Page 41 of A Perfect Disaster

I should have said something. A sincere apology, a technical argument, a simple, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” But I was caught between pride and the fear of showing weakness.

“Helen?” Gonzalo’s voice yanks me out of my memory with a jolt.

I blink repeatedly, and the twitch in my left eye sends an annoying jolt through my eyelid.

“What? What’s wrong?” I ask, trying to regain my composure.

Gonzalo watches me for a moment in silence.

“Nothing. The first bus has already been cleared by the guide. We should start calling out the numbers over the radio.”

I nod stiffly.

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”

I force myself to break eye contact with the dock and fix my gaze on the lists. The numbers don’t look at me as if they know what I’m hiding beneath the stripes. They don’t remind me that behind them is an exhausted woman, scared to death, and far less ruthless than she appears to the crew.

We get to work, and once everything is ready, I dive headfirst into the next step.

“I’m heading down to the pier.”

I walk down the ramp and greet the hired tour guide. Then I make sure everything is in order on each bus before the tour begins.

And I’m surprised to see that things are going wonderfully. Until her voice comes from a distance, and I realize—of course—that there are problems on one of the buses.

“Your left eyelid is twitching, Helen,” Maika observes.

“It’s just muscle fatigue from lack of rest,” I explain.

“That’s why it’s twitching,” she insists, and a faint smile appears at the corner of her mouth.

As soon as I glare at her, she raises her hands.

“It’s just a preventive wellness check on board. Nothing more.”

“I don’t recall requesting the entertainment department’s services for my health.”

“I know. What you need is eight hours of sleep in a bed that doesn’t move, to take a deep breath without thinking about the inspectors, and to stop analyzing the lists as if they were an imminent execution order.”

I try to force my best look of indignation, but a sigh escapes my chest that almost, for a split second, turns into a laugh. Almost. Maika picks up on the nuance, and her eyes shine with a new intensity.

“Don’t start with your games,” I warn her.

“I’m just following orders. I haven’t started anything,” she replies with feigned submission.

“Yeah, right.”

“Nico is already looking for the missing partner,” Maika assures me. “Everything’s going smoothly.”

“Whatever. Notify the Rome checkpoint of your arrival as soon as you get there.”

“Done.”

“And if there are any changes to the itinerary…”

“I’ll send you a priority alert on the internal frequency before you hear about it over the terminal PA system or through a complaint,” Maika concludes, with a subtle touch of humor.

Before I can add another instruction, Nico appears in the terminal passageway, escorting a straggling couple.