The slaves of Freetown

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The atmosphere in the office has thickened, and each inhale has become torture. Karen has lined up behind Mohamed's chair, glaring at the one and two-halves individuals in front of us. I apprehended seeing my tormentors again; I had, in nightmares, met their cruelty, their lack of empathy, and indulgence again. I forged a vision of them, perfectly insensitive to any distress, ours, or that of Mistress Salvi. However, now that they are facing us, I see above all that they are exhausted. The features of their faces drawn, and the hands shaking quickly like spasms. I want to blame them so much, but it seems clear that right now, they are living under the torture of our guilt. The Form herself retreats to the corner, completely, then disappears.

I also feel the recent revelations weakening my certainties. More than ever, the judgment, an easy and misleading impulse of my character, is forbidden to me.

"Mr. Salvi. You are early."

"No formal form of address between us, Momo! This ceremonial stuff between Masters and slaves honestly pisses me off! Yes, we left the docks early; their work was finished for today. And I want to end this as quickly as possible. Anyway, as the poor man whose wife you killed, I owe you no explanation!"

My gaze moves from Mohamed to Isaac, then falls again on Mr. Salvi. My chest is about to explode, and I am short of air.

"You... wanted us to, to... get rid of her... for you?" Ho-Jin says in horror, also understanding the implication behind Mr. Salvi's wry, deceptively sad look.

"Lucia's trade in fake anti-COVID-19 drugs was competing with mine, and the deadline for paying our contact at The New York City Hall, the money that would prevent our files from passing to those of the enslaved ones, was approaching quickly. She was the one who had threatened to take care of me first. I wanted my men to do the work so that I could take over her business and relocate to Mexico, where most of her merchandise comes from. But the police had their eyes on us for some time. We had to keep a low profile. This is when Isaac Grinberg Doe came to talk to me. It really happened at the right moment, like perfect timing! He and his wife couldn't afford to pay for their places in one of my ships, so they agreed to do this in return. I would have gotten rid of them later, but... it was very cunning of you to take my notebook. I never suspected you could have been involved, Kanoa. You look so unthreatening. I imagine they would have accused you too since we do need a culprit in all of this."

I am bewildered, genuinely horrified. I spent days with Mistress Salvi and saw nothing, not the slightest hint. I saw no flaws in the image of the embittered housewife, which she had built. The spotting that she was doing in Manhattan... She was preparing for a consequent cash infusion. The graffiti that looks like the acronym of her husband's stand for her band, I add up, retracing and filling in the gaps that my somehow sexist and biased lack of attention made invisible. However, the worst part of the story remains the stab in the back, which the Grinbergs wanted to inflict on us.

"You disgust me!" Karen spits in their direction. "How could you..."

"You would have done the same if a similar opportunity was presented to you, do not play Saints with us! You left her dying!" Isaac argues.

"We're fed up with your superior little expressions, while your "Daddy Mohamed" was himself dipping into shady things and making us do his dirty work!"

"We... we would have survived that occasion. We would have lived without this trip, without the enfranchisement, without the lottery. We would have continued to live as we always have, like miserable people, but with a clear conscience."

Mr. Salvi turns to Ho-Jin, disconcerted, then to me.

"So you really didn't know? What naivety! That explains everything... I mean, I was very surprised when Isaac mentioned your name, Kanoa. Me, who thought that finally, you were becoming a man."