Page 138 of Without a Clue

They disappeared.

The group I had thought was so broken apart is still united after all.

This time, just against us.

“I can’t stand here anymore.”

“I agree. You’re about to pace a hole in the floor.”

“I’m going to look again. I’m going to bang on every door on this ship trying.”

“We made it this long without making a scene on the ship,” I say. “We’ve only got a matter of hours left. Let’s not ruin it now.”

I snap my computer shut.

I can’t look at any more of his old books.

The words are all starting to blur.

“I’ll come with you, though. We can at least walk the halls.”

This has been our rhythm the past three hours, bouncing from poring over laptops and notebooks for clues to circling the ship for people. Neither journey has been successful.

Hugh doesn’t want money.

He doesn’t want a bribe.

He doesn’t want any thing that I can possibly think of.

The closest I can guess is that he really wanted to get his newest book on the front page of the Times magazine, but what power do I have to make that happen?

I have no control over that.

What does he expect me to do? Pull imaginary strings from my imaginary black book of influential contacts? (Okay, fine. I do have some epic contacts, I’ve realized.)

At any rate, what does that have to do with “our story”?

“You know what we could do that we haven’t considered?” Nash says as we hunt in the halls. “We could just ignore him. Ignore them all. Let’s just pretend they don’t exist. We don’t have to play their games.”

“But we will.”

“Why’s that?”

“The same reason we’re speed-walking now. And they know that. Hugh knows that. We’re too livid not to see this through.”

He growls. “I hate being Hugh’s pawn.”

“Welcome to the club.”

We comb through the top three levels of the ship, then when our legs wear out, drop into the lounge chairs we stargazed from our first night here. The stars are out and sparkling at this ten o’clock hour, not so much as the other night, but enough to give us something to look at. Help us clear our heads.

I sigh and sit back, resting my head against the chair.

“Maybe if we just take a beat,” I say. “Worst-case scenario, we will see them tomorrow getting off the ship. We can be the first off. Wait for the sorry group to show up.”

Nash is shaking his head, looking murderous. “I don’t think it’s wise for me to get near him right now.”

I laugh, more of a release of energy than anything.