My Mistake 200
At this moment, he finally realized very clearly the gap between him and the two of them.
But one day, he will definitely change the situation.
The hospital parking lot.
Roderick ran all the way, blood had soaked through his clothes.
“Was Mr. Hodgson out of his mind?”
Quinn leaned against the car door, sneering at his wound that kept bleeding.
“The wound was like this and you still insisted on going, don’t drag me down later.”
“It’s not your turn to worry.”
Roderick gritted his teeth, looking fierce.
He gritted his teeth against the intense pain of his wound and got into Quinn’s car.
Quinn raised an eyebrow, started the car.
“Hope Mr. Hodgson won’t pass out from the pain later.”
In the car, Roderick was staring at the GPS, sweat beads forming on his forehead.
Quinn slammed on the gas pedal.
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Chapter200
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“Get comfortable.”
Roderick ripped open his shirt, revealing a bloody wound, and quickly rebandaged it.
Quinn glanced at him in the rearview mirror, mocking.
“Was Mr. Hodgson putting on a ‘tough guy‘ act in front of me?”
“Shut up and drive.”
The sea breeze wrapped in a salty dampness hit my face.
Roderick leaned on the rusty iron railing of the dock, his knuckles turning white from the effort.
Sweat dripped down his pale cheeks, and the scenery in front of him started to blur and double.
Quinn opened the notebook next to the car.
The computer was connected to an encrypted terminal, with someone on the other side operating to track down, and then syncing the information back to him.
“Thirty–seven ships left the port.”
Quinn’s fingers were flying on the keyboard, and the ship’s navigation data kept refreshing on the screen.
“Freighters, fishing boats, yachts…”
He suddenly stopped.
“This ‘Night Goddess‘ cruise ship was off.”
Roderick leaned forward, staring at the screen.
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On the cruise declaration form, the consignor information section is filled with a string of encrypted codes, and the sailing route suddenly disappeared from the electronic chart half an hour ago.
“Check its final location.”
His voice was hoarse, with a suppressed harshness.
“Fifteen minutes ago at the edge of the public sea.”
Quinn loosened his tie, his temples throbbing.
“With its speed, regular boats couldn’t even catch up.”
He suddenly turned to look at Roderick.
“How much longer can you hold on?”
Roderick didn’t answer, instead he reached out and pulled open his shirt collar, revealing the blood–soaked bandage.
The sea breeze brushed over the wound, bringing a tearing pain, but it made him more awake.
He fumbled to pull out a silver business card holder from the inside pocket of his suit, his fingertips pausing on a certain card.
That was the private contact card of the head of Merfland’s largest shipping group.
“White Wharf, get me the fastest military–grade speedboat.”
Quinn’s eyes flickered slightly, and he made a phone call as well.
“The helicopter was refueled and had to reach White Wharf within twenty minutes.”
Roderick hung up the phone, then turned to look at Quinn.
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“Get your guy to hack into the cruise ship’s navigation system, find its most likely route.”
“Um.”
Roderick leaned against the lamppost, breathing heavily.
He dialed the phone again, got in touch with the satellite communication company, and forcefully took over civilian satellite channels.
Every time he spoke, he had to swallow the bloody taste rising in his throat.
Quinn caught a glimpse of Roderick’s staggering figure out of the corner of his eye.
He frowned and walked over, taking out a small silver medicine bottle from his pocket.
“Go on.”