Rake started. He frowned in perplexity. “How can you do that, Chester?”
“I’ve got authority to do most anything. I want a Gray taxi to meet us when we dock with the Imparada. Perhaps your nice little blonde with the turned-up nose will be driving.”
Rake shook his head when Fay disappeared. He clenched his fists and glanced upward at the topmost light in the dark tower. He swung on one heel as Yeader touched his shoulder.
“Big ship coming in!”
“The Imparada?”
“Looks like it. We’ll have to hurry. Call Chester!”
Fay appeared at Rake’s third shrilling whistle.
“All set,” he said, waving his arm toward the Government dock. “Let’s get down to the quarantine boat.”
A dark wharf jutted like a pointing finger from a green, sloping shore. Upon this wharf great, rusty cables and buoys were scattered.
Fay led the way through the buoys and presented his passes to a sailor on guard before a wire gate.