Captain’s Log Day 22

Ahoy,

Well . . . I mean we arrived at Argo Bay. According to Milton the beach makes a natural port. He had no problem getting close enough to unload our injured crew members. The captain even had old canvas tents pulled up from the cargo deck to pitch in the sand to provide Whitefield and them with some form of shelter.

The captain also insisted that someone take an expedition to the sunken city to pull up some treasures. Seeing as every able bodied man was preoccupied setting up the tents and whatnot, Davenport asked me to lead the team–which consisted of me and two other boys. One, I’m told, was the cabin boy before me. Whatever. We don’t get along.

Anyway, I pulled up this treasure that is the continuation to one of the options that we provided you with on Day 3. I have combined the sample text with the rest of the document below so that you can read the whole thing.

“What do you mean the line’s dead?”

There was a pause. “I’m sorry, sir, but exactly that,” came the crackled response. “The line is dead.”

The man frowned and paced across the room. He paused by the window looking out over the busy city street. The sun was beginning to set and people were rushing home from busy days at work. More like lazing about drinking coffee, he thought angrily to himself. Without turning back around to look at the receiver on his desk, he spoke again. “I need you to get a hold of him no matter what the costs,” he said.

“Sir, I don’t think that’s possible,” the man on the other line responded.

He whirled around as though to slap the other man in the face, dropping his hand a moment later when he realized he was alone in the room. He cursed under his breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that sir.”

He shook his head and moved back over to his desk. “Nothing, Julio, don’t worry about it,” he replied. “Just get through to Mantle if it’s the last thing you do.” He didn’t wait for Julio to respond before jabbing the end call button on the receiver.

With a sigh, the man moved around his desk and dropped into the chair, worrying his eyebrow with his hand. “The line is dead,” he repeated. “You don’t call me to tell me that Mantle’s line is dead! Of course it’s dead! He knows we’re looking for him!”

The phone began ringing as if in response. The man frowned and stared down at the receiver. The little window was glowing a green blue color as it flashed Unknown Caller across the screen. He tapped the speaker phone button and waited.

“Is this the office of David Stalls?”

David flinched, recognizing the voice instantly. He leaned forward in his chair, torso hovering over the desk as he studied the phone. David didn’t answer.

“I know you can hear me,” Mantle continued. “I don’t appreciate the . . . attention your hounds are giving me. I told you before that I’m done with you and your organization. I want nothing more to do with you. I’m done.”

“You don’t understand!” David shouted, slamming a fist down on the desktop. Pens and pencils rattled in their mug holder. “Whether you like it or not, you’re the only one that can take this case.”

“I don’t want the case.”

“Mantle—”

“Sorry Stalls. I don’t belong to you anymore.” Mantle paused and David could hear him draw in a deep breath. “Actually, my papers have been handed to Anderson Mitchell.”

David slumped low in his chair. “Anderson . . . Mitchell,” he repeated.

“That’s right, Stalls.”

“Dammit Mantle!” With a sweeping gesture of his right arm, David knocked the phone and pen filled mug to the floor. The cord ripped out of the back of the phone and the mug shattered on impact. David pounded the bare desktop with both clenched fists, roaring. After a moment he dropped back to his chair, breathing hard. “I guess you’ve won this round . . . Mitchell.”

Well, hopefully I won’t have to be the one to gather the treasure tomorrow. Not that I don’t like being given the chance to prove myself worthy of more duties. It’s just . . . that city . . . . Have you ever dived to the ocean floor and found something? Like a child’s toy, say? Think about what that looks like. Now, picture that same child’s toy but only as something you used to own. That’s what seeing this city feels like to me.

Signed,

Cabin Boy Future Captain Laroque
4.3.14

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