“Mr. Ascariot,” Wolfenstein peered across the boardroom table at John. “Where is your nephew?”
“I left him a message, he assured me he would be here.” John lied.
“A message? Or did you speak with him?”
“A message, both. I spoke with him. Both of them,” John lied further as he pulled at his bowtie.
“Very good.” The old codger nodded before turning his attention to the end of the table.
“Captain Clark will be sailing to Cuba, Captain Wilcox to Africa.” Relieved to have Wolfenstein’s attention directed away from him, John tilted his head in feigned curiosity as the show-off from the board meeting a week ago described his solution to the captain’s fight between the Centennial and Longhorn trips. “They were amicable, of course and the conflict was resolved. The crews for both ships ha
