plain white dress shirt, and pulled on the replacement clothing. There was a full-length mirror in an attached dressing area, and Cob sauntered over to it as he tightened his necktie. He brushed dust out of his straight dark hair and stroked the three-day growth of scruff that filled the hollows of his cheeks.
Might want to shave . They’ll give a lotta side-eye to someone who’s not all boring and clean-cut.
In the pocket of the black blazer was a pair of vintage Ray Bans with perfectly opaque lenses. Cob set them on the bridge of his nose and took in the effect.
Man in black . I am an honest-to-goodness man in black. God, this is about as far from inconspicuous as you can get.
He exhaled a short laugh and put the shades back in the jacket pocket.
In the lab, Vere turned dials and tapped the screens of level meters. “You ready, Mister Cob?” he asked.
“Think I need a shave,” Cob replied.
Vere cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “Upstairs. Benoy keeps a kit in the smaller lavatory. Miss Moto will show you.”
Cob jogged up the winding metal staircase and almost collided with another figure. A feminine voice let out a squeak, and Cob took a step backward.
“I’m so sorry.”
“No, my fault, my fault.”
Cob blinked, expecting to see that he’d nearly run into Miss Moto, she of the sleek dark hair and excellent hot drink service, but it was someone else. This woman was older than the secretary, though only by a few years, and had shoulder-length platinum hair. She wore some sort of nondescript overalls, liberally streaked with oil or grease along the front, and had a rolled-up blue bandana holding her bangs away from her forehead.
“Damn, my office clearly needs a new IT department if I can hire folks who look like you,” Cob remarked before thinking the words through.
“Excuse me?” The woman’s pale skin turned rosy.
He shook his head. “Sorry, sorry, I just…you, ah, you work here? I’m looking for the head. The…ah, that sounded gross. The restroom. You an employee?”
“No, I’m a…oh! Are you a client?” The woman laughed. “We probably shouldn’t be talking. It was in the manual, wasn’t it? Or…do you…”
“Right, yes, no. We probably shouldn’t be talking,” Cob agreed. They both laughed again, and the woman disappeared into the conference room.
I never literally bump into chicks that hot . Wonder where she went.
He found the bathroom on his own and shut the door. On a small shelf mounted above the sink, he spotted a mug of soap and shaving brush. A few more moments’ searching revealed a half-empty bag of disposable razors in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror.
Cob wet the brush and placed it in the mug of soap, swirling it around until lather formed. Where would a girl like that need to wear a pair of overalls? And, damn, did she fill ’em out nice. What did she do where she would get all greasy? Based on how she was dressed, maybe she’d been polishing the landing gear of the Spruce Goose. Cob wondered if he’d ever satisfied his curiosity about Amelia Earhart, given all the jaunts he couldn’t remember. Were there times he was told a trip wasn’t a good choice? They were letting him go to West Virginia, so he must not have learned about this particular mystery already.
Cob imagined red eyes glowing in the dark. He slid the protective plastic off the razor and shaved. Even as he watched the dusting of whiskers disappear from his face, he still imagined those eyes, the wingspan reports cited, a hulking thing stepping out in front of a car…
I have to know .
He rinsed off the razor and thumbed one cheek’s worth of hair onto the white porcelain below. How could someone hear a mystery without needing to know the truth, even if the truth is a bunch of bored kids putting on crazy outfits and walking around scaring people in the woods? Puzzles existed to be solved just like mountains existed to be climbed.
Unclimbed mountains like Cob’s sudden,
Might want to shave . They’ll give a lotta side-eye to someone who’s not all boring and clean-cut.
In the pocket of the black blazer was a pair of vintage Ray Bans with perfectly opaque lenses. Cob set them on the bridge of his nose and took in the effect.
Man in black . I am an honest-to-goodness man in black. God, this is about as far from inconspicuous as you can get.
He exhaled a short laugh and put the shades back in the jacket pocket.
In the lab, Vere turned dials and tapped the screens of level meters. “You ready, Mister Cob?” he asked.
“Think I need a shave,” Cob replied.
Vere cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “Upstairs. Benoy keeps a kit in the smaller lavatory. Miss Moto will show you.”
Cob jogged up the winding metal staircase and almost collided with another figure. A feminine voice let out a squeak, and Cob took a step backward.
“I’m so sorry.”
“No, my fault, my fault.”
Cob blinked, expecting to see that he’d nearly run into Miss Moto, she of the sleek dark hair and excellent hot drink service, but it was someone else. This woman was older than the secretary, though only by a few years, and had shoulder-length platinum hair. She wore some sort of nondescript overalls, liberally streaked with oil or grease along the front, and had a rolled-up blue bandana holding her bangs away from her forehead.
“Damn, my office clearly needs a new IT department if I can hire folks who look like you,” Cob remarked before thinking the words through.
“Excuse me?” The woman’s pale skin turned rosy.
He shook his head. “Sorry, sorry, I just…you, ah, you work here? I’m looking for the head. The…ah, that sounded gross. The restroom. You an employee?”
“No, I’m a…oh! Are you a client?” The woman laughed. “We probably shouldn’t be talking. It was in the manual, wasn’t it? Or…do you…”
“Right, yes, no. We probably shouldn’t be talking,” Cob agreed. They both laughed again, and the woman disappeared into the conference room.
I never literally bump into chicks that hot . Wonder where she went.
He found the bathroom on his own and shut the door. On a small shelf mounted above the sink, he spotted a mug of soap and shaving brush. A few more moments’ searching revealed a half-empty bag of disposable razors in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror.
Cob wet the brush and placed it in the mug of soap, swirling it around until lather formed. Where would a girl like that need to wear a pair of overalls? And, damn, did she fill ’em out nice. What did she do where she would get all greasy? Based on how she was dressed, maybe she’d been polishing the landing gear of the Spruce Goose. Cob wondered if he’d ever satisfied his curiosity about Amelia Earhart, given all the jaunts he couldn’t remember. Were there times he was told a trip wasn’t a good choice? They were letting him go to West Virginia, so he must not have learned about this particular mystery already.
Cob imagined red eyes glowing in the dark. He slid the protective plastic off the razor and shaved. Even as he watched the dusting of whiskers disappear from his face, he still imagined those eyes, the wingspan reports cited, a hulking thing stepping out in front of a car…
I have to know .
He rinsed off the razor and thumbed one cheek’s worth of hair onto the white porcelain below. How could someone hear a mystery without needing to know the truth, even if the truth is a bunch of bored kids putting on crazy outfits and walking around scaring people in the woods? Puzzles existed to be solved just like mountains existed to be climbed.
Unclimbed mountains like Cob’s sudden,
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