Chapter Eighteen
At something after eleven, Mickey heard sounds on the boat and went out to investigate, carrying a big wad of oily rags with him. Phillip Carlyle was in the fish well with a second man who was probably not much older than Mickey. He had shaggy dark hair, good shoulders and watchful green eyes.
“Want you to meet a friend of mine,” Phillip said. “This is John Willis, who specializes in taking care of problems, among other things.”
“More of a hobby, really,” Willis said with a self-deprecating smile. “Phillip here tells me you’ve got something right up my alley.”
“It’s not up any alley I ever heard of,” Mickey said cautiously.
“Maybe not,” John Willis said, “but I’ve got some resources you might not have, Mickey. You want to talk about it a little bit?”
Mickey made a fa
