Page 79 of Player

Nothing.

I pinch it harder and shake his leg. “Finn. Wake up.”

Nothing. He’s out, stone-cold.

First, he ghosts me, then abandons working with me, and now he’s going to waste more time sleeping off a bottle of liquor, leaving me in the lurch and my investigation in limbo?

I. Don’t. Think. So.

I march into the bathroom, fill a glass with tap water, and return to stand over him. There’s a second or two of debate, then, with great relish, I dump the contents over his head.

He awakes, sputtering. “G’way!”

I wait until he sets his good eye on me. “Mickey says he’ll pay you eighty-one euros.” Spinning, I toss the letter on the floor and exit the room.

“What are you on about, colleen?” his voice booms from behind me.

Business, I think.Business and nothing more.

Not anymore.

Ten minutes later and I’m in a taxi, en route to Cork Harbour. It seems like a logical place to start. Someone must know something about a pirated container ship sailing into port.

This part of town isn’t what you’d imagine a port to be. It’s full of life, green and lush and buzzing with energy. A cathedral spire dominates the space. Behind it, is a wild nature preserve that stretches out as far as the eye can see.

The shipping office is in a small refurbished home. I’m greeted by a friendly clerk, Joe, who has Yankee relatives living in New York City.

“Ever run into a lad named Bobby McKean?” he asks me.

“No,” I answer straight faced. “But when I return home, I’ll keep my eyes out for him.” Cork City’s population is around two hundred thousand compared to the fourteen million residents of New York City. But I don’t tell him that.

“If you see him, tell him Joseph O’Malley is waiting on his forty quid.”

“Got it.” I pause, then get down to business. “I was hoping you could help me. I’m doing my graduate study thesis on environmental-friendly shipping facilities.”

“You came to the right place.”

“My professor wants data to support my claim that such facilities can operate as efficiently as industrial ports.” I take a deep breath then drive my point home. “Could I look at the records for all ships entering and exiting Cork Port for the month? It’s helpful to see their names. It makes for a better examination on paper.”

“You studying at Columbia University?” is his answer.

I pause. “NYU.”

“Never heard of it.”

“New York University?”

“Right. I suppose all the smart ones go there.”

I laugh at his quick compliment then shrug my shoulders. “I’m a hard-worker. That must account for something.”

“That it must.” He gestures with his hands. “Come on around the counter and take a gander. Everything is done by computer these days.”

I exhale a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

“Be sure to put me name there in yer report,” he answers with a wink.