Page 79 of Uncharted

I nod. Because while this part doesn’t make sense to me yet, I’m sure it will.

Haley hands the agenda to Easton, and I have to admit I want to know what sorts of things a billionaire writes in his little book. Like, does he have phone numbers for famous athletes or the direct line to get him into a Michelin-star restaurant? Not that I care, I’m just curious.

I move behind Easton, and he opens the book up. My heart sinks. It’s a generic calendar. Like the ones my mum gets for free for sending money to the children’s home or one you could buy at the chemist. “Well, what does it say? Was he at the Met Gala the night before?” I lean over Easton’s shoulder. Mr. Rockwell has loopy cursive handwriting that reminds me of my grandmother’s.

“Met Gala?” Little Bird laughs. “Why would you ask that?”

“Isn’t that what everyone does in New York City?” I straighten up.

“How did you know he was in New York?” Easton puts the book down and twists his neck to see me. And I don’t like the look on his face, or the accusing tone.

“Because his luggage tags said he started in JFK and I’m the one who carried all five thousand pieces of Candy’s luggage down to their cabin.”

“Oh, right, of course. Sorry.”

I want to punch Easton in the neck. And unlike Green, I haven’t had that desire before. “I noticed because last year his bags came straight from Florida. I like reading luggage tags. They’re in code. When I was a kid, I memorized two hundred airport codes.”

“That would have come in handy for my roommate; she once booked a trip to Manchester, New Hampshire instead of Manchester, England,” Haley says.

“That’s funny. But better to be in New Hampshire. Manchester City is an overrated football team. So, what did you discover about your dad?” I ask.

“He and Candy were in New York for the week before they came to the port. The night before is just labeled ‘gala.’ Not that helpful. In the front, he has notes. But then, he never writes anything out all the way.” Easton holds up a section in the front where there’s just two letters in a series, page after page, dates and letters.

Haley shakes her head. “I’m not sure you’re going to be able to figure much out of that. It looks like gibberish.”

“I don’t know. There’s an awful lot of repetition going on. The letters R H.”

“Rockwell-Harding,” Easton says.

“And R T—that’s Rockwell Tire. Look, here there’s R C. That’s either the boat or he’s referring to himself and Candy. Right? And this here? May I?” I motion to the book, and Easton hands it to me. I move over to the sofa and sit next to Little Bird. “This here, see this sequence of numbers? It’s on page number ten and then on page twelve...” I cock my head, but the two of them are looking at me like I’m nuts. “You don’t see it?”

“No. I have no idea what you’re getting at,” Easton says.

“He’s numbered the pages in the top right-hand corner.” They look at me blankly. “But on the other pages he’s numbered them on the bottom right-hand corner. But if this is page ten, this one should be page fourteen. These aren’t page numbers; they’re what you need to multiply this number by. If you multiply this number by ten”—I flip to the other page in question—“and this number by twelve, they’re the same number.”

“How in the world are you doing that math in your head?” Haley’s eyes are wide.

Easton has found a pen and is doing multiplication on the back of the printout. “He’s right.”

“Of course I’m right. This whole thing is a code.”

“Maybe it has something to do with this?” Easton hands me a ripped index card. On it, in Mr. Rockwell’s loopy handwriting, isR H 5.2 b.

“There must be something in here. I’m sure. Do you want me to keep at it?”

“Hell yes. There’s no way I would have ever made the connections you already have.” Easton taps at his math on the paper in front of him.

I’m deep into the agenda when it occurs to me that I haven’t asked about the safe. “Did you find the key?”

“Not yet. But it’s got to be around here somewhere. I’ve got a feeling there’s something in the safe.” Easton glances away.

“He definitely didn’t take it with him on the night we abandoned ship,” Haley says.

“It’s weird how he told you about the safe but didn’t tell you where to find the key. Do you think he thought you would know where it was?” I ask.

Easton freezes, and his eyes go wide. “No, how... I’m fucking stupid.” Easton races out of the room, and we charge after him. The fresh air from the main salon hits me across the face. “Back to the primary suite.” He’s taking the stairs two at a time.

Dante comes out of the kitchen. He only had a few things to clean up when I left him. “What’s going on?”

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