"Is he wrong?" Scotty demanded.
"I don't know," Rick said. "It depends on a lot of things. We can't go unless we get jobs, and Steve evidently didn't say anything to Dad about the rest of the staff, including us."
"Dad hasn't even said he'll go," Scotty reminded.
"Doesn't saying he has reconsidered mean that he'll go?"
"Could be. Or maybe it just means he's willing to talk some more about it. We should have pinned him down."
"We will," Rick said. "In the morning."
He lay awake for long hours, staring into the darkness and trying to piece together Chahda's references to a golden mouse, a Chinese with a glass eye, and a long shadow. It was no use. But there was no mistaking the urgency of his friend's plea.
Where was Chahda now? At a guess, somewhere between Singapore and Hong Kong. But whether by land or sea or air, Rick couldn't imagine. Nor could he even venture a wild guess at what kind of danger Chahda faced.
After a long time he fell asleep, but it was fitful sleep broken by frequent awakenings.
In the morning, the discussion resumed over breakfast, bringing forth wild speculations from Barby. Rick had to grin at her flights of fancy.