Chapter 27
— The Night Before Vienna
The night before Vienna, I did not sleep. I sat in my flat, with the evidence laid out on the kitchen table, and I went through it, piece by piece, as I had done a dozen times before, because I wanted to be sure, when I stood before the panel, that I knew every page, every date, every name. The logbook was there, wrapped in oilcloth, its pages soft with forty years of handling, its ink faded in places but still clear. The bank records were there, in a folder Wesley had prepared, each transfer marked, each date noted, each payment from the company to Alpen Trade, and from Alpen Trade onward, laid out in order. The power of attorney was there, in its certified copy, with the words medical decisions only underlined, in my own hand, so that I would not forget to point to them. The partnership agreement was there, with Nelson's signature beside mine, and the clause that said the fleet could not be sold without both founders' signatures.
I laid out the witness statements, too, in the order Octavia had suggested. Kieran's statement first, because his was the heart of it, the man on the deck, the boat that did not stop. Renata's statement next, about the argument she had overheard, Landon and Xavier, the invoices, the anger in their voices. Yvonne's statement next, about the night before the cruise, and the words she has to go, spoken in her own home, by her own husband. Fenella's statement next, about the sale, and the price, and her decision to return the boats. Gwendolen's statement last, about the company's history, and Nelson's promise, and the boats that were never to be sold. Each statement was signed, and dated, and copied, and I read them all again, slowly, and I thought about the people who had written them, and the courage it had taken for each of them to speak.
Wesley came in the evening, and we went through the bank records together, one last time, checking the figures, checking the dates, making sure there was no mistake. He was calm, and steady, and he told me he was ready, and that he would present the records clearly, without anger, without exaggeration, letting the numbers speak for themselves. I told him I was proud of him, and I meant it, not only for the work he had done, but for the man he had become, a river pilot who had chosen truth over family loyalty, when family loyalty had meant protecting a lie. He stayed for supper, and we ate simply, and we talked about the boats, and about the river, and about Nelson, and for a little while, the hearing felt far away, and the evening felt ordinary, and I was grateful for that ordinary feeling, because it reminded me what I was fighting for.
After Wesley left, I packed my bag for the morning. A clean suit, dark blue, the one I had worn to board meetings for years. The logbook, in its oilcloth, in a separate bag, so that it would not be crushed. The folders, in order, with tabs, so that I could find each one without fumbling. A bottle of water, and a small sandwich, because hearings can be long, and I did not want to be distracted by hunger. I laid out my shoes, and my coat, and I checked the address of the hearing room, and the time, though I knew them both by heart. I telephoned Octavia, briefly, and she told me she would be there, and that her file was ready, and that I should sleep if I could, and trust the evidence. I promised I would try, though we both knew sleep would be hard to come by.
In the quiet hours after midnight, I stood by the window and looked out at Vienna, at the lights, and the rooftops, and the river, somewhere beyond, moving in the dark. I thought about Nelson, and about the promise we had made, and about the night I had gone overboard, and the cold water, and Kieran's hands, and the long road back to this night, with my evidence on the table and my witnesses ready. I thought about Landon, and I felt, not anger, but a deep, sad clarity. He had chosen money over family, and lies over truth, and tomorrow, in a hearing room, those choices would be laid bare, in front of people who had no reason to protect him. I did not wish him harm, even then. I wished him, simply, to face what he had done, and to answer for it, as we all must answer, in the end, for what we do on the river, and in life.
I went to bed at last, though I did not sleep much, and when I woke, the sky was pale, and the city was stirring, and the day had come. I dressed carefully, and I picked up my bags, and I took one last look at the table, now empty, the evidence packed away, ready. The logbook, the bank records, the power of attorney, the partnership agreement, the statements. Everything I needed, and nothing I did not. I closed the door behind me, and I walked down the stairs, and out into the morning, toward Vienna, and toward the hearing, and toward the truth. The river had given me back, and now I would give the river, and the company, and Nelson, the truth in return. Tomorrow, the hearing would begin, but tonight, I was ready.