The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Forty-One
Caught in the Act
The
deed done, Sam and Sparrow hid beneath Mort’s desk with the laptop
on the floor between them.
When Sam hit the sleep mode button
to restart it he discovered a minor problem.
Lori…Lori…Lori...Lori…Lori…
It
filled the screen.
Jack held out both hands toward the
computer. “What does that mean? Get it off, I want to see Jessi!”
He exclaimed in a hurried but quiet voice.
“I’m trying,”
Sam told the impatient Captain. “But Mr. Depp must be thinking
about her again. That’s what someone says happens to Mort’s
computer. His strongest feelings come through the computer.” Sam
continued to press different key combinations. The screen would
flash, then return back to Lori’s name.
“Listen mate,”
Sparrow’s tone became menacing, “I got no time to be messin’
here. I think we can spike Rainey’s food only so often b’fore he
gets wise t’us. I just want ye to find...”
“There!”
Sam said proudly as he turned the screen towards Jack..
There
she was, smiling back at him, the wide sombrero hat upon her head, a
pair of maracas in her hands.
“Ah…Jessi girl. How ye
been, lass?”
“She can’t hear you Captain,” Sam told
him. The pirate shot a look at him.
“I be knowing that. I’m
not a fool,” he hissed.
“Gentlemen?”
Sam and
Sparrow froze. Slowly they both looked up to see Mort looming above
them.
“I do believe that is my computer.” Mort said,
almost politely, then darkness crossed his face. “Now get the f--k
away from it before you end up looking like Chico” He waved to his
dog who lumbered across the room, the screwdriver prominently
sticking out from his head.
Both men jumped to their feet,
Sam placing the computer back on the desk, with profuse apologies.
“Stop yer 'sorries' ” Jack told Sam. “The bloody
scag doesn’t know how t’share anything. And I mean anything.”
Sparrow’s eyes went down to the bottom drawer where he knew
the bottle of whiskey lay hidden.
Mort rolled his eyes. “I
do believe, dear Captain, that there are no rules concerning sharing.
What is mine, is mine. What is yours, is yours. After all, I do not
ask to use your so-called effects.” He waved at the pirate’s
pistol stuffed in his sash. Jack’s hand paused on the handle, his
eyes narrowing as he eyed the writer.
“I, in return,”
Mort continued, “I ask that you keep your filthy grubs off my
possessions.” Mort looked at the pirate’s hands. “And I
emphasize the word ‘filthy’”
Sparrow’s brow knitted
as he stepped forward toward Mort, bringing his hands up to his face,
pointing his fingers.
“I may be dirty on the outside mate,”
he said as he rolled his head back, “But I be clean of heart on the
inside. Especially when it come to me women. They all know that
Captain Jack Sparrow loves them. Each and every one of them. ‘Tis
more than ye can say about your wife, eh?”
Jack began to
walk away from Mort, back to the bar, but he stopped and turned.
“Oh, sorry about that, mate. I meant yer late wife. ‘Tis
more than I can say about yer late wife.” Then he turned his back
and continued on to the bar.
Mort’s face burned red with
anger.