“This tripe and nonsense,” I told him, “is the bait that will snag our fish. A trap for Pepe and his partner in crime.”
“Who is this mysterious billionaire?”
“Me,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to be rich.”
“But this ship, the space yacht, where is it?”
“Being built now in the naval shipyard at Udrydde. We’re almost ready to go there now, soon as this batch of instructions goes out.”
Captain Steng dropped the releases onto the table, then carefully wiped his hands off to remove any possible infection. He was trying to be fair and considerate of my views, and not succeeding in the slightest.
“It doesn’t make sense,” he growled. “How can you be sure this killer will ever read one of these things. And if he does—why should he be interested? It looks to me as if you are wasting time while he slips through your fingers. The alarm should be out and every ship notified. The Navy alerted and patrols set on all spacelanes—”