His eyes flew to Cal. The man was still seated at the table. He had finished his newspaper and was reading a magazine, his lips forming the words as his eyes followed the lines.
“Sandy,” Ken said softly. “You awake?”
Cal’s eyes flicked toward the bunks and then away.
“I’m awake.” Sandy’s voice was dull. He sounded beaten. He, too, realized their predicament—and he, too, was helpless to fight it.
Suddenly Ken was swept by an anger that overcame his fear and despair. He lunged toward the edge of the bunk.
“I didn’t want to give away too much back there in the shop last night,” he said loudly, hurling his voice against Cal’s bent head, “but I wasn’t kidding when I said the police know about what’s going on there.”
He hoped the lying words would be truth within a matter of hours—that soon, following the trail of torn bills, the police would be on the hunt for the counterfeiters. It seemed impossible that they could locate the barge in time to do the boys any good. But, Ken thought, if he could disturb Cal’s sneering calm—even for a moment—it would be worth it.
“They’ve probably got Grace and Barrack right now,” he went on. “And if you think those two are going to take the rap when they can pin it all on you—”
“Shut up!” Cal said, without looking up. “You’re wasting your time. And you’re talking through your hat.”
“You think the police don’t know about the forced entry into my father’s apartment?” Ken went on.