“Courtesy of the Galvaos?”
“They’re a very generous pair,” Dodger replied. “Let’s get out of here. I found out what suite Mark is in and-” “He was here, Dodger.” Dodger froze. “Uh… what?”
“He came here, to this cell. With Newa Winter. I know her, Dodger. She’s a Traveler. And she’s a traitor. She helped Saint Dane win Quillan. It was Newa Winter that got to Mark on Second Earth and told him that if he changed history he could save his parents from dying in that plane crash.”
Dodger blinked and scowled, taking a second to let the wave of information sink in.
“Wow,” he gasped. “It was simple as that? She flat-out lied and he bought it?”
“Not so simple. Mark’s parents were here too. They’re alive.” “But-“
“Yeah, I know,” Courtney interrupted. “I don’t get it either. Nevva delivered. It’s hard to blame Mark for doing what he did.”
“Even if it meant giving Saint Dane an army to conquer Halla?”
“I don’t think she mentioned that part,” Courtney answered sarcastically. “Mark didn’t know Andy Mitchell is Saint Dane. I told him but he didn’t believe me.”
Dodger scratched his head and whistled in wonder. “So Mark is still a good guy.”
“Yes, but we’re going to have a hard time convincing him to destroy Forge.”
Dodger frowned. “Yeah, I’ll say.”
“I can do it,” Courtney said with certainty. “Mark is my friend. My best friend. If we can get him alone, away from the others, I’ll convince him.”
She went for the door. Dodger followed right behind. He took one last look to make sure everything seemed in order, then closed the heavy door and used Hantin’s key to lock it. “Snug as a bug,” he declared.
The two walked quickly forward down a long passageway. Courtney did her best to tie her hair up, trying to make it look like it was actually an intentional hairdo.
“Where’s his cabin?” Courtney asked.
“Not cabin, suite. Those people from England spent a pretty penny to bring him over. They must know how valuable his gizmo is.”
“Okay, where’s his suite?” Courtney asked, getting impatient.
“Main Deck forward. But he’s not there.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because there was a dinner reservation for five, the Dimond party, in the cabin-class dining room,” Dodger said proudly.
“You’re amazing.” “Yes, yes I am.”
The two moved quickly through the ship, up from the depths to the Promenade Deck and the same elegant restaurant that Courtney had sprinted through earlier. They forced themselves to calm down and walk slowly, pretending to belong. They got a few second glances, but Courtney was sure it was as much because her hair was a mess as anything. The two strolled casually, arm in arm, through the wide-open doors of the dining room.
Music from the big band filled the elegant room, which was now busy with diners. Inside the double doors was a sitting area with a huge fireplace and comfy chairs for passengers to sit in while waiting for their tables. To the right was a velvet rope leading up to a podium where a stiff-looking host with a slim mustache greeted passengers and showed them to their seats. Courtney and Dodger made a point to avoid that guy. They strolled past him into the sitting area. From there they had a view into the large dining room. Peering through a potted palm plant, Courtney and Dodger scanned for their quarry.
“There,” Courtney said, pointing.
Halfway across the room, toward the stage, was a table for five with Mark, Andy, Nevva, and the Dimonds. Nevva and Andy were laughing and having a good old time. Mark and the Dimonds seemed more reserved. Mark twiddled his spoon, not interested in the food in front of him.
“May I help you two?” came a stern voice from behind.
Courtney and Dodger turned slowly to face the sour-looking host who loomed over them.
“No, thank you,” Dodger said. “Just looking for some friends.”
“Do you have reservations?” the host asked as if he already knew they didn’t.
“No, we won’t be dining here tonight,” Courtney answered.
The host gave them a skeptical look. Dodger went on the offensive. He stood up straight and snapped, “Is there some problem we can help you with?”
The host backed off.
“Forgive me,” he said apologetically with a deep bow. “If there is anything I might do for you, please do not hesitate.” “We won’t,” Dodger said coldly. The host slinked off, chastised. “That was great,” Courtney giggled.
“Hey, we’re paying customers. He can’t treat us like we don’t belong.”
“Except we didn’t pay and we don’t belong.” “Details.”
“So now what do we do?”
“No problem, I got this covered.”
Courtney gave him a doubtful look.
“What?” Dodger said, offended. “Have I ever let you down?” “I barely know you.”
“But what you know, you like. Admit it,” he cajoled. “Dodger! This isn’t a game.”
“Sure it is, and I know how to play,” he said confidently. “Keep an eye on them. When you get the chance, pull Mark outta there.” “What? How?”
Dodger smiled. “Trust me. Bring him to the stern. I’ll meet you there.”
“Where are you going?” Courtney asked.
Dodger put a finger to his lips. “Shhh, trade secrets. Just be ready.”
He took Courtney’s hand and gave it an elegant kiss. He then winked and backed away, headed toward the host. Courtney watched as he whispered a moment in the guy’s ear and cagily slipped him something that could have been money for a tip. He cuffed the host on the arm as if they were old friends, and left the restaurant. What was going on? The host left his post and walked casually through the dining room, headed for the band. There was a dance floor between the dining tables and the stage, where several people moved to slow music. The host approached the bandleader and whispered something to him. The bandleader nodded and the host left. What had Dodger done?
It was time for Courtney to start doing her part. She had to get close to Mark’s table without being seen. She slipped through the potted palms, nearly falling over a table where an elderly couple sat.
“Oops, sorry,” she said as she caught a bottle of wine that nearly fell to the floor.
“You!” the elderly woman exclaimed in anger. It was the same woman she and Dodger ran into, literally, when they first boarded the ship. The woman looked around for someone she could call to deal with Courtney.
“Sorry, ma’am, my fault,” Courtney said as she carefully placed the bottle of wine back on the table. “This wine is on me. Charge it to my room. Twelve-twelve. Galvao.”
“Why, uh, thank you,” the elderly man exclaimed.
The woman just looked sour. She gave Courtney an annoyed look and went back to eating her soup. Courtney got away from her and moved closer to Mark’s table, always trying to stay shielded by other diners. She got as close as one of the wide, wooden columns that was only a few yards from Mark. She stood with her back to it, waiting for… what?
The answer came quickly. A young steward hurried through the dining room holding a silver tray with a note on top. He went right to Mark’s table, where Courtney heard him say, “This came in on the wireless for Mister Mitchell. From London. Apparently there is some urgency.”
“Thanks,” Courtney heard Andy say. Her skin crawled, knowing it was Saint Dane.
Andy read the note and scowled. “Shoot,” he exclaimed angrily.
“What’s the trouble?” Nevva asked.
“It’s from KEM,” Andy shot back. “I gotta wire them back. Now. C’mon, Nevva.”
Courtney heard him push his chair back.
“Excuse us, please,” Nevva said politely.
“Is there a problem?” Mr. Dimond asked.
“Nothin’ I can’t handle,” Andy growled.
Andy and Nevva left the table and walked by the column where Courtney was hiding. They passed right by
