick. Due to the remote location of French Polynesia, and the even more remote location of Tuaivi, they were limited to using a Low Earth orbit company; specifically, Iridium, the only company that offered global coverage.

Once Rick understood how to make calls (which was cheaper than if Afaitu called them) and why dropouts were expected, frequent, and a pain in the ass (due to loss of signal when a satellite rotating past them couldn't hand off the call to the next satellite), the journalists, boys and Tamahere set off on their quest.

"Nearly alone at last, Mrs. Rodgers."

"You'll be surprised at how much trouble this one can get into on her own," Kate responded, nodding at Sarah who was looking angelic in the little pen Rick had built for Alex when he became mobile. "I usually employ one of the boys to keep her busy just so someone keeps track of her."

"What kind of trouble could she possibly cause? Look at her, there's practically a halo visible."

"Huh, she's already got you wrapped around her finger then! One day, Alex had gathered all the eggs and brought them to the kitchen. I wasn't paying attention, and next thing I knew, they were broken, every one, and Little Miss here had about eight eggs worth dripping through her hair. What a mess!"

"Well, surely it's not too unusual for a baby to break raw eggs. They're pretty fragile."

"The eggs were in a basket with a lid on it. She had to open it to get to them."

"Ok, but if Alex left it in her reach, then I don't blame her for being curious. She must be pretty dexterous to have opened it up alone."

"I'd agree—if Alex had left them out where she could get them."

"Where were they?"

"In the middle of the table. The table which is much taller than her, by the way. She wouldn't have even been able to see the basket: I know, because I got down to her level later to see what she could and couldn't see from her little corner. She waited until I was distracted, then climbed the stools to the table to get to the basket."

"My little ninja!"

"Whatever. Next time she ninjas a mess, you're cleaning it and her up!"

Rick grinned. He was so glad to be back, messes and all.

"Afaitu?"

"I'm here, Rick."

"We've decided that we'll return to Papeete, though we don't want to stay on a base. What about Mo'orea? Would that be an option?"

"It might, though the lack of an airport might be an issue."

"I was thinking it might be an advantage, in terms of the press hounding us. There'd be more limited access."

"I'll talk it over with Jim and Martha; we'll start looking around for appropriate locations both on Tahiti and on Mo'orea. After all, you don't have to stay in Papeete. Tahiti is much more than just Papeete, after all."

"You're right. And it's a good idea to look on both islands. Any news from the Embassy?"

"They want you to bring back at a minimum high definition 1080i video and stills of your calendar. They'd prefer if you brought it back with you."

"I did mention that they're a bunch of heavy bamboo poles, right?"

"You did, but they want proof of the kids' birthdays. Were you guys accurate on the dates?"

"I'm pretty sure we were—we made it a priority, as we didn't want to end up celebrating Christmas on what was actually January 2nd or something like that. Plus…well, it was very important to Kate that we were accurate so that she could reflect on her mom on January 9th."

"You haven't checked yet?"

"To see if we were off? Honestly, no. We had a lot to do yesterday, Afaitu!"

"I know, I know you did. It's just one of those housekeeping things that'll bite us in the hand later if we don't take care of it now."

"Then I'll go check right after we hang up, ok. What is the date today, anyway?"

"April 30th. What else?"

"Umm, what exactly is high definition 1080i?"

Afaitu's laugh barked clearly over the phone. "I keep forgetting that even though you've been back amongst the living for months that your circumstances kept you from learning anything about modern technology."

"Well, believe it. I still am amazed by the size of the cell phones you guys have now. Not to mention the GPS stuff they used on the boats. Wow, would that have prevented a lot of problems if we'd had it ten years ago."

"That's the truth for sure, Rick. Oh, I almost forgot to mention in all the excitement of your being safe, that the Navy knows which island Grollet should be on. They're hopeful they'll have him in custody today. The liaison told me they'd call sometime tonight with an update, even if they don't catch him."

"I look forward to hearing good news then."

"Are you still set on using a boat to return in?"

