Page 17 of Wayward
“Exactly what I said.” The guard cocks his head to the doors. In the lounge, Holloway is back and has Zane, Sam, and Calvin next to him already.
“You done chatting?” Holloway’s eyebrow pops up.
“Yes, sir.” He drops back, his shoulders square.
“Good, now take the guests back to their cabin before I tell Chef what you think about his food.”
The guard gives a sharp nod. That’s something the canned-sauce-giving chef has in common with Dante?with all yacht chefs. They are a little unhinged and vastly protective of the reputation of their food.
“Be good, Sassy. You know we love you.”
The other guys each give me their version of I love you. And Dante, Calvin, Easton, and Sam vanish down the hall with three guards, leaving Zane and me standing behind the sofa. Z has Rocky’s journal in his hand. He slaps the back of it three times. My brain is spinning. I’m completely overwhelmed. But then, I’m not here for my brain. I’m here to motivate Zane. And I hate it. I absolutely hate it. All of it, all of this. But what can we do?
“Come on, sit down.” Thayer motions to the sofa across from him.
Zane holds out his hand to me, and I take it. He pulls me close to him.
“Go,” Thayer barks at Holloway, who stands in the corner. “I’ll be fine, won’t I?” He looks to Zane for confirmation.
“Sure, I’m sure I can keep Little Bird from taking out her aggression on you.”
“Little Bird, Sassy?you certainly have a lot of names, Hal.”
I nod.
He leans forward as if he’s about to say something, but stands instead. “Where are my manners?” He steps behind the bar. I expect him to fumble around, unsure of where anything is, but he moves with practiced ease, pulling out three short glasses. He pours two fingers of expensive Macallan scotch into each one, expertly dropping ice into two. With two resting in his left palm and the iceless one in his right hand, he crosses the room. He holds out one to Zane and the other to me. I’m not a scotch person. It’s too strong for me. Though I’ve taken classes. Three years ago, a primary’s grandfather wanted me to try some of his Macallan, a twenty-five-year-old aged sherry cask. But my captain got me out of it, saying I couldn’t have any.
“I’m not much of a drinker. But thank you.” I take a small sip, the smooth warmth of the scotch spreading across my tongue, its rich notes of dried fruit and spice lingering as I swallow. It’s not as horrible as I remember scotch being, but I’d rather have the two thousand dollars in my bank account and have a glass of water. I hold it gingerly on my lap.
“I’m not either.” Zane puts his down on the sofa table. “Let’s get down to business.”
“Right, see, I told you. You’re meant for more than being a bosun.”
“Don’t diminish my career. It’s important. The safety of the boat and the passengers on her is important. And like I said, I’m a damn good bosun. And cryptogram and puzzle wiz.”
Z flips open Rocky’s book and thumbs through the pages. “All right, then tell me what you know.”
“When we’re back on land. And away from the Rosewood.” Zane glares. “Not until then.”
“No.” Thayer shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. A man of puzzles has to understand that.”
“The information about the Swiss bank account isn’t in one spot. It’s spread out over a number of pages. Mixed in with actual words and thoughts. That’s one of the reasons it took me so long to decipher it. One of the many reasons it took so long.”
Somehow, we all sort of let the code slip away. One day Zane was working at it for hours on end, and then it was gone. That must be when he figured it the rest of the way out. I wish he’d told me. Or maybe I don’t. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have spilled all the details. But it’s certainly easier not knowing them.
“You want a sample of the goods?”
“More than a sample. You made some strong claims. That Ed is running money through Rockwell-Harding.”
“Ed.” Zane nods. “So, not Zed?”
“Ed to his friends.”
Chapter 8
Decoy Maneuver
Calvin
