22 - Lonely Gull
Using a long pair of tweezers, Rob retrieved a bread crumb stuck on burner number three of the Thermador range. Starting the flames would have ignited the dry bread, the smoke would have touched the captors of the white pill screwed on the ceiling. The fire alarm screech would have shocked the clients, scattering off any incoming stroller, and forced Henry or him to step on a rickety chair to stop it.
And adding one more worry for his boss. Yesterday, Josh had looked like a stranger, his evasive answers a clear signal not to prod further.
Rob deposited the brown cube on the work surface. Henry shrugged.
“Food for the flying rats,” he said.
Rob palmed the hard brown cube.
There was one window at the back of the kitchen, overlooking the narrow quay of the marina. A sol
