The Wild One by Nick Petrie

Author:Nick Petrie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-01-13T16:00:00+00:00

31

Peter didn’t like how easily big Uncle Ingo and Uncle Axel unpacked themselves from the small car. They were quicker and more limber than anyone their size had a right to be.

He dropped to his knees and peered under the chart table and pilot’s controls. If this were his boat, he’d have a shotgun stashed somewhere he could get at it quickly. Nothing. Did nobody in this country use gunpowder? He opened drawers looking for a handgun and found nothing but an orange-handled fishing knife in an orange rubber sheath. He shoved it into his back pocket. Not much good, but better than nothing. Get moving. If they caught him inside this tin can, he might never see daylight again.

He clattered down the ladder and pushed open the hatch just in time to see the uncles step from the gangway to the deck, fresh cigarettes in their fists. They stared at him.

Peter felt like a seal at a polar bear convention.

Up close, the uncles looked very much alike. Their round, wind-worn faces were creased by years of squinting into wind and sun and snow. They had the noses of street brawlers, crooked with previous breaks. Their beards were yellowed at the lip from the smoke of ten thousand cigarettes. Their hands were huge, scarred and thick from years of cleaning fish and mending nets. Their stomachs would have the hard kind of fat.

The slightly smaller uncle said something in Icelandic. His face remained expressionless, but his tone of voice was clear enough. What the fuck are you doing on my boat?

Peter felt the adrenaline rise up in his blood, but he just held his hands up, palms out, like it was all a big mistake. “Sorry, I don’t speak Icelandic. English?”

“Já, I have some English,” said the same uncle. He had a voice like an idling bulldozer. Being slightly smaller than his brother made him only the size of a prize bull. He wore a gray hand-knit sweater under his coat and a gold pirate hoop in his left ear. “You are the American. You broke Bjarni’s arm.”

“Bjarni started that fight,” Peter said. “I could have done much worse. You are Ingo and Axel?”

In Icelandic, the one with the gold hoop said something to the other, who nodded silently. Peter thought he caught the Icelandic word for “farm.”

“I am Ingo.” The talker jerked his head at his silent brother. “He is Axel. What do you want?”

Peter wanted this to end without a fight. “I’m looking for Óskar Eiríksson. I just want to know if the boy is all right. I’d like to see him, to talk with him. Then I’ll go.”

The uncles looked at each other, then back at Peter. Neither man spoke. Their massive hands flexed restlessly.

“Bjarni told me Erik and Óskar are dead,” Peter said. “Is that true?”

Ingo regarded his cigarette, then dropped it to the deck and stepped on it. Axel rolled his shoulders like a boxer between rounds.

Peter said, “If something happened to Erik or Óskar, it had nothing to do with me or anyone I know.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.