“You’re being ridiculous.”
John took another deep drink, coughed, and drank again. “How could Wolfenstein possibly know the ship is gone?”
“I know you’re upset, we all are.” Anderson tried to sound comforting. “The Esquirer was arguably the Centennial’s finest creation. Your brother’s magnum opus, if you will.”
Maybe the telegram was wrong. Maybe some lugubrious green sailor got anxious about a little storm and sent out an uncensored missive. If a black out in communication for a few hours followed a telegram like that, of course Wolfenstein would be assuming the worst.
Despite these hopeful thoughts, deep down, John felt a twinge of doubt. He reached into his pocket, retrieved a tab and placed the white licorice under his tongue.
The Esquirer was one of the most well-known ships in
