Page 32 of Wayward
Sam clears his throat. “I should have offered before. Let me have a turn.” He takes his coffee cup to the sink and washes his hands. And he’s right. There’s no way of telling Dante. Not now. Not without endangering anything Hawk’s dad might be willing to do for us. Sam’s looking out the porthole while I’m trying not to cry from the onions.
It’s only a few minutes before Holloway is back. “Let’s go, Morris.”
“You want another cup?” Dante asks the guard.
“Yeah, sure.” He takes the seat Sam vacated.
I glance over my shoulder. Sam’s peeling carrots in the sink.Oi. I bet we could do some damage with a peeler and the world’s smallest paring knife.I raise my eyebrows at Dante, but he’s not picking it up. And that’s not the plan, anyway. I guess living with Calvin for a year has really ruined me.
Holloway drains the bottom of his cup. “Let’s go, genius. You’re too smart to be a peeler goblin.”
Dante lets a laugh burst out. “You’re not so bad, Holloway.”
Holloway’s face drops. “Move, Morris.”
I nod at him. But I’d rather slice onions for ten hours than translate Rocky’s journal. Especially while making it take long enough that we have a chance of getting off this yacht in one piece.
“I’ll be back for you.” Holloway points at Sam.
“Don’t take both of my peeler goblins,” Dante says.
Holloway stops. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Though I’d rather have a goblinette helping me out.”
“Yeah, Z has a strict policy about that. You can have the old guy for a few more minutes.”
“Old guy,” Sam mumbles as we leave the galley.
“This way.” Holloway turns me away from the grand salon I was in yesterday and back to the windowless conference room. The journal’s on the table along with my notes from before. “Z will be in. Make progress.” And he closes the door with a click.
“Right.” Make progress. But not too much.
I flip through the journal. That’s the problem. The second time you do a puzzle, it comes a lot faster. I could read him the whole thing right now if I wanted to. Like the Swiss bank routing and account numbers where all the money Rocky syphoned off went. Along with when Rocky figured out that Harding was laundering money for Ed. But there’s something else, something that doesn’t make sense. And I want to talk to Easton about it first. But not now, not when Z or anyone else can hear it.
Chapter 14
Foul Air
Calvin
Ibang loudly on the inside of the door like Holloway told me to do when I’d finished cleaning everything up. And it was for at least thirty seconds, before a cat did its thing again. The door opens, and an engineer scowls at me. The head engineer, by the stripes on his shoulder. Do I blame him? Fuck no. If someone took my workshop away to house a dozen cats, I’d be pissed as hell as well.
“You’re finished?”
“Yeah.”
“Already?” He steps into the room to inspect my work, and it takes every ounce of me to not take one of the wrenches from the wall and clobber him over the head with it.
“Yeah, what’s the point of doing a job if you’re not good and quick?”
“Hmm, yeah, true. Good enough for now. Put the garbage bags in the hall.” He peers around the room, putting his foot up to stop a large tom from jumping into the hall. He stands and watches while I place the full bags next to the door. “Come on,then. You can wait in the engine room for someone to come pick you up.”
“I appreciate it.” I more than appreciate it. It gives me a chance to scope out more of the Rosewood. Because while I’m all in for playing nice right now, that’s not going to last for long.
He radios for someone to come get me and motions for me to move down the hall ahead of him. He’s carrying a gun, judging from the bulge in the back of his belt. Not something I’d want to have strapped to me in an engine room. But then, I’d never work for a guy like Z. And I sure as hell wouldn’t stay somewhere an ass like Collins is welcome.
I haven’t seen much of the deck crew, but I’m wondering if they care as well. Kennedy the chief stew doesn’t appear to.
