Cortés whispers to Murphy as we quietly assemble in the corridor outside the communications cabin a few minutes later, staying well clear of the glass window, “I just need you to lure him out here. I’ll take it from there. It shouldn’t be hard. It’s Duke tonight. He’s not that bright. But he’s mean, especially when he’s been drinking. And if he’s awake, he’s drinking. Leave him to me.” “What’re you going to do to him?” Maggie asks fretfully. “Nothing fatal,” Cortés says. “Will you get your priorities straight?” I tell Maggie, also keeping my voice down. “You need to be worried about what Duke’ll do to us if he figures out what we’re up to. What if he raises the alarm?” “We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it,” Murphy says. “Everyone know where your lookout posts are? And you know the signal, so you won’t leave Sammy and me flat-footed with no warning if someone’s coming, will you, now? But we’ll need a good ten minutes or so to take a look at the radio and figure out our position and such.
