“What happened to my predecessor?” He’d found the question that had eluded him. “His head popped at a depth of four hundred meters.” “All on its own?” “And his bones liquified.” “Jack didn’t tell me any of that.” He couldn’t help a flicker of irritation, which receded because what good was it? The files had referenced “an accident.” “Or, maybe,” Jackie continued as if he hadn’t said anything, “he died because you wish for something you shouldn’t or you look behind you when you shouldn’t, and suddenly you’re a pillar of salt, and who follows orders from a pillar of salt? Not me.”
