Chapter 324: The Yacht
"What's up with Lip? He left before dawn—didn't even wait for sunrise. Looked like he went back to school," Sammi said while preparing breakfast.
"Who knows. It's the weekend," Ian replied. "His room light stayed on all night. No idea what he was doing—probably some experiment again."
"Carl! What did you do this time? Why is your teacher calling for a parent meeting again?!" Fiona snapped.
The house was as chaotic as ever when—
Knock knock knock.
"I'll deal with you later," Fiona warned Carl before walking to the door. She opened it and looked at the unfamiliar man outside. "Who are you looking for?"
"Is Mr. Frank home?" The man was one of Nando's subordinates.
"Dad, it's for you," Fiona called out.
"Our boss would like to see you," the man said.
"Got it." Frank nodded.
"I'm heading out. Don't wait for me at lunch," Frank told the kids.
"Wait—Dad, where are you going? In your condition?" The children immediately surrounded him. He could barely stand without effort, and now he wanted to go out?
"If you insist on going, I'll come with you," Sammi said, already grabbing her coat.
"No. None of you are coming." Frank shook his head. "I'll be fine. Jimmy's there too. Don't worry."
"Jimmy's going with you?" Fiona frowned, confused.
To reassure them, Frank called Jimmy and had him confirm it over the phone.
As for what they were going to do—Frank didn't explain. Fiona tried asking Jimmy, but he answered vaguely and avoided specifics.
After some effort convincing them, Frank finally calmed everyone down and followed the man outside.
The subordinate drove Frank out to Lake Michigan, one of the largest lakes in the United States. Up close, it stretched to the horizon like an ocean.
They stopped at a marina lined with rows of private yachts.
Under the subordinate's guidance, Frank boarded one of them.
Inside the cabin, Nando, Jimmy, and the Brazilian girl were already there.
"Hey, Frank," Nando greeted him.
"Mimosa? It's excellent—" He slapped his forehead lightly. "Ah, right. You can't drink."
"Come, sit. Don't just stand there. Have some fruit." Nando popped a grape into his mouth.
Jimmy looked visibly uneasy, sitting stiffly and instinctively edging closer to Frank.
After a few pleasantries, Nando spoke again.
"In a man's life, the most important things are simple—family, friends, lovers… and promises. Honor. That's something I admire about you, Frank. What you've done for your family."
If someone tried investigating "Heisenberg," they'd find nothing. But investigating Frank? That was easy.
In just one night, Nando had gathered more than enough information about him.
"For a father, children are everything," Frank replied. "Even if sometimes they don't understand the burdens we carry."
Nando nodded and drained his glass. "That deserves a drink."
"Boss, we're there," a subordinate called.
They stepped onto the deck. A few men rolled out a large plastic barrel—the same one containing the liquefied remains of the dissolved body.
"The scenery's beautiful," Nando said, gazing across the calm water. "Peaceful. How many lakes like this are there in North America?"
"Five," Jimmy answered.
"The Great Lakes, right? I'd heard of them. Didn't expect them to be this vast. Looks like the sea. Hard to believe it's just a lake."
"With something this big… you can do things you'd normally only do in the ocean."
At his signal, the men heaved the weighted barrel overboard. It sank quickly, disappearing beneath the surface without a trace.
"We strapped a charge to it," Nando said casually. "Half an hour from now, it'll rupture. Becoming one with such a beautiful lake—that's luck."
He turned back to Frank.
"What you said about children—I agree."
"My daughter has always been… difficult. The last few months, with her away from me? Honestly, it was a relief. Otherwise, she would've ruined my marriage eventually."
He accepted a shotgun from one of his men.
"That's my fault too. I spoiled her when she was young."
He handed another shotgun to Frank.
"Your turn."
"Throw!" Nando ordered.
A subordinate tossed a watermelon into the air.
Boom!
Nando fired.
Missed completely. The watermelon dropped intact into the lake.
A faintly awkward silence followed.
"Your turn," Nando gestured.
Frank raised the shotgun. Another fruit flew into the air.
Another miss.
This was a popular sport in America—normally clay pigeons, not fruit. A machine would launch spinning discs into the sky, and shooters would blast them mid-air. A favorite pastime among the upper class—arguably more popular than golf.
But Nando was Brazilian, unfamiliar with the sport. Frank, raised in the South Side slums, had never touched it in his life.
They were amateurs trying to play gentleman.
After a dozen wasted shots between them, neither had hit a single target.
Even Nando's composure cracked slightly.
Finally, he grabbed a rifle from a subordinate and sprayed the next airborne fruit, shredding it to pieces.
"That's more like it," he said with satisfaction, handing the rifle to Frank.
Then he turned to Jimmy.
"Steve. In Brazil, you promised me you'd take care of my daughter. That's why I spared you. That's why I gave her to you. But you lied."
"Actually—" Jimmy tried to speak.
"Taking care of her isn't easy. I know. She's clever. And I spoiled her."
"I grew up in the slums. I wanted her to have everything I didn't—education. Good food. Even something as simple as a flushing toilet."
"You might not understand that feeling." Nando glanced at Frank. "But Frank does."
The wind swept across the deck as the yacht rocked gently on the endless water.