Page 77 of Uncharted

Easton pulls something out of the inside of the breast pocket. “No key. But an index card with the initials R H and a quickly scrawled 5.2 b.”

“His Royal Highness needs 5.2 birds?” I cock a smile at Easton. Mostly because he looks so serious.

“Maybe, but Dad’s business partner, the man who owns the next highest amount in the company, is Roger Harding.”

“As in Rockwell and Harding finance?”

“Yeah, it’s the company Dad started after he made it big with Rockwell Tire.”

“And 5.2 b isn’t about birds.”

“I’m guessing billions.”

“Was Harding trying to buy out your dad? Or was your dad trying to sell him his part of the company?”

“I don’t know. I used to think of Roger as an uncle, and then I grew up. I don’t trust him. He’s been trying to get Dad out of the way for a long time. He’s one of the many reasons why I never wanted to take over the firm.”

“That might have been in his tuxedo forever. It might not have anything to do with Rock Candy at all.” I lean my head on Easton’s arm.

“True, but it hasn’t been in here for long. Dad and Candy came straight from New York City. The house manager at their penthouse... she’s a perfectionist. Dad used to joke that you had to keep your belt fastened or she would strip your clothes off as you walked by to send them out to be cleaned. No way this was in there long. He probably wore it the night before they got on the plane. He’s a creature of habit. He has a dozen tuxedos, but he always wore his favorite one for special occasions.”

“Like getting married.”

“Like getting married, and whatever it was he went to the night before.”

“It’s too bad we can’t figure out where he was the night before they left New York City.” I put my palm out, and Easton hands the card to me. I hold it up to the waning light in the porthole, but I can’t see anything new.

“We might not be out of luck. My dad keeps a paper planner. It’s got to be on board somewhere.”

“The cigar room, with the little desk.” I’m three steps out into the hall and almost to the stairs when Easton calls out.

“I’m going to check on Green.”

I skid to a stop. “Right.” Heat rises up my neck.

“Don’t, Firefly.”

“Don’t what?”

“You don’t have to feel guilty because you are excited about chasing a clue.”

“I’m... It’s kind of a habit.”

“I’m sure. I know Calvin’s fine. I’m just... I was fucking drunk or drunker when I stitched him up, and I want to make sure he’s doing okay.”

“You didn’t look like you were that drunk.”

“Unfortunately, that’s a skill I’ve had too much practice in. The not looking drunk thing, not the stitches.”

“Well, your hands were steady, and it looked like you had done it a hundred times. The stitches were neater than my grandmother’s embroidery.”

“Thanks.” He smiles down at me and peeks into the primary cabin. “He must really be out. He doesn’t normally snore. But then sometimes it’s like he never sleeps at all. He’s always on the watch for danger. It’s horrible what happened to his foot, but I’m glad he’s sleeping.”

“Yeah, the sleep will do him good.”

Easton feels Calvin’s forehead. “No fever. Let’s let him rest.” We close the door and head up to the main salon.

I haven’t been in the cigar room since we got back on board. “Your dad had the Rock Candy built custom, but the entire time he was on board, I never saw him smoke a cigar.”

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