The slaves of Freetown

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The ringing of my phone at around three o'clock pulls me from the second anguished dream of the night. The room is bathed in soft light, and I forget where we are for a moment. Sky must have turned on the bedside lamp. Her figure can be guessed under the blanket, completely covering her body. My phone starts ringing again. I do not take the time to identify the originator of the previous call. Without thinking, I pick up the phone, assuming that it must be an emergency for Ho-Jin.

"You finally answer, coward."

The screen slips out of my hands; I bump into the edge of the little table. I remain motionless for a few seconds, giving time for Sky to roll over in bed. I pick up my phone and rush to the door.

"Kanoa?" Isaac is yelling. "I'm talking to you, Object!"

By bringing the phone to my ear, I do not want to be the same anymore. I promise not to leave him any chance to humiliate me any further, not to back down, not to feel sorry for myself. I promise my ego.

"I hate you, Isaac."

"A lot of good that does to me. Tell your little important self to line up, like everyone else."

There is, for a moment, only the noise of the machines in the hallway.

"Look, I ..."

"The police came to see me, coming back from our meeting."

"They came a few hours ago, for Imane and your father."

I try to swallow back nausea, and it goes down the wrong way. I choke, start to cough violently. When I bring the phone closer to my face, it is Rachel's outrageously calm voice that hails me.

"You and Ho-Jin should be ready to go to the docks, at any moment. You'll be taking on our work, as we might be leaving very soon. Find some excuses for your Masters and Mistresses to leave today. Don't go through Freetown; avoid it as much as possible. I believe they've set up a surveillance system for you."

"How can they already have so much on us?"

"They have nothing. They allow themselves to do whatever they want because we are slaves; not surprisingly, it was to be expected. Even Mohamed isn't that influential. They're only trying to scare you because you're the only exploitable link between Salvi's dirty business in Freetown and his wife. They have nothing at all, but it just takes a little mistake, you just have to crack, and we're all toast, do you understand? No matter what they offer you, don't trust them. This Nguyen is a new officer on the block that some members of Freetown have already dealt with. His dream, his big project, is to purify Freetown. And he has government support for that."

I nod slowly as if she could see me; how ironic to hear her talk about trust.

"We're negotiating with Salvi to take a boat today. Until then, you must not let yourself be impressed. Do it for your family."

Her voice is sweet, a type of sweet which I never knew that she was capable of, as she utters these words. Yet, all of a sudden, more intensely than ever, I envy their cruelty. It includes that nonchalance, that recoil, that detachment, and that calm with which they both mention death. Worse, murder. However, perhaps I am going too far in wanting to portray them as two wild beasts whose outbursts must be excused to constitute myself as a martyr better. I am equally at fault and guilty. I shake my head.

"You have nothing to teach me about what to do for my family. We will do whatever Salvi asks of us."

The callousness behind those sentences escapes from my control. I want to match their calm, but I appear irritated, as I cannot dominate the awkward feeling of anxiety that is draining me. Rachel shouts; on the other end of the phone, there is commotion, tumult, and Isaac's deeper voice is heard again.