Free Uncharted: The Fourth Labyrinth by Christopher Golden Page B

suggested.
    Sully pointed a finger at him, pistol-style. “That’s it. Yeah. Look, I just need to walk them down and show them the boat and I’ll be out of your hair. If I do my job right, Miss Fonseca—Mrs. Kurland, I guess—gets a decent price for the thing, and it’ll serve the son of a bitch right for making babies with his girlfriend on the side.”

    The guard’s face twisted in deep disapproval. “Babies?”
    “I know. Awful stuff. Imagine finding out your husband was having an affair for, what, six years? Bad enough, right? But the guy fathered two children with the other woman. How does a lady pick herself up after getting kicked like that?”
    By then the guard was nodding in agreement.
    “What an ass,” the guard said.
    “Fortunately, the judge agreed,” Sully said, smiling conspiratorially. “Now, look, do me a favor? Tell me we’ve got thirty minutes, no more. I have another appointment before I can go home tonight, so I don’t want to be hemming and hawing with these folks for hours.”
    The guard did better than that. He walked Sully over to Drake and Jada, looking as though he were doing them a mighty favor.
    “I’m sorry, but the marina has strict policies about visitors,” he said. “Without the owner present, I can only give you half an hour. You’ll have to sign in and show your ID. Please respect the privacy of the other owners and see me on your way out.”
    Jada squeezed Drake’s arm, apparently concerned about having to show her ID.
    “Not a problem,” he said. “We wouldn’t have it any other way, especially if we might be owners ourselves.”
    “I—um—left my purse in the car,” Jada said.
    The guard furrowed his brow.
    Drake only smiled wider. “I’ve got it, sweetie. I’ll sign us in.”
    The guard glanced at Sully, clearly trying to decide whether to push the ID issue, but then he let it go. Apparently, he didn’t want to make trouble for Mrs. Kurland, because he led the three of them to a small guard booth not far from the marina entrance and barely glanced at the false identification Drake and Sully showed him as they signed the guest book.
    Drake still had his bloodstained coat folded under his arm, and the guard shot a quizzical glance at it as Drake signed in, as if he thought he might be hiding something inside.
    “What’ve you got there?” the guard asked.
    Drake sighed in regret. “Not a damn thing. I spilled juice all over myself like an idiot. Ruined my coat.”

    Careful to show only the inside of the coat, he unfurled it to show that there was nothing wrapped inside it and then draped it carefully over his arm.
    “Thanks, amigo,” Sully said, giving a private little nod to the guard that Jada and Drake weren’t supposed to see. “Say, what’s the slip number again?”
    He patted at his pants pockets as if looking for the piece of paper where he’d written the number down.
    “One forty-seven,” the guard replied.
    Drake felt sorry for him. It wasn’t the guard’s fault he was dumb enough to fall for their hustle. He probably was going to get into serious trouble over this, maybe even lose his job. But if Drake had to choose between getting shot or thrown in jail and causing problems for this guy, well, it was really no choice at all.
    Sully thanked the guard, pressing a twenty into his palm as they shook hands—a tiny fraction of the reward money Drake had brought back from South America. Then they were walking along the dock, the boats swaying on either side of them, rocked by the river.
    Compared to some of the luxury crafts that were docked at the marina, the boat in the Kurlands’ slip wasn’t much to speak of—a thirty-five-foot Chris Craft with a fiberglass deep V-hull, maybe twelve feet at the beam—but that was all right. They didn’t want anything huge or ostentatious. Even better, the Chris Craft was moored in a slip at the outside edge of the marina.
    They boarded as if they belonged there, Sully behaving as if he were