"Kate and I talked about it last night, and we agreed that's the best option for our family. We also discussed which specific ship, and have elected to continue to impose on Ari'i's hospitality, if that's all right with him. I'm gonna call him after we're done talking and get him moving this way."

"Ok. Let's say he'll be there tomorrow at the earliest. You'll use the Zodiac to move stuff to his ship, then about 5 days to come back, give or take?"

"Sounds about right. Kate and I are spending this morning making a list of stuff to go. I have no idea right now how much we're talking about, so I don't know how long it will be to get loaded."

"Well, Ari'i was empty when you all left Mo'orea. Good thing, too."

"Ten years is a lot of time to spend in one place. Speaking of which, what is going to happen to the island once we leave? Are people suddenly going to invade, looking for souvenirs?"

"That's something I want to talk to the new president about. The island is owned by the government, currently. It was marked as a bird sanctuary, as no one thought it could sustain anything else. The French navy is sending another ship to stand guard in the area until a decision is made; they don't want people on that island any more than you do."

"But in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, I'd take anything you at all remotely think you'd want to preserve. It might not be there when you come back."

Rick found his wife and daughter in the kitchen, where he'd left them. Kate was hunched over a notebook that he'd brought with him, making a list.

"How's it going?"

"I've made some headway, but I think it'll be easier to go from place to place and look at stuff. I'm sure I'm forgetting a bunch of things."

"That's a good idea. We could start here; I expect the boys would like to help, and they ought to be back in the next few hours."

"How'd it go with the phone calls?"

"Good, I got through to Ari'i; he thinks he can be here tonight if he pushes, but I told him not to rush. We've got a lot to sort through first. So, there might be more mouths for breakfast tomorrow."

"How many more mouths?"

"Three or four. He'd bring some of the crew with him to help start loading."

"This is really happening, isn't' it?" The waver in her voice confirmed the pinched look on her face. His indomitable wife was scared.

"Yeah, Kate, it is. I know it's been like a hurricane blowing into your life, but this is a good thing. And we'll have days on the boat before we arrive."

"I hope I can do this. Do you think I can make it in the real world?" Her eyes were damp, and he could see her trembling lips. It floored him, how this woman who'd given birth to three children without any pain meds, without any medical care, who'd survived a desert island for ten years could lack any self-confidence, let alone her ability to cope with the pressure of modern society.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett Rodgers, you are the strongest woman I've ever met. Do I think you can make it in the real world? That's the wrong question. The real question is if anyone in the real world can be a tenth as kick-ass as you are."

She gave him a shy smile, but he could see his little attempt to lighten her mood had fallen short. He moved closer to her and pulled her to stand so he could wrap her up in a big hug. Kissing her hair, he waited until she started to relax in his arms before speaking again.

"Kate, I can't deny that people are going to be watching us. You, me, even the kids. We've survived something that most people can't imagine going through. Not only did we live, but we lived a long time apart. Brought 3 children into the world. There will be those who criticize us. Maybe they'll be jealous. Maybe they'll have legitimate gripes, though I can't imagine what those would be right now. But there are also going to be people who'll adore us, for no other reason than that we're attractive and famous people now. Well, you're attractive at least. Most people will listen to our story and think, 'wow, that's quite a tale' and move on with their lives. The point is we'll have detractors. We'll have rabid cheerleaders. And we'll likely have, on the whole, lots of support from the majority of people. But none of that matters, not at all. Even if the whole world were to be against us, we'd still make it. You know why?"

He felt her nod against him, even as a tiny sob tore through her. "Cause we've got each other."

"That's right. It's you and me, sweetie. We're gonna make mistakes. With the kids, with the press. We're not perfect, and this is going to be a hard change for us to bear as a family. But we'll get through it, just like we always have."

"There's no reason to bring kitchen items, Rick. They're barely serviceable as it is. We'd never use them off the island, and I don't think they're even fit to go to a charity."

Rick looked at the plate he was holding. They were down to just a few. Ten years and three kids were hard on table settings.

"I'm just worried about something Afaitu said. Given the degree of interest people have had in our story, I'm worried we'll sail off leaving this all behind only to find it up for sale at some auction somewhere in Tahiti."

"Doubt that," Salesi said behind him. He'd apparently just returned from a swim, as his hair was damp.

"I agree with Salesi," Kate said, giving the man a smile. "Look at that plate, Rick. You can't even tell what color it's supposed to be. No one will buy this junk."

"No, I meant it won't be auctioned in Tahiti," Salesi corrected. "It'll be on Ebay."

"Ebay? That's still around? It was just starting to grow when I was in college at Stanford. One of my friends tried to buy some plane tickets on it."

"Yeah, still around. Pretty big, these days."

"So, you're saying we shouldn't leave it behind?" Rick was not shy in celebrating his victory over his wife.

Sadly, it was short lived.

"We are not taking these plates with us, Rick. There's a lot of stuff I want to bring; old plates are not one of them."

"But Afaitu said…"

"What about the cave?" Salesi interrupted.

"The cave? The cave! That's genius, Salesi," Rick exclaimed. "We can start storing stuff in there that we don't take. No one outside of a handful knows about the cave. It's perfect!"

He grabbed the few plates, silverware and bowls that they owned and started walking towards the cave. His wife calling his name interrupted his proud march.

"Rick! Rick! We still have to eat!"

Minor detail.

Tissot watched the camera feed of the man. Like Tane before him, Grollet was unnaturally calm and quiet. The men who'd brought him in had said he'd given up without a fight, just asking for water.

He'd not even responded to their proclamation that he was under arrest.

Which did not bode well, in Tissot's opinion.

The doctor had checked him out, but other than a case of mild dehydration, the man was healthy.

He'd been placed in the room they'd used for Tane's interrogation two hours earlier, and had just sat quietly in the chair since then. Sipping on the bottled water they'd provided and looking like he could take a nap.

None of Tissot's orders said that he needed to confront the man. They had lots of evidence, and, now that Tane was singing a song loud and clear, the case against one former President was nearly open and shut.

However, his orders didn't specifically mandate that he not speak to the man, either. Tissot wouldn't do anything to jeopardize this slime's progress through the justice system. However, he would take pleasure from knocking the nonchalant look off of his face.

A great deal of pleasure.

Standing abruptly, he waved off his escort. Grollet knew this was a naval ship. There was no need to remind him of that fact.

He entered the room with authority, but not with any overt display of machismo. Grollet was no commanding physical presence, and he could be intimidated by the threat of brute force. However, Tissot surmised that Grollet fancied that he was smarter than everyone else.

Beating down his cocky attitude would be much more satisfying than beating the man's body.

However, Tissot acknowledged both would be pleasurable.

"Finally, Capitaine Tissot! Why am I being treated like a common savage? What is going on?"

Tissot chose not to answer. Instead, he crossed to the table and pulled out the empty seat slowly, deliberately. His posture screamed that he was in full command. He would not speak until he decided.

As a strategy, it was remarkably effective. Grollet's protests finally petered out and the men sat in silence for seconds…that then stretched into minutes.

Tissot noted with satisfaction that the man had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. He might appear calm and collected, but his body gave away the truth.

He waited a few more deliciously long minutes before speaking.

"You are to be taken back to Papeete and placed in custody."

It was a fact, not a question. They both knew what he was facing, though Grollet wanted to continue to pretend otherwise.

"I must strongly protest this whole charade. I don't know whose orders you are following, but whoever is behind this mockery is quite delusional." Grollet's affronted affect was quite amusing. But not even remotely effective. Suddenly, the former President leaned forward, wanting to make it seem as though they were two conspirators plotting together.

"I know, Capitaine Tissot, that you are not responsible for this egregious miscarriage of justice. You are a military man, made to do the bidding of those in charge of you. However, once we arrive back in Tahiti and the truth is known, I will not blame you for your mistake here. Your men have treated me well, so far. I will be merciful. For those that have betrayed me, however…..well, they will rue the day they ever turned on me."

Tissot managed to keep his countenance unchanged, though he'd wanted to move far away from Grollet's oily face leaning so close to his own. The wash of the man's fetid breath disgusted him, but more than just the odor. It was the promise of the words, the sibilant self-confidence, the conviction that all would be well once they got back to the capital.

This man, this ugly man, had committed a grave atrocity then built on it for years in order to achieve power and glory. It was no wonder he thought he could continue to trade on the foundation of that sacrifice of two young innocents that he'd offered on the altar of a sinking ship. He'd extracted blood to pay his dues.

But it was not his blood that he'd offered. He'd managed to hide his dark deeds for a decade, but no longer. Now the world knew his dirty little secret. And Tissot would be the one bringing him in to face the collective stares of society. He could not hide now. Could no longer cower under the veneer of a suave, attractive hero who'd undertaken the task of working for the people of French Polynesia. The serpent who wore that mask would be uncovered.

Tissot was profoundly grateful he would play a small role in the process that would, at long last, deliver some degree of reparation for Richard Rodgers and Katherine Beckett.

Grollet had sunk back into his chair, unsure of what to do when Tissot had completely ignored his pointed remarks intimating that this was all a big mistake. Most people became very nervous if they thought they might not be on the right side of a power play. Tissot was unreadable.

Silence stretched out once more, and Tissot was even more amused to be able to smell once again that potent aroma of fear that he'd picked up on Tane just a day ago in this same room. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite scents.

Finally, he'd had enough. Grollet was clearly nervous, though he still was in the dark as to all that had elapsed. The jig was truly up for him, but he had no idea just how big the final nail in the coffin had been.

Standing, he allowed his facial expression to morph into the disgust that he felt when he looked at the monstrosity sitting at the table.

"Richard Rodgers has found the island where he was shipwrecked. He was very eager to return. Who would have thought? A man is abandoned, left behind on a desert island and for ten long years. Languishes away from the entire world, only to be thrown into jail after surviving a near fatal journey at sea. Then, after months imprisoned he is suddenly set free. Liberated at long last in a world that has changed dramatically in ways both big and small, and what does he do? Seeks out the very island where he'd been discarded so long ago. Strange behavior, is it not?"

Grollet sat, seeming unmoved though a tic of his left eyelid belied his contrived calm.

Tissot observed him for another minute in silence, wondering if he should continue. However, when the other man remained determinedly silent, he decided that he'd let him twist on the hook for a while.

Turning, he started for the door. Just as he was about to wrench it open, he at last heard a whisper of words emanating from Grollet. Torn from his lips, almost as if against his will. As if he could not help but to ask.

"What'd he find there?"

Tissot stood, rigid. Back squarely to the man, he strongly considered just walking out of the door and not even acknowledging the question at hand. Yet, in the end, he pivoted on one foot to face him again. Mask back in place, he regarded the other as if he were an interesting specimen about to be pinned in place.

"What did he find? He found what he expected to, thank God. He found who he expected to, and safe as well. He found the architect of your downfall, Monsieur. He found Katherine Beckett."

With that, he swung back to his original path and left, slamming the door behind. The matelot stationed outside immediately turned the key in the lock, then resumed his post.

Only the camera feed captured Grollet's subsequent actions. How he jumped up and lunged at the door as it swung shut. How he pounded on it, screaming for release, violently torqueing the knob without success. How he then collapsed next to it, continuing to strike the door until he became exhausted.

He had no way of knowing it mirrored almost exactly the desperation Kate had felt at the sound of the lock turning in her door ten years ago. He'd not stuck around to hear her pleas, at the time. Like her, he thought he was doomed. Incarcerated without any hope of salvation.

Unlike her, he was guilty of the many sins for which he stood accused.

Nor did he have a Richard Rodgers caught with him in the same trap.

Ten years ago, a locked door had marked a new beginning for Kate Beckett.

Ten years later, it marked the end for Grollet